#I WANT THEM ALL DEAD AT MY DOORSTEP

[nobieka]

that moment when your friends who hate physical touch show physical touch :

[beloveds-embrace]

Idgaf abt how military works sorry yall but imagine the 141 gang having to do mandatory charity and no, not even Ghost can opt out of it regardless of how he says he’s honest to god not fucking fit to be visiting sick patients. But alas.

But they end up meeting you- frail, fragile, and sick you, no visitors around you. Though you look at them with curiosity and admiration, you keep yourself away, almost as if you don’t want to bother them.

You can’t help looking at them, though. You’ve been sick all your life- born to a mother who left you on the doorsteps of an overcrowded orphanage, left alone often and long for your body to just… fail you. You don’t think you’ve seen outside the orphanage walls and then these hospital grounds since your birth. You would be dead now if it weren’t for the CEO of the hospital taking pity on you after you turned eighteen and the orphanage cleaned their hands off you.

And so, you can’t help but envy them just a little. Strong, agile people in the military, bodies fit and healthy. Despite knowing they are always putting themselves on the line, constantly in danger, you can’t help the longing you feel. Longing you don’t realize is clear as day in your eyes.

The one to approach you first is the man you thought one of the prettiest men you’ve ever seen. He introduces himself as Kyle, and despite your silence- your interactions with others that are not doctors or nurses are far and few, and you are painfully shy- but he is nice. Gentle. Easily keeps the conversation going despite. He is so easy-going he has you grinning and laughing in no time. It catches the attention of a the Scot with a mohawk, who joins in by sharing even wilder stories. And then the man with the scary ghost mask, so often in their stories, comes to your little crowd. He is big, scary if the nurses’ reactions are anything to go by, and yet the only thing you’ve ever truly been afraid of is dying with a life not truly lived. So you don’t flinch or cower from him, merely ask if he has anything interesting to share with you.

The last you speak with is John Price. Captain John Price. If there is a man that can embody a bear, it has to be him. You are sure of it. Especially when you witness him smacking the back of Kyle’s head lightly after a teasing comment.

Maybe your chances of a long, fulfilling life are slim but today, just for today, you allow yourself to envision a life with them. Such a strange desire, a useless and wistful one.

“Thank you, for today.” You tell them quietly, when it’s nearing time to leave. Your hands are held in Kyle and Johnny’s, frail and weak compared to theirs. You smile at them, squeezing lightly. “I think this is the most happy and content I’ve been all my life. I won’t forget today.”

And in return? Neither will they. How could they ever forget you, the sweetheart in the hospital bed, your sickness keeping you away from the joyful life you deserve?

The won’t forget you. Not at all. And when you start receiving gifts, polaroids and letters and texts, you already know who is sending them to you.

It makes things just a little easier- your life just a little brighter.

Other works + help me choose a title for this!

[motthe]

there's no death here | robert "bob" reynolds

ཐིཋྀ thunderbolts caught me with a bob-shaped hole in my heart.

warnings: spoilers from thunderbolts, super!reader, fem!reader, not sure if I'll make a bunch of parts or even finish this idea so be warned, gonna go ahead and say canon-divergent to save my ass bc im no marvel expert.

masterlist | ao3

You weren't built for battle—the powers you had were more defense based than anything—but you had been trained by the best of the best. The countless lessons left your survival skills above subpar, and maybe you could make use of your size and strangle a man twice it, but those things didn't make you a hero.

And being around so many of them for so long, it's disturbingly easy to start to feel useless.

“Born or cursed?”

You didn't remember who had asked it. You do remember you had been younger, that you'd been more or less adopted into the world of the Avengers without ever truly being thrown into it. Wanda and Natasha had been your everything, especially when it came to helping with your powers. Between the supernatural and the mental side, they had done wonders.

Sitting around and not making use of yourself would be spitting on their memory, so it wasn't long before you were dragged into government business. Reading minds was handy, but picking apart memories? Entering their psyche?

You were gold to detectives and last resort for men in black suits who would “talk” to criminals if you didn't.

The work had drained enough from you by the time Bucky showed up on your doorstep with a bottle of liquor and a favor.

“This isn't what I do,” you told him, looking over the files. “I'm not a therapist or a teacher. If Void is as powerful as you say it is—”

“It can be beaten,” he explained. “We've done it before. I just need you to help Bob block it out. You know how to do that.”

“With other people's thoughts,” you argued.

He shook his head. “You suppress memories. You put them into neat little boxes for your agent work.”

“You want me to make him forget something that dangerous?”

“I want you to show him he's not alone when it comes to this side of superpowers.” Bucky stood, a warm hand coming down on your shoulder and squeezing. “We've all been scattered. It's a shit team, the New Avengers, but it's something, kid.”

“I’m not a kid anymore, Bucky,” you sighed.

“I know. Wouldn't be asking you for your help if you were.”

The door shut to your apartment in farewell, but one visit from the Winter Soldier had too many opening at once. Flashes of earth's most mightiest heroes, of old friends, dead friends, missing ones.

Getting dragged back into that mess was asking for trouble.

Sipping on free alcohol, you flip through the packet of Robert “Bob” Reynolds. Sweet face, fucked past, and a far more fucked psyche for the powers he'd revealed in the last hit on New York.

Cursed, you decided by the end of your research, frowning as a picture slipped free. The New Avengers were definitely a ragtag group. Bucky was the only one you knew, Yelena you learned more than enough about through Nat digging around her head one time too many. Alexei Shostakov as well, but he was easy to pick apart at one glance. Anything revolving around Ava Starr and John Walker was rumors or passed down the grapevine.

Your phone vibrated. Checking it drew a deep line between your eyebrows. Someone was asking for another questioning, this time through the mind of a rampant serial killer in Chicago. They didn't have enough on him.

You leaned into your hands, sighing.

Across the block at a red-light, Bucky glanced at his phone and smiled as he read over the text.

“I need to meet him before I agree to this.”

The light flicked green.

The Watchtower was a shadow of the place you used to know. Repairs were still being made leaving people crawling on every floor but the top level had been finished for two weeks now, leaving the New Avengers with their shared space.

Bucky had promised the team would be out when you arrived, save for Bob. As it was quiet when the elevator door opened, you were glad to see he'd kept that promise.

“Welcome back,” he called, walking up.

“Which room did you snag?” you scoffed, eyeing the decor. Minimalist, neutral tones. Far greyer than the old room you remembered.

“The biggest.” He said it like it was obvious. Maybe it should've been.

Hearing movement, you both turned as a shadow passed by the windows. The hunched shoulders were a dead giveaway, soft eyes flittering between the floor and you as the young man stepped down.

Bob wore a dark blue sweater that drowned his figure and dark jeans. His hair was still a shaggy length and dark brown from the recent pictures you'd seen. By all accounts, he looked normal, but the anxiety flowed off him in waves that crashed against your head.

His mind extends way beyond others.

“Hi,” he greeted softly, clearing his throat. “You're, uh, Bucky's friend?”

You introduced yourself, stepping forward to offer your hand. He was quick to step back even across the room, body tensing.

“Wait, don't. I'm not sure if I—”

“When's the last time you transported someone into a shame room?”

The shock on his face had you glancing at Bucky for answers.

“Last week,” he said, crossing his arms. “Nothing super dangerous. Uncomfortable, but we get a lot of repeats so we break off easily enough.”

“Wait, so how much do you already know?” Bob asked, arms wrapping around himself.

“Enough,” you and Bucky respond.

Bob sighed, head nodding along as he turned away. “Great, guess that makes it easier.”

“I wouldn't say that; you're guarded now.” You moved closer, keeping your steps slow and your hands behind your back. Bob remained tense but didn't shy away. “Bucky called me here to see if I could help you, but I came here to see if you even want it.”

“Well, uh…” he swallowed, head bowing.

Do you want my help? His eyes flashed wide, breath catching as he looked up. You kept your expression neutral as you raised a brow. Do you? This will only work if you want to put in the effort.

“Can you see everything?”

You fought not to smile at the childish awe in his voice as it echoed back to you. I'm not looking. I'm listening.

A series of curses and panicked background commentary had you laughing.

I've heard and seen a lot. Honestly, don’t worry about it.

“That's easy for you to say,” Robert grumbled. “I cant control my thoughts like you can.”

“Would you like to?”

“It's not that I don't want your help,” he said, hands tangling into his sweater. “I just don't want to hurt anyone again. A lot of people… Some don't snap out of what I make them see. It's bad.”

“I have faith in my mental state,” you assured him. “Mental barriers, especially. I need to see just how powerful you are, though. Because if you get past mine, that means I'll be training you through trial and error. It's risky but it's not impossible.”

Bob looked to Bucky. “Do you think that's a good idea?”

Your old friend shrugged. “I brought her in because she's good at what she does. Whatever she wants to do, I have to trust it's the right decision.”

“I could hurt her!” Bob breathed and looked back to you. “I could hurt you really, really bad. Are you sure you know what you're signing up for?”

“I read through your files. I saw the extent of your powers and the aftermath of the accident,” you explained. “I'm prepared to help you with all things mental and psychic, but trust has to go both ways.”

You raised your hand again. He flinched, shuffling back.

“You want to help me now. What if that changes?” he whispers. “What if you see what it's really like and it scares you?”

“We won't know unless we try.” You took a step. Hand outstretched.

Bob looked at Bucky again, as if waiting to see if anyone would disagree. Whatever he searched for wasn't there.

He sighed and met your gaze. Pale blue eyes, you noted, with colors shifting around the pupil.

“Okay,” he nodded, holding up a shaky hand. The skin was bitten raw around his nails, skin dry but warm. The moment you felt it, there was a pressure against your mental shields. You could see the darkness clouding around you, searching for a way in, but you held firm.

“Are you okay?” he whispered, arm trembling as he stood there. His eyes were closed, head turned away.

You smiled, holding in a laugh as you used your other hand to grab his. “I'm fine, Bob. You're definitely powerful.”

“But you didn't see anything?” he said, eyeing where you were joined.

“I've had years to work on my mental barriers. You can't breach what doesn't have an entrance.” You squeezed his hand. “This is a really good sign. I'm going to have to let you in at some point to see just how potent your power is, but we'll work up to that.”

“You really don't see anything?” he whispered, hope rising in his expression as he searched your gaze.

“Just you,” you promised, unable to keep from smiling. “We'll have to work on your projection. Your thoughts are…loud.”

His face flushed red as he pulled away, sputtering an apology. There was some halfass excuse about the bathroom as he fled. Bucky stepped up to fill the empty space.

“What was he thinking?”

“None of your business,” you chuckled. “You got a guest room for me?”

But you had to admit you were flattered. Mens’ thoughts usually came up with the same descriptions for you at first glance. All your life you'd been met with disgusting thoughts and hateful opinions or plain “hot” and “sexy.”

This might've been the first time a man had ever thought of you as “radiant” before.

[grugruel]

Sleeping With the Enemy

Pairings: Silco x f!reader

MDNI/NSFW

Masterlist

Summary: You're a councillors daughter secretly working with the Eye of Zaun, fulfilling each other's needs.

Political needs, of course. It's purely business. They would never be stupid enough to start an affair . . . Unless?

Wordcount: ca 3.5k

Warnings: enemies AND lovers, hate-fucking, toxic, Silco being evil, angsty, pinv sex, rough sex, power imbalance, fighting for control, complicated feelings, twisted love, forbidden relationship, dacryphilia ish, cockwarming, blowjob, fingering, edging, overstimulation, choking, cum eating, creampie, petnames (girl, princess, devil, Sil)

AN: yet to be proofread. This might be one of my favourite works, he's insane . . . I need him.

"Let go off me," she snarls, yanking mirthlessly against the strong womans grip. "Release me Sevika, or-"

"Or what?" She cuts the girl off with a sneer, metallic fingers sinching around her bicep. Sevika holds her close enough to force the girl to stare up through her eyebrows if she wants to achieve any semblance of eye contact.

"Or she tells her precious father," the man cuts in, a nonchalant smile to his tone.

"He doesn't know I'm here," the girl snaps, defiantly locking eyes with the industrialist. Clad in shadow, he's a mere silhouette backlit by Zaun's streets. "He doesn't know anything."

Picking up a brand new cigar, he clips the end and flicks a lighter open, toying with the flame. All in due time, he's not rushing to spoil such a favored treat.

"Good," he says and gestures dismissively, signaling his trusty henchman to leave.

Sevika releases the girl with a displeased huff and slams the door behind her. The only thing she likes less than piltovians, is them wandering too far from their fabricated safety and ending up on her doorstep.

She watches the muscular woman leave, staring at the closed door in contemplation as she once again finds herself alone with the eye of Zaun.

Something clatters behind her, a lighter discarded on a desk. "You're late," he mutters, bringing the smoking cigar to his lips.

Anger begins to blaze inside her. That's it? That's all he has to say? "Six enforcers are dead," she snaps, nose scrunching. Disgusted by the mere thought of that demon's violence. "She's a loose canon, Silco. She blew them up for the hell of it."

From the dark, a red orb slips her way. He leans forward, having the rooms gloomy light illuminate his face only to throw the girl a disapproving look, barely deeming it worthy to look her in the eyes. "You forget yourself, girl."

Swallowing, she forces herself to calm down. Aggrivating such a volatile man never proved a good idea, and displaying anger against his daughter proved even worse.

Carefully, she ventures closer. Testing the waters and finding them thick as mud. The very air around him emenates danger, and her body slows down, relucant to put itself in such unpredictable environments. "You broke our deal," she announciates, finding it safer to put the blame on him rather than the blue haired demon he protects so ferociously.

"You disrupted our shipment," he repeats her ridiculous attempt. "It's simple business. Collateral," he shrugs and gestures toward her, vaguely implying the deaths should be on the girls consience. He doesn't say it outright because he doesn't need to, because he doesn't care if it hurts her feelings. Because, he doesn't care about the lost lives of a few topsiders, lives of enforcers even less. In true rebel spirit.

Massively unimpressed, he sizes her up when she places herself on the other side of the desk. Gripping the edge, the wood is tough beneath her fingers as she strains to keep herself in check. Blue and green light his back, lining the countours around his body. It softens him in some ways, as if the light hasn't completely shunned him yet.

Suddenly smirking, Silco's gaze drifts over her. Studying her tense disposition with spiteful glee as he enjoys the irony of a murderous piltovian. "Contemplating violence wont relieve you of this predicament."

"Killing you would."

"Threatening me so early in the morning?" He tsks, taking a deep drag of the cigar to then blow a ring of smoke in her direction. "Perhaps I should have approached your father instead, the councillor would've been easier to handle . . . More willing to please."

Keeping eye contact, she doesn't react, and a glint of cuiosity to sparks in his gaze. "He has nothing to do with this, and you know it," she tries again. "But Jin-"

Silco's smirk falls. "Hold your tongue, girl." Pinching the bridge of his tall nose, he releases a heavy sigh. "Lock the door," he orders, looking at her through his eyebrows.

Menacing, haunting. She could describe him with a hundred different horrific words. Yet, he doesn't scare her. They both know she's right.

Breathing relief, she does as she's told. When asking her to create a boundary between the world and this room, he shows her nothing has changed. Whatever they have remains within the confines of his office and her bedroom. It takes the edge off, and she lets the inhabiting worry slip away.

Upon her return, she softly stalks around the desk until sidled up against the short side. "Shoving clever words down my throat won't shut me up, Sil."

Rubbing his face, he looks at her through his fingers. Heavily disapproving of the nickname. "Dont tempt me," he warns. "I'll find other ways to shut you up."

She swallows, a single pulse throbs in her core. Moving around the desk, she slides a finger along it's edge and places herself infront of him, bathing her in the very same darkness that Silco finds himself in.

A small smirk flicker on his lips. But even though it dissolves, turning back into its usual serious mask, the satisfaction of the expression linger on his features.

"It cant happen again," he warns a third time, he must going soft on her. His hands move, trading the cigar for the the ability to touch her. One hand reaches for her thigh, sliding beneath her skirt. While the other reaches up, grabbing her chin to stare into her eyes. "The shipments are important." Silco applies just enough pressure on her chin to keep it stinging, just enough to understand that he didn't take the loss lightly. While the thumb beneath her skirt brushes lightly over her hipbone.

Inspite their predicaments, their relationship was business from the beginning and the majority still is. He tells her this through the contrasting touches.

She nods.

"Use your words, girl. Tell me you understand. This cant happen again."

But she won't concede, not yet. "No more attacks," she murmurs, placing her hands on his thighs. "No more deaths." The girl sinks to her knees, slowly, and making sure he keeps his gaze glued to hers. Being so close to him, she gets a whiff of his cologne. He smells of musk and wood, Smoke and whiskey. He smells of man.

They know what buttons to press when it comes to one another, and right now, she needs safety for her people in much the same way he needs independence for his. The difference laying within their methods of accomplishment. But looking at them now, it's clear they've got more in common than she's previously thought.

Silco spreads his legs further apart, welcoming her advancements. "I wonder what daddy dearest would say if he saw you now; that pretty princess of his . . . Negotiating on her knees." He slides a hand beneath hers, lacing their fingers together before leaning back in his chair to enjoy the show.

It's a small sign of fondness, one he confidently gives. Showing his inclination toward her means little, for they already know where they have each other. Unwilling to put it into words, they feel them silently.

Truth is, they enjoy the power imbalance, they enjoy the hatred their respective people share. Peculiarly, it unites them, and simultaneously fuel their polarity. They're a strange equation, two variables with a common sum.

Helping each other with free hands, they unbutton his pants. "Im sure he'd be proud of your devotion," he mocks, exhaling that infamous low chuckle.

Spitting into her hand, she reaches into his pants. "He'd share the pride with your people," she smiles and looks up at him innocently, pulling his member out. "–when they find out you're working with a councillor's daughter . . . Fucking her no less." She leans in, teasing his tip with a slow circling lick, gathering the pre-cum on her tongue. With a corner curving upward, his lips part, and there's a silent intake of breath. Brushing his hand along her cheek, he collects stray hair covering her face and gathers it at her neck, twirling it around his fingers. "Go on," he urges.

And so, she finally closes the distance and takes him in her mouth.

With a hiss, he squeezes the hand laced with his. Slender fingertips dig into the back of her hand. "Little devil," he groans, hand burrying deeper into her hair and balling into a fist, coincidentally pulling on her scalp.

Clasping her still spit-wet hand around his shaft, she strokes him, adding on to the bobbing of her head.

"Yes," he moans, reclining his head against the back of the chair. "Carry on, girl."

Im sync with her hand, she works him until he's close to squirming, trying his very best to keep a semblance of composure. Never did she think such a powerful man would tremble beneath her touch or the pressure of her lips. But here he was, his usual neat combed back hair fallen over his forehead, beads of sweat gathering on his temples.

He'd started using his hand to guide her head, helping her find the perfect path toward his climax. Chest heaving and teeth bared, he chuckles breathlessly as the squelching of their actions reach his ears. Pushing her too far, she makes half-choking noises when she takes his entire length down her throat. Causing saliva to spill out of her mouth and roll down his length.

"Sloppy," he snarls, manicured nails digging into her hand. "-used to sucking cock."

She whines from the rare usage of crude words, making her core purr. His inches twitch in her mouth, sensing how close he is. "Please me," he supresses a groan, calling her name. "Swallow."

It happens quickly. His breathing turns rapid, his hips arching as he spills into her mouth. Tasting of rich salt as she swallows.

Smirking devilishly, he catches his breath. "Thats it . . . Well done." He brushes his thumb along her index finger.

Joy trickles into her heart at the praise, but there is little room as her body is already filled to the brim by need. With heavy eyes and glistening lips, she stands up on her knees. "Kiss me," she whispers.

Unlacing their fingers, he moves to slide a thumb across her lips, gathering some of the milky seed she'd yet to swallow. "Open up, princess." He pulls on her hair to tilt her head back.

Her lips part automatically, a knife slicing through her pride at the irony of the name. Silco slips his thumb into her mouth and wipes it clean on her tongue. He watches with fascination as her lips close around the digit, volunteering to suck it off as he pulls it out. "Kiss me," she repeats.

The fingers still burried in her hair twitches at the sight. Acting on impulse, they bunch her waves, pulling her close enough for their lips to play ghost. He tilts his head to the side, bringing them impossibly closer. "Tell me you understand," he murmurs, watching her reaction as the featherlight touch tickles her lips.

Her expectations for the night and the soft shell of intimacy around them shatters, but she'll never give him the satisfaction. The kiss was a wish from her own selfish needs, but giving him what he wants without the safety she require for her people is not. "No."

With a harrowing glance, he releases her. "I have work to do, you know where the door is," Silco says, nodding toward the exit. He then runs his hand through his hair, combing it back into place.

So quickly is the mood ruined and the rush of lust diminishes, settling her nerves. Instead it is the annoyance and the anger she arrived with that begins to rebuild.

The girl scoffs. "Petty, man-child," she mumbles, keeping her voice beneath her breath. But she wants something from him too, anything. She's derserves it, it just the matter of taking it.

Then, something just clicks in her mind and an irruption takes control of her body. Narrowing her eyes in quick to non-existent contemplation, she grabs his collar and pulls him in for a kiss. It only lasts for a second before she pushes herself away and stands up, not planning to stick around to deal with the consequences.

But before she gets a chance to move too far, a hand grabs her forearm and yanks her back. "You stubborn girl," he whispers in her ear, an arm slung around her torso as Silco holds her against his chest. She feels her panties being pulled to the side, and the head of his member lining up with her core. "Bleeding your integrity dry for those imperious, self-important cretins." He teases her entrance, sliding the tip up and down her folds.

"I am one of them, or do you forget?" She snaps.

Without warning, he lowers her onto his inches, fitting them inside her like they've been molded. The girl gasps at the feeling and Silco's fingers curl, releasing a groan as his fingers rouch the fabric at her ribs. "Even now?" He adjusts the girl in his lap. "Would they deign to descend from their thrones as you? Stooping to my level, manipulating on a whim to fullfill your needs." He pulls her closer, nudging her profile with his. All the while he's got his still hard member pushed up inside her, soft walls of flesh welcoming him eagerly. "Would they still accept you when found-out, or will they throw you to the wolves as the rumours spread? When they find out Zaun's villainous crime lord is fucking Piltover's princess," he laces the words with venom, hands slipping upward. One stops at her breast to squeeze while the other clasps around her throat. "When they whisper of the ways he uses her. How he puts her on her back, makes her kneel . . . How he bends her over," he murmurs, sending shivers down her spine.

She grows dizzy, a mix of worry and pleasure clouding her senses. His words hit home, drawing her lips into a thin line. "They are still my people," she breathes, voice close to breaking, sunding more like she's trying to convince herself.

"They will be your downfall." He puts pressure on her throat. "We've made sure of that, you and I."

"No . . . Silco, that's not true."

The hand holding her breast slips beneath her skirt. "We've made our beds-" slender fingers find her clit. "And we will sleep with the consequences."

Head lulling back against his shoulder, back arching, pleasure spikes as he stimulates her thrice fold. Circling her clit while throbbing inside her, and acting catalyst is the experienced hand around her throat. It limits the bloodflow and multiplies her pleasure. "Fuck," she whimpers, hips squirming, flesh randomly spasming around him.

Silco groans at the sensation, gaining his own pleasure from the whole ordeal. But that is not his goal. "Be still," he warns.

The collossall amounts of pleasure blinds her, it grabs hold of her senses and refuses to let go. Her nerves burn and fingers curl. Its all too much, yet not enough. Tears of gather in her eyes, slowly spilling over to roll down her face. "A-almost . . ."

Silco adjusts his grip around her throat so uses his thumb to tilt her face toward him, then watches how the tears streak her makeup, leaving watered down mascara in their wake. He places his lips on her skin, kissing the tears away while enjoying their salty taste. He studies her rosy cheeks and knitted expression, memorising the small whimpers she breathes.

The girl can no longer keep still and her back prepares to arch, limbs preparing to surge with blinding hot pleasure. "Im-- mhh, I-" She mewls, and the knot releases.

. . .

Until it isn't. She feels Silco retract his hands, causing oxygen flood her brain and irritation to anchor her mind. The knot in her stumach re-ties, loosely adjusting until the pressure completely dies down. "I see callousness runs in the family," she complains, almost in pain from the sudden lack of stimulation.

Silco circles an arm around her waist. "It's essential to survive," he says and stands up, still swollen member slipping out of her. Supporting the girl as her knees wobble, she's unable to stand on her own due to the afflictions he's caused her. Turning her around, he helps her onto the desk. Chest to chest, he braces against the wood, one hand on either side of her, effectively boxing her in.

She lays a finger beneath his chin, and he looks up at her through his eyebrows. Exhaling, he moves between her thighs. Silco reaches out to her, loosely cupping her face as his thumb smears the streaked mascara. "There is no white knight," he says, pushing reality on her, weather she's willing to listen or not.

She nods. "I know." Tainted by the impure air of Zaun, branded by the touch of it's Eye. If she ever is to be saved, it must be by her own hand. Her smile is faint as her eyes fall from his.

He grabs her face and squeezes her cheeks. "Look at me," he tells her with a gravely tone. Their eyes lock. Dissappering between them, his other hand lines himself up with her core.

Taking a gamble, she grabs his tie and pulls him in, properly locking lips for the first time. Because he doesn't pull away, and neither does she. Her bottom lips begins to tremble, surprised he ever let it go this far. Their initial moment passes, evolving into seconds until they realise neither is breathing and they tear apart for much needed air, not straying far. Their lips hover, ghosting as previously. "You steal whats not your's to take."

She nudged his nose with her own. "Does survival not apply here? I never took you for a hypocrite."

His top lip twitches, and she feels him bare his teeth in a silent snarl as his fingers apply pressure to her cheeks. "How clever," he murmurs, and pushes inside her once again, catching her off guard.

They share a reflexive gasp, and as he starts to move, every thrust exchanges breaths between them. The girl's lips curve, heavily enjoying the tiny sliver of emotional intimacy he's finally giving her.

Her legs circle around his hips as he grabs her waist one handed, adding further levrage as his fingers dent her flesh. Silco starts a heavy pace and their lips reconnect, mirroring their bodies, it reflects their feelings. The kiss growing needy and rough.

"Get on your back for me," he mocks and releases her face. "Prove them right."

She bites his lip, tugging on it as she lies back against the desk and pulls him with her.

Hand suddenly free, he hooks it beneath her knee and pulls it up against his side to gai better access. Slowing down the pace, he manages to take her deeper, harder. She groans, head lulling to the side as her climax begins to build. "Dont stop." Not again.

"Look at me," he breathes, warning in his tone as he's inclined to watch her topple over the edge. Her brows knit together, but her gaze finds his. The knot closing as his thrusts begin to grow erratic.

Pleasure burns her fingers and quickens her pulse. "Close, c-" she begins, but he cuts her off with another kiss, tongue slipping between their lips to explore her mouth.

And just like that, she bursts. Traveling through her from top to toe. Silco following short thereafter. "It's alright . . . Good, girl," he whispers.

Once they've caught up with their breaths, Silco straightens out, and rearranges his clothes before helping her to her feet.

-

"I understand," she says, halting by the door.

He looks up from his seat but is quick to stand, slowly stalking toward her. Stopping just short of her smaller frame, he reaches behind her back to grab the door handle. "I don't control her. She is my daughter like you are your father's," he says and meets her eyes. "But I will speak to Jinx." Leaning down, he kisses her cheek, catching her off guard. Affection is newly discovered territory between them, but from him to give it so freely after battling it out is a very big surprise. But as quick as ot started, it's over. His soft expression morphing into his usual stern disposition. "Dont be late again girl," he says and opens the door.

-

Somehow, they've become entangled. Silently sharing affection their respective people would deem unfit. Silco wont hurt her, if he can help it. But such is nature. They'll stand on opposite sides, prioritising their own families, cities. But not without a thought of the other, wishing it could be different. It probably never will be, for such is faith and such is time. If only it could rewind.

-

[yandere-daydreams]

tw - kidnapping, stalking, symptoms of depression, and obsessive behavior. reader's not doing great in this one and dick's doing worse.

Dick Grayson gets around.

Whatever you're thinking, it's not like that - except when it is. He's just the people person, the golden child, the performer. He's everything that Bruce pretends to be whenever he takes off the cowl and plays socialite. He remembers names, calls on birthdays, sends out Christmas cards the second snow hits the ground. He knows everyone, and he gets what he wants.

You get around... less.

Not that you don't show you face. No, someone committed to staying totally anonymous would never make it to one of a hundred annual galas held by Wayne Enterprises, stocked to bursting with reporters and celebrities and wealthy Gotham transplants, eager to make a good impression with local royalty. He spots you sticking close to the wall, moving between polite conversations, careful never to stay long enough to make a lasting impression. When you're not busy, your eyes dart from wall to wall, tracking waiters and taking stock of the exits. Every now and then, the light catches on a diamond ring you hadn't been wearing a second ago, a sapphire necklace too expensive to hang so sloppily from your neck.

You're transparent, if a bit out of place. Even pickpockets usually had the decency to skip charity events.

His course of action is swift, surgical. He corners you next to the bar, offers to buy you a drink. You counter, explain with a smile that you couldn't take a stranger's money. He adopts a new tactic - asks you to dance with one, instead. Another parry, now you're looking for your date. After fishing for a description, he mentions he might've seen them on the balcony. His scalpel run through your throat, you take his arm and let him lead you outside.

The routine is standard, practiced to the point of perfection. Find a corner away from the other guests, apologize for ending your night so early, then produce enough cash to pay half a year's worth of rent for Gotham's most expensive high-rise - just like he has a million times before with a thousand other petty thieves. Dead-eyed, you card through the bills slowly. Finally, you look to him.

"This isn't really my line of work."

Dick grins. "I can tell."

"Is there a closet we can use, or...?"

He blinks once, then twice. You stare at the money in your hands, eyes glassy and expression hollow. It doesn't take long to clear up the miscommunication. You leave with your stolen treasures and a well-earned tip, and Dick neglects to mention the incident in his status report later that night.

The next day, he seeks you out on instinct, tells himself it's no different than a follow-up for any other case. You are not a people person. You don't smile at strangers, or greet your neighbors by name, or let your eyes leave the sidewalk as you make your way through the rush-hour crowd, your pockets a little heavier with every step. Your apartment is a testament to your separation - no pictures, no creature comforts, no spare tooth brush left by the sink in case of overnight guests. There's only one cup in the entirety of your kitchen, a little black mug with white paw prints painted around the center. He leaves a second on your doorstep - this one decorated rim to base with blue jays.

You aren't from Gotham. That's clear enough, but it's cemented by the phone calls he overhears from your windowsill every Sunday morning, all reassurances to a faceless recipient that you're doing fine, that you have plenty of friends, that your stressful-but-rewarding corporate job is keeping you busy enough. You have younger siblings - a lot of younger siblings. He got to know them as he went through your phone, perched on the edge of your twin-sized mattress, watching the slow rise and fall of your chest in stolen glances. The most recent picture was taken more than two years ago, but he can't judge. He knows what it's like to be the trial run, the practice round, the disappointment. At least you have the self-awareness to keep your distance from the people you love, to make sure the only thing you can hurt is yourself. He's never been so strong.

And you do hurt yourself, don't you? He's seen the drawer of treasures you can't bring yourself to sell, the collection of unopened bills on your dining room table, the strung-together days you go without letting yourself so much as see another person. He knows why you want to be left alone, but even you can't go on like that, not forever. Everyone needs someone. No one can completely resist the urge to leave their mark on something else - anything else, even if they really ought to know better.

And you know that, too. You don't even scream when you wake up in Dick's bed, hands bound and body curled up against his chest. It could just be the lingering sedatives in your system, sure, but he'd like to think that you remember him, that you know you and him are two of a kind, birds of a feather. You ruin everything you touch, but maybe, you won't ruin him.

Maybe, just maybe, you won't ruin each other.

[burgojo]

KILLER? I BARELY KNOW HER! FUSHIGURO TOJI / M!READER

summary. shadows of your past catch up to you – but you're the strongest, and there's nothing you can't handle.

wc. 5.5k

tags. smut | top reader, bottom toji. mentions of underage drinking. sorcerer + teacher reader, enemies-to-lovers (with extra steps), sorta sugar baby toji/rich reader, doggystyle + missionary, mentions of exhibitionism + filming, unprotected sex, brief degradation (r. receiving), brief breeding kink, implied shower sex

notes. every dark-haired male jjk character deserves a silly and illogically powerful best friend with whom they have romantic tension :3 you're him. literally.

The pleasant chime of the doorbell echoes throughout your home. You're not expecting anyone.

You know you should be careful. In fact, you shouldn't be staring at the back of the front door at all. Opening it would ruin the carefully put-together façade of the closed-curtain windows and dark rooms.

Maybe you're tired, and you forget, moving on instinct. Maybe you're bored.

Maybe you're hopeful.

The door inches open, and a man looks up from where he'd been staring listlessly at the flower-spotted bushes lining the patch of green between the entrance and the driveway. His hands are shoved into the pockets of his sweatpants, and his eyes are dark, flickering with an emotion you can't quite catch before it flutters away.

"Toji?" you say, the surprise in your voice teetering on warmth. "Hey..."

"Hey," he replies – exhales, really, something like a hum. He reaches up by his shoulder, the action too familiar for you not to stiffen, but he just rubs the back of his neck, stretching out the cricks of his body. "So. New place, huh?"

Your hand rests behind the door. He knows better than to expect it to be empty. "Old, technically. It was my first property purchase."

He tilts his head. "Yeah? When did you get it?"

"Fifteen. A birthday present for myself – a gift for surviving another year of high school. And curses, I guess. Surviving them was way worse because getting their blood in my mouth made me want to die."

He scoffs, and the raised scar over the corner of his lips shifts with his amusement. "Fifteen... And what does a teenager do with a house?"

You shrug. "Drink. Party. Pirate movies. The usual."

"Hah. Sounds like you were a fun kid." Toji scuffs the toe of his sandals against the ground absently. Then he rolls his neck and sighs. "Look, I didn't come all the way here to talk history. Long-ass way out, too, so just let me in."

Lifting an eyebrow, you give him a once-over that feels keener than it should be. "Are you here to kill me?"

"What, you think I'm here for that bounty? Who do you think I am?"

"Don't blame me. You seem very well aware of it."

"Isn't worth the effort for the price. 'Sides, you've given me more than that over the years, haven't you? I like to keep my options open, and it seems to me like it's a better investment to keep you alive."

"You talk as if you could kill me at all," you mutter, a little disdainfully, but it dissipates swiftly when Toji cracks a smirk, so familiar and entwined deeply with your favourite memories. The breeze stirs lightly, and Toji's hair ruffles, almost blue in the sunlight.

"Couldn't I? You're the one who runs away."

"Yeah, after immobilising you. Not a lot of fun to be had if you're dead as a doornail. Say – how deep are you in the jujutsu world? You must be rusty. I'd be willing to help you train."

"You'd help me kill your fellow sorcerers?" He chuckles and arches a brow. "I'll have you know I'm looking at a contract worth thirty million from a bunch of religious crazies."

"Peanuts." You wave a dismissive hand. "Now that I mention it, I'm getting complacent, too... I could use the challenge. Keep in contact with me and I'll pay you double."

"You're paying me to use my body?"

"Your words, not mine."

He holds your gaze steadily for a while, and despite his airy voice, his eyes are thoughtful. "Let's not talk business on your doorstep. Lost your manners, have you?"

Finally, your shoulders loosen, and the tension in your body vanishes. With a soft chuckle, you pull the door open further and step aside. "Don't make me regret this."

"Please," he says, slipping out of his sandals and into your home. "You never do."

Zenin. Fushiguro. The Sorcerer Killer. All of his names, all of his history, and yet, to you, he is just your baby – your Toji. It'd be embarrassing if he cared enough to be embarrassed, he thinks as you draw him into a rib-shattering hug. Instead, he feels smug.

Before that Gojo kid, there was you. It wasn't a position you were born for – like the kid was – but you trained your way up and eventually found yourself most suited for the role, all but waltzing into it – because what youth wouldn't want to be number one? It was almost gross, your selflessness and single-minded ambition, and Toji knew how that sort of mindset made the people in power feel. They commissioned him for your death at one point, after all.

It was fun. You were both so young: dancing around each other's weapons as if it was all a stage, chasing each other's clues like a couple of dogs running after a bone. Still – you were society's best, the cream of the crop, and for you to be his, of all people, was a selfish triumph he indulged in too many times to count.

His hands creep up beneath your baggy shirt as he leans up to kiss you, tongue slipping between your lips to share in the taste of some expensive whisky he can't name. He hums – a low, rumbling sound, like a tiger chuffing – as his fingers bump over thick, warm muscle.

Blood and bone. That's what you all are, when it comes down to it.

"You should wear tighter clothes," he murmurs against your lips. "Less to grab in a fight."

The backs of his thighs press into the edge of the kitchen bench, where a forgotten glass of water sits – the remnant of your half-hearted attempt at being a good host while his lips found your neck.

You huff. "A 'fight', huh? I wasn't expecting one."

"You should always expect a fight. While you're at it, always expect to lose. Stops you from being disappointed."

"Sounds pessimistic."

"That's the price we pay for being good at what we do."

"As if you pay for anything, Toji."

He chuckles. He drops the hem of your shirt before sliding his palms up your chest – what a tease – and cupping your face. His hands are warm, callused, thrumming with lifeblood. He sweeps his thumb absently over your cheek, committing every pore of your face to memory. You have the urge to pull away, look down, like a schoolboy with a crush – but Toji's hands are firm.

"C'mon, at least look me in the eye before we kick this off. You that ashamed of me?"

Startled, your gaze flicks up to his. Instead of the half-wry look you expect, he smirks and pulls you in to meet his lips. His fingers interlace loosely at the nape of your neck, caging you in place, and you have no choice but to bend to his whim.

"Stupid," you mutter against his lips, mostly to yourself. "Stop playing with my feelings, Toji – that's manipulative. You're breaking my heart here."

Rather than pulling away himself, he pushes you away, a palm flat on your chest but without any real power. It remains there as he leans back against the stone countertop. "My bad, baby. It's just funny."

"Funnier than you calling this," you gesture between your chests, "something to 'kick off' after... how many years? If you weren't all over me seconds ago, I'd think you came over for a beer and a game."

He lifts his hands in teasing surrender at your accusatory tone. "All right. We'll fuck, then. Maybe include some heavy petting for the B-roll, if you're up for it. Sound good?"

You cross your arms over your chest and muster up a suitable amount of annoyance for a glare. Toji finds it hard to take you seriously – what with your dumb jokes and ridiculous inclination towards flashy fighting – so to him, it's more of a pout. "So, you got lonely without me, huh? Yeah, nah. We're not filming ourselves."

"Hm." It's not a yes, but it's not a disagreement, either. "Why not? It'd be hot."

"I'm a teacher, Toji," you remind him, clicking your tongue when he shrugs, one hand on his hip. "I don't want that kind of thing to exist. If it got out..."

"So you are ashamed of me," he mutters. He steps forward to grab your hands when you start to protest, visibly distressed. He snickers. "Kidding, kidding. Fuck, it's fun to play with you. You don't care about the other one, then? The one from the abandoned restaurant?"

"Well—" Your breath stutters when Toji absently compares hand sizes and laces your fingers together. You watch as he aligns four of his fingers against your ring finger specifically, one at a time as if comparing again, but this time...

"Well?" he prompts, his grin broadening. His shaggy hair falls across his eyes as he tilts his head.

"Well, I don't look like I did ten years ago, and as far as I know, my face isn't in it..." All logic scatters like leaves in the wind when he looks up at you through his lashes, that playful, pretty smirk of his tugging at your heartstrings just right. It's like the years never passed. You swallow. "I-It was different," you finish lamely.

Toji's eyes flicker down to your lips. With a flick of his wrist, he twists a hand in your collar and tugs you down so that your faces are inches apart. Your chests collide roughly. He doesn't seem to care, his gaze trained on you with a heavy, smoky intensity. "Fine. If you won't let me film it, you better make it memorable. I'll decide later if it was worth coming here for."

—

Toji should have known you were serious when you pulled the bedframe about six inches out from the wall. He'd laughed at first, insulting you for such uptight behaviour regarding something as boring as walls, but you'd just dragged him to the bed with a roll of your eyes.

With how loud he was moaning, you could only be glad that he didn't find you at your apartment property.

"Toji," you breathe, your gaze trapped on the tight, firm ass ricocheting off your hips. Your grip tightens. "Toji."

"Fuuuck," he drawls as his cock throbs, prying his eyes open to narrow them at you over his shoulder. Lust has turned the usual green of them nearly black. "What?" he bites out.

"I missed you. Missed this. Fuck, baby, you're so fucking tight."

He lets out a throaty chuckle, turning back around to rest his head on his forearms. With a shift of your hips, your cock punches his prostate, over and over, and his eyes roll back briefly, a pleased groan rumbling from the depths of his stomach. His dick pulses and swings uselessly between his muscular thighs.

"M-Men are all the same," he grumbles. You click your tongue, though you don't miss the way an involuntary moan makes him stutter.

"Awful way to greet an old friend, you know. I thought you were smarter than that. Try being nicer," you slam your hips forward, making his eyes fly open with a gasp, "and you'll get what you want."

His skin prickles when you glide a warm hand up his side and come to rest it upon his shoulder, holding him down with just enough strength to make his muscles flex to fight it. Your thumb rubs little circles into the back of his neck, tracing the dips of his shoulders until you find what you're looking for. You dig into the taut muscle, making him wince.

"Stressed?" you hum, and your voice is gentle. Gentler than he deserves. "Is it money problems again?"

Something like guilt stirs in his belly, but a well-angled thrust has his thoughts unravelling. "No."

"No?"

"No," he repeats. You hum in response and don't push the matter further.

Your hand lifts from his shoulder, and already he can feel the stiffness returning. Damn those God-hands of yours. He finds himself arching back, bracing against the bed, in an effort to return your hands to their rightful place.

You hush him sweetly, pressing your chest to his back and burying your face in the crook of his neck. The angle has the shaft of your heavy cock pressed right up against his prostate and his body jolts with the fiery burn of pleasure, his knuckles turning white as he fists the sheets. "No need to chase me anymore. Not going anywhere. 'M right here, baby."

Toji manages to scoff, and his voice is steadier than he expects. "Not chasin' you, asshole."

"Yeah? Then what do you call showing up at my door as you did, unannounced?"

"Welfare check."

You roll your eyes. "I hate you."

You punctuate your sentence by yanking his hips back on your cock, the wet squelch of lube and precome making him shudder. Despite the rough treatment, a moan tumbles from his lips, and he laughs, loose and breathy.

"Fuck me like it, then," he dares, knocking his temple gently against yours.

One hand lifts to card through his hair. He groans softly as your nails scrape his scalp, but his eyes fly wide open as you grab a fistful and tug, wrenching him up to kneel. He sinks his teeth into his lower lip as you wrap your hand around his leaking cock, jerking him off at the same pace as you fuck into him – he swears he sees stars as your thumb and index finger twist roughly around his swollen tip. His cock squelches in your fist, bubbles of precome sliding down his tip and smearing across your palm.

"Fucker," he snarls, ceasing his split second of flailing to grip your hip and thigh. You'd consider it painful if you hadn't also had the pleasure of being stabbed, slashed, shot, and bitten. "Nngh – so fuckin' big—"

"Going back on our word, are we, honey?" you say slyly, twisting your fist up and down his wet cock. "Tsk, tsk, Toji... so forgetful. I'd say you're getting old."

You glide a fingernail up the line of his vein, making his hips stutter and forcing another curse to slip from his lips, and you dig the tip of your finger roughly into his leaking slit. He moans and his back arches against your hold as your throbbing cock easily slides deep into him, the harsh, rapid smack of your balls against his ass almost disorienting.

He shudders. The heat of his body pulls his skin too tight, makes his tongue heavy and clumsy. Your hands are not quite soft – years of weapons training and hand-to-hand combat would do that to someone – but they're sweet on him. Loving, nearly. Your warmth softens the rub of calluses and tough scar tissue, and Toji learns them anew.

"C'mon, baby... want you to talk to me. Love your pretty little sounds." You end the sentence in a whisper, patting his stomach with the absent sort of friendliness you had as a youth. You never shied away from touching him, rewarding him with your weight draped over his shoulders or entwining your fingers when he did something that pleased you.

That familiar feeling jolts him back to reality. He glances your way – perhaps to say something, but he doesn't remember what about – and you capture his lips with yours, tilting your head and running your tongue over his lower lip.

He keeps them sealed, airtight.

You groan into the kiss and nip at him pleadingly, because you'd have to break Toji's jaw to get him to open up – and you couldn't do that to your favourite killer. Your name falling from his lips like a prayer is too sweet to pass up on.

Eventually, with enough petting and kisses, Toji relents, if only to see you perk up like a puppy tossed a bone. He groans softly as you explore his mouth, tongue curling around his and gliding over his teeth.

Your breath is hot and sweet against his, your lips shockingly gentle despite the quick and steady pace of your hips bouncing off his ass. He jolts every time your cockhead kisses his prostate, swollen and sensitive from your unrelenting pace. His dick bobs, dark red and pulsing hotly in your palm, and he groans like an injured animal. It's almost desperate.

Your shaft drags against his slick walls, which clench with a rippling squeeze as if he's trying to milk you dry. With each hungry snap of your hips, your tip punches the breath out of his lungs. His vision blots out, and he swears he can feel your cock in his damn throat.

Without warning, and without a word, he comes, his expression going lax with pleasure as he releases thick ropes onto his stomach. It's four hard spurts and two weaker pulses, the slow, measured tugs of your wrist twisting in a way that has his thick thighs trembling.

You coo softly, and Toji's face is uncharacteristically warm. Little kisses drift their way up his shoulder and neck and he sighs softly, eyes shut and head tilted back against your shoulder. You press your palm against his chest to feel the heart thudding beneath his ribs, the rise and fall with each shallow breath.

You cup his chest and squeeze.

He cracks an eye open, disapproval furrowing his brows. In response, you grin cheekily and nip at his earlobe as you smooth your fingers through his hair – a silent apology for being so rough.

To his credit, he lets it go. Doesn't even smack you for being an ass. He does, however, clamp down punishingly around your cock when he pulls off, making you hiss at the scrape. It bobs and you shiver at the cold air.

Thoughtfully, Toji glances down at it, still hard as rock and curving upwards towards your stomach. He reaches for it.

Your eyes widen when he slips a nail under the edge of the condom. "Wh-What are you doing?"

"Don't sound so scared. I know we're both safe. Said ya missed me, right?" He grins, dark and sharp, with eyes half-lidded – almost coy. "I'll let you finish inside me. For old times' sake."

"Contract-sanctioned stalking? I thought better of you, Toji." Despite your flippant words, your breath hitches, and Toji's grin widens. He tugs the slick condom off and tosses it aside – without even tying it up, the bastard – and before you can grumble about it, he grabs your jaw, forcing you to look at him, and presses his lips to yours.

You groan softly as he parts his lips and allows you in. He shifts closer, his knee between yours, and grabs your hand. He brings it down between your bodies.

"Baby..." you whisper as he wraps your hand around your lengths, pressed together. He is hot and velvety in your palm.

"Mm." The sound is deep and content, and he blinks up at you slowly like a cat. "I know. I want it."

Then, slinging his arm loosely around your shoulders, he pulls you down with him.

You barely manage to catch yourself before crushing him, your instincts and reflexes dulled by familiarity and a dreamy languor. Not that you think he'd mind – not with that grin.

Toji spreads his knees and hooks his calves around your thighs. He guides your cock into him again, and he rumbles out a pleased moan as it buries itself hilt-deep into his slick warmth.

His head falls back against the pillows as you press your hips flush against his ass. "Ah, shit..."

"You good, baby?" you murmur, swallowing harshly as his gummy walls flutter tightly around you, as if he can lock you inside forever. Your dick twitches.

"Mmh, fuck, jus' sensitive. Move."

It's only natural that you obey.

Toji feels hotter now that you don't have the layer of plastic to contend with – hotter, wetter, hungrier. You thrust shallowly at first, but as his moans grow louder – less restrained – you allow yourself to move tip-to-base, deep and dirty the way he used to like it. Seems he still does. The rim of his puffy asshole catches on the ridge of your cockhead and his nails rake down your shoulders and back, leaving stinging raised lines in their wake.

Pride fills your chest, inflates your ego. An infamous assassin, the Sorcerer Killer, spread wide and inviting with his cheeks all flushed – he's certainly given you a thousand little deaths. You grip the meat of his ass and lift his hips off the mattress, fucking into his wet heat at a new angle that has him shouting your name.

Maybe it's because you can see his face – see all the pretty cock-drunk expressions that wash over his features – that you find yourself chasing the precipice of release embarrassingly fast. He locks his legs around your waist, thick and muscular, and you want to laugh at the absurdity of it.

Why would you ever want to leave?

"Toji," you grunt, panting softly. "'M gonna..." Your breath fans against his sweat-slick skin, making him shiver and arch into your touch. He cups the back of your neck as you nibble and suck dark bruises into his tanned skin, his lashes fluttering as you shift his thighs on your lap and leave far too many deep red hickeys printed on his skin. You even scatter a few across his collarbones and chest, and you're only pleased when he looks like he was mauled by a bear.

He pants softly, his bitten moans making your cock throb even harder. Fuck, you're so hard – the shape of your teeth printed into his skin for all to see makes you prouder than you'd ever admit. You trace the marks gently with your fingertips and Toji's chest stutters.

Gazing up at you with lidded, unfocussed eyes, he laughs, freer than he had since you met him earlier. Your heavy cock plunges into his stretched hole, again and again and again like you're trying to make him take, and your grip on one of his thighs is tight enough to leave red crescents. He grasps your face, turning it down towards him, and offers a sleazy, roguish grin, breathless. His eyes trace the cut of your cheeks, the curve of your lips.

"You look less stupid than usual. S'all you're good for, ain't it? Fucking me nice an' deep with that fat cock of yours – f-fuck. S'mine, yeah? All mine?"

You shudder and groan, bone-deep, and Toji can feel the heavy throbbing of your cock leaking inside him. The slick feeling of you against his walls builds a hot ball of arousal in his lower belly. Your chest heaves against his and your stomach tenses, familiar planes of muscle firm against his hand. Excitement roars through him like a wildfire – eager and keening.

He yanks you down for a devouring kiss as you come, catapulting off the precipice into white bliss. You gasp into it. His ass clenches around you with his own release as he moans, his soft walls stroking you and sucking you in.

He's so fucking warm, so fucking wet. His body is slick with sweat and he shoves his tongue into your mouth like a man starved. Maybe he is. You groan, low and pleased, and his thighs tighten around you like a cage, possessive in his hungry, unyielding embrace.

Spilling into him is heaven. You've died and ascended, you're certain of it. He drinks you deep, as if he was made for it, and lets his head fall back against the pillows with a less-than-steady sigh as your balls tighten and pulse hotly against his skin. Dragging it out, you grind your hips into his ass in lazy circles, huffing and puffing against his throat as if you've run a marathon. Your fingers graze his own, fluttering in a way that seems almost... uncertain.

Hah. As if you knew what that word meant. You were unshakeable, infallible. The strongest. You'd hold onto that title for as long as you could; the burden was heavy.

Rather disappointingly, you don't choose to hold his hands. They glide down his waist and hips, making him shiver, and you slowly pull out, the solid but gentle grip on his thighs never wavering. You set him down as if he was made of glass and his body twitches as thick come leaks from his stretched hole, dripping and pooling white below his ass.

He tosses a lazy arm over his eyes, bending one knee and bracing against the bed. Another hot gush of come. "Ah, f-fuck... shit. You still come like a truck..."

Your gaze, once so dark and sultry as if you were about to eat him alive, now snaps to him, wide and kind and so embarrassed that Toji can't help but crack a grin.

"Sorry, sorry! I didn't hurt you, did I?"

He rolls his eyes. "Other than the hickeys, no. Wouldn'ta minded it anyway," he adds slyly, peering out from within the shadow of his arm. "Pretty hot when you get creative."

Shuffling off of the bed with a soft chuckle, you pick up the discarded condom and toss it in the bin. You pull open the wardrobe with a flex of a wall of muscles that Toji watches keenly, spreading his knees to eye you through them. His tongue darts out to wet his lower lip.

"Y'know, I was thinking," you begin suddenly, rifling through clothes and drawers.

"You can do that?"

"Shut up. I was thinking about you – your situation."

He closes his eyes and sinks back into your bed. "When'd you have the time? Not while you were fucking me, I hope."

"Just listen, Toji." You turn around, washcloth in one hand and a pile of clothes in the other. Dark, but loose and unremarkable – as he prefers it. You toss the clothes at the bottom of the bed and disappear into the adjoining bathroom, raising your voice as the faucet squeaks on. "I was wondering if you'd wanna... you know – catch up. Or at least let me help you."

You continue, "I could find you a place in a better school zone, get you set up legitimately. Honestly, actually, you wouldn't even need to work. You could just focus on your family and I'd take care of the rest."

Toji sits up, ignoring the pinch of pain and the mess between his legs. It'll ache later, so he'll deal with it later. "What?"

"I said—"

"Yeah, yeah, heard you the first time. But why?" He lowers his voice as you return to him and begin to clean him up. He meets your eyes and his mouth takes on the beginning slant of a smirk. "My ass that good, huh? You want me to be your sugar baby?"

Heat floods your cheeks. "You're not that hot, Toji. Don't get ahead of yourself."

"Wasn't talking about my face. Still – it's not like you to beg me to go on the straight and narrow. What's with that?"

"At the risk of sounding humiliatingly sappy after sex," you sigh, sitting back and dropping the cloth aside, "I still care about you. A whole fucking lot. I only want good things for you, Toji, and I have all this excess wealth that I can't donate fast enough, so if I can change just two more lives – I'd beg for the chance."

The desire to change lives without ending others'. He can understand the sentiment.

"What would you want from me?"

For a moment, you're taken aback by the tiredness in his voice. You blink. "Nothing? Like I said, the money would just vanish into a charity otherwise. Well – maybe I'd like to be invited over on the weekends, and maybe drop off-slash-pick up itty-bitty Megumi every so often. He's that age, right? Oh – and you gotta let me into the kitchen. I make a mean lasagne. Wonder if the boy would like it..."

He snorts. "That's a lot of conditions."

"Well, I am offering to let you live like a plump and happy housewife, so..."

He's quiet for a while, his hair falling over his eyes in a way that blocks your view of his face. You toss a rolled-up towel at his head, and he catches it without looking.

He lowers the towel. "You... don't seem to care that I left you."

"No, I didn't at all care that my friend dropped off the face of the earth without warning." You cross your arms and scoff, the smile slipping from your face. "I only heard about what happened months after you vanished, and by that time, there was nothing I could do to search for you. I had too many people looking at me to dig up old underground contacts and not enough time to comb through the country myself. You could have talked to me, you know," you say, your voice softening. "I would never turn you away."

He shrugs, noncommittal. "It's like you said – too many people looking at you. Would be alarming if I came strolling up to your door, wouldn't it?"

"You did today," you point out.

"Yeah, when there's a bounty on your head. I could be killing you right now."

You scoff, though the hint of a smile flickers across your lips. "You're impossible. But fair point. Just... think it over, okay? Come find me after all this bounty business is over and done with. You know where I live."

Toji chuckles softly, and he accepts your offered hand. You lead him to the large bathroom and he threads his towel over the rod next to what must be yours. He stares longer than he should, but the sight of the two towels beside each other – his green, yours blue – forms a lump in his throat that's hard to swallow around. His heartbeat quickens.

The sound of water hitting the tiles fills the bathroom. He raises his voice over it. "Hey."

Glancing over, your arm shimmering with water droplets from where it rests against the faucet handle, you tilt your head wordlessly.

"I should be picking up the kid in a couple of hours," he explains, "at six. As far as he and the childcare know, I work a normal nine-to-five like the rest of 'em. You could go."

Your eyes widen, and you let out an endeared laugh. "Toji, Megumi doesn't know who I am. The last time we met, he was a newborn. I'm not about to give everyone a heart attack by showing up on your behalf."

"It wouldn't be on my behalf, dumbass." His tone borders between disparaging and fond. "I'd go with you."

"Wh—?" Your throat bobs harshly. The shower seems forgotten, and Toji pushes you backwards into it with a palm on your chest because he's not about to waste the water. It pours onto your head, your hair beginning to stick to your face, and it still doesn't seem to register. A smile pulls at his lips as he reaches for your body wash, scanning the label while your brain putters out and short-circuits.

You didn't expect an answer that soon.

"You heard me," he says coolly, as if this is a normal Tuesday for him. He squirts a dab of body wash onto his palm. "Isn't this what you asked for? In my opinion, it's not that fun. I get a lot of women chattin' me up while we wait. Awkward as hell since I can't be rude or they might tell their kids, and then their kids won't like Megumi... ah, it's a big deal. You being there will help. You love to talk, so you can do it for me. Good game plan, right?"

"Toji, I..."

"The fact that I'm talking more than you worries me."

"You said pick-up's at six, right?" you say suddenly, the glint in your eyes intensifying.

He arches a brow, glancing up at you. "Yeah."

"That means we have an hour." You lean in, trapping him against the glass of the shower. There's a hint of mania in your gaze, starved with a vehement zeal. "I'm gonna fuck you, now."

His eyes widen. A feral grin spreads across his face. He laughs against your throat and moans when you press your thumb roughly into one of the many hickeys littering his neck and chest. "You're crazy. Fuckin' crazy – oi."

It's disturbingly easy for you to lift him by his thighs and press him against the cool glass. His skin prickles as he grips your shoulders and mutters, his breath mingling with yours: "If you drop me, I'll kill you."

"Promise?" you ask with a breathless grin.

He crushes his lips to yours. No one else gets the privilege of taking your little deaths.

[thedarkestrivernymph]

Yandere! Kidnapper

warnings: captivity, forced infantilization, nonconsensual themes, physical violence, drugging, collaring, stalking, dead dove: do not eat

—becomes increasingly more unhinged, lowkey inspired by a disturbing manga I accidentally read twice, so take that as you will.., so yeah that's my last post of 2024, happy 2025 people!

©Copyright -2024- thedarkestrivernymph - All Rights Reserved

Y! Kidnapper that hunts you through the forest and tackles you to the ground after an escape attempt only to scold and berate you for every little scrape on your body, as if it wasn't his fault in the first place, as if you're just too clumsy for your own good.

Y! Kidnapper that never would do anything sexual without consent, but doesn't take no for an answer when you tell him you don't want him to bathe you—you are his, so of course he will rub you clean, even the spot between your legs.

Y! Kidnapper who tells you his entire day, everything, as if you're his lifeless oversized doll, only to pinch your nipples whenever he asks a question, daring you to answer and enjoys your torment in staying quiet and pliant for him

Y! Kidnapper who sits you down, clips even your toenails for you, kneads your sore muscles from doing nothing all day, carries you everywhere, doesn't even let your feet catch callous from walking on them, only to treat you absolutely diabolical in bed, branding each inch of skin he took such good care of either with his hand, a belt or whatever he gets his hands on..

Y! Kidnapper who's obsessed with providing warm meals for you, the highest quality ingredients are used—everything to accommodate your sensitive gut, only to drug you out of your mind and giggle while doing nothing else but cuddle you while watching TV and popping chips in his mouth, all while commenting on the script of the particular horror movie he’s watching and listing thousand of things he would've done better than the director

Y! Kidnapper who before capturing you was the weirdest fucking stalker in existence— openly groping you, offering you food with a smile (mind you he’s a complete stranger???), appearing in front of your doorstep at night to holler at you, banging his fists on your door and actively breaking in only to stare at your sleeping form while jacking off. Did I also mention he would email you like you're his secret rendezvous? Oh and he went along and introduced himself to your whole family with a fake identity over email (like—wtf is whatsapp?), hahaha..

Y! Kidnapper who wants to control every single aspect of your life—from how you pluck your brows to when you're allowed to use the restroom. Will literally stare you down with a hand on the chain connected to your collar, that he forced on you after your latest escape attempt, while you're pants are pooling at your feet and you’re trying to pee. (Why? Because the window is a few feet away..)

Y! Kidnapper from who, let's be honest here, you will only ever escape in death and that will probably be in old age, with how well he takes care of you, having baby proofed his home enough to ensure that you couldn't hurt yourself even on accident and don't even think about using a razor! he will do that for you, just sit down in the bathtub, all drugged out of your mind, dumb and drooling, losing touch with reality, while he does everything for you

—just be his passive little kitten he declawed, and that's enough for him, just dependent on him and he will paint your cage gold, even if the paint will chip away one day

[sunshineangel0]

-baking, because murder is wrong. ✩‧

pairing- lee felix x reader summary- After a frustrating day, you show up at Felix’s apartment in the middle of the night, demanding a baking session before you do something illegal. genre- fluff, comedy, best friends to lovers word count- 1.6k warnings- mentions of stress/frustration (but no heavy angst), excessive fluff and best friends-to-lovers tension (your heart may combust), mild swearing (a few curses here and there), lots of playful banter and teasing ! not proof read (sorry for spelling mistakes etc.)

2:03 AM – Felix’s Apartment

Felix was enveloped in a deep, restful slumber when his phone began to vibrate aggressively against the wooden surface of his nightstand. At first, he ignored it, burrowing deeper under his blanket. Then it buzzed again. And again. And again. With a groggy sigh, he finally reached for it, squinting at the screen.

Y/N🦋: I’m outside.

Y/N🦋: Open the door before I commit arson.

With a resigned sigh, Felix dragged himself out of bed. The clock on his nightstand blinked 2:17 AM in glaring red digits. Of course. This wasn’t the first time you'd turned up at his doorstep in the dead of night, exuding an unmistakable air of barely contained chaos.

Felix shuffled to the door, rubbing the remnants of sleep from his eyes. As he unlocked it, he was greeted by the sight of you, swathed in an oversized hoodie that dwarfed your frame, your hair tousled as if you’d run a marathon through a windstorm. In your arms, you clutched a bag of flour with the intensity of someone holding a weapon, ready for battle.

“…Do I even want to ask?” he muttered, his voice a mix of amusement and resignation.

You pushed past him, your footsteps echoing off the wooden floor as you marched into the apartment. "I need to bake before I do something illegal," you declared, your tone a storm cloud ready to burst.

Felix just shook his head, closing the door with a soft click. He was completely unfazed, accustomed to your nocturnal baking escapades as an antidote to whatever madness the world had thrown your way.

Felix leaned casually against the kitchen counter, his eyes following your every move as you aggressively swept ingredients from the cupboard and plunked them onto the table with a loud clatter. "So," he drawled, the corners of his mouth twitching with amusement, "who's got you all riled up this time?"

You slammed a hefty bag of sugar onto the counter, sending a small cloud of white dust into the air. "My boss is an idiot," you snapped, the frustration evident in the sharpness of your voice.

Felix nodded slowly, his expression one of feigned seriousness. "Mhm."

"And my coworkers are absolutely useless," you continued, grabbing a carton of eggs and placing it beside the flour with a thud.

"Right," Felix said, his tone encouraging you to vent more.

You threw your hands up in exasperation, your voice rising with each word. "And I swear, if one more person tells me to 'just calm down,' I'm going to start throwing hands."

Felix couldn't suppress his grin any longer and reached for a mixing bowl, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Alright. Let’s rage bake," he said, ready to join in the therapeutic chaos.

It started innocently enough, with the kitchen bathed in the warm glow of the afternoon sun. Felix stood at the counter, meticulously measuring flour with a slight furrow of concentration on his brow. Meanwhile, you were beside him, whisking the batter with a fierce determination, your movements a blur of energy.

Then—

“You know you’re supposed to gently fold in the butter, right?” Felix teased, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of his lips as he glanced over at you.

You shot him a glare, eyebrows raised in defiance. “Do I look like I care about technique right now?” you retorted, the whisk still clutched tightly in your hand.

Felix snorted, a chuckle escaping as he shook his head, amusement dancing in his eyes. “You’re dangerous,” he remarked, feigning a look of mock terror.

Then, before he could react—

You scooped up a handful of flour and flicked it at him, watching as a cloud of white powder puffed into the air, settling on his shirt.

Felix froze, his eyes wide with surprise as he processed the sudden attack. You broke into a wide grin, feeling a rush of triumph.

“…Oh, you’re done for,” he murmured, a playful threat in his voice.

With that, he grabbed a fistful of flour and launched it at you, a burst of powdery chaos swirling around you both. You gasped, ducking and weaving just in time to avoid the white storm. “You little—” you began, laughter bubbling up uncontrollably.

Chaos erupted in the small kitchen. Flour flew through the air like snow in a blizzard, sugar spilled across the countertop, and Felix danced around your attacks with surprising agility, a grin never leaving his face. You were mid-throw, about to hurl another handful, when Felix lunged forward. With a swift motion, he wrapped his arms around your waist, lifting you momentarily off the ground and spinning you away from the counter.

The two of you crashed gently against the fridge, laughter ringing out as you both tried to catch your breath, the world around you dusted in white. Felix’s face was only inches from yours, his eyes locked onto yours, a soft smile playing on his lips.

And suddenly—

You weren’t thinking about your boss, whose endless demands had been weighing on you. You weren’t thinking about your awful day, filled with stress and frustration. You were just thinking about him, the warmth of his presence and the laughter you shared, and nothing else seemed to matter.

The way his eyes crinkled when he laughed reminded you of the sun peeking through clouds on a dreary day. His hands lingered on your waist, warm and reassuring, as if they belonged there. His smile softened, just slightly, as he looked at you, the corners of his lips curling gently upward. Your heart skipped a beat, a fluttering sensation that you couldn't quite control.

And before you could stop yourself, the words tumbled out of your mouth—"…You look good like this."

Felix blinked, surprise flickering in his eyes, before a playful smirk spread across his face. "Covered in flour?" he teased, gesturing to the white dusting on his shirt.

You laughed, a light, airy sound that filled the kitchen, and nudged his chest with the back of your hand. “No, I mean—” You hesitated, your gaze dropping to the floor as you tried to gather the courage that seemed to have slipped away.

Felix tilted his head, his eyes gentle and encouraging. Then, in a quieter voice, he urged, “Say it.”

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of the moment pressing down on you. This was dangerous territory, a line you had both been dancing around for months. But maybe, just maybe, you were tired of pretending. So you exhaled, your voice barely above a whisper, the words escaping your lips—"…I mean, I like you, dumbass."

Felix froze, his expression momentarily unreadable. Your stomach plummeted like a stone in a pond. Oh. Oh no. What if you had ruined everything between you?

But then, Felix's lips curved into a genuine grin, not teasing or smug, but soft and sincere, as if he had been waiting for this moment all along. Without a trace of hesitation, he said, “I like you too.”

Your breath caught in your throat, hope bubbling up inside you. “Yeah?” you asked, barely daring to believe it.

Felix chuckled, a deep, rich sound, and reached up to gently brush a smudge of flour from your cheek. “Yeah,” he confirmed, his eyes twinkling with warmth.

And then, slowly, sweetly, he leaned in and kissed you. It was a kiss that enveloped you like a warm embrace, tender and unhurried. It felt like all those late-night baking sessions had finally revealed their true purpose, like this was more than just a distraction. It felt like he was exactly where he wanted to be, and so were you.

You perched on the edge of the marble counter, your legs swinging idly back and forth, while Felix meticulously swept up the scattered flour that covered the kitchen like a fresh layer of snow. The remnants of your late-night baking escapade were everywhere—flour dusted the floor, bits of dough clung to the edges of the wooden table, and a sweet aroma lingered in the air.

“…So, technically, I still never got my revenge,” you mused, watching Felix’s careful movements as he wiped the counter with a damp cloth, his brow furrowed in concentration.

Felix paused, glancing up at you with an exasperated yet amused look. “I think you had enough fun throwing flour at me,” he retorted, brushing some lingering white powder from his dark hair.

You flashed a mischievous grin, the memory of your playful battle fresh in your mind. “Maybe.”

Then, as the moment softened, your voice did too, turning almost contemplative. “But I feel better.”

Felix’s stern expression melted away, replaced by a gentle warmth. He reached out, his fingers lightly tapping your knee, a silent acknowledgment of the bond you shared. “That’s why I let you wake me up at 2 AM,” he murmured, his voice a low, soothing rumble that made your heart skip a beat.

You rolled your eyes playfully, feeling the flutter of your pulse quicken, and hopped off the counter, landing softly on the cool tile floor. “Come on,” you said, tugging at the sleeve of his floured shirt with a gentle insistence. “Cookies are done.”

Felix grinned widely, his eyes sparkling with a mix of affection and amusement, and allowed you to lead him toward the oven. Together, you both sank onto the floor, the warmth from the freshly baked cookies seeping through the plates in your hands. Sharing the sweet treats and exchanging shy, stolen glances, you couldn’t help but think—

Maybe baking really was better than murder. Especially when it meant discovering a love that felt as warm and comforting as the cookies you shared.

©sunshineangel0 𖹭 if you liked this work, please consider reblogging, commenting or liking! xoxo franzi 💋

[rafesbabygirlx]

ONLINE LOVE | 𝙸𝚗𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚍𝚞𝚌𝚎𝚍

𝚂𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚕𝚎𝚍𝚊𝚍!𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚑!𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝙰𝚄

𝙹𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚏𝚕𝚞𝚏𝚏 - 𝚒𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚌𝚜 𝚒𝚜 𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎’𝚜 𝚒𝚗𝚗𝚎𝚛 𝚖𝚘𝚗𝚘𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚞𝚎.

𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝 | 𝙰𝚄 𝙼𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝

Rafe had never been one for love. He screwed probably every kook girl around his age and then showed them to the door once he was done with them. No one on the island batted him an eye anymore. Not even his daughter's mother. When she dropped the sleeping baby off at his doorstep 2 years ago and never looked back. He honestly wouldn't even remember her name, if it weren't on Harper's birth certificate.

Now, being 27, a single father, all alone at Tannyhill, he wanted more for his love life. Wheezie and Rose are gone, Sarah hates him, Ward is dead. The only sense of love is what he gets from his little Harper, his now 3 year old. She's showed him unconditional love. He's become the biggest softy when it comes to her.

He’s done his soul searching, attempts at dating on the island. His reputation precedes him. He wanted nothing but to find someone who could love both him and Harper. So he did what he’d never thought he’d do. He downloaded Hinge.

He set up his profile. Added photos. One business, one fun, one sexy. Overthought all his answers before hitting complete. One thing he didn’t overthink was his location. He set it for a city out in mainland North Carolina.

He didn’t match with anyone for the first few days. Even when he got so desperate and rapid swiped right at 2 am. Even when he couldn’t believe how no one would want someone like Rafe Cameron. He didn’t even care anymore. He just wanted a match.

It wasn’t until he got to your profile. He was completely enamored. The photos of you were gorgeous. He even found himself giggling at some of your responses to the prompts given by the app.

He sat on the couch, brushing his hand through Harpers hair as she rests against his chest playing with her dolls. He was nervous. He knew why. This was a big step for him, even more so now. He didn't know if it was stupid or not but he didn't plan on mentioning Harper until things were serious with someone. But you had this look about you that didn't scream "avoid."

He held his breath and swiped right on you. Much to his disbelief, he matched with you immediately. He got nervous all over again, yet took the plunge and messaged you first.

7:02pm: Hi, I’m Rafe. It’s nice to meet you.

“God, could you sound more like an idiot?” He muttered to himself right before he hit send. He put his phone down not wanting to obsess over a response from you. 10 minutes later he heard his phone buzz on the coffee table.

7:12pm: Hi Rafe! I’m y/n. It’s very nice to meet you too. Tell me a little about yourself.

He felt a little at ease seeing your response. It was similar to his and simple. Maybe he didn’t come off as big of a dope as he thought he did. But how the hell was he supposed to talk about himself? He’d never been in the talking stage before, even at 27 this was all way too new for him.

7:14pm: Sure. I’m from the Outer Banks. I took over my father’s company a few years ago after he passed. I’ve been running it for 5 years. I live in the same house I grew up in. And… my favorite color is green. How about you?

Pathetic, Rafe you’re pathetic.

7:15pm: You live in the Outer Banks? It says you live in my city. Weird. 🤷🏻‍♀️

Shit…

7:15pm: Anyways! I’m from Toronto originally. I came to North Carolina to go to school for medicine. UNC has one of the top programs. I’m currently in my first year of interning. I’m hoping to stay in NC once I’m complete.

7:15pm: Oh and also my favorite color is pink! Not a crayola crayon pink. A specific type of pink. Soft, kinda like a soft natural pink. But not a salmon, that’s too orange.

Jesus, she is cute. Smart and beautiful. She’s already so comforting. That’s crazy right? It doesn’t help I already look like a liar. How could I slip up that fast? Play it cool, Rafe.

7:16pm: I was in the area a couple weeks back. I had changed my location when I was there. I must’ve forgotten to change it back when I got home. Hope it’s ok.

I’m already lying. This is so bad.

7:17pm: Totally fine I get it! I don’t mind it. OBX really isn’t far. My roommate and I spent a few days there last summer. We loved it! Plus, is it bad I’m already enjoying talking to you? You might be the first normal guy I’ve matched with.

7:18pm: Yeah this place has its charm. I’m glad you liked it! And thanks for understanding. I’m not gonna lie, I’m new to this whole dating app thing and you’re the first person I matched with. I’m glad it was you and I’m glad you’re enjoying it too.

7:19pm: I am I really am. But listen, I only have a 10 min break which ends in a minute. I won’t get off until early in the morning. really would like to continue talking to you, Rafe. Get to know each other more. Here’s my Instagram- @/futuredr.yn. Message me there. Hinge’s messaging sucks. lol

7:19pm: I hope you have a really nice night. 🥰

7:20pm: I’ll go add you now, future doctor lol. You have a nice night too. Can’t wait to talk again.

Rafe couldn’t believe how content he felt after just a 10 min conversation. It’s like you put some sort of spell on your profile that made him want to fall in love with you.

He spent a few minutes searching through your photos. You back home, your med school graduation, photos of your cat. Funny enough, photos of your trip to OBX. You at the boneyard, eating at the Wreck, drinking at the country club. He liked a couple of those photos, not caring to make it obvious he snooped hit follow then went upstairs to bring Harper to bed.

4:04am: @/futuredr.yn started following you

4:04am: @/futuredr.yn liked your photo

4:05am: @/futuredr.yn liked your photo

4:05am: @/futuredr.yn sent a message

𝚊/𝚗: 𝚍𝚊𝚢𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚍 𝙸 𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚍 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝙳𝚛��𝚠 𝚘𝚗 𝚁𝚊𝚢𝚊 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚏 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚒𝚝. 𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎’𝚜 𝚗𝚘 𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚑𝚎’𝚜 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚋𝚝𝚠.

𝚕𝚎𝚝 𝚖𝚎 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝. 𝙸 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚜𝚘𝚛𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝙰𝚄 - 𝚒𝚖 𝚊𝚕𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚢 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚗 𝚊 𝚙2 𝚜𝚘 𝚒𝚍𝚔 𝚠𝚑𝚢 𝚒'𝚖 𝚊𝚜𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐

tags + some moots

@rafestoothbrush @weluvwbb @itsforeverandalwayz @butterfly-ibuki @megiiite @siredbtches @bigenergy777 @aupernatural-teenwolflover @rafegf-real @skywalker0809 @snowtargaryen @kieeslove @leather-n-velvet @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @rafesgreasycurtainbangs @diasnohibng @slurpdew @alphabetically-deranged @whydoesthemirrorhateme @currentresidentinhell @slut-4-rafey @akobx @rafesheaven @laniirackssss @jjmaybankmylovee @slut4you @nemesyaaa @frankoceanluvr11 @maybankslover @writingroom21 @maybejj @whytheylosttheirminds @drewsephrry @cameronsprincess @cherrywriterrr

[absurdthirst]

The Last Part of Him {Joel Miller x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 19.2k

Warnings: Flirting/Courting, Joel's a little confused, Flirting through food, dates, feelings of inadequacy, oral sex (male and female receiving) premature ejaculation, shame, fleeing the scene of the crime, public blowjobs, mentions of infertility, sex, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, cream pie, Joel being sexy when he's confident, relationship issues, miscommunication, five year flash forward, mentions of illness, canon events, pregnancy.

Comments: When Joel and Ellie come to Jackson, you are instantly attracted to the gruff and slightly solitary man. Chasing him down until you become interwoven in his life.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

**Follow @absurdthirst-writes and turn on notifications to stay up to date on all new fics.

|| MasterList || Joel Miller MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

Joel sighs as he looks around the house, full of mismatched furniture and remnants  from long dead owners who perished during the outbreak. Joel feels a little awkward touching anything, the space doesn't feel like his, but since he and Ellie returned from Colorado, he is desperate to settle down. He doesn't know how to. It's been twenty years of fighting to stay alive and all of a sudden he doesn't need to fight for his meal, it's provided. He doesn't need to try to stay warm, he has a fireplace and space heaters. He doesn't have to just survive. It's hard to shake old habits so the residents of Jackson are skittish when he's around, dark eyes full of the battles he fought over the years and that makes them nervous, scared that he's going to snap. Ellie has settled in like a duck to water, meeting the other teenagers despite her initial apprehension, and Joel is happy to see that. It confirms that he made the right choice to save her. Picking up the coffee cup, Joel falls back into the chair at the kitchen table. He doesn't have to survive anymore...he can live. He stares at the cup until there's a knock on the door. His heart pounds and the instinct to grab his gun is there but he slowly makes his way to the door, opening it to find you standing there. "Uh, can I help you?" He asks, taken back by the pretty young thing on his doorstep holding a basket of what looks like muffins.

You shift nervously, smiling at the handsome newcomer to Jackson. Not exactly new since he and the girl were here for a few days several months ago, but they are back to stay. You’ve met the girl, Ellie, and she’s nice, if not a little abrasive. Joel, though, you’ve only seen him in passing and you wanted to introduce yourself to Tommy’s older brother. Your name comes out of your mouth, almost hesitantly and you could kick yourself for nearly stuttering because of an attractive set of brown eyes and silver threaded hair. “Wanted to introduce myself and welcome you to Jackson.” You offer, holding up the basket. “Hope you like blackberries?” You ask. “I’ve got a greenhouse in my backyard. Blackberries are abundant this year so far.” You’re rambling so you clamp your mouth shut. “Made them myself.”

Joel hates that his immediate reaction is suspicion but what can he do? He raises his eyebrows, watching you shift from one foot to the other, biting your lower lip like he’s gonna shove the muffins on the floor. “I, uh, thanks.” He says, brow still furrowed but he musters a smile for you. “You didn’t have to do that.” He reaches up to scratch the back of his neck, “they, uh, they look good. Thanks.” He adds again, not sure how to act when faced with genuine kindness.

“We’ve grown our wheat fresh.” You offer, knowing that some have voiced concern about eating flour when they first arrived. “No old stores. Not that they would have survived twenty years anyway.” You hate how stupid you sound, especially because he’s more attractive up close than he had been walking the streets, an unapproachable scowl on his face. “So you know, it’s safe to eat.”

You’re nervous and he has no idea why except maybe his reputation has preceded him in Jackson. He knows that the people are wary of him and don’t know who exactly he is. “Thanks. I, uh, I don’t remember the last time I ate a muffin.”

God, he’s sexy. You swallow down a slight giggle, wondering if you are just horny because of lack of selection. “Well I promise you’ll love my muffins.” You don’t even think about how it will sound until it’s out of your mouth and Joel’s brow twitches slightly. “So, uh, welcome to Jackson, neighbor.” You offer, even if you don’t live nearby. Because you’re single, you live in an apartment.

Joel nods, still cautious and confused as you offer him a little wave and he frowns when his thought is “how cute.” He doesn’t think of anything as cute, not since Sarah would cuddle her teddy bear when she fell asleep. He sighs, shutting the door when you bounce off the porch and he looks down at the muffin, picking one up to take a big bite out and groans, “fuck, those are good.” He mutters to himself as he strides into the kitchen just as Ellie comes through the front door, shrugging off her jacket, and she strides into the kitchen to see Joel with a muffin in his hand. “Muffins?” She guesses even though she only saw them in books. Baked goods were really a common commodity in the QZ. Joel nods, “neighbor brought them over.” He explains after he swallows and Ellie eagerly grabs one, “fuck yeah.” She declares, taking a big bite and she groans at the taste. Joel looks at the muffin in his hand, thinking about the pretty woman who made them for him. She won’t be back…she will realize he’s not someone you want as your neighbor.

You don’t hear anything back from him, although it’s to be expected. You didn’t exactly tell him where to find you. You had hoped that he would ask around, maybe using the basket as an excuse to track you down. Still, you see Ellie around town for the next few days and spot Joel once or twice, but he’s always talking to Tommy and Maria, obviously discussing something serious. You don’t see him at dinner in the dining hall though. Making you decide that the perfect excuse to visit again would be dropping off the casserole you had made. Calling yourself an idiot as you once again wait on the porch for someone to answer the door.

Joel adjusts the reading glasses that were gifted to him by Tommy as a joke for being officially an old man but he has found himself reluctantly reaching for them for reading things. He makes his way to the front door, wondering if Ellie forgot her keys and he is surprised when he sees you standing there. “Uh, hi.” He says your name, stomach twisting at the sight of you.

You can’t help but grin, a silly little happy grin because he remembered your name. “Hi.” He doesn’t open the door wider, doesn’t offer to let you come inside. Still guarded and there’s confusion in his eyes. Making you wonder when the last time he had someone just be nice to him. “I never see you in the dining hall.” You announce. “Maybe you don’t like crowds? Or people?” You chuckle slightly but he just looks at you, his eyes heavy on you and you shift. “Anyway, I, uh, I made this casserole.” You love a good, hearty casserole. It’s comforting and warming, reminding you of better times. “For you.” You add. “The casserole is for you. And Ellie.”

Joel looks down at the dish in your hand, eyebrows raising slightly, “I, uh, I still have your other basket.” He remembers, scratching his jaw, “do you - Ellie is out and I ain’t really lookin’ forward to eatin’ alone. You wanna come in and have some of this?” He asks, not wanting to be alone despite that being selfish.

“Y-yeah.” You nod, heart pounding at the unsure look on his face. As if he was expecting you to say no. “I’d like that. I don’t like eating alone either.” You shrug slightly. “Unless I’m pissed at the world and don’t want to talk.” You admit with a roll of your eyes. “Because for some reason, people can’t just sit with you and not talk.”

Joel snorts, nodding his head, “Ellie never shuts up.” He confesses, making you chuckle as you follow him into the house after he turns and makes his way into the house he’s still trying to be comfortable enough in to call home. “You want a beer?” He asks, thankful Tommy brought them over today and he’s had them cooling since they arrived.

“Sure.” You set the casserole down on the counter when he guides you into the kitchen. It’s nice, the old appliances are still sitting on the counters although they look like they haven’t been used. Except for the coffee maker. It still holds a cup of coffee in the carafe from where he had made some this morning. “What was the old saying? ‘It’s five o’clock somewhere.’ Well, it’s past five now, so I think we are good and I’m not going on a recon tomorrow.”

He frowns, trying to figure out where the plates are. He hasn’t memorized the kitchen set up just yet so he opens a few cabinets before he finds them. He sets them down on the table and quickly locates the silverware. “It smells really good.” He compliments you, wanting you to know he appreciates this, even if he can’t really express it.

“Thanks.” You watch him stumble around his own kitchen, now looking for cups and you tilt your head before you move to arrange the plates in front of the chairs. “You know, you should really reorganize the kitchen how you want it.” You suggest. “It’s your house now. Not like the old owners are going to be upset.”

Joel pauses at your words, surprised you observed him like you did. He feels a little exposed and he finds the cups. After setting them down, he opens the fridge to pull out two beers. “I haven’t been here long.” He reveals even though you know that, “I don’t remember the last time I had a kitchen like this.”

“You’ll get used to it faster than you believe possible.” You promise as you move to shift the casserole to the table in the middle. “It’s honestly nice, trying to rebuild a little bit of the past. Maybe improve it.”

He shifts to sit down, watching you as you take the seat opposite him, and he remembers he’s wearing the glasses. He reaches up to take them off, folding them, and he reaches for the serving spoon at the same time as you. When your fingers brush his, his heart flutters in his chest. “You first.” He insists, handing you the spoon.

It’s almost a shame that he took off his glasses. It gave him an almost scholarly appearance, although without him, he’s just hot. He even has manners, which makes you smile as you dip out a portion and turn the spoon around towards him. “Thank you.” You murmur.

He serves himself and lifts his full cup after pouring the beers out. “Thanks for dinner.” He murmurs, taking a sip of the beer that’s the equivalent to Michelob Ultra. Basically water but in these times beggars can’t be choosers. He sets his beer down and picks up the spoon, taking his first bite, and he groans at the taste of your cooking.

You hope that’s a good groan and not one that means he hates it. You take a bite yourself and feel like it’s good. It has to be, because Joel digs in a little faster. Not hunched over his food like some do, but the scrape of the spoon is quicker than yours. Smiling, you reach for your beer and take a sip.

He’s not used to eating slowly. He’s used to eating to survive and he is still in that habit. Shoving food in until he sees your eyes and he slows down. He swallows his bite, knowing he should say something. “It’s really good.” He gestures his spoon towards the food.

“I’m glad you like it.” He sounds gruff, but you think that’s just the way he talks. You don’t take offense to it. “Because there’s enough for leftovers.” You crack a grin and look around. “And I don’t see any evidence of sneaking one of the dogs home.” You joke. The dogs are trained to sniff out infected, treated well, but definitely not allowed to be kept as pets.

He chuckles for a moment, setting his spoon down, “the dogs would definitely love your cooking. Ellie, uh, she really liked the muffins. Kid ain’t had one because of the outbreak and the QZ didn’t exactly have a Panera.” He jokes quietly.

“I couldn’t imagine they did.” You like the fact that he can make a joke. The little half smile that curves his lips makes you want to see a full one. “Although coffee would be the most important thing to me.” You admit. “Nothing better than a cup of hot coffee, especially first thing in the morning.”

He nods, “absolutely. One thing I missed all those days on the road…cup of coffee. Could do without food. Could do without…well, without sex.” He says honestly, “but coffee? Especially Ellie tellin’ me these stupid puns all day.” He gently rolls his eyes but his gesture is full of affection.

There’s obviously a fatherly love for the girl, you can tell by the way his voice changes, softens. It makes you smile, even if your entire body had lit up when the word ‘sex’ had dripped off his tongue. “Coffee and sex makes for the best morning though.” You chuckle. “You can survive anything then. Even puns.”

He snorts, “true. Folgers and an orgasm ain’t a bad way to start the day.” He chuckles, “not in that order.” He adds after a beat and he continues eating, spoon scraping the plate. “Where did you learn to cook?” He asks, curious if you taught yourself or a family member taught you.

“The group I was in before Jackson recon found me.” You smile. “There was an old woman who served as our cook. No matter how low we were on supplies, she could make it feel like a feast.” You shrug. “She taught me, and so I volunteer in the kitchens sometimes.”

Joel nods, “you got skills, sweetheart.” He smiles and looks down at his plate as you smile at him. “What happened to your group?” He asks, curious because everyone has a story, everyone has a tragedy.

“Dead.” Your group had been unfortunately softer than needed in this harsh world and hadn’t put down someone infected right away. “About a hundred miles from here.”

He taps his spoon against the plate, “shit. I’m so-sorry.” He murmurs, knowing that he has seen some shit go down in groups. “Well, I’m glad you ain’t one of them.” He murmurs until he catches himself, “otherwise I would be eatin’ stale crackers and jerky.”

You chuckle softly. “Thanks.” You shrug. “And you came out here from Boston to find Tommy?” Everyone has heard the story, you just think that it’s amazing. The show of loyalty makes your heart flutter.

Joel nods, “yeah. He, uh, didn’t exactly tell me he had found fuckin’ apocalyptic paradise and got married with a kid on the way, I thought he was in the middle of nowhere.” He confesses, “but I brought Ellie along with me and yeah, she’s a good kid.”

“You thought he was in trouble and came to the rescue.” It makes him even more admirable in your opinion and it’s amazing you aren’t just simpering in a puddle at his feet. “I know that the town has been buzzing. You used to build? Before all of the end of the world shit?” Fuck, in his prime, on a construction site? Joel Miller would have been fucking eye candy to you.

Joel nods, feeling like that career was a lifetime ago. He’s developed other skill sets, ones he never imagined having to learn back when he was building houses for a living. “Yeah. Me and Tommy had our own business.” He reveals, “was damn good at it.” He boasts and smiles softly at some of the jobs he did. “I can help out around town.” He offers, knowing he’s already offered that to Maria. He wants to earn his place here.

“That’s impressive.” You have a competency kink and you know it, so that just makes him even more attractive. “I know we will be grateful. Everyone pitches in, but people who had knowledge before all of this, they are important.”

“Not quite as useful as a doctor but I’ll do my best.” He offers you a small chuckle until he finishes his dinner. “I can’t really cook for shit other than rabbits and uh, things I catch like fish so that was really good.” He compliments you, “thank you.” He murmurs, wanting you to know he appreciates it.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it.” He’s a little more friendly now, but you don’t want to push him, knowing that he’s not one for a lot of chit chat. “Let me help clean up and I’ll let you enjoy your evening.” You offer. “I doubt you’re going to the movie tonight?”

He wants to say more but he’s not capable. Ellie did all the talking when they were traveling. He sighs, shaking his head, “not really my scene.” He confesses, “no one wants me around.” He admits what he’s been thinking since he arrived in Jackson. “Here, lemme clean up.” He orders, taking the plate from your hand.

You don’t think that is true, but you just hum. “I’ll cover the casserole and put it in the fridge for you.” You stand and reach for the pan at the same time that Joel does and you laugh. “I can help.”

You seem to be unable to resist and he knows when to relent. He nods, “I appreciate that.” He says softly as he carries the plates over to the sink to rinse them off. It’s still crazy to have running water like this. He’s still trying to adapt to living like he did twenty years ago.

There’s a soft silence between you as you work. It’s not heavy, or expectant. It’s actually kind of nice. Once the food is stored away and the dishes are resting in the drying rack, there’s nothing keeping you here. “Well, I better go.” You murmur, not sure of what to say, or how to indicate that you would stay if he asked you too. He probably doesn’t anyway, finding you annoying and wanting to be rid of you. “I’ll take my basket back though.”

He wants to ask you to stay because he’s alone and he doesn’t want to get too used to being alone. He doesn’t say that though, he nods, “of course.” He walks over to where he stored it, handing it back to you, and he scratches the back of his head, “thanks…for, you know, the casserole and the muffins.”

“You’re welcome.” You flash a smile and then turn around to walk down the porch steps, already planning the next thing you’ll drop by with. 

Over the course of next two weeks, you bring him a blackberry pie, another casserole and a beautiful teal plaid shirt you had traded a gallon of blackberries to Seth for. The crotchety older man didn’t know why you wanted a shirt he didn’t like, but you knew that it would look amazing on Joel. Still, since that first dinner with him, nothing had gone past awkward conversations at his door and you wondered if he just wasn’t interested in you.

Joel adjusts the shirt he’s wearing - the one that you got him - as he stands outside your door. The small box suddenly feels heavy and he feels dumb and as soon as he knocks, he wants to stride off. Before he can step away, you open your door and his chest suddenly feels tight. “Hey.” You greet him with a smile and he nods, “hi.” He shuffles from one foot to the other, “I, uh, brought you something.”

“Oh!” Your eyes widen and they drop down to the box in his hand. “Uh, come in.” You open the door wider, surprised and pleased that he had figured out where you live. “Sorry about the mess.” You apologize, gesturing to the messy sofa with a throw tossed aside from where you were reading with a cup of coffee.

He snorts, “don’t even worry about it.” He shakes his head, “Ellie makes a mess.” He chuckles, stepping into your place. “I, uh, wanted to thank you for everything you’ve done for me.” He murmurs, “so, uh, I made you this.” He holds out the box.

Your heart pounds in your chest when you take the box from him. “Wow.” You murmur softly. “I don’t know what to say.” You don’t even know what it is, but you are touched by his thoughtfulness. “Thank you.” You look back at him. “Do you want a cup of coffee?”

He nods, a little nervous, and his stomach twists at the thought of you not liking the gift he’s spent hours making for you. He hasn’t had the luxury of a hobby, not for years…not really since before Sarah was born. So it’s been strange to spend time working on something without there being a financial gain or to keep alive. He watches you make your way into the kitchen, shoving his hands in his pockets.

You set the box down carefully and pull a mug off the open shelves that make up the top of your kitchen. “I have some fresh milk if you want?” You offer as you pour him a cup.

He shakes his head, “black is good. I ain’t drank it any other way since I started drinkin’ it.” He confesses, taking a seat at your kitchen table after you gesture for him to sit.

“Same.” You admit. “When I was younger, fuck, I thought coffee was nasty. But now?” You roll your eyes as you bring the box over to the table with your own cup. “Now, I’ll open this.” You promise, sitting down and trying not to let the thrill of being given a gift outweigh practicality. You smile at him before taking off the small lid and gasping at the sight of a small wooden figure.

He’s nervous. Fuck, he hates to admit that but he likes you. Even if he’s too old to think about a relationship and you should be avoiding him like everyone else. “It’s, uh, it’s not anything that special.” He rushes out before you take the figure out of the box.

“Not special?” You huff, shaking your head as you run your finger over the small bird. “It’s beautiful.” You murmur. “It must have taken a lot of time.” Which makes it more special. He has taken the time to make something. “I love it.”

His heart flutters at the smile you give him, “you said your mom used to call you little bird so, uh, I thought I’d whittle one. I ain’t that good. I haven’t done anything like that for years.” He confesses, “it’s not my best work.” He self deprecates, not wanting you to say you like it if you don’t.

You practically melt when you hear it’s not something random, he had made it for you. “No, it’s beautiful.” You insist. The imperfections make it that much more special to you. “I-“ you blink back tears. “I think it might be the best thing anyone has ever given me.”

He blushes a little, ducking his head, and he clears his throat. "I'm glad you like it." He murmurs, "it's - I wanted to thank you for everything you've done for me." He reveals, tapping his fingers on his mug as he watches you admire the woodwork.

“It was nothing.” You hum, still admiring the little figure. Part of you wonders if he is giving you something out of guilt or perhaps he’s realized you are interested in him.

You're quiet as you touch the figure and Joel doesn't find it awkward. He isn't a stranger to silence. He tilts his head slightly as he looks at you, "why?" He asks softly and you turn to look at him. "Why what?" You frown and Joel clears his throat, "why - why have you done so much for me?"

You’re a little embarrassed when he asks, but you clear your throat. “I wanted to make you feel welcomed.” It’s true, but not completely true and from the doubtful way Joel eyes you, you know it doesn’t believe that. At least he’s not looking at you suspiciously. “I did. And I -“ you hesitate. “I wanted to see if you were as handsome up close as I thought you were.” You admit. “You are, by the way. Very handsome.”

He is surprised by your comment, cheeks flushing a little more and he turns his head to look at your sink. He almost chokes on his breath when it hits him that you are saying he’s handsome. You. “I, um, thanks.” He mutters awkwardly and you seem to shrink back a little, “you’re- you’re great too.” He says and your smile falls, your brow furrowing without your awareness and Joel immediately realizes his mistake. “And gorgeous. Really like - I think you’re beautiful. Inside and out.” He rushes out, wanting to make this right.

“It’s okay.” You are a little disappointed, but not surprised. He’s not interested. You had heard rumors that he had been with a woman until he had lost her on his way to Jackson. You will just swallow down your little crush and go about your life. “You don’t need to make me feel better.” You promise. “I’m a big girl.”

His brow furrows at your words, confused because he just paid you a compliment and you think he’s making it up. He reaches out to cup your cheek, turning your head towards him. “You have any idea how often I think about you? About your smile, your laugh, the way your nose does that little bunching thing when you’re confused? I think about you all the time but I don’t deserve you. I’ve done bad things. My hands are bloody and I don’t deserve a happy ending. I cannot taint you with my fuckin’ sins. I cannot add that to the guilt that drowns me every damn day.” He explains, hoping you understand.

“Everyone has blood on their hands.” You feel like you’re about to whimper, he’s so close to you, touching you. Like you would beg him to kiss you. “We’ve had to be different than before, that doesn’t mean we don’t deserve whatever happiness we can find now.”

Joel doesn't hesitate. He surges forward to press his lips to yours. Spurred on by your kind words, he tilts your head so he can kiss you like he's been imagining far too many times.

His lips are surprisingly soft, tender as he kisses you. It’s not nearly as rough as you imagined, but you can feel the repressed need underneath. Making you sigh as you curl into him, sinking deeper into the feeling as your head spins.

Having you kiss him back has his stomach twisting and he wants to deepen the kiss but it’s not time. You’re not some quick fuck to release stress and tension. He wants you - this - to be different. He nudges his nose against yours before he pulls back, caressing your cheek until his hand drops back to the table while he waits for see your reaction.

You whine slightly, a little protest, but you don’t try to pull him back in. “That was….” Your smile is soft. “Very good.” You hum, eyes fluttering after opening. “Um….yeah.” You are a little befuddled, but it’s not in a bad way. Like the promise of something sweeter has already been made.

He likes seeing you flustered, he realizes, and he wants to kiss you again, but for now, he settles for a small smile. “You- you wanna go to the movie night with me tomorrow?” He asks, knowing this is a huge step because he avoids the town events but he wants to treat you well.

Your eyes widen in surprise but you immediately nod as if you’re afraid he might take back the offer. “Yes. Yes.” You huff out in a rushed little laugh, feeling like a teenager being asked out by a boy you have a crush on. “I would like that.”

Joel nods, trying not to act like a teenage boy who just got the girl he likes to go on a movie date with him. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow.” He promises, reaching for your hand, and he picks it up to kiss the back of it.

“I’ll see you then.” You promise with a small wink. “I’ll make some cookies for us to eat at the movie.”

He nods, nervous of being out beside you but he wants to make a life here and that means remembering how the world worked before it went to shit. “I’ll leave you to your evenin’.” He says after a moment, “I’m sure you’ll be wantin’ some peace.” He squeezes your hand and shifts to stand up from his seat.

“Okay.” You know that he needs to take things slow and it’s honestly a good idea since it’s not like either one of you can move away. Jackson is home and you’ll have to be in proximity to each other. “But only because I will see you tomorrow.” You tease as you walk him to the door.

His heart flutters at your words, smiling softly as he turns to look at you while he’s leaning against your door frame. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” He leans in to kiss your cheek, hovering for a moment until he pulls away. Looking at you one last time before he disappears down the hall.

****

Joel reaches up to adjust his collar, stomach twisting with nerves like he’s a damn teenager going on his first date. In a way, it kinda is. He hasn’t dated since Sarah’s mom and he was a teenager back then. He waits for you to answer and when you do, his breath hitches at the sight of you standing there.

“Hi.” You smile softly as you take him in. He looks fresh from a shower and even his beard looks thinner, like he’s trimmed it. “You look great.” You compliment honestly. “I don’t know if I’m dressed up enough to be on your arm.” Everyone dresses practically, but you had picked the jeans that make your ass look the best and the prettiest top you have. Feeling like a teenager as you ripped through your small wardrobe.

He swallows harshly as he drags his dark eyes down your figure, “you look great too. Actually, you look- too damn good to hear out an asshole like me.” He chuckles humorlessly and you shake your head, reaching for his hand. That grounds him and his eyes meet yours. He licks his lips, staring at you for a moment. “Sorry. I ain’t - I’m out of practice. You ready to go?” He asks, not wanting to ruin this.

“Yeah.” You grab the container with the cookies that you had placed near the door. “I’ve heard that there’s gonna be a dance coming up.” You offer as you both step out of your apartment. “They want to do more of them. Promote community.”

His hand hovers over the small of your back as you make your way downstairs and out of your apartment. He glances around once you’re outside, still a little anxious being in a place that isn’t constantly under attack. He wants to ask if you want to go to the dance but that’s a bit too much for him unless he can hide in the shadows.

You don’t take offense when he doesn’t answer. You just walk by his side, smiling and calling out to people that you know as you make your way to the movie. It’s enough that he’s just here with you.

He walks alongside you, feeling a little anxious, but he’s determined to be there beside you. He wants to try, he wants to try for you. There’s a lot of people gathering for the movie and Joel tenses but you sense his unease, taking his hand to guide him to some chairs in the back row. You know he’d feel better there and he appreciates it, trying to ignore how everyone looks at him with a mixture of surprise and distrust.

Everyone is curious, craning their necks and looking at the both of you. They have asked about Joel to Tommy and Maria, but his brother and sister-in-law have kept their answers vague, respecting his privacy. Now you know that people will ask about you, since Joel tends to keep to himself. Instead of ignoring them, you nod and smile politely, knowing that Joel is probably glowering slightly. He’s just got a face that is always gonna look a little annoyed.

He hates how people stare but you squeeze his hand and he focuses on you instead as you guide him to your seats. When you’re seated, you set your purse down, opening it to hand him a flask and he frowns at it, “figured you could use it.” You wink and his heart flutters. You thought of everything. “Thanks.” He murmurs, his eyes on yours and he takes a swig to quell his anxiety.

You nod, reassuring him softly and soon the lights are dimming for the movie to begin, the projector in front of you coming to life. “Hope it’s not a boring movie.” You whisper to him with a slight giggle. “If it is, we might have to ditch.” You really just want him to know that if he wants to leave, you’ll be okay with that. Although he’s relaxing beside you. Reaching over, you take his free hand, keeping your eyes on the screen.

Your hand in his has him relaxing slightly and he nods, squeezing your hand back, the flask in his other hand, and he sighs, leaning in towards you, “thanks, sweetheart.” He murmurs before leaning back in his seat to watch a movie he hasn’t seen since Sarah was a little kid. He’s taken back to the memory of her sitting next to him in the movie theater, popcorn in hand, and her eyes wide in amazement at the movie.

You feel him tense beside you, looking over to see shadows in his eyes and you wonder if there’s something in his past that’s triggered by the movie. Everyone here has a past, something that they have struggled with since the end of the world. Even the ones that were born after the outbreak. It might be easier for them though, since this world is all they’ve ever known. “Do we need to leave?” You ask quietly, leaning in to smell the scent of soap mixed with wood and man. He smells wonderful and you could curl up into him.

He turns to look at you, surprised by your consideration, and he shakes his head. “No. No. I’m good.” He promises with a whisper, shifting to wrap his arm around your shoulders, wanting to feel you close to him as you ground him in the moment.

You hum softly, leaning into him and your arm rests on his thigh. It feels natural and you love how protected and safe you feel. You can’t even explain it, but Joel has never once made you nervous besides the attraction and the fear of making a fool of yourself. He’s a violent man, he’s done violent things, but he wouldn’t hurt you unless he was forced to. You know that.

Joel relaxes as he breathes in the clean scent of your soap and shampoo. You are warm and he allows himself this time to be absorbed into the movie. He doesn’t remember the last time he allowed the tension to leave his body. He’s always been on since the outbreak started. He absentmindedly rubs your arm and when the movie ends, he blinks, brought back to reality.

“That was pretty cute.” You decide, having never seen the movie before and you watch as others start to gather their trash and belongings. You don’t feel the need to move right now, unless Joel wants to sneak out before everyone else.

He nods, turning to look at you, “I went to see that at the movies with my daughter, Sarah.” He confesses, a soft smile on his lips. “She, uh, she was shot on Outbreak Day.” He reveals, flexing his fingers at the memory of her dying in his arms.

“Oh Joel.” Your heart shatters for him, watching the way his eyes reflect the devastation he must have felt that day and carried with him for the past twenty years. “I am so sorry.” You murmur softly, touching his arm and not trying to give him any platitudes beyond the simple touch.

He nods, jaw tightening as the memories hit him, but your touch seems to pull him out before he gets too buried under the past. He glances around at the nearly disappeared crowd, “you wanna go back to yours or we can go for a walk?” He offers, not wanting to let go of you just yet.

“Why don’t we go for a walk?” You agree with a smile. “I normally go and check on the horses every evening.” You know he rides, when he left months ago, he had actually stolen a horse. Or rather, Tommy had said he had given him a horse. “Is that okay?”

He nods, standing up, and his joints ache, but he takes your hand as you make your way out of the barn. The night is chilly and he adjusts his jacket, “you cold?” He asks and you shake your head, “no, I'm good.” You promise and you take a slow walk to the stables.

It’s not too far, and the familiar scent of hay and horses calms you. “It’s so beautiful out here.” You smile softly as you both walk towards the stables. “And the town is growing, rumor has it, it’s gonna grow even faster now that you are here.”

Joel snorts, “yeah. Maria has all kinds of plans for this place. Between me and Tommy, it’s gonna be a construction zone.” He confesses, squeezing your hand as the moon rises in the sky.

“That’s good.” You smile, although it’s a little bittersweet. “We need people in Jackson. Otherwise all we are doing is just prolonging death.” You wish the world was different, but it’s not.

Joel chuckles, "true. Gotta have more kids." He hums, turning to look at you, "but I'll leave that to the younger men. Ain't no one needing me to be a daddy at my age." He declares, "there's enough men to make Jackson thrive in the future."

You could make a dirty joke, but you just shrug. “It’s not in the cards for me either, so I don’t worry about it.” Joel looks over at you with a frown, clearly confused but unsure of what to say. “Never been pregnant.” You admit. “Never even had a scare, not like there are fertility doctors nowadays, but I think that it’s not my fate.”

Joel frowns because he thinks you’d make a good mom but he won’t pour salt in a wound. “I kinda wish I’d gotten the snip before the world went to shit but I was in my mid 30s, wasn’t sure if I’d be a dad again, and I had Sarah. She was my life but I kinda wanted to have another kid back then. Now? I got Ellie.” He says without elaborating.

“She’s a good kid.” You assure him. She can be blunt and assertive, but that’s not a bad thing. Reaching the stables, you open the doors with a grin. “Hello, ladies and gentlemen.” You coo. “The horses are kinda like my kids.” You tell him. “They are like temperamental toddlers sometimes.”

He snorts, walking over to the horses. He slides his palm along his nose, smiling when the horse snorts. “They kinda are like toddlers.” He agrees, “and you do a good job of looking after them.” He adds, watching you as you stroke the horse.

“They are probably the most vital assets we have, besides the dogs.” You admit. “I know they are animals, but they are also a part of our community, our future.” You look over at Joel. “Just like you and Ellie are.”

He chuckles, stepping closer to you. “You are the future.” He murmurs, his hand coming up to slide along your arm until he is taking your hand in his. He tugs you close and cups your cheek with his free hand. “You are always on my mind.” He admits softly, caressing your cheek.

“It was the muffins, wasn’t it?” You tease, your own hands pulling him closer, enjoying the broadness of him as you wrap your arms around him. He chuckles again, the best sound in the world to you right now. “So are you going to kiss me Joel?” You demand. “I know I’m a little rusty, but I know a date usually ends with kissing.”

His eyes meet yours, dark and intense. He’s nervous and he feels stupid for being so nervous when he’s a grown man. He leans his head towards yours, gently brushing his lips against your softer ones. His calloused hand caressing your cheek while he kisses you.

You sigh softly, eyes fluttering closed while the horse in the stall next to you shifts, annoyed that she’s not being petted anymore. Not that you realize that. You can’t think of anything but Joel kissing you.

You’re so soft and sweet, leaning into him and your hand caresses your chest. He knows you can feel his heart pounding and he should be more confident but the last woman he kissed was Tess…even his kisses to her were few and far between. He kisses you softly, not wanting you to see the dark side of him just yet.

You can tell that he’s holding back, and you don’t mind it. This is getting to know each other and you won’t push him for more than he wants to give. Finally Shimmer butts her head against your shoulder to get your attention, breaking up the kiss and making you giggle. “Jealous, pretty girl?” You coo, turning towards her to pet her nose. “You should be.”

Joel watches you, a soft smile on his face as he watches you interact with the horse. Your words make his stomach flutter, and he sighs, “I should be gettin’ you home.” He glances out the stable opening to the sky.

You would like to be with him a little longer, but you just nod. “That sounds good.” You hum softly. “I’m sure you are busy tomorrow. Are you working on the gates?” You ask, aware that the council had voted on improving defense systems for the town.

He nods, "yeah. Gonna be heading out on patrol." He confirms, "gotta be up at eight." He doesn't want to leave you but he needs to let you get some sleep. He knows you could wake up in the morning and realize that the town is scared of him and ultimately reject him. He is preparing for that to happen. You are too good for him. He takes your hand again, guiding you away from the stables and back to your apartment building.

You don’t talk as you walk, but again, the silence isn’t stifling. It’s really rather nice. Just two people, enjoying the night together. When you are at your door, you open it and turn to him. “I had a nice night.” You promise. “I would invite you in, but I don’t think you’re ready for that and I don’t want to wonder if you don’t want me.” You admit, leaning in to press your lips to his.

His hands find your waist, dragging you closer as he kisses you. He pulls back after a moment, "you don't have to wonder. I want you. I just - I don't want to ruin you." He confesses his fear, "I don't want you to end up hating me."

You can’t help but laugh at his comment. “I’m not going to hate you.” You promise, reaching up and caressing his whisker rough cheek. “I’ve been chasing you, remember?” You have been throwing yourself at him to get his attention. “If you want to come inside, I want you in my bed tonight. If you want to wait, I’ll just touch myself and think about you in my bed.”

His cock twitches in his pants at the thought of you touching yourself. His hands squeeze your hips, pulling you even closer to him. He groans when your body presses into his, and he loves it. "Let me come inside and I want to bury my face in your pussy. I don't- I don't deserve to fuck you yet. Lemme taste you." He murmurs, nudging his nose against yours.

You huff, not agreeing with his assessment of him not deserving, but your nod is accompanied by grabbing his hand and stepping back through the door to tug him with you. You smirk when he kicks the door closed and throws the lock before you launch yourself at him. Kissing him again with more passion than before.

He groans, unable to stop himself as he lets you guide him through your apartment. Now that you’ve given him permission, his hands slide along your form, squeezing your ass. He loves how your fingers grip his shirt and he slides his tongue into your mouth.

There’s no hesitation right now. Just the jittery anticipation that makes your stomach feel like you’ve swallowed butterflies and your core flutters wildly. His taste is perfect, warm and rich, his tongue skillfully making you melt as your hands let go of his shirt to push his jacket off his string shoulders.

He walks you backwards, trying to navigate your apartment to find your bedroom while his jacket drops to the floor. He groans into your mouth, pulling back when you stumble into your bedroom and your jacket has joined his. He pushes on your chest to push you backwards into your bed and his hands find your boots, working on pulling them off your feet.

“Eager. I like that.” You aren’t passive, leaning up to pull your shirt over your head to reveal the practical bra you are wearing underneath. There’s little luxury for sexy items, especially now. “Fuck you are so sexy.” You moan, loving the darkening look in his eyes.

He wants to scoff in disbelief that a pretty thing like you would find him sexy but instead, he decides to prove it to you. He unbuttons your pants and pulls them down your legs, his cock already pressing against his zipper as he watches you lift up to unclip your bra. “You’re goddamn sexy.” He rasps, tossing your pants aside so he can slide his hands up the length of your legs until his fingers are hooked in your panties. “Can I taste you, sweetheart?” He asks, dark eyes on yours until they flick down to your core.

“You can do anything you want to me, handsome.” Your pussy aches for him to touch you, taste you. It’s been a long goddamn time since you’ve had a lover and you are eager to see how the two of you are together.

He drags his panties down your legs, tossing them over his shoulder and his hands slide back along your thighs until he’s pushing them apart to expose your folds. Soft curls surround your sex and Joel groans when your heady scent hits his nose. He leans in, slowly pressing kisses to your thighs as he shifts closer until his tongue is sliding through your folds.

You moan so loud that you embarrass yourself. The feeling that races through you is enough to make your thighs squeeze around his head, but his strong hands grip your thighs and pull them apart. “Jesus, fuck.” You whimper, eyes fixed on his head between your legs. “That- God, I haven’t felt this in so long.”

He chuckles, sliding into the ease of making a woman feel good. It’s been a long time since he’s been able to take his time and savor a woman but right now, he isn’t in a rush. His tongue flicks over your clit, loving the way you tangle your fingers in his hair while he pushes his tongue deep.

You don’t know his sexual past, but his previous lovers have been lucky as fuck if they experienced half of the talent in his tongue. “Fuck Joel,” you pant breathlessly. “That feels so good. You must have majored in pussy eating in college.”

He chuckles into your folds, amused by how easily wrecked you are. He slides his tongue up to flick over your clit and he sucks on it, shaking his head and your cry makes his cock twitch in his pants.

He’s so fucking gorgeous, making you cry out as he tears you apart with his mouth. “Fuck, I can’t believe you’re eating my pussy. You know how long I’ve imagined you? Since the first day I saw you. I knew I wanted to get to know you. So fucking pleased when you were single.”

Your words unravel him and he grinds into the edge of your bed. Groaning your name but it’s indistinguishable in your folds as he greedily absorbs your dirty confession. His hands squeeze your thighs, keeping them pushed apart.

He is going to have his way. That is obvious from the way he handles you. He’s not rough, but he’s focused, determined. You had heard from Tommy that he had saved Ellie’s life from a group of men when he had been seriously injured. He hadn’t been trying to dissuade you from your pursuit of Joel, but he had wanted you to know that there are some things about Joel that could be seen as a caution sign. You see it as his willingness to do what needs to be done. Now he’s using that same focus on you, “Fuck!” You squeal when he pulls your clit into his mouth, hips trying to buck up, but he holds you in place. “I’m gonna cum!”

He needs to hear it, feel it. When your cry echoes in your tiny bedroom, your fingers tugging on his silver streaked hair, and your thighs squeezing his head, he groans. While you cum, he grinds into the mattress, his cock twitching in his pants as he cums in them like a fucking teenager.

You are completely unaware, riding out the best orgasm you’ve had in years and he hadn’t even fingered you. “Oh fuck, oh fuck, Joel.” You whimper. “Fuck me.” You beg. “You’ve earned it, fuck yeah, you deserve to fuck me.”

His cheeks immediately redden when he comes back to his senses and your words hit him like ice cold water. "I- I didn't - shit." He hisses, stomach twisting with embarrassment as he shifts to stand up, the front of his pants wet.

You frown, confused by his upset tone. Eyes fluttering open and you blink to focus on him. Then you see the dark spot. “Oh.” You bite your lip, knowing he won’t appreciate a smirk, but it’s kind of sexy that he was so turned on that he shot his load.

"I'm so sorry." He chokes, shuffling back from your bed and he stumbles through your apartment trying to find his coat. "Joel?" You frown, shifting off the bed, "Joel?" You make your way through your apartment just as the front door slams, "Joel!" You shout but he's gone. He's thankful there's no one out as he makes his way home, his jacket not concealing his pants, and he hates how he disappointed you. You'll probably tell your friends, laugh about it, and he will go back to the shadows where he belongs.

You get up and wrap a robe around your body, opening the door to see if Joel is outside. He’s nowhere nearby and you consider getting dressed and going to his house, but you know he would just ignore you. You’ll give him tonight but he won’t just run out without a better damn reason than premature ejaculation again.

****

Joel groans when he wakes up, he hardly slept from the embarrassment of cumming in his pants because you sounded so fucking good when you came on his tongue. He rubs his face and knows he has to get ready for patrol. That also means seeing you in the stables. He groans as his joints ache when he shifts from his bed, and soon he’s stepping into the stables to collect a horse. You’re there, helping another patroller saddle up, and he feels the blush creep onto his cheeks as he waits for you to see the other patroller off.

You’re surprised when you see Joel come slinking into the stables and you half expected him to try to race out of there with his horse. You don’t say anything, just get your rider out. Surprised to see him standing by the horse he had been assigned last time. “Good morning.” You are alone in the stalls and you step closer to him. “If I touch you, are you gonna run away again?” You ask.

He ducks his head, swallowing harshly. “I - shit. I’m sorry. I, uh, fuck. I don’t know why- it’s that- it’s been a while and I’m on the way to sixty and I fucking came in my pants without you even touching me. I was embarrassed.” He knows there’s no point but doing anything but tell you the truth.

You snort softly, not wanting him to think that you are mocking him. “Fuck, it’s a compliment.” You huff, shrugging slightly. “You were that turned on by eating my pussy? By just touching me? In my mind, that just means I was doing something right, even if it has been a long time since someone touched you.” You bite your lip, biting back the urge to offer to touch him right now. He probably wouldn’t accept a blow job in a stall in a horse barn.

Joel glances around, glad that no one is here to hear your conversation and his cock twitches at your words. He's relieved you aren't laughing at him. "I've - I haven't done that since - well, I don't think I ever have. Sweetheart...I ain't - can I try again? Later?" He asks, wanting to show you what he can do.

You lift a brow, this time your lips curving up. “I think I would be crazy to turn that down.” You step a little closer to him, “you know that you are early for your patrol, right?” You murmur. “Plenty of time to go to the back stall and work out a little tension before you go out?” You reach for his hand. “Might help you focus?”

He tilts his head, squeezing your hand, “you sure?” He asks, his voice lowering at the idea of touching you again. You nod, guiding him to the back stall, and it’s like a switch has been flicked on as he drags you close. He cups your cheek, tilting your head to his as he presses his lips to yours.

You let him kiss you, feeling your body light up in pleasure but before he can get farther than cupping your ass, you are pushing him back. Joel frowns in confusion but you press your lips to his reassuringly and drop down to your knees in front of him to smirk up at him as you reach for his belt buckle.

“Darlin’ you don’t have to-” You cut him off by shaking your head and telling him to shush. You pull down the zipper and smile at him, his cock hardening under your naughty gaze as you reach into his pants to pull his cock free.

“Shit.” Joel hisses, twitching in your hand as you squeeze him and start to pump him. “Fuck, baby, you’ve got a gorgeous cock.” Your mouth waters as you greedily take in the sight of him as he sways on his feet slightly, leaning back against the wall of the stall as he looks down at you. “Thick, long. Goddamn I can’t wait to see how you feel inside me.” You clench around nothing. “But right now, I want to see how you taste.” You lean and take the head of his cock into your mouth.

He groans as he watches you wrap your lips around his cock. Your mouth is hot and wet and he is already throbbing in your mouth. “So fuckin’ pretty.” He rasps, caressing your cheek as you start to bob your head to work his cock into your mouth.

You know that someone could come into the stables, but that just makes it a little more exciting for you. Your pussy soaked as you take him deeper, listening to him groan and feeling his stomach lurch under the palm of your hand laying against it. Your lips stretch around him and he hits the back of your throat easily with more to take.

He can’t believe you’re on your knees for him right now. You look so fucking gorgeous and your jaw seems to loosen so you can take him deeper. “Fuck. So goddamn good.” He pants, glad that he doesn’t seem to be shooting his load too soon as you take him in your mouth over and over. His hand grips the metal rack on the wall as the other caresses your cheek.

Your hand moves to his hip, around to his ass as you look up at him. Watching his jaw clench. He looks wrecked, in the best possible way as you suck his cock. Pressing him, encouraging him to rock his hips forward. You can take everything he gives you and you want him to enjoy this.

He pants, watching you as his chest heaves. It's barely past 7am and here you are on your knees for him. He knows he will be thinking about you all damn day now. "Fuck baby. Feel so fuckin' good. Look at you, takin' my cock like that." He growls, tongue loosened by your mouth. He unconsciously rocks his hips like you want and his eyes widen when you choke. You hum around him, barely shaking your head when he shifts to pull away, and your fingers dig into the meat of his ass to keep him down your throat. A move that makes his stomach twist and his cock twitch violently. "Fuck, gonna make me cum if you keep it up." He warns you with a wrecked growl.

You chuckle around him, the sound vibrating up his cock. That’s why you are doing this, to make him cum. Your eyes are watering, but you keep swallowing around him as you bob your head. Wanting to taste his load and swallow him down. Joel chokes out your name and you feel him tense. Knowing that he is so close to cumming. You hum again, eyes fixed on his face so you can watch him. Wanting to see how gorgeous he looks when he falls apart on purpose.

He knows this is so fucking wrong but he can’t help it. He chokes as his cock pulses inside your mouth, a gasp your only warning that he’s cumming. You taste the salty seed as he clings to the metal rack, barely able to stand as you rock his world with your mouth.

The thick spurt of cum coats the back of your throat and fills your mouth. Making you moan as you start to swallow. Trying and failing to swallow every drop as some slides down your jaw. His head tilts back and his growl of pleasure is probably the sexiest thing you’ve ever heard. Only stopping when his cock stops twitching and you pull off of him with a soft pop, panting as you lick at the side of your mouth.

He is certain he’s stopped breathing. “Fuck me.” He mutters and you giggle, looking up at him. “I really wanna fuck you but I gotta go on patrol and I need some time to recover. Lemme see you tonight.” He pleads, “need to see you.”

You push to your feet and reach down to tuck him back into his jeans. “Come over when you get back from patrol.” You order softly. “Johnny will be here tonight to put the horses away.” You lean in to kiss his cheek, not sure about how he feels about kissing you with his cum on your tongue. “Be safe, handsome.”

He cups your cheek, uncaring of the taste of his cum on your lips, and he brings your mouth to his so he can kiss you. He slides his tongue into your mouth, wanting to devastate you with his kiss until he steps back, “see ya later, baby.”

“See you later.” You wink and step back as the stable doors open. “Let’s get you saddled up.” You call out a little louder and step out of the stall to give him an extra minute to compose himself. “Tommy. Are you going out this morning?” You greet his brother with a smile.

Joel’s eyes widen at his brother’s name and he runs his hand through his hair, tugging on his shirt before he leaves the stall and finds you talking to his brother. Tommy frowns when he sees how flustered his brother is and his frown shifts into a smirk, “mornin’.” He greets Joel who grunts back. Soon enough, the two men are riding out for patrol, Joel looking over his shoulder at you for a second.

Tommy catches the glance and smirks to himself, shifting in his saddles as he looks ahead. “Good morning?” He asks innocently enough. “You look a little….light on your feet.”

Joel grips the reins a little tighter, “I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.” He murmurs and Tommy snorts, “you looked like a man who got his world rocked in a stable stall.” Tommy says bluntly and Joel ducks his head, “she, uh, we - it’s just started.” He confesses softly.

“Bullshit.” Tommy shakes his head, wondering how his older brother could be so obtuse about things for a man who can normally figure anyone out. “She’s been chasing after you for weeks.” He looks around after they clear the gate and starts the loop around the town. Today is to find any weakness that needs to be shored up. “Everyone in town knew that she was courting you.”

Joel huffs, shaking his head, “she has just been nice.” He tries to justify how nice you’ve been and Tommy snorts, “more than nice. She’s been wanting to jump your bones.” Joel bites his lip, “I’m too fucking old for her. Or anyone.”

“She doesn’t think so.” He points out with a grin. “Been rootin’ about for information on you. Trying to be real casual about it, but she has it bad for my older brother.” Honestly, Tommy’s glad for it. Since Tess, he’s been all alone and whether or not he admits it, Joel needs someone to take care of. It’s a part of who he is.

Joel’s heart thumps at that revelation and he almost wants to ride back to town and find you. “She will realize who I am soon enough.” He grunts and Tommy rolls his eyes, “whatever you say.”

Joel huffs and falls quiet again. Tommy doesn’t push it, instead he starts talking about the plans they want to implement for defense and Joel gives some suggestions on fortifications.

**** 

Joel arrives back at the stables with Tommy and you’re waiting, eyes lighting up when you see Joel and his stomach twists at how eager you are to see him. The memory of your lips wrapped around his cock hits him and he twitches in his pants. Tommy quickly dismounts, thanking you for helping, and he slaps Joel on the shoulder once his boots hit the ground. “See ya later, man.” He raises his eyebrows at Joel when you’re not looking and Joel huffs when his brother leaves you alone. “You need help?” He offers, not wanting to leave just yet.

“If you want.” They weren’t gone as long as you expected them to be, the horses are not tired. “I’m just going to take the saddles off and brush them down quickly before putting on their blankets and feeding them.” You explain. “Did your patrol go alright? You weren’t out long.”

Joel nods, “it was fine. We found some places that need reinforcement but it was quiet out there.” He admits, “always makes me fucking nervous when it’s quiet.” He confesses, “I always think somethings gonna happen. Like this place is gonna go to shit and I’ll end up back out there.” He jerks his chin as he works on removing the saddle of his horse.

“I worry about that too.” You admit, working on taking the saddle from Tommy’s horse. You know he had wanted to get back to Maria as quickly as possible since she was due any second now. The baby was overdue actually, and everyone was keeping an eye on her. “Raiders worry me the most, honestly. The clickers are bad, but humans are worse.

Joel nods, “we gotta keep this place safe and not get complacent. The day will come where shit hits the fan and we need to be prepared.” He says firmly, working efficiently to get the horse ready after riding. “You still want me to come over later?” He asks, not wanting to assume.

“If you want to.” You don’t want to push him, and you know that he might need to pause or even take a step back. “What do you want to do?” The blanket is secured and you guide Betsy back to her stall before filling her food bucket with oats. “I’m going to let you decide.”

He waits until you are done, striding over to you, and he grips your chin to lift your eyes to his. "I want to come over to your place, strip you down, kiss and bite every inch of your skin, and then I want to fuck you until you soak me and you can't remember anything but my name."

You could melt into a puddle on the floor right now from the possessive look in his eyes and the rough words. They paint the most delicious picture in your mind. “Do you want to eat dinner before or after you fuck me?” You ask breathlessly.

“After.” He says, knowing he won’t be able to wait and watch you eat dinner before he has you. “You’ll need it after I fuck you.” He promises, “go home. I’ll see you at yours in a few hours. I want you naked when I arrive.” He orders, leaning in to softly kiss your lips. Now that you’ve unlocked his desires, he’s going to give you exactly what you want. He pulls back before you can deepen the kiss, a whimper leaning your lips, and he winks, turning to stride out the stables.

Your knees are weak, the man is positively deadly when he decides to become self-assured in his abilities. He doesn’t give you an exact time and you know he did that on purpose. Wanting you to anticipate his arrival. You finish up with the horses and hurry back to your apartment, immediately stripping down to climb into a bath and scrub every inch of your skin. You want everything to go well tonight and you think that it will, given his cocky attitude and that sexy wink.

Joel tries to concentrate for the rest of the day, showering after his patrol, and he groans when he thinks of you on your knees, the way you looked at him. His cock hardens again and he can't help but start to pump his cock. The image of you burned into his retinas and he swears he will remember that until the day he dies. Groaning, he rests his forehead against the cool tile until he grunts your name, hot seed hitting the ceramic minutes later.

****

He adjusts his jacket as he makes his way over to your place. He didn't tell you a time and he hopes you understood why. His cock already hard and adjusted in his jeans as he enters your apartment building. You left the front door unlocked so he opens it, shrugging off his jacket and boots. Letting you know he's arrived and taking his time until he slowly makes his way to your bedroom.

In the bedroom, you are already soaked, naked and spread out on the bed. You had repositioned several times, trying to find the sexiest pose, but ended up on your back. The door is halfway closed so you perk up when it slowly opens. Wondering if Joel will be nude too, or if he will still be dressed.

Joel's cock twitches violently in his pants when he finds you spread out on your bed waiting for him. He stands in the doorway and your eyes meet his. "Good girl." He murmurs, walking over to the foot of the bed, still dressed minus his jacket and boots. Feet bare on the scratched wood floor of your apartment and the bulge in his pants very noticeable.

“Fuck, Imma need you to say like a thousand more times tonight.” You admit, pressing your thighs together before deliberately spreading your legs slightly. His eyes are dark and you would be afraid if it was anger instead of desire in their depths. Your eyes slide down to the front of his jeans and you smirk slightly, proud that you affect him as much as he does you.

"Spread your legs." He orders, voice rough with desire, and you obey. He groans at the sight of your dripping wet folds, curls framing your pretty pussy. He reaches down to squeeze himself through his pants, "beautiful." He murmurs, unable to believe you are letting him touch you. His hand finds your ankle after he kneels on the edge of your bed, caressing the soft skin and sliding along your leg. You whine when his hand brushes over your sex and continues along your stomach until he's squeezing your breast.

You moan softly, pushing your chest up into his hand. Your eyes are fixed on him, waiting to see what he will do. Your chest is already heaving, cunt clenching around nothing as he takes his time. Joel doesn’t just rush into sex he squeezes your breast again and then takes your nipple between his fingers and rolls it just hard enough to make you gasp out his name.

He's already obsessed, loving watching you react to his touch, and he groans when you whimper. "Look at you. So fuckin' needy." He murmurs, switching to pluck your other nipple with his fingers while he shifts his weight onto one elbow so he can take the peaked tip of the breast he abandoned into his mouth.

“Oh god.” You hadn’t expected Joel Miller to be a fucking tease. His mouth is almost playful, tongue flicking over your nipple. He chuckles but you don’t do more than run your fingers through his silver streaked hair.

He groans when you tug on his hair, his cock pressing painfully against the zipper of his pants and he squeezes your tit before he abandons it to slide his hand lower. His fingers brush your soaked folds and he cannot believe you are this wet for him. He groans as he slides his fingers until he finds your clit, rubbing circles while he bites and sucks on your nipple.

“Fuck, Joel,” you whine, pushing your hips down. “Touch me. Fuck, let me- let me touch you.” You beg, needing to see him, touch him. “I want you so much.” You don’t care how pathetic you sound, all you care about is him fucking you.

"So fuckin' desperate." He mocks you softly but his heart is pounding at that fact. He swallows harshly and leans in to kiss your neck before he pulls his hands from your body. You whine but sit up on your elbows to watch him as he starts to unbutton his shirt. He wants to feel every inch of you against him. Shirt shoved from his shoulders and tossed across your room, his hands find his belt, ripping it open and finally he pulls the zipper of his pants down to free his throbbing cock. You moan and he smirks as he shuffles off your bed to shove his pants down. Kicking them off as he kneels on your bed once again. "How do you want me?" He asks, wanting you to decide while his fingers slide up your leg and push into your leaking cunt.

“Fuck.” He’s not lean with the rawness of youth, he’s broad, seasoned. Filled out with years and experience. The scar on his side is the one that you had heard he got between stays in Jackson, when he was taking Ellie on her ill-fated trip. Moaning when he curls his fingers up, you clench down around him. “However I can have you.” You choke out. “I can’t get pregnant.” It’s a reminder of his ability to fill you, to not pull out unless he wants to. “But sometime tonight I want to be bent over and you fucking me from behind.”

Joel groans at your words, ravenous for all of you tonight. He wishes he could fuck you like he was thirty but he's not. He pulls his fingers from your pussy, shifting to kneel between your thighs, and he wraps his wet fingers around his cock. You whine and he shuffles closer, slapping your clit with the head of his cock. "You want me, baby girl?" He asks, voice rough with desire for you.

“Yes.” You whimper, body tightening at his tone, the needy edge to his rough words. He can mock you for being eager, but he is just as bad. You spread your legs wider, hooking them on his hips and reaching down to caress his thigh as he shuffles closer. “I want you, Joel.”

That's all he needs to hear. He positions the head of his cock at your entrance, pushing into you slowly because he's thick and you are so goddamn tight. He groans as your searing hot walls envelop him as he pushes deeper into your pussy. "Fuck." He pants shifting onto his elbows as he hovers over you.

“Oh my god.” You moan, reaching up to caress his shoulders and your hips roll slightly, meeting the angle of his own. “Fuck, you’re so big, so fucking big inside me.” He stretches you, fills up every space inside you until there is nothing that isn’t taken up by him. Lurching up, you press your lips to his, curling your hand around the back of his neck to drag him closer as your tongue slides into his mouth. Taking charge of the kiss for a moment as he groans and twitches inside you.

He lets you take control of the kiss, tongue sliding against yours in a sloppy way that displays the pent up desire that's been building for far too long. "Fuck." He pants when he pulls back, kissing your jaw as he starts to rock his hips, setting a slow and deep pace.

This isn’t making love, there’s not an emotional connection between the two of you, not yet. This is more physical, deeply satisfying as he scratches an itch that you’ve been desperate to satiate for a long time. Sure you probably could have fucked anyone single in Jackson, but this is the man you wanted. “Fuck baby, you’re gonna wreck me, aren’t you?” You ask breathlessly, laughing at the prospect.

He chuckles breathlessly at the prospect and he wants to wreck you. Wants to ruin you for everyone else. His cock pushes deep and he adjusts his knees to push into you from a different angle. “You’re too fuckin’ good for me.”

You moan softly and wrap your legs around his waist. “Didn’t think that when I was sucking you off this morning.” You tease softly, your hand caressing his back as he moves. “Fuck, I thought about how you looked, how you tasted, all fucking day.”

He rocks into you, shifting his weight to one arm so he can slide his hand along your form,  his hand cupping your breast. “Yeah? You liked having my cock in your mouth, baby?” He rasps into your neck, pressing kisses there until he nips at your pulse.

You whine softly. “Yes.” You pant out. “Loved it. You look so goddamn good, did you like it?” Every man likes a blow job, but you want to know if he focused while he was outside the wall, if it helped him.

He nods, “loved it. Fuck, I couldn’t stop thinking about you on your knees for me. Lookin’ at me like that.” He confesses, “I kept thinkin’ about you. I haven’t stopped. Not since I met ya.” He reveals and leans in to slide his tongue into your mouth.

You groan into his mouth, kissing him back and loving that you’ve managed to get under his skin. Your hips roll up to meet his thrusts and you feel like he’s hitting a little deeper every time. “Fuck.”

He needs you to come apart for him, to prove to you that he doesn’t just cum in his pants like a teenager. He shifts, grabbing your calf to lift it onto his shoulder, “that’s it, baby.” He pants when you cry out his name at the new angle.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck.” He feels like he’s in your guts from this angle. Deep and his hips snap forward a little harder every time a squeal slips past your lips. “Oh fuck.” You moan again, eyes rolling back and your blunt nails dig into the meat of his shoulder blades as you hang on.

He loves how your nails dig into his back and he pants, “need you cum for me, baby.” He demands, his hand squeezing your thigh as he continues to fuck you hard, needing to feel the way you clamp down on his cock.

His pace is hard, harder than someone half his age. He’s sure of his thrusts, grunting and groaning when you tighten around him. “Joel.” You pant softly. “I need - fuck!” You are so close to cumming. So close to that perfect orgasm that will completely rip you apart, “I-“ your head tilts back and your breath catches right before your entire body tightens, crying out when he pushes deep again and pushes you her the edge.

You stiffen beneath him then shake like you’re experiencing an earthquake. Your eyes squeezed shut as almost inhuman noises escapes your lips. You squeeze his cock hard enough to cut off circulation and soak him but he fucking loves it. “Goddamn baby.” He murmurs, “good girl. Good fucking girl.”

He could call you a good girl for the rest of your life and you will die a happy woman. Body shaking as you ride out the pleasure until you just go boneless under him. “Fuck.” You whimper, kissing along his jaw. “Fuck, you’re amazing, baby. I’ve never cum that hard before.”

His stomach twists with contentment, and his back aches from fucking you so hard. He rolls over, bringing you with him, and you quickly shuffle to kneel, his cock slipping from your pussy. You whine and reach down, gripping him to push him back into your fluttering cunt. “Ride me, girl. Show me what ya got.” He orders, his hands smacking your ass.

He might even look better underneath you. His hands are gripping your hips, encouraging you to move. “Fuck, you feel even bigger.” You praise breathlessly as you start to bounce on his cock. “Joel,” your hands brace on his chest and you swivel your hips slowly.

He watches you with rapture, his hands leaving your ass to slide up your body. His hands find your tits, squeezing them as you ride his cock. “That’s it. Fuck. You look so fucking gorgeous like this.” He rasps, unable to believe such a beautiful woman wants him right now. You’re riding his cock, moaning his name. It makes him dizzy with pleasure.

Bending down, you kiss him, hips still rolling and your walls cinching down around his cock every time you move. You can feel how hard he is, how deep he goes. If you press hard enough on your stomach, you can probably feel him throbbing inside you. “You’re so fucking perfect Miller.” You praise. “Better than my wildest dreams.”

He can’t believe you’re saying this. You are too good for him and yet here you are, praising him, acting like he’s the best man in Jackson, hell, this fucked up world. “You’re so damn good. Fuck, so fucking beautiful.” He praises you, sliding his hands along your spine until he’s squeezing your ass again, helping you rock your hips.

You want to cum again. Addicted to the way his cock presses inside you. You kiss along his neck and his lips again. “I’m going to cum again.” You whimper against his lips. “Fuck, baby. I’m addicted to your cock.”

He pants, loving how your voice has taken on this high pitched gasp with each rock of your hips. “Good girl. Cum for me. Wanna feel it again. Wanna feel you cum for me. Soak my cock. Be my good girl.” He orders, thrusting up into you after planting his feet.

You toss your head back, crying out when he takes over. Panting and squealing every time he rocks his hips up, fingers digging into your waist and holding you in place while he fucks you. “Gonna- gonna cum!” You cry out before your body locks up again. “Joooooooooooellllllllll.” Your scream is so loud, your voice cracks halfway through your wail of pleasure.

He wants the entire fucking town to hear you scream his name. He loves it. He fucking adores it. “Yes. Yes. Fuck!” He growls, rocking his hips up into your pussy, pushing as deep as he can with you squeezing him like a vice. Soaking him. Fuck, he loves it. “That’s it. Fuck. I’m gonna cum. Can I - fuck. Can I - inside?” He wants to make sure it’s okay before he fills you up .

“Yesss.” You moan, not even hesitating. “Fill me up, want to feel you drip out of me.” You might have a little bit of a cum kink but you’ve never been so eager to have a make cum inside you. Before you would have them pull out just in case, but you don’t want Joel to pull out.  “Oh fuck, cum for me baby.” You beg.

He doesn’t remember the last time he came inside a woman. Probably pre outbreak. Too terrified to knock them up but you’ve promised him it’s safe. He grunts, wrapping his arms around you as he thrusts up into you, faster and sloppier than before. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” He pants, moaning your name as he thrusts up into you, stiffening beneath you as his cock twitches.

The heat fills you, eyes closed as you moan. You press your face into his neck as he pumps you full of his sticky, hot, seed. It feels so good and you are practically limp by the time he finishes. Apparently Joel Miller has a lot of cum. “That was so good.” You mumble breathlessly, kissing his racing pulse again and again as you calm down. “Oh God, I can’t believe we just did that.” You giggle, completely relaxed and euphoric.

He smiles, probably the only real smile he's expressed since arriving in Jackson. He slides his hand along your spine, letting himself relax into your bed, and he's reminded that he's alive. He isn't fighting to survive right now. He wants to live for the first time since he can remember. "We can do it again." He promises, "you just gotta give me a while. I ain't young."

“You’re gonna wear me out.” You tease, lifting your head and grinning at him before you lean in and press your lips to his softly. “This was perfect.” You murmur. “You want something to drink? Or just lay here for a few minutes?”

Joel closes his eyes, “just lay here for a bit. Been imaginin’ this far too many times to move right now. Just want to savour you. Lemme feel you, baby.” He says, cock softening inside you but he’s in no rush to move.

You hum softly, melting against him. You know Joel can take your weight, he’s strong, so you don’t move off of him. Laying your head back down and your fingers stroking the freckled skin on his shoulder. “Bet you used to work shirtless before Outbreak.” You muse softly. “Building houses and breaking hearts of the women you put a show on for.”

He smirks, loving how you even think about that. “I was thirty-six. Didn’t need to work out when I had my job. I was happy to be shirtless. Now? I’ll keep it on.” He confesses his insecurity. “Had some horny housewives but me and Tommy wanted our business to succeed. A quick fuck and an angry husband wasn’t worth it.”

“Shit.” You huff and turn your head to kiss his chest gently. “You are still sexy, Joel.” You promise. “I’m not the only one that thought you were attractive when you showed up. I’m just the one who decided to try to jump in your bed.”

Joel smiles, kissing your hair, "I'm glad you didn't give up on me. I don't - I don't think I deserve anything good after all the shit I've done. I'm not a good man but you - you seem to see something in me and I ain't gonna take that for granted so whenever you want me in your bed, in your life...I am here."

You chuckle softly. “Oh, you shouldn’t have said that, Miller.” You warn playfully. “You won’t remember what your bed feels like if I have you in my bed whenever I want.”

****

Joel sighs as you sit at his kitchen table, your half eaten food in front of you as you tap your fingers. Things were going great. Better than great. You saw each other every day. Attended town events together. Everyone knew you were seeing each other but you are currently sitting at his table with a pissed off expression on your face. “You gonna tell me what’s wrong?” He asks, needing to hear you say it.

“It’s not gonna change anything.” You admit, poking at your food and not meeting his eyes. Things have been good, but it seems like you’ve been in some kind of holding pattern. Maria had come to you today and asked about vacating your apartment. You spent a lot of time at Joel’s, enough that the council noticed and if you weren’t sleeping in your bed, they could give it to one of the numerous refugees that continue to come into Jackson.

Joel sighs, knowing that arguing won't make it any better but he needs you to understand his reasoning. "I can't - it's, uh, I haven't lived with a woman like that - like an actual relationship - for over twenty years. I don't want to ruin what we have because I leave the toilet seat up or I breathe the wrong way. What we have can quickly go to shit and I...I don't wanna lose you." He admits softly, tracing the lines in the wooden table so he doesn't look at you. He had Tess, but you want more, you want a connection. Something that he had resisted with Tess, giving her all of him. Something that he doesn’t think he could do with you. 

“Maria asked me if there was any way I could let another family have my apartment.” You kind of feel like she’s pressing the issue to make Joel make a decision. “But I’m just going to tell her that’s not possible.” You stand up and pick up your plate to clean up.

Joel sighs, standing up to stand behind you. His arms caging you in against the sink and he leans in to softly kiss the nape of your neck. "I want you in my bed every night, I want to wake up holding you. Knowing you're mine. I hate you leavin'." He confesses, "I want you here...just promise me you'll talk to me if you aren't happy. I can't lose you too."

“I don’t want to push you.” You promise, feeling guilty for being upset at him. You twist around to face him and wrap your arms around his neck. “I’m happiest when I’m with you, but I don’t want you to feel like you have to. I just-“ you swallow. “We don’t know when the fuck our last day will be and I’d rather spend the rest of them loving you than anything else.”

Joel rubs circles on your hips, leaning forward to press his forehead against yours. “I know baby, I know. I- I want you here. I do. Will you- can you move in with me?” He asks, needing you to be by his side.

“Are you sure?” You ask seriously. “I can tell Maria to fuck off.” You bite your lip. “I swear this is her telling you to get your ass in gear. Either build faster or make a move with me. I’m not entirely sure which.”

Joel cups your cheek, “I’m sure. I want you here.” He promises, “let’s go get your things today.” He knows you’ll leave the furniture in the apartment so you need your clothes and personal items.

You nod, his hand still cupping your cheek. “If you get annoyed with me, you let me know.” You murmur. “I can spend extra time in the stables.”

He chuckles, nudging his nose against yours, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. “As long as you come home to ride me.” He smirks, his hand sliding down your form until he’s squeezing your breast. “Now, that I can do.” You promise breathlessly and Joel smirks, “better get started then.” He takes your hand, guiding you to his bedroom…soon to become your bedroom too.

****

“Dina’s probably a better patrol partner.” You tease Joel, winking over at the younger girl. “She’s awake.” You know Joel would have liked to go on patrol with Ellie, but he had told them to let her sleep and told Dina to come with you and him. Dina snorts and shrugs. “That’s a positive.” She agrees. You clear your throat as you guide your horse along. “Before we go up to the mines, let’s swing through the company buildings.” You suggest. “There’s some Vaseline in one of the shops. Need some for the horses.”

Joel adjusts his grip on the reins, nodding in agreement. It’s early, the air heavy with a storm, and Joel exhales in a cloud of air that appears in the frigid weather. “Let’s go now. We might need to head back. Storms comin’ in.” Joel observes the heavy clouds gathering.

It’s been four years since you moved in with Joel and Ellie. Four years of falling deeper in love with him and creating a beautiful family out of those that remain. Joel’s nephew is precious and you love spending time with him, easing the ache of not having a child of your own. It’s quiet evenings reading while Joel whittles at the desk in the bedroom. Soft, slow love making when both of you are sore or just need a softer touch of reassurance. It’s been healing for both of you and you trust Joel explicitly, that’s why keeping whatever illness has been nagging you from him has you so uneasy. He would worry, incessantly so, and you don’t want him to do that when it’s probably just a lingering bout of flu that had gone through Jackson a few weeks ago. “Then let’s make this quick.”

Joel watches you as you ride a little ahead with Dina. He’s worried about you. You’ve been trying to hide it but he’s heard you throwing you in the early hours, the exhaustion that seems to seep into your bones when you think no one is looking. He’s worried about you and he decides that later, he will take you to the doctor. He glances around the town, making sure there’s no threats until he nods at you and Dina. “Don’t be long.” He orders, deciding to stay outside to keep watch.

“Call out.” You remind the younger girl, your gun in your hand as you make your way to the pharmacy. You know the will be occupied by the items left behind, the little store hasn’t been ravaged completely, which is why you wanted to stop. It’s a stupid idea, completely stupid, but you need to know. Making your way inside, you stop inside the door, listening for the sounds of infected. Just because the little mine town had been cleared doesn’t mean some might not have wandered in. After a moment you relax, looking around with your flashlight as Dina rushes towards some hair bands than are still hanging up. “We don’t need to be long.” You remind her.

Joel glances around, keeping watch, and he’s reminded of patrols he took with Ellie not long after returning to Jackson. The memories of teaching her to play guitar, helping her work on her aim, even helping her decorate her room. He’s happy you’re in the house, a buffer to help him communicate with a moody teenager who now hates his guts. He never got to that stage with Sarah. She didn’t get to experience the “I hate my dad” stage. Swallowing harshly, he decides to talk to you about how he can reconnect with Ellie.

You stare at the boxes for a moment, wondering what the hell you are doing before you grab several of them. “Fuck it.” You hiss, ripping one open right there in the middle of the store. “Gotta know. What’s the worst that can happen? It’s negative?”

Joel looks up as Dina comes back outside, her backpack full of stuff, and he says your name. Dina looks back at the store. “She said she had to pee.” Dina shrugs and Joel nods, still worried about you but he tries to not hover too much.

You shove them in your pocket, knowing that it will take longer for them to give you an answer than Joel will let you stay here without coming to check on you. You grab the Vaseline and the antibiotic creams that you had actually come for and head back outside. “Sorry.” You chuckle. “Coffee.”

Joel watches you as you get back on your horse and he frowns, noticing the way you frown. You look nauseous. Snow starts to fall and Joel frowns, looking up at the sky. “Let’s head out. We haven’t got a lot of time.”

“Okay.” You are nervous, even though you know that the test will come back negative. Even if you show all the signs for the first time ever, you can’t possibly be pregnant. “It’s getting colder.”

Joel leads the way, worried about you and Dina, and his radio crackles, telling everyone to come back to Jackson or take shelter. “Let’s go.” Joel orders over his shoulder, guiding you and Dina through the town until you come across the empty factory. “Let’s get in here until the storm passes.” He orders, pointing at the doors.

You lead the horses inside and shiver slightly. “Jesus. It’s really starting to come down out there.” You whisper, getting worried about what will happen. “Maybe we should go back to one of the smaller buildings.” You could find a stove and build a fire because it’s gonna get worse before it gets better.

Joel nods, “lemme go check. Stay here.” He orders, pulling his gun from his holster and he nods at Dina who stays on her horse in case something happens. Joel makes his way through the factory to the outside and that’s when he hears the infected. His heart pounds at the sound just as he sees a girl under a clicker. He doesn’t think as he pulls the trigger and he grabs the girl. “Are you bit?” He demands, dragging her through the yard until he’s storming into the factory. “We gotta go!” He shouts, the girl running behind him.

You don’t know what the fuck is happening, one second everything is quiet and the next there is a gunshot and Joel is running back into the building with a strange girl. “Joel?” The sound of infected gets louder and your blood chills, the test in your hand shoved back into your pocket. “Joel!”

“We gotta go!” He orders, heart pounding at the thought of you and Dina being in danger. “You okay, kid?” He asks the young girl who nods and Joel grabs her hand and pushes her up onto the horse. Within moments, the doors burst open and Joel shouts for you to ride.

“Shit!” There’s a fucking horde on your heels, the horses racing as fast as they can, but you aren’t gaining much ground between you and the group of infected that what to tear you apart. “We have to hurry!” You shout, looking over your shoulder at the wave of danger that is creeping closer.

Joel stops for a moment, glancing over his shoulder, and he sees the smoke coming from Jackson. “We gotta go back.” He shouts, ice forming on his facial hair. “There’s no time.” The girl declares, “there’s a lodge. My friends are there.” Joel nods, “are they armed?” He asks and she nods. “Good. We will head there, get prepared, and head to Jackson to help.” He orders, riding up the mountain in the blizzard in the direction the girl points.

You don’t like this. Don’t trust it, although you don’t have much of a choice. Why were these people up on the mountain in the lodge? You don’t have time to question it, the temperature is well below zero and you’re in danger of hypothermia and frostbite if you stay out here.

You soon find the lodge and Dina is shaking uncontrollably as you enter the property. The wind chill is gone once the door is shut and Joel shrugs off his coat and rushes over to you. “Are you okay?” He asks, rubbing your arms after your coat is off.

“J-just c-cold.” You promise, teeth chattering and you barely listen as the girl starts introducing herself. “We- we have to get home.” You tell Joel, not paying her any attention. “The town…” through the window you can see the fires burning and you can’t imagine what is happening down there.

Joel squeezes your shoulders, turning to look at the town. He grips the walkie talkie in his hand. “Jackson. Come in. Jackson.” He growls into the radio and that’s when one of the women grabs Dina and a man grabs you. He immediately reaches for his gun but guns are pressed to your foreheads.

“Joel.” You freeze, breathing shallow. “Shut up!” The man who is holding you hisses, shaking you slightly and you see Joel flinch as he thinks about attacking him. “We don’t have anything.” You promise him. “Just take whatever you want.”

Joel places his gun on the floor, raising his hands, and his heart is pounding. The girl he rescued asks him what they look like and Joel’s eyes flick from you to Dina and back to the girl. “Military.” He says, brow furrowing, “fireflies.”

The medic puts Dina to sleep and approaches you with a needle. “No.” You struggle against the man’s grip, the barrel of the gun pressing into your temple. “You can’t give me that, you can’t give me that!” You shout, terrified that whatever they might give you could hurt the baby. The girl, Abby, snorts. “Scared of needles?” She huffs. “Nooooo!” You squirm away from the needle again. “I’m pregnant!”

Joel feels like he’s been punched in the gut. His eyes widen and they meet yours, seeing the fear in your eyes. There’s nothing he can do. They outnumber him and he doesn’t have his gun. “Leave her alone!” He shouts, his voice desperate as he sees you struggle and he knows you’re telling the truth.

“You’re lying.” Abby spits, but you shake your head. “My jacket pocket.” You stammer. “I took the tests this morning. Please- we didn’t do anything to you. Let us go.”

Abby reaches into your pocket, taking out the tests and Joel feels sick. His eyes flick around the room, desperate to find a way out of this situation. To keep you and Dina safe. He wants to squeeze his eyes shut and pretend this is all a nightmare. Abby eyes the tests and the medic of the group looks over her shoulder. “Two lines. She’s pregnant.” Joel’s nostrils flare and tears sting in his eyes when your terrified eyes meet his. “It’s okay, baby.” He tries to reassure you, “it’s okay.”

It’s not hard to figure out who’s baby you are carrying and there’s a grim smile of satisfaction on the girl’s face as she looks from you to him. “He’s a little old to be a daddy.” She chuckles dryly, waving the test around. “But he’s handsome, so good for you.”

Joel’s hands shake a little but he steels himself, jaw clenched as he watches Abby pick up a shotgun. For a moment, he’s worried she’s going to spin around and shoot you but within a blink of an eye, he’s screaming as he lays on the floor. His knee is blown out, and he chokes at the agony that washes over him.

“Joel!” You twist out of the man’s grip and rush over to Joel. “Fuck.” You hiss, seeing how bad the injury is although he’s clamped his lips together to keep from making too much noise. “It’s okay, baby.” Your fingers tremble as you rip at your belt to take it off and use it as a tourniquet. “It’s okay.”

Joel knows he’s going to be killed. The look on the girl’s face. He knows and the worst part is he’s not scared of death but he’s terrified of leaving you alone. Of leaving you pregnant with his child. He wants to fight but that would only get you and Dina killed alongside him. “I love you.” He murmurs, reaching up with a shaking hand to caress your cheek. “Okay. That’s enough.” Abby declares and the man grabs you again, dragging you away, and you start to sob. “Please. Please just let us go. We haven’t done anything.” You beg but Abby chuckles as she kneels down next to your lover. “You haven’t.” She says as she looks at you, “but your boyfriend here has.” She begins her speech about her father and how she was taught to fight with morals. Joel doesn’t listen, his eyes fixed on you as you cry for him.

“Oh, just shut the fuck up and do it already.” Joel snaps, tired of hearing her bitch about how unfair it was that he killed her father. He doesn’t want you to watch, but this bitch apparently wants you to suffer. You choke out a sob when Abby picks up the golf club and comes towards him. “Please, don’t.” You beg softly.

Joel knows she’s going to beat him to death and he hates that this will be your last memory of him. “Close your eyes.” He orders, “close your eyes!” He shouts when you continue to stare and within seconds you squeeze your eyes shut. Abby smirks as she swings the club, hitting him in the head, and he tries to smother his scream but the pain is too intense. The club comes down over and over again on his body until he’s laying in a pool of his own blood. His mind is cloudy with pain but he prays you’ve kept your eyes shut.

You don’t keep your eyes closed. Weeping as you watch Joel absorb hit after hit, the golf club snapping in two and Abby switching to punching Joel in the face. The man still has you tight in his grip, and you resent it, unable to help him. “Please.” You whimper through the tears. “He- he’s not that man anymore.” You try to reason with her. “He’s a good man. He saved people, he has saved so many lives. He saved your life.”

Joel can hear you pleading for him, for her to stop, but it sounds like he’s underwater. His body is numb, and he can feel himself drifting, losing the life in his body. When he hears a scream, his heart stops. Ellie. She’s here.

“Stop!” Ellie is wrestled to the ground and you struggle when you see her, trying to break loose again, but he cocks the hammer back on his gun. “I don’t want to kill you.” He hisses quietly, making you sob. “Please stop.” You beg Abby again. “You- you made your point.”

Abby’s chest heaves and the one holding the gun says, “end it. End it now.” Ellie is screaming at Joel to get up. He hears her begging and he wants to stand, wants to fight now that ve knows you’re carrying his child but all he can do is twitch his fingers. Abby picks up the broken club, walking towards Joel. “No. No. No. Nooooo.” You wail and Ellie screams just as Abby stabs the stick into his neck.

Your visions blurs, narrowing until everything goes dark and you crumple in the arms of the guy who had been holding you. “Gonna kill her too.” Abby smirks as she walks towards where he is crouched over you, putting you down on the floor. “No.” He shakes his head. “That’s not what we signed up for.”

“She’s pregnant.” One of the women protests and Ellie is shaking, “I’m going to fucking kill you.” She promises with a yell and Abby doesn’t care. “Fine. She lives.” Abby decides as the group gathers their things, leaving the lodge.

You don’t come up until Jesse is kneeling down beside you, checking you. Gasping as you open your eyes and the first thing you see is Joel and Ellie. The young girl laying on top of him, sobbing hysterically and you know that he’s gone. You can’t stand, your entire body aching with sorrow, but you crawl over to them, covering her and him with your own body as you cry. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, Ellie.” You know they have been estranged, you’ve lived through the tense silence and the battle of wills. Now, there is no hope for reconciliation.

Ellie is numb as Jesse gets her and Dina up on a horse. He wraps Joel’s body up to take it back to Jackson and tears stream endlessly down your cheeks. No one says a word as you ride back to Jackson. How the tables have turned…Joel is now cargo.

****

Your eyes are red rimmed and burning, but not from the fires that still burn in Jackson. The orange glow flickers through the windows and gives an unnatural light to the darkness. The silence in the room is filled with sorrow, you’re the only one here that isn’t stretched out on a table, covered with a sheet. “I’m so sorry, baby.” You whisper, looking down into the bucket to grab the rag and squeeze the excess water. You had insisted that you be the one to do this. Ellie can’t. She’s in the hospital, the parting gift of a kick to the stomach from the group that had killed Joel had punctured a lung. Sedated, and quite frankly, not up to doing this task. You reach for his hand and wipe some of the blood off it gently, as if you are afraid to hurt him. “I didn’t know I could get pregnant.” You promise him. “I didn’t lie, baby, I wouldn’t do that to you.”

Tommy walks into the makeshift morgue, finding you with Joel. Where you've been since returning to Jackson. "Sweetheart, you need to sleep." He says softly, "you need to eat something. Not just for you, but for the baby. You know he'd be reprimandin' you for not takin' care of yourself."

Your lips stretch slightly as you look up at him for a moment. Reaching up to touch his hand as it rests on your shoulder. Tommy is a good man, one that you have spent a lot of time with over the past four years since moving in with Joel. “He knew.” You tell him, aware that Jesse has told Tommy and Maria about your condition when you got back to Jackson. “I told him- before he-“ you pause, blinking back new tears. “Hopefully he didn’t hate me for it.”

Tommy shakes his head, “he never would’ve hated you. He loved you. Never thought I’d see him be in love again but you made him so happy. If anything, if I know my brother, he hated leavin’ you pregnant without him.” Tommy sighs, “but you have us. Me and Maria and - and Ellie. She had to be sedated again but she will wake up soon.”

Your chin wobbles slightly. “He’s with Sarah now.” You murmur, standing as you put the rag down on the table beside Joel’s body. “I’ll give you a minute with him.” You know that Tommy’s bond with Joel ran deep and he will miss his older brother. You stop for a moment. “I hate them.” You tell him quietly. “I want them all to die. Every single one of them. As painfully as possible.”

Tommy nods, knowing how you feel, and he wants that too but he has to think about everyone in Jackson and not just his feelings and desire for revenge. “Go get something to eat.” He reminds you, squeezing your hand, and you nod, making your way out of the room with tears in your eyes.

****

You aren’t dumb, you know Ellie is leaving tonight. Dina just left and you stroke your growing stomach as you reach for the box that you have kept. There’s an air of discontent in town, a grumbling under the normally positive sounds of rebuilding. Even though the council had voted, more people than you imagined had spoken to you about their sorrow for Joel’s passing. You knew that it had been a long shot, but you had hoped that they would feel your need for vengeance. Walking out to the garage, you tap on the door quietly. “Ellie, it’s me. Open the door.”

Ellie's eyes widen but she knows that she can't hide from you. She sighs, opening the door to the garage, "you can't stop me and I don't need a lecture." She spits out before you can say a word but she watches your eyes trail over the guns and ammo spread out over the floor.

You whistle, taking it all in before you look at her again. Her jaw is set, stubborn. So much more like Joel than she would probably ever admit. “You’re missing something.” You tell her, making her immediately frown and look around. “What? What am I missing?” She demands, making you smile as you hold out the box in your hand. “This.” You tell her. “You kill that bitch with this.”

Ellie opens the box, eyes widening at the sight of Joel's gun. She swallows, lifting her gaze to yours, and she nods. "I'm gonna kill her. For us." She promises, her hand softly landing on your bump. "Dina is coming with me." She confesses and you smile, having seen what neither of them have realized yet a long time ago. "Good. You will come back...you gotta meet your sibling." You say, placing your hand over hers. She nods, "I'll be back. Gotta see if the baby looks like you or if they are unlucky, Joel." She teases, offering you a soft smile.

“I’m going to stay here.” You promise her. “This house will always be your home. You will always have space here.” You haven’t been able to get rid of anything of Joel’s, even his woodworking projects look like he will walk in at any moment and pick them back up. It’s been three months since that horrible day and you still dream about it. You don’t know if you will ever not; but you’ve taken care of yourself. For Joel and the baby. Because he wouldn’t want you to just curl up and waste away. Even Gail had offered her services to you, none of usual bitter sarcasm in her words. “Always.” 

Ellie smiles at you and sets the gun down on her desk before she wraps her arms around you, gentle to be mindful of your bump. "He really loved you, ya know?" She murmurs, "so do I. You're like the mom I never had." She confesses, "I'll be back. I am gonna kill that bitch and those assholes and I'll be back." She promises softly.

You hug her and press a kiss to the top of her head. “He loved you too.” Ellie had finally told you why her and Joel had been estranged at the end. You had understood both positions and why they had been at odds. “With every fiber of his being.” You pull back and look at her. “He would be proud of you.”

Ellie nods and steps back when you say, "be safe, El." You order and she snorts, "always am." You playfully roll your eyes and rub your bump. "I'll see you when you return." You promise and Ellie nods, watching you go. She's leaving at three and you'll be asleep by then but she will come back and tell you she got revenge for all of you.

**** 

“Oh, you are hungry, aren’t you?“ You coo, looking down at the baby that is greedily gulping down milk at your breast. “That’s it, baby boy, you eat.” Your son, named after your lover, was born just a month ago. Healthy and perfect, you wish that Joel was here to see him. “You want to see your daddy?”

You carry the baby over to the only photo you have of Joel. A Polaroid he took with Ellie, and you pick the frame up to show your son. “There’s your daddy. He’s watching over you, you know? From heaven. He never thought he’d end up there but I just know he is. He was a good man who did bad things because he had. He’s up there now, watching over us.” You murmur and the baby coos after pulling away from your nipple, eyes unfocused as you hold the frame towards his face. “I’ll see him again one day. When I’m older and you can survive in this world without me. You’ll be a fighter, just like your daddy. Another Joel Miller for the world to see.” You coo and the baby closes his eyes as he falls asleep in your arms. You set the frame down and cradle him, cooing softly, unaware that Joel is watching you, Sarah standing beside him, while they oversee the ones they left behind.

[venusheartsyou2]

bloody birds | matt murdock

summary: your ex shows up at your apartment, bruised and bloody.

pairing: ex!matt murdock x fem!reader.

warnings: lore accurate asshole matt murdock! angst. no use of y/n. mention of blood, needles, stitches. obvious lack of medical knowledge on my part. both reader and matt are both so unbearably stubborn. mention of heather glenn? kinda? barely?

wc: 3K

a/n: i love matt murdock but he would be the worst boyfriend in the world! bear with me!

You wake up to your phone vibrating against your bedside table. The clock reads 2:39AM. What the hell? Your eyes are heavy with sleep; you couldn’t pry them open even if you tried. You scramble to find your phone. It seems as though it’s hidden beneath all of your knick-knacks. Mainly books and trash. You should really clean as soon as you can. You grab your phone, and see a no caller ID. Who could be calling you at a time like this?

“Hello?” You answer. You feel yourself freeze when you hear the voice on the other line. It’s Matt. Of course it was Matt. Only Matt would be this presumptuous. Only he would have this much disregard for you. Matt says your name, his breath low and hot.

“The hell do you want?” You say, viciously.

“Don’t be like that,” Matt starts. “I need your help.”

You’re quiet for a second, unsure of what to say. Was he serious? Did he think he could just walk back to you so easily? For what, another stitch-up?

“Who’d you hurt this time?” You say, passive-aggressive. Matt’s silent on the other line. He sits in the tension. “No one.” He finally states. “Open the door.”

You hear a knock on the door. You’ve got to be kidding me. 

“You’re at my fucking apartment?”

“It used to be ours.”

“Are you bleeding out on my front-fucking-doorstep?” You ask, but you’re already up to get the door. You’ll see for yourself. Matt asks you to stitch him up from time to time, but there’s been a brief hiatus where Matt hasn’t been appearing in front of you, half dead and bloody. A brief period meaning 2 weeks, of course.

You open the door to see the bane of your existence at your front door: Matt Murdock, in all his awful glory.

“Not really. This isn’t the worst it’s been.” Matt answers your question, while ending the call. You stare at Matt, dumbfounded. It was pretty bad. Deep gashes are speckled all over his torso. From the skin you can see, he was bruised all over. His fresh red bruises were on top of his recovering yellow bruises. It was grotesque. He was grotesque.

“I don’t need heightened senses to know that’s a bunch of bullshit, Matt.” You joke, dryly. Matt chuckles. 

You hear the voices of your concerned friends flash throughout your head. Whispers of, “He’s such an asshole.” and “He doesn’t value your time.” float in your mind. While, yes, they were right, Matt was never one to make it fair. How could you turn away a man who was near death? You weren’t religious, at least anymore, but it felt like a cardinal sin to turn him away. You knew Matt well enough to know he wasn’t going to the hospital. You knew he was Daredevil. He couldn’t keep the secret long enough. You were suspicious enough to snoop, and he was careless enough to leave evidence out in your old, shared apartment. You tried your best to plead with him and tell him that this “vigilante bullshit” was going to kill him, but with the way he talked, he seemed like he already accepted it. You couldn’t stay to watch it happen.

“Come in.” You say, defeated. You grab the first-aid kit that lays beneath your coat rack. Maybe a part of you knows you can’t get rid of Matt, and maybe an even smaller part of you isn’t ready to let go of him.

You assemble your usual “fuck-ass Matt Murdock first-aid kit”, as you like to call it. Matt never comments on the name. Gauze, stitches, gloves, adhesive bandages, and more are splayed all over your living room coffee table. Matt sits on the couch, after you frantically place a towel over it. You’ve done this way too many times to make the same mistakes. Like that one time he left a suspiciously large blood stain on your couch. You’re lucky Matt’s a lawyer, and that you were somehow able to get that stain out - with enough patience and peroxide.

You kneel in front of Matt and peel his blood-stained shirt off his stomach. You can never forget the invasive smell of blood thanks to Matt. You wipe the wet blood with an old rag. He hisses as his sensitive cuts are brushed over with the rough rag.

“Easy.” he whispers. You don’t respond. Your mind is filled with all the things you want to say to this douche, but your tongue can’t bring itself to move.

“I know you’re mad,” Matt says, “Your heartbeat is racing.”

“You’re being intrusive.” You mumble.

“I’m not being intrusive, I can’t help it. You know that.” He retorts. You place gauze on a cut, and start prepping your stitches. You’re not a nurse - you attempted nursing school, but you dropped out 2 years in - so this process never gets any less nerve-wracking. You struggle on getting the thread through the needle. Matt winces and looks away.

As you finally get the stitch ready, Matt attempts to grab your hand to squeeze. “It helps him handle the pain”, he likes to say. You swat his hand away.

“Need both hands.” You say, as you always do. Your obvious lack of care never discourages Matt. He’ll do this the next time he stumbles in your apartment. You start to dig the needle into Matt’s skin, and he reacts by gripping the couch’s arm rest. He bares his teeth, hissing with every poke and prod of his skin.

“You’re not being gentle.” He comments.

“Stop talking.” You spit out.

“Look, I know I’m an asshole, but can’t you go easy on me?” Matt pleads. You ignore his comments, as you have to stay focused.

After finishing the first stitch, you look at Matt. “You are an asshole. And you’re lucky I’m dumb enough to help you.” You say. Matt lets out an entertained huff. 

“I guess I am lucky.” He says. He smiles enough to show his eye crinkles. You always loved his eye crinkles, so you force yourself to look away.

You finish the other two stitches Matt needed, and bandage everything up. Your hands are covered in Matt’s blood, a sight you see far too often. You scrub your hands raw in your kitchen sink, determined to get the blood off your hands. The water is scorching hot. The steam fills the air. Matt lingers around you, his hands grazing your old, shared apartment kitchen.

Matt wants to say something. It’s written all over his stupid, beautiful face. He chews on his lip for a second, thinking about how to open up the conversation.

“I still think about your banana bread.” Matt says, trying his best to get his words out before you inevitably cut him off. “I always ask for banana bread with chocolate chips now.” Your head drops and you let out a sigh. It was the phase of the night where Matt reminisces on the past. Your banana bread was always heavily praised by Matt. When the two of you were together, you were appalled to find out Matt had never tried chocolate chip banana bread before. You would make it for him frequently when you were with him, and you would add sugar on the top so it would have a nice crunch. You realize Matt’s getting what he wanted: for you to reminisce on the past. 

“We’re not doing this again.” You say.

“Doing what?” Matt feigns ignorance. You wipe your hands off violently with a towel. Your hands are red, and you can’t tell if it’s from his blood or from how rough you scrubbed your hands.

“What do you think is going to happen if you try to make me remember the past? That I’m going to remember everything good about our relationship and I’m going to run back to you?” You questioned.

Matt shakes his head. “I’m sorry. I just missed you, that’s all-” Before Matt could finish his sentence, you cut him off by lightly chuckling.

“No. No, you don’t.” You grin while cleaning your bloody countertop.

It’s times like these where you wish you could hear Matt’s heartbeat, or smell the sweat beading and falling on his head. It’s unfair he can do all that but you can’t. You just have to watch how his face moves, but it never does. It’s always impossible to read him. You knew that Matt could see through your brash attitude. You knew he could hear your heart beating from out your chest, and that he could sense your throat closing up from all the anxiety. It wasn’t fair.

“You’re giving me a hard time.” Matt says, after a period of silence.

“Yeah, I am. You think I don’t deserve it?” You argued.

“I think that I don’t deserve it.” Matt responds. Positive self-talk. You purse your lips.

“What, you got a therapist now?” You ask, bluntly. Matt didn’t seem like the type to go to therapy, with his whole “independent-and-self-isolating” thing going on.

“Slept with a therapist. About the same thing.” Matt shrugs. You let yourself laugh. Thinking about Matt with other women wasn’t something you necessarily wanted to think about, but it would be the mature thing to do to not make a deal about it.

After a moment, Matt takes a breath before saying, “I could only think of you. When I was with her.”

“Oh, Jesus, Matt.” You cringe at his words. “God, that’s awful.”

“I’m sorry, I-” Matt responds through small awkward laughs before he suddenly clutches his side in pain. “Ah, fuck!” He yelps.

“Matt?” You rush to him, faster than you’d like to admit. Matt’s shirt is slowly stained by a new stream of blood. “I think one of the stitches ripped.” Matt mutters.

“Fuck.” You whisper. Again, you weren’t a nurse. You were only Matt Murdock’s next best option. It seems as though you didn’t tie the knot in his last stitch tight enough. It had unraveled. You’re quick to tie it back together. You’re quiet and focused, at least more than you were before. As much as the sight of Matt fills you with unbridled rage, you couldn’t bear to see him in pain. It makes you angry how much you care for this asshole.

You finish re-tying the stitch knot, and your hands are covered in blood again. At least it wasn’t as much as last time. You wash your hands again in silence, and Matt is left to watch you. He does just that, watching your every move.

His presence is suffocating. He’s this reminder of your past. Of what you would let slide, or of what bullshit you would do for love.

You want to say so much to him, but something’s always held you back. Maybe it was your desire to always be the bigger person. It was the smart thing to do, but it was never the satisfying thing.

“You’re gonna get yourself killed out there, Matt.” You say, finally. Matt looks up. He hears your steady heartbeat. You’ve had this conversation with him before. How hypocritical of you. To yell at Matt for bringing up the past but replaying this conversation, for old times sake.

“You know why I do what I do.” Matt says, flatly.

“You’re ignoring my sentiment.” You say.

“You know me well enough to know I’m not going to stop.”

“You know me well enough to know I can’t watch you kill yourself.”

Matt and you sit in the silence. Matt lets out an amused huff, smiling to himself. You and Matt were different. It’s clear why you two didn’t work out. Every problem in your relationship stemmed from the fact that Matt had to live his life as Daredevil.

A long pause passes.

“I still love you.” Matt drops. Jesus. “God, Matt.”

You shut your eyes and let that weird, awful feeling in your chest simmer. This was new from him. Usually, when he crashes half-dead in your home, he’ll leave after you force him out. Maybe you should’ve showed him on his way out before he even got the chance to ruin your night. Well, maybe you should’ve never dated this nightmare in the first place. But you can’t beat yourself up about that. As much as you criticise Matt, you loved him at one point. He gave you some of the best years of your life. Until he let Daredevil consume him.

“I don’t want to let you go.” Matt adds, pleading. He takes his glasses off, placing them on the countertop. He reaches for your hand, and you’re too much in your own head to stop him from grabbing it. He places your hand on his chest. His heartbeat is steady. That bastard isn’t lying.

“Please don’t stay silent. Say something, please.” Matt whispers, as he looks at you, pushing a thick strand of hair behind your ear. You nearly crumble at the soft touches. Matt has a way of making you forget. You would’ve forgotten about all the shitty lies and gaslighting if Matt would just spend a single night with you. At one point, you would’ve even forgiven Matt for all the bullshit. That was another power Matt had. Not just the heightened senses.

“I can’t fucking stand you.” You laugh. You’re not sure when these small tears fell from your eyes, but Matt was quick to wipe them away. He holds your face in his hands. You try your best not to forget about everything he ever did and take him back right then and there. You really hated the effect he had on you.

“And the worst part is..” You start. “I know you’re not going to stop coming to me to patch you up. And I know I’m not going to stop helping you. You don’t make it fair, Matt.”

“I know. I’m sorry, baby.” He says, in that low voice that always got you.

“Don’t call me that.”

“I’m sorry.” He says, while he finally lets go of you. Maybe he’s starting to get it through his thick head that this is over. No matter how much he begs and pleads.

You clear your throat and straighten your posture. “Get it together," you remind yourself.

“I should go. Thank you. For everything.” Matt says, as he grabs his glasses and heads for the door.

“Right.” You manage to mutter.

As Matt heads for the door, he stops as he opens it. “I’ll find someone else.”

“Someone else for what?”

“To deal with my shit.” He says, mainly pertaining to his medical care. However, a small part of him is referring to him. All of his baggage. It was clear you were trying your absolute fucking best to move on. As much as Matt wants to rip all of it down and make you take him back, so he could relive the best part of his life, he couldn’t do that to you. He’ll go and ruin someone else’s life.

You watch him let go of you. It was what you wanted, in theory, but you couldn’t ignore the haunting feeling in your stomach trying to claw its way out. Him leaving meant it was really over. As much as you put up this careless facade, Matt leaving would mean you would actually have to move on. You could no longer simply pretend that his absence didn’t bother you, since he was never truly gone. The sinking feeling of change started to terrify you.

All of this time you’ve spent trying to be the bigger person; maybe it was time to be selfish, and take a page out of Matt’s book.

“I still love you too.” You say. Matt looks at you, his face blank, shocked at your transparency. He laughs.

“You’re right. That does feel fucking awful. I’m a pretty shitty person, aren’t I?” Matt chuckles, awkwardly.

“Yeah.” You nod while letting out an amused breath.

You start to chew on your lip. You’re preparing yourself to be brave, to stand up for yourself. It wouldn’t be fair to Matt if he didn’t know why you couldn’t let yourself back with him. Although, he should already know why, at this point.

“Matt.”

“Yeah?”

“Your need to save others is killing you. Daredevil is stripping you of your life. You lie constantly to the people who love you. You give up time you could spend with others to beat people up instead. You ghost the people you love. You’re so willing to give yourself for others and yet you get confused when others try to give themselves for you. I will always admire your cause, caring and saving others because the system can’t do it themselves. But it’s just not realistic. You’re going to die. Some evil bastard is going to get you quicker than you can react. You’re not God. What if you’re too reckless and I’m not there to watch you die?”

You let yourself ramble, for once. Matt doesn’t say anything. How could he? No one would be able to react to that. Matt fiddles with the door handle, and the hinges squeak in an awful way. Maybe he does it so something else can fill his mind, so that he doesn’t have to think about what you said. Classic Matt, trying to avoid facing his personal problems, head-on.

Matt’s quiet. You made him nervous, and you can’t lie, it feels good. You swear you could hear Matt’s heartbeat. Finally, Matt breaks his silence.

“I’ll call you when it happens. So you’ll have enough time to come see me.” Matt says. He’s joking, in a time like this. You take a deep breath in.

“I’ll just have to hope that that’s true.” You say. No use in wishing Matt could take things seriously for once.

Another excruciating silence. Matt knew this would have to be the last visit. He couldn’t handle the way your eyes would dilate when you felt like crying. He couldn’t stand the way the air smelled when your salty tears filled the room. You and Matt sat in the moment.

“I love you.” Matt says, after a minute of silence.

“I love you too.” You say back.

“I’ll see you.”

“See you.”

Matt shuts the door. You’re glad he shut the door when he did. You bury your face in your hands and weep. The agonizing silence surrounds you. God, you want to throw up.

[incelraki]

(Epilogue!) Bill Dickey NSFW headcanons (and drabble)

MDNI!!! this is very much 18+ content, shoo! shoo!

Warnings: general gross behaviour, stalking, dick stepping (mild mention), humiliation, misogynistic terms and cuss words LMK if i missed anything!!

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

One of those guys to buy a body pillow of his fav or one of a girl that looks like his crush

That thing reeks and we all know it

Only showers if absolutely necessary

soft stalks his person of interests

Uses websites like 4chan to find home camera's of girls near him

Remember that scandal that happened years ago? There were these cameras people has put up in around their houses and you were supposed to enter a passcode to get into your feed Except, most people didn’t do that. So, many hackers were able to easily get into people’s home cameras and watch them without them noticing One even made a site where you could find these cams for free and watch people. This was sent all over 4chan and enjoyed by incel perverts all over the world

Some freaks would go as far as to use the microphone function to talk to people, others would send secret gifts to people’s doorstep’s after watching them, to freak em out

A public security notice was immediately thrown out there by the company when the site was discovered But a lot of people didn’t see the news, never checked their email and left their passcodes unused.

The site is still up, or the cams are at least still able to be hacked into

I know Bill is the type of bastard to find a pretty girl who was too much of a dumb bimbo to change her passcode and watch her. How convenient she has a camera in her bedroom.

Secretly loves having his dick stepped on

and being humiliated by someone far bigger than him (preferably a big-chested bimbo doll)

His glasses fog up as hes fucking his fist while watching some porno

alternatively: he's watching you through a secret camera feed

Whimpers like a bitch in heat when he's getting close

Imagining you fucking bill and him uncharacteristically inviting you over to the Eltingville club

Joining a club meeting a week or so after fucking Bill and everyone knows but no one fucking says anything You’re gaming, probably some rpg with big chested ladies, when you suddenly blurt out how pathetic Bill really is, and how quickly he finished Bill puts on an act, calling you a braid dead femoid who doesn’t know what the fuck she’s talking about But deep down, his stomach is doing back flips because oh my god he’s so embarrassed and oh my god he has the biggest boner of his life right now

It goes without saying that before meeting you he had never touched a girl before, let alone fucked one

PWP below the cut

"Put it in already." You whine at Bill who is currently fumbling his cock against your leaking cunt. "S-Shut the hell up stupid bitch, let me take my god damn t-time."

You roll your eyes, leaning on your hand as you wait for him to push his cock into you. Sure it's barely over 5 inches but by god do you want it deep inside you right this second. And to think this guy had been following you home from the bus stop not even an hour ago. Christ, what was wrong with you? "You sure y'don't want me to help, dumbass?" You groan, not waiting for an answer and grabbing his cock. Surprisingly he actually has a condom on, even though he genuinely forgot they existed for a split second. ("Oh man I forgot about those.." He just wanted a creampie like in a real porn, man!)

"He-Hey! Careful with that you're gonna rip it off you dumb cuu--nnttt.." His swear was cut short as you guided his swollen glans into your heat. "There we go, loser. Now move your hips, you do know how to do that, right? Or do I have to help you with that too?"

"Shut the hell up.." Bill tsk'ed, and slid the rest of his throbbing dick into your hot pussy. "F-Fuhhh.." He bit his lip so hard he was sure he was going to break skin any second.

"That's good huh?" You giggled, pressing your plump ass flush against his hips. His hairy tummy tickled against your butt slightly once your skin met.

"Oh my f-ff..." Bill's eyes rolled back, pressing himself as close to you as possible and promptly cumming hard into the condom you'd managed to find at the last second. His mind went blank as he pumped a thick load into your warm heat.

"You've got to be kidding me.." You snorted, clearly annoyed. That was your last condom for fuck's sake!

[hxlxnaaa]

𝐬𝐲𝐥𝐮𝐬 ─ ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ─ 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬, 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞

★ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: after a week of silence following the events that spiraled from your fake relationship, there's a knock at your door in the night. the sequel to wishful thinking, read part 1 here!

★ 𝐜𝐰/𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: some angst (happy ending), really sappy make up smut, soft sylus, kinda sub sylus if you squint, body worship, female reader

★ 𝐰𝐜: 3.1k

★ 𝐚/𝐧: woot woot part 2 is finally here, sorry for the wait!! i had envisioned this being a two-parter from the start, and i wanted to do a bit of sweet smut hehe. you'll have to pry soft and caring sylus out of my dead cold hands that man is needy and obsessed w mc :(

It had been a week.

A week of nothing, absolute silence. No calls, no texts. It slowly became as if Sylus never even existed.

It was hell at first. My feelings had come on so fast, and then just like that it was over in the blink of an eye. The game of it all, will they or won’t they find out, the lies, the fun. It was exciting, until I started to get hurt; and I wasn’t going to put my own feelings and misery aside at the expense of everyone else.

Slowly, but surely, the days got easier. I had a break from work where I could take the time to put myself back together, though the band aids didn’t heal the wounds. They just helped to ease the ache.

I started to move on. It had been a week; I was going to go back to work, and act as if none of this ever happened.

Then there was a knock at the door.

It came in the middle of the night, and I just assumed it was one of my neighbors telling me to turn my TV down, or Xavier dropping off a game he had borrowed.

When I opened it, outside in the complex's hallway stood a sopping wet Sylus, drenched from the storm outside. His silver hair was messy, sticking to his forehead, his clothes disheveled as if he had thrown them on in a rush. A look of desperation resided on his face, replacing his usual calm and smug demeanor.

Not seeing him for a week was not something out of the blue, but the big bad leader showing up at my doorstep shivering like a wet cat was. Especially after everything that happened.

My heart felt like it lurched out of my chest, and all the bandages I had tried wrapping around it came loose in one swift movement. All the healing I had done flew outside the door I had opened and stood beside Sylus, mocking me.

I almost slammed the door closed, angry at his audacity, showing up at my place in the heat of the night after not speaking to me. Angry at everything that happened. Angry, hurt.

A whisper of my name escaped his lips, and I froze. It wasn’t often he called me by my name, only addressing me with his usual pet names.

“What are you doing here?” I questioned, hesitant about this whole exchange.

He glared at me, “That’s no way to speak to someone in distress.”

Angry.

I went to shut the door in his face, pissed off and violent, but he stopped it with his hand.

“Wait, I’m sorry.” The apology felt foreign coming out of him, “Can I come in?”

The look on his face went soft, and it almost looked as if he was going to cry. Everything about this was so out of character for him, and if I wasn’t so angry, maybe I’d even feel sorry for him.

Without a word, I pulled the door back open, stepping aside for him to come in. He was obviously cold, and it seemed like was trying his hardest to keep himself together.

“Don’t sit on the couch, you’re wet.” Maybe I was being mean, maybe he was undeserving of my anger, maybe letting him in was a mistake. I sighed, “Sylus, why are you here?”

“You’ve been ignoring me.” His words were hard, and his stare was piercing. Normally I would feel uncomfortable under his gaze, but the exasperation I felt from his words outweighed that.

I scoffed, “I’ve been ignoring you? You haven’t reached out, what was there to ignore?”

“You’ve been ignoring me, you’ve been pulling back. I know you know I’m not stupid, kitten.”

He was right, he wasn’t stupid. When I started pulling away, he started pushing harder, and I could tell he knew I was almost done.

“Okay?” I crossed my arms, avoiding his eyes, “Then you started ignoring me. We’re even.”

“No.” He shot out, taking a step towards me, “That’s not how that works. I was waiting for anything from you, but it never came.”

“What did I do? What did I do wrong?” Sylus tilted his head forward, and I started to finally feel guilty. All of this was so different for him, when Sylus was upset he became mean, aggressive. He put up walls, started fights. For him to be so…pitiful, where was all of this coming from?

“I don’t understand what you mean-” He cut me off with a forced laugh, “You don’t understand? I don’t know how much more obvious I can be, sweetie.”

“Okay,” He paused, “I love you.”

My heart stopped. For a second, the world stopped spinning. It’s like everything, all at once, came to a halt with Sylus’ confession.

“You…love me?” The words tasted bitter on my tongue. This was not how this was supposed to go. I loved him, that’s why I had to stop all of this, so it didn’t continue. It couldn’t continue. He cannot love me back.

“Why else do you think I threw myself into all of that? Why do you think I didn’t want anybody else to do it? Because I was bored? I have plenty of other things to do in my spare time.” His voice was hoarse, almost pleading for me to understand.

“Sylus, I-”

“For a second, I thought you loved me too.” Sylus sounded desperate, “But then you pulled back. You disappeared.”

He grabbed my hands, “Tell me, sweetie, what did I do wrong?”

“You love me.” I whispered, “That’s what you did wrong.”

Sylus let go, taking a step back. He ran his hand through his hair, a sorry attempt to pull himself back together, “I apologize,” He said, “I misunderstood this then.”

I looked at him, his appearance disordered and disheartened. The once prideful and arrogant man was now broken down to nothing but a shell of himself, and I realized the cause of that was me. Sylus was never one to back down from a fight, yet here he was throwing up a white flag.

He went to leave, turning his back to me. Turning his back to whatever was happening, breaking the character I had come to know. Going down without a fight. This broken man wasn’t Sylus.

“I love you too.” The words came out rushed, in a hurry to stop him. Announcing my own declaration of love wasn’t something I had intended to do, planning to keep it inside for all of eternity, letting the poisonous feeling bubble inside until it ate me alive.

Sylus stopped in his tracks.

“Then why is this wrong?” He didn’t turn back around to face me, and I wasn’t sure I wanted him to. I’d crumble and fall if I saw his eyes.

“It would never work,” I let it all out, everything I had been holding in for so long, all the insecurities I had collected regarding any kind of relationship I could have with Sylus. “I’m a hunter, and you’re the head of Onychinus. We’re in two different worlds, living such different lives, it’s doomed. All of this is doomed.”

“Do you really think I care?”

His fingers suddenly gripped my chin with a possessive hold, as if he thought I might run off again. Trying to pull myself away, his grip tightened on my face, as well as the hold he had on my heart.

“It doesn’t matter if you care or not,” I gave him a weak glare, trying to scare him off, “don’t be selfish, Sylus. We’ll both just get hurt.”

Sylus lips twitched downwards, “I think you should allow yourself to be selfish for once.” His grasp left my face, “Do what you please.”

We stood in silence for a second, and I set my gaze upon the floor to avoid his stare, his red eyes penetrating my soul.

“What are you thinking?” He finally asked. I hesitated, not exactly sure what the right answer really was. I could continue to fight this feeling, or jump into the water.

“I’m scared.” I confessed, “I don’t want to get hurt. I can’t go through all of that, all of the heartache when things go wrong.”

“Now why do you think I would ever let that happen, sweetie?”

Sylus grabbed my hand, placing it against his heart, “This beats for you, I live for you.” I felt the quick, erratic rhythm of his heartbeat under my fingers, “I never stop missing you when you’re not around, every second you’re not beside me is misery.”

“I'll love you until my last breath, and even in the heavens too.” He pulls my hand up, placing a kiss against my palm, “I will never let anything happen to you, I could never live with myself if I hurt you.”

He kisses the back of my hand, my wrist, all the way up my arm to my collarbone, “I will do anything to make this work - if this falls apart, I’ll just put it back together. I need you by my side.”

I feel his soft breathing against the crook of my neck, and goosebumps rise on my skin. I want to fall into him, let myself become loose in his embrace and learn to trust his promises.

“But if you don’t want it, just say that.” Sylus presses one last kiss to the skin of my neck, “Tell me you don’t want this and I’ll leave through that door, and I won’t bother you again.”

“Sylus…” I can only manage a whisper of his name. Everything else gets caught in my throat, my mind a tangled mess of emotions.

His face is inches from mine, and he quickly gives me an amused smile, “That's not a no.”

Before I can respond, even think of something to say, he captures my lips with his own. The strong smell of his cologne mixed with the taste of his mouth against mine makes me dizzy. The room and everything in it has suddenly become so warm, and my skin feels as if it’s been lit on fire.

Sylus pushes my body up against the wall behind us, hands trailing up my curves, grabbing at anything he can. His fingers embed themselves in my hips, waist, thighs, trying to pull me any closer.

“I’ll ask you again, sweetie,” He pulls away and I’m left standing there breathless with an unwavering grip on his (still) damp sweater, “do you want me to stop?”

I tangle my fingers in his wet hair, bringing his face back down to mine.

“No.” I whisper against Sylus’ lips, before crashing mine against his feverishly. Every feeling I had for him, everything I had suppressed, all of it was going into this kiss. He groaned into my mouth, his hold on me becoming tighter.

It all made perfect sense; The way our lips moved in sync, how our bodies fit perfectly together, our minds addicted to the thoughts of one another. We were, to put it simply, made for this. Our souls intertwined with ease as we found solace and safety in each other. All of the fear I had been plagued with dissipated with the consolation of Sylus’ body against mine. I was no longer scared of this not working, all I cared about was him.

After all, even a broken clock is right twice a day.

With one swift movement Sylus lifted me off my feet and cradled me with ease, maneuvering around my apartment as if it was his own.

Before I could even register I was in my bedroom, I was pinned against the mattress in the safe confine of his arms.

“Please,” His breathing was ragged, “let me show you how well I can treat you, let me touch you how you deserve.”

I lean up and kiss him between his furrowed brows, and he takes the opportunity to dive for my neck.

“Please.” Sylus repeats again. His eyes are practically begging. I give him a nod.

Stripping me of my shirt, he places gentle kisses down my torso down to the waistband of my shorts. Goosebumps rise on my skin from the cold air mixed with his gentle touch. His rough, calloused hands hold my hips like glass, a finger slowly pulling my shorts off my legs. A hiss of air leaves his lungs when Sylus sits back to take me in.

“Fuck.” He whispers, “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for... Thought about having you like this.”

I give him a sheepish smile, “Is it worth the wait?”

His adams apple bobs in his throat as he swallows whatever words were going to leave his lips, running his hands up my thighs and waist. Sylus’ eyes travel up my figure, almost as if memorizing every dip and curve of my body.

“Every single second was worth it.” His voice was soft, “You’re perfect.”

Sylus leans down, pressing his lips to the bone where my hips and pelvis meet. He picks my leg up, lightly lifting it over his shoulder, resting his head on the inside of my thigh and looking up at me through his eyelashes.

He looks angelic, pure almost, glowing in the moonlight that spills through the window. His dominant, hard-bitten and arrogant exterior had disintegrated into nothing but his surrender as he lay open and bare for me in between my legs. All the walls I knew Sylus to have crumbled and fell, his only goal to show me that I’m loved; serving to please.

The tip of one of his fingers slides up my slit, and my breath catches in my throat. Sylus pauses, “Is this okay?”

“More than okay.” I confirm.

He quickly discards the cloth separating him from the heat in between my thighs, placing a gentle kiss to the place that craves him the most.

A moan escapes me as his lips latch onto my clit. My hands weave themselves through his hair, “Oh God, Sy- Do that again-”

Sylus groans into my core, worshiping the sex and heart that weeps for him, and only him. I twitch my hips towards his face, my mind reeling with the feeling that emits from his mouth.

“Yes-” He pushes a finger into me, easing the ache deep inside, “Be greedy, kitten, use me as you wish.”

I can only manage whimpers of his name, my brain incoherent and high on his mouth and touch as his tongue and fingers work magic. Tugging on the silver strands that grace his pretty head, the moan that leaves him vibrates against me, and I think for a second I might be done for.

“Mm, Sylus, wait-”

“That’s it, sweetie. Getting close?” His fingers curl up inside me and I shake my head, not wanting to finish so soon, “No, I-”

He pulls back and sits up as soon as the word leaves me, and I almost sob at the loss of contact. Sylus’ eyes scan my face with concern, and I pull him back down on top of me. His chest heaving against mine, he plants a kiss to the corner of my eye, “I thought I-”

“Not yet, fuck me.” Cutting him off, I push my body up against his.

“Of course, kitten,” Within seconds his pants and briefs were discarded somewhere in the room, my thighs instinctively wrapping around his hips, “who am I to deny you?”

His hard length pressed up against my entrance, the desperation making me crazy.

“Sylus, please-” I tried to push my hips forward, longing for more. He cupped my cheek, pressing a gentle kiss to my forehead, inching deeper agonizingly slow, “Patience, sweetie. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t!” Despite my reassurance, Sylus’ eyes were still filled with worry. Using my legs that were wrapped around him, I yanked his hips forward and with one fell swoop he was to the hilt inside.

Spasming around him at the sudden fullness, I sunk my teeth into his collarbone to stifle a scream. I could feel myself gripping him like a vice, his moaning and panting in my ear a sweet confirmation.

“I told you I could do it.” I lapped at the broken skin where I had bitten.

Sylus laughed lowly against my lips, “I didn’t mean to doubt you, kitten.”

The movement of his hips were rhythmic, every thrust sending me deeper into a spiral of love and pleasure. My thoughts were nothing but static, only focusing on the beautiful man in front of me and how good he was capable of making me feel.

His own moans were strangled, groaning praises and muttering sweet nothings into my ear. Sylus thrusted deeply into me, tightly holding my hand as if he thought I and this moment were going to disappear. His eyes would snap open and flutter closed with every movement, relishing in the feeling of our bodies together.

My skin was electric, fireworks setting off in every corner of my being. My mind spun with the addictive feeling and taste of Sylus’ sweet lips on mine, his fingers digging into my hips.

He and I together were not doomed, though us being apart was. We were magnetic, velcro, sworn to be together. We were aligned in ways I wasn’t sure was even possible.

“Tell me again that you love me,” Sylus trapped my head in between his arms, “tell me that this is okay and you want it.” His eyes were misty, his voice hoarse.

“I love you.” I mewled as his thrusts were getting faster, harder.

“I can be good for you, I’ll take care of you, please just let me be yours. Please be mine, let me have this.”

The familiar feeling rose inside, and I knew I was close, “Yes, Sy- I’m all yours.”

“I love you, I love you, I love- Fuck-” His hips snapped against mine at a pace that had me seeing stars, “My girl, you’re my girl. Mine-”

His girl.

I came undone with a loud moan of Sylus’ name, scratching my fingers sharply down his back, arching myself deep against him. His hips stuttered against mine, reaching his own high. Wrapping each other in our arms, trying to pull one another any impossibly closer. So close our souls could touch.

I didn’t just want Sylus, no, I needed him. It wasn’t until I found him that I discovered the large, empty sorrowful space that resided in my life. A space that I was always too scared to confront, a space that he fit into so perfectly.

Some force in this massive universe decided to pair me with him, to make me his, and I was tired of being scared and ignoring it.

“I love you, Sylus.”

tag list!! ty all for the support <3

@crowskitten22 @peacedreamer14 @phantom-101 @evilldentists @ionlypartiallyslay @fealy @sellelqvz @huachengnism @mandysfanfics @shiorihoshino @sinnamon-bunn @knifep-rty @l0bulariia @knifep-rty @yoyach @ononpetitecroissant @syluslittlecrows @beewilko @unbetirtlt @sylus-crow

[pressureplus]

I actually have this request in my head for a while now... but I'm not sure if you be up to do it so thank to let me know if you will do it or not. Fem! Reader who is happily married and live together with Sebastian (when he still human). Until, Sebastian was arrested and sentence to dead. Reader found no long after his dead that she was pregnant. Years later, Sebastian manage to escape Hadal Blacksite probably very injured in the process. He was soon spotted by the kid that look similar to his human self (the kid probably be now close to be a teenager now), as the kid call up their mother. Sebastian was shocked to see his wife come to view.

I'm looking 👀

Love this dramatic shit, I'm SO here for it!

I'm going to be referring to your son as S/N, so y'all can name your boy yourselves! (I'm real interested in the stuff you might choose, so if you wanna put them in the replies, I'd love to see your baby names!)

Smaller Hands

Pairing: Sebastian Solace x Fem!Reader

Au: [Unnamed]

Warnings: Mentions of Pregnancy, an Absent Father, injury, and Imprisonment

◞꒷◟ ͜ ͜ ◞ྀི◟୨୧◞ྀི◟ ͜ ͜ ◞꒷◟◞꒷◟ ͜ ͜ ◞ྀི◟୨୧◞ྀི◟ ͜ ͜ ◞꒷◟

He had been running a very long time before he got to where he was now.

Escaping the Blacksite was only the beginning of his long, long journey home. He had wrestled himself from the depths of the deep ocean and fought his way all the way up to the light far, far above him.

Breaking through the surface of the water had provided him with a hope he never thought he'd see truly grow into something he could really hold. Sunlight and open air and a horizon that stretched endlessly in every direction... Sebastian hadn't known freedom in over 10 years, but there it was.

The way the natural light caught the glint of his wedding ring had him already tearing through the water with a grin, energy back in his tired body. It certainly wasn't his original ring, no, that one wouldn't fit on his new, much larger hand anymore, but the replacement that he got so he could wear a ring on his hand and not just as a pendant was enough of a visual reminder of his love, sending him treading the water the way this body was made to do. He had to get to his wife.

He had to see his Y/N again. That's always what his efforts were for.

It was days before he even reached a beach, and weeks of dragging himself through the shadows and the alleyways, keeping himself out of sight. He would squint at road maps and try to figure out how he was going to get himself home, not very well able to get on the public transport or drive himself there with a body like this. He had to be more than a little creative with how he was going to cross the countless miles between his lover and himself if he wanted to make it there at all. He'd spend his seemingly endless days hopping trains and swimming rivers just to close the distance faster, like it may wash away the last decade he's had to go without her.

Sebastian could only hope she waited for him, though those chances were next to none. She had been there the day he was 'executed', watching him get taken back to the chair that was supposed to put his story to its end. She has every right and reason to think he died that day, and he could never be angry or upset if she decided she still needed to be held the way his other hands used to hold her... Would these hands even fit her anymore? They'd outgrown his first ring... Would they be too big to hold hers anymore? The painful thought was a reoccurring one, and it plagued every dream he had in the moments he would manage to rest.

He's nearing his old cottage now, beaten and scarred from the long trip home, more than a little bit tired and definitely hungry. He's barely going to make it if he manages to get to the doorstep at all, but more thankful than ever he'd made his home with her outside of the city and out into the woods so he might have a moment to his thoughts. He could very well find her with another man, or he could find a completely new family, or even find nothing but flowers and trees- The life that he made with her could be all but ashes on a breeze that swept this place years ago. She could be a memory and this could all be for nothing just as easily as anything else. He wouldn't even have a right to be angry... He wouldn't even feel a right to cry if she's decided to move on.

"SNAKE MAN! SNAKE MAN!!!"

He's shaken from his pondering by an unfamiliar voice, a starry eyed child fumbling out of the bushes like a little animal.

He nearly panics and flees before the brave, feral little boy reaches out for his hand and looks up at him like something right out of a story book- Which, he supposed may be fair given the way that he looks now.

"Are you a forest monster!? Do you grant wishes and eat people and stuff?!" It's clear the boy doesn't know fear, young and small still, with new eyes... But familiar ones.

Sebastian's heart drops into his stomach when he begins to recognize the thick, dark hair and deep brown eyes. This boy is the spitting image of the way he looked when he was around 10 or 11... It's like he's been pulled right from Sebastian's old childhood photos.

Too dumbfounded to speak, Sebastian stands there, every muscle in his body tense while his eyes flick around the boy's face trying to figure out how this could be.

"S/N! What are you doing talking to strangers, you were supposed to be at least playing in the yard and not the woods before the sun started setting." Y/N rounds the trees with a stubborn look on her face and immediately freezes when her gaze meets Sebastian's.

The air is knocked out of the both of them, leaving them only able to stare, and he notes the way she's remained nearly the same as the day that he was forced to leave her behind. Like a flower that never wilts, she stands as beautiful and as amazing as she was when he had first met her. Frozen with an expression he can't place, she makes no motion to do anything at all. The larger man acts first at the realization she must be frightened of him, going to put his two unheld hands up and open his mouth to explain himself-

"You said not to talk to strangers, this is CLEARLY a forest monster." Little S/N beats both of them to the punch and confirms to Sebastian all at once that his attitude is as strong in his blood as that unruly dark hair is.

"Heed your mother, would you? I could very well eat you." Sebastian ushers the child forward with a playful threat, the boy in reference pouting and looking back up at him.

"Come on, I'm only out a little bit late! It's not dark yet! Monsters only eat people in the dark." The boy argues, unfamiliar with the idea of real danger, it seems, but certain of himself the way only children really can be.

"Sebastian I can't believe it... Is it you? Am I losing my mind?" Putting the scolding and corrections on her son's statements off for a better time, Y/N looks up at the mutated form of her lover, hoping she might be right. When Y/N speaks, it's soft and uncertain, a hand going to rest on her child's shoulder so as not to lose him while she's distracted.

"You recognize me?" His heart practically jumps into his throat and he struggles to cope with how quickly she's guessed it was him.

"If not for the way one soul knows another, then for your voice and... Our ring." Unafraid just as well, she walks right up to the towering creature and brings her hand up to the necklace it's strung onto around his neck.

"Am I too late?" Sebastian asks, still scared.

"You're late, but never too much. You had better come home now though." She gets firm near the end and he laughs, melting.

"Awe that's no fair! I'm in trouble for being a few minutes late and he gets to be gone forever!" The boy whines and Y/N seems to laugh when she ruffles his hair.

"You can be out of trouble because it's a special day. Now, let's go home and get you to bed." Y/N's eyes stray back up to her husband, the fondness that was there in those beautiful eyes he fell in love with was something that had grown blurry and hard to recall until now. The way her gaze rested on him so softly brought him back like he'd never left in the first place.

"I think I have some things to talk about with your monster, here." She smiles at him and goes to slide her hand into his, the cold feeling against his palm of her own ring -the matching one to his from the promise that they'd made at that altar a long time ago- made him feel warm again, and made him feel alive.

"Yes, I've got a lot of things I've been waiting to tell her for these years we've spent apart."

[moonlight-prose]

WONDERING WHY

a/n: this is for the logan promptober hosted by the lovely @silverskyeline! i'm not gonna do the whole list cause i would stress myself out to an insane degree. but a few caught my eye. so i've thrown together some small fics for the man himself in the hopes of scattering them throughout october. this is also late one day cause of well me having a shitty time in life rn. but i hope y'all enjoy!

logan promptober: day six - cowboy

summary: loving logan howlett felt like loving a ghost. he returned when the moon hung low in the sky and his time gave way for freedom. but when you needed him most, he arrived on your doorstep with the promise of giving you exactly what you want.

word count: 3.5k+

pairing: cowboy!old man!logan x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MDNI IT'S 18+ ONLY, romance, love, angst, longing, pining, they're obsessed with each other, filthy kissing, p in v sex, rough sex, spit, choking (sorta), calling the pussy her/she, he's an old man who fucks insanely well, feral old man logan.

Pale moonlight brushed across the Earth with strokes of paint. Stars were sprinkled along the night sky, glimmering in darkness as you leaned against the doorway of your home. The lantern flame flickered with each waft of cool air that breezed past you. Pooling inside where a fire cracked and sparked—offering enough warmth to keep you sated for the remainder of time.

At least until he returned home.

You listened for the familiar clop of hooves, the click of his tongue guiding the horse where to go. Hoping that eventually he’d turn the bend in the dirt road and find his way back to the safety of your shared bed.

This was a routine you knew well—one you found solace in as the days grew short and sunlight became sparse. In summer he often returned when the clock struck midnight; the weariness of a long day spent riding through towns and hunting with others was normal. If a little grueling. Although you never complained. You knew who he was when you met him—understood the ups and downs of what this relationship would be.

Logan wasn’t anything if true to his word right at the start. I’m not gonna be here every day sugar, but I’ll be here when you need me.

Eventually you’d have to blow out the lantern and amble back indoors. Calling it quits on yet another night spent alone. He didn’t like it when you were out past a certain time—raiders and hunters alike were more than willing to break in without remorse. Especially if they didn’t know who resided inside, who shared your bed on nights like tonight.

“I need you,” you sighed, shutting your eyes to the sight of an empty road.

They were empty words of hope strung together to make a wish on whatever star caught your eye. Rarely did they work. Although some nights you wondered if magic twined with your solemn prayer—summoning the man you so desperately wanted. It was wishful thinking, a well full of reverie you continuously drank from. Although maybe it was the poison that would one day cause you to drop dead. Maybe…Logan was a figment of all that you could never have.

He might not even exist.

Your eyes fluttered open, glancing up at the sky with anticipation of a falling star. The echo of hooves along dirt drew your attention from your nightly ritual—curiosity pulling you close and whispering promises of giving you everything you wanted. It was probably a stranger. Someone looking for an easy place to spend the night. Logan always told you to say no with a shotgun in your hands, and your body tensed in preparation to grab for the gun propped near the doorway.

Relief flooded your veins at the sight of a familiar dark brown leather coat, his hat tipped low enough to hide the eyes that loomed beneath—glinting with a darkness you'd only seen once or twice in your time together. Calloused and scarred hands gripped loosley at the reins as the horse trotted up the path—finding it's way home with ease.

There was a pull between the two of you. Insatiable and feral and strong enough to have him searching for you the second he drew closer to the house. Hazel eyes fatigued by the long trip back locked onto your form. Plush skin and curves hidden beneath layers of a dress you had yet to strip off.

You would leave that to him, knowing how much he enjoyed tugging at the strings of your corset—undoing the buttons to set you free.

"Gonna catch your fuckin' death," he muttered, his boots hitting the ground with a dull thud. You relished the sound, unable to stop your smile.

"I was waiting for you."

He huffed, wrapped the reins around the wooden fence he built steadily over the years—the leather bag on his saddle now strapped over his wide shoulder. "Shouldn't be waitin' on a man like me sugar."

"You always say that."

"And I'm always right."

"Would you prefer I wait on someone else?" you inquired, a challenge glinting in your eyes.

He bit back a growl, hand settling on your hip to drag you to the edge of the front step as he stepped to the one below. "Are you tryin' to tell me somethin'?"

The possession in his eyes made your heart race, your fingers digging into the soft leather permeated by the scent of cigars smoked in various saloons. He felt familiar, a home you didn't know could exist within another person. The house you two built resided in his heart; the missing piece you searched for on nights spent without him. But now you had it in your grasp—fitting it back into place with a sigh of bliss.

The picture of peace finally pressed itself to your soul, caressing a part of your love that left each time he mounted his horse—the promise of coming home on the tip of his tongue.

"I haven't found someone else yet, but I very well could-"

The rumble in his chest was layered with everything he'd never say with words. "Try it," he growled. "And I'll have to make a fuckin' graveyard out back."

Heat pooled rapidly into your stomach, elation fluttering through your heart. You knew an animal hid in the depths of his chest. Feral with claws and teeth that snapped at the thought of someone taking what was his. You'd never belong to someone else. You'd never want to. The echo of his words seared into your mind, a vow of forever etched into each vowel and consonant.

He was home. He was here. He was real.

"There's no one else," you murmured, leaning your forehead against his—lips brushing against his with each soft admission. "There could never be anyone else."

All that would go unspoken, all neither of you could say.

I love you. I'll love you forever. Whatever this is…it will only end when we're buried six feet under.

"Good," he replied gruffly. "Now give your old man a proper fuckin' welcome."

The smile you wore deepened as his warm hand cupped your cheek. His skin was dry from the leather and a few cuts were scattered here and there, but nothing could resemble this. The blooming heat that spread across your chest like the roots of an ancient tree. He held you with a tenderness that might have shocked you at first—the fear of harming you burning hot in his stomach.

But this was how he always touched you. With a love that couldn't be replaced. A promise soldified in the lines of his palm, fate driven and earthly bound, and yours forevermore.

Finding his lips beneath his hat, you let go of the breath held deep in your lungs. The taste of his cigars spread on your tongue. A familiar morsel of home you gravitated towards. Later in the evening—when you were both lethargic and naked and covered in all sorts of fluids—he'd puff on a brand new cigar. Giving you taste with lazy kisses and smiles traded in the dark of night.

"Missed you Logan," you mumbled, tongue sliding against his with a breathy moan. "I always miss you."

He chuckled, deep enough to vibrate against your chest—his hands sliding down to grip your waist. "You wanna show me how much?"

"You'd like that huh." Smiling into the kiss, you felt his teeth dig into your lips. He sucked it with a groan, fingers digging harshly into the layers of fabric.

"Mhm." His breath was harsh against your cheek, each kiss filled with a need to ravage what belonged to him. To prove he still held space in your heart. "Missed you every fuckin' day sugar."

You laughed, toying with the hair at the base of his skull—curling your fingers around it to tug him back. The moan he rewarded you with made saliva pool in your mouth. His eyes watched you, dazed with want, mouth parted and swollen from your kisses. And you burned the image of him in your mind.

"You wanna show me how much baby?" you breathed, brushing your lips to his with a teasing laugh.

A biting growl ripped from his throat. "Get inside before I take you out here."

"There's an idea."

The harsh slap to your hip dragged a peal of laughter out of your chest. Stumbling back, your hands yanking the hat off his heat and working the jacket down his arms, you kissed him as if you'd never get the chance to again. Wet and spit slicked. Until your teeth clashed together and his tongue was halfway down your throat. Each moan that dripped from his mouth into yours felt like a fucking reward.

A blissful reminder that you weren't alone; he stood before you, frenzied and aching to feel your skin on his.

Logan couldn't figure out how he wound up in this haven. A home, a lover that stole his breath with each look, and forever right on the horizon. Years spent alone only offered the promise of torment, of a life overflowing with an endless amount of pain.

But for some unknown reason, the sun that used to sear his skin now stood before him lighting the pathway home. The brilliance of you blinded him—warmed every cold aspect that resided in the depths of his chest. Yet he'd rather spend the rest of his life in your fierce heat than suffer in the biting cold again.

Oh how lucky he felt just getting the chance to burn.

Desire simmered sharply in the base of your stomach the further you got into the house—his teeth biting down to the column of your throat, fingers toying with the laces of your corest. He devoured you like a sweet thing to be had. A treat he rarely got to partake in tasting. And fuck if he wasn't going to take his time. You clawed at his shirt, pulling it up and off his body with a hoarse shout of glee—nails piercing the flesh of his shoulders as he yanked your leg around his hip.

He practically dragged you to the small bedroom, tearing off the clothing as he went with harsh snarls of want. You'd worry about mending the fabric later in the morning. Or perhaps the day after that. Given how you could feel the heft of his cock through his pants, pressing to your stomach with each small shift of your body.

"On the bed." The command was punctuated with a slap to your ass—a sharp bite against the skin of your collarbone drew a soft moan to the surface.

He tugged the front of your corset down, dropping to the ground with the remainder of your skirts. Baring yourself to Logan with a smile, you felt the emptiness slip down onto the wood of the bedroom floor. Expelling from your body with each panted breath and soft carress. He turned you inside out with the smallest of actions—the barest of touches.

The time he spent alone and wrapped in thoughts of you became all he lived off of. Your memory turned into the reason he stayed alive.

Unlike so much of his life he now held an answer to why he dragged himself home. Why he forced himself to keep going.

"Lemme see her." His hand wrapped around your leg, pulling open your thighs for him to catch a glimpse of what lay between.

You'd been dripping since he arrived. A sticky wet mess that begged for his attention. Logan salivated at the sight, his eyes zeroing in on the way you glistened for him. On any other night he'd sit you on his face in a quick attempt at gaining the close proximity he longed for when he was gone. Tonight served for a different want—a biting need that dug its teeth into his skin.

"She missed me huh," he mumbled, thumb sliding through your wet folds.

You moaned, breathy and restless. "She did baby."

"'M gonna give her what she needs."

"Logan," you sighed, hand outstretched for him to take. "Need you close."

Every nerve lit like a fuse when he gifted you with a full smile. "I will sugar. Lemme just look at ya first huh?"

With a nod you let your legs spread apart, arms draped above your head. The sight of you stole his breath, but you didn't fare any better. His skin scattered with scars you kissed a thousand times over still rendered you incapable of speaking. Hell you weren't even sure you'd taken a breath since he walked through the door.

Though his body was worn and his hair was graying, you couldn't deny he remained the most beautiful man you ever set your eyes on.

"Like what you're lookin' at?"

Your grin was lazy, eyes overflowing with a language Logan once thought he'd never learn yet now could be considered fluent in. Love.

"I really do," you whispered, sharing the secret with him. The words rarely spoken were shouted at the top of your lungs in each loving praise.

He shook them off when you first met him. Claimed they were false words to make yourself feel better about loving an animal who walked and talked like a human. Although, over time he allowed them to sink into his skin, bathe over his broken and weary soul.

They held him together like a ribbon tied through his soul, placed neatly in a bow on his heart.

His hand was swift in undoing his belt, pushing the remainder of his clothes off to join yours heaped on the floor. And you drank in the sight of the man you adored climbing over your body with a hungry gaze. Your heart flipped, grip sliding along his back as you welcomed him in between your legs—the heavy weight of his cock a warm press against your thigh.

"Welcome home." The smile melded into the kiss he placed on your lips, tongue sliding in the curve along your teeth, to taste every bit of you he could reach.

Bucking your hips into his, you dug your nails into his lower back in the hopes that he'd move. He swallowed your whine, spit trailing down your chin when he pulled back to catch his breath. Moving slowly never worked for you—entirely used to the man who broke you with the intent of putting you back together—and right now was no exception. The torment of not having him tore at your heart, put a splinter in the longing simply to crack you in two even further.

"Hold still," he grunted, his hand shoving your hips back onto the bed. "Movin' so fuckin' much I'm gonna have to tie you down."

Your gasp was wet—needy. "Please. Fuck please-"

"Right." His other hand slid up your torso to rest against the base of your throat—thumb running along the smooth skin that covered your racing pulse. "I forgot who you are, sugar. You'd like that huh?"

Teeth tore at your bottom lip, eyes glazed and pupils blown wide the longer he held you there. Anticipation fried your nerves with each second that passed. But Logan wasn't a cruel man. He knew what you ached for—what you'd give up everything for. The closeness of the man you loved; a chance to have his body, heart, and soul.

Gripping himself, he tapped his cock against your clit, sliding through your slick with a stunted moan. A smile bloomed across his lips at your responding moan—fire streaking down your spine, curling along your limbs. He could drive you to madness and yet you'd thank him each time.

You would be grateful for anything he gave you.

"Don't get quiet on me now." His lips trailed along your cheek as he notched himself at your entrance. "Go on and sing for me sweetheart."

He sunk in with a smooth thrust, stretching you with slickened pain and a hoarse moan against the shell of your ear. And you forgot how to breathe. The pinch of pain quickly dampened with the roll of his hips—the head of his cock pressing snugly against your walls. This is what you missed, what your body screamed for.

The potent euphoria that drowned you under its vicious waves.

"So tight," he grunted. "Guess she really did miss me."

"Logan-" Your head tipped back into the pillows, a loud moan breaking the silence that curled over your bodies like a blanket.

"There she is." Pulling back slightly, he slammed back into you, nearly shoving you up the bed. "My pretty little songbird."

Nothing held you back from the sounds he drew out of your mouth. Each one louder than the last. Until the room was filled with a symphony of your combined pleasure, the vulgar echo of skin slapping against skin and your slick dripping down onto the bed, became all you could think about.

He thrived off it. The sight of you whittled down to nothing but a needy mess, begging for a small hint of his love. Maybe that made him an old man far too fucking dirty to be with someone as prescious at you. But he'd let the guilt eat him alive later. He'd worry about stealing your youth out from under you in the afterglow of feeling you cum.

A harsh thrust that struck against the sensitive spongy part of your walls had your knees clamping around his hips—your fingers scratching at his back to get him to slow down. You needed a chance to breathe, to regain some sense. Logan merely smiled, his fingers tightening around your throat to drag your head up. His lips slotting against yours in a messy kiss.

"Where do ya think you're goin'?" he growled, repeating the move with a bitten out groan. "Thought you wanted me to fuck you. Now you're running?"

"T-Too much-"

The angle changed sharply and suddenly he was no longer grinding into you but fucking right on that spot. A sharp sob of his name only added fuel to the quickly forming flame, quickening his movements until you felt your entire body begin to grow taut.

Slick smeared on the inside of your thighs, sticky and warm and loud enough to make you dizzy each time you heard it. He panted into your mouth, using the hold on your throat as leverage to fuck you back onto his cock.

Logan didn't love softly. He couldn't. Brutality was all he was capable of giving you and like the sweetest angel you took it with a smile. You let him use you up until his name was all you could comprehend. The heady scent of his sweat filled your senses, the salty tang of his skin spread along your tongue as you bit into his shoulder—your teeth marring his already marked skin.

Eventually it would turn purple, fading quicker than usual, but he'd wear it with pride. His own trophy after tearing you apart beneath him.

"Gonna cum?" he asked, mouthing at your breast, moaning at the taste of your skin. "I can feel it."

You nodded frantically, body going taut with each slap of his hips on yours. "C-Can I?"

"So fuckin' polite," he groaned, sucking on your nipple before letting it loose with a pop. Spit dripping down to your stomach. "'Course you can sugar."

Tugging at his hair, you felt the tremble in your thighs spread to the rest of your body. His other hand slipped between your bodies, thumbing at your throbbing clit with a soft moan, dragging you right to the edge of a cliff. A sharp grind of his hips broke the dam within you, flooding you with a mind numbing bliss that scorched your skin.

You cried his name until your throat went raw, tears spilling hotly down your cheeks that he licked up with a smile. The fluttering of your walls dragged a hoarse shout from his chest, his teeth clamping down onto any part of he could reach. He followed you instantly, shoving his cock deep enough to hurt as he filled you with enough cum to spill out.

The echo of your breaths resounded off the wooden walls, his hand dipping down to smear his cum along the inside of your thighs. Coating you in his essence; claiming you with his scent that burned the inside of his nose.

"I did you know," you mumbled, kissing the newly formed bruise on his skin. "Miss you."

He sighed, his forehead dropping to yours. "I know sugar. I missed you too."

"Will you stay this time?"

A grin pulled at the corners of his lips, hips rolling into yours to pull another weak moan from those pretty lips he longed to kiss. "As long as ya want me."

The hesitancy clamped around your heart, filling your stomach with anxiety. You wanted to beg him to never leave again, to spend each moment in the safety of this house. But Logan had always been a ramblin man. He'd never stay in one place too long. Even if eventually he found his way back here, back in the safety of your home.

"Forever?" you breathed, eyes glistening with unshed tears.

Logan's heart twisted at the sight. "Yeah sugar," he replied, dipping down to drag his lips along yours. "I like the sound of that.”

[luv-lock]

ㅤֹㅤ⊹ㅤ #ㅤCOLD SHOULDERㅤ.ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

☆⁠ PAIRING : BATBOYS x FEM READER

☆⁠ HEADCANON : When You Give Them the Cold Shoulder.

☆⁠ CHARACTERS : Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Damian Wayne, Male Barbara Gordon, Male Stephanie Brown, Male Cassandra Cain, Terry McGinnis.

☆⁠ NOTES : English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy!

— BRUCE WAYNE ⋆

Bruce doesn’t do well with emotional games—he’s a man of logic, deduction, and shadows. So when you stop talking to him, no good morning kiss, no sarcastic remark about the news over coffee, no goodbye as he leaves for a mission—you can feel the shift.

He notices instantly.

He doesn’t say anything at first. That’s the terrifying part. He just looks at you. Like he’s dissecting you. Like you’re a crime scene.

“Something wrong?” he asks, voice even, mask already half on.

You shrug and walk away.

Bruce is bothered, but he doesn’t chase. Not yet. He waits, watches. You don’t text him that night. You don’t check in. You leave the mansion before he wakes up.

By day three, you find your favorite flowers at your doorstep. A small envelope. His handwriting:

“I’m not good at this. But I care. Whatever I did—talk to me.”

He doesn’t beg. Bruce doesn’t beg. But his apology is in the way the manor seems colder without him trying to sit beside you. It’s in the quiet presence at the edge of your room, waiting for you to just look at him.

When you finally crack, he just opens his arms and says quietly, “Next time… yell at me. Don’t shut me out. I can’t fix what I don’t see.”

— DICK GRAYSON ⋆

Dick panics the second he realizes you’re giving him the cold shoulder. You’re usually so warm, so expressive—and now you’re cold? Quiet? Passive-aggressively sipping your drink and not laughing at his dumb joke?

He’s spiraling.

“Wait, what’d I do? Babe—babe, I know that look. That’s the ‘you’re dead to me’ look—what’d I do?”

You don’t answer.

He physically follows you around the apartment like a lost puppy. Tries to “accidentally” run into you in the kitchen. Holds up his phone like:

“Look. This meme? That I sent? You didn’t even react. You always react.”

By the end of the day, he’s crawling into bed beside you like a kicked dog, poking your shoulder.

“Listen. I know I messed up. I probably messed up bad. Just tell me, okay? I’ll make it up to you. Dinner, flowers, matching onesies, whatever you want. Please just talk to me again—I’m going crazy over here.”

Dick’s the kind of guy who feels the silence like a scream. He doesn’t stop until you finally crack and yell at him—and he just sighs in relief. “Thank God. You’re talking. Yell at me all you want, babe, just talk.”

— JASON TODD ⋆

Jason is... not the most emotionally mature guy in the room. So when you go quiet on him? He clocks it right away.

His first instinct is: “The hell is her problem?”

His second: “What did I do?”

His third: “…Okay, fine. Two can play that game.”

So now it’s a Cold War.

You ignore him? He ignores you harder. You roll your eyes? He scoffs. You sleep with your back to him? He “accidentally” hogs the blanket.

But here’s the thing: Jason’s bluffing. He’s miserable. He’s sitting on the fire escape chain-smoking because he’s too stubborn to just apologize first. He types out ten different “hey princess…” texts and deletes them all.

When you finally call him out—maybe you explode, maybe you just break down and say why you’re mad—Jason goes quiet. Real quiet.

Then he sighs. Pulls you into a hug.

“…I’m sorry, okay?” he mumbles into your hair. “I’m not good at the soft shit. But I love you. Don’t shut me out like that. It makes me… fuckin’ mad.”

Next time? He apologizes faster. Still grumpy about it. But faster.

— DAMIAN WAYNE ⋆

Damian refuses to acknowledge the cold shoulder at first.

You ignore him? Fine. He acts like he doesn’t care.

You roll your eyes? “Tt.”

You don’t respond to his usual sarcastic quips? “Clearly you’ve lost your sense of humor.”

But after a day or two? The cracks show.

He brings you your favorite tea and doesn’t say anything about it. Sits in your space and watches you out of the corner of his eye like a stray cat too proud to beg for food.

By day three, he’s visibly tense. The only sign of his growing unease is the way he overworks in the training room and snaps at everyone else.

Finally, he corners you. Not aggressively—but intensely. Arms crossed, lips thin, standing in your doorway like an angry little kitten.

“What did I do?” he asks, voice flat. “You’re angry. I can tell.”

He’s blunt. He doesn’t beg. But there’s a desperation in the way he hovers. When you finally tell him what hurt you, his jaw clenches. His apology is awkward but sincere.

“…I did not intend to hurt you. That was not my aim. But I apologize nonetheless.”

And then, softer: “Please don’t shut me out again. It’s… difficult to function when you are upset with me.”

Damian shows love through action. So after that? He acts. Flowers from your favorite place in the city. A sketch of you he drew at 3 a.m. A stubborn but heartfelt vow to “do better.”

Even if he still tts.

— BARRY GORDON ⋆

Barry is used to being in control—so when you go silent on him, it throws him hard.

He notices right away. And at first? He’s cocky. Teasing.

“Oh, we’re mad? What, you jealous of Supergirl again?”

You glare.

“…That was a joke.”

But when you don’t laugh—or worse, don’t even look at him—Barry starts pacing. Literally.

He’ll spend all night analyzing the conversation that led to this.

“Was it the mission? Did I interrupt you? Did I mansplain something again? God, I did, didn’t I?”

He’ll call. Text. Show up at your window. Tap the glass like a wet cat.

When you finally let him in, he talks a mile a minute.

“Okay, okay, I know I’m a jackass. I was being flirty at the gala, but that was just protocol! Diplomacy, babe! I love you!”

If you stay cold even then, he’ll finally drop the charm. Get real quiet.

“…Just tell me how to fix it. Please. I’ll do anything. Even sit through Titanic again.”

You do not want to know how fast he hugs you once you cave. Barry loves loud, but he hurts quiet.

— STEPHEN BROWN ⋆

Stephen is devastated.

He thrives off your attention. Your warmth. Your laughter. So when you suddenly go cold on him, he spirals.

First step: Denial.

“Ha ha… you’re just messing with me, right?”

You aren’t.

Second step: Drama.

“Okay, okay, is this about the glitter incident? Because in my defense, I thought it was washable—”

Still silence.

Third step: Crybaby.

He lays on the floor. Arm draped over his face.

“God is punishing me.”

Stephen texts you like:

💔

why have u forsaken me

[voice memo of him singing “All By Myself” into a fan]

Eventually, though, the jokes fade. He gets quiet. You find him on the fire escape, legs dangling, hoodie over his head.

“…I hate this,” he mutters when you finally approach. “Not knowing what I did. Not being able to fix it. You not… being you with me.”

He sniffs, trying to play it off.

“I know I’m a dumbass sometimes. But I swear I love you. Like, a lot. Like, "I’d let you kick me" love you.”

Once you forgive him? He clings.

“Never do that again,” he whispers into your neck. “Cold Shoulder You is my least favorite version.”

Also, you catch him journaling later:

“Today I almost died. Emotionally. Y/n was mad. But I survived. Barely.”

— CASSIAN CAIN ⋆

“…”

He doesn’t know what to do.

Cassian isn’t just a man of few words. He’s a man of zero words when it comes to emotional conflict.

So when you go cold—when your body shifts slightly away, when your eyes don’t meet his—he notices immediately.

It hits him like a blow. He feels it in the air.

And he panics. Internally. But outside, he’s just still.

He brings you small things. Your favorite candy on the counter. A neatly folded blanket on your side of the couch. No words. Just… presence.

He’ll sit nearby but not touch you. He doesn’t know if he’s allowed.

Eventually, he hands you a note. Folded. With his childish, naive handwriting:

“I did not mean to hurt you. Please tell me how to fix it.”

When you do finally speak, even if it’s angry or tearful or sharp—he listens. Soaks it in. His head bowed, his expression focused, like every syllable is precious.

He doesn’t interrupt. Doesn’t justify. Just nods with teary eyes.

And later that night, he says it for real. Quiet. Low.

“…sorry.”

Cassian doesn’t need words to show he loves you—but when he does speak, he means it with his entire soul.

— TERRY MCGINNIS ⋆

Terry’s first thought when you start giving him the cold shoulder is: “Oh god. Not again.”

Because Terry? He’s used to things going wrong. He’s used to messing things up. He has that subconscious fear that everything good in his life is temporary, especially you.

So when you stop responding to his texts, or start leaving the room when he walks in, he goes into lowkey panic mode—but tries to play it cool.

He’ll hover. Try to act casual. Lean on your doorway like he isn’t dying inside.

“You good?” he asks.

You nod.

“…Right. That’s convincing.”

He won’t push. He’s too scared you’ll say it’s over.

But one night, he shows up at your place in the Batsuit. Mask off, hair a mess, eyes tired.

“You don’t have to forgive me right away. But just tell me what I did. Please.”

There’s a vulnerability in Terry that makes your silence wound him. Once you finally talk, he holds your face like you’re glass.

“I’ll fix it. I swear to God, I’ll fix it.”

— MASTERLIST ☆

— © luv-lock. don't copy, use or translate any of my works here or any other websites ☆