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bluebeary-jay · 2 years ago

Text

Let me (put my lips to somethin')

Joel Miller x f!Reader

Summary: 5 times you wanted to kiss Joel, and 1 time it actually happened (or: your relationship with Joel over the years)

Tags: 5+1 babeyyy, VERY self-indulged (i just want this man to call me his babygirl 😫), FLUFF, tooth-rotting fluff even, a bit of angst, age gap, PINING, i could write several fics out of this but no we're doing 5+1! also reader has she/her pronouns (i tried not to but at some point it was getting difficult not to use any :( sorry guys)

Warnings: descriptions of violence and wounds, cursing, getting drunk, David (which is a warning in itself), allusions to SA (but nothing happens)

Word count: ~9.4K (jesus i really got carried away im not doing that again for at least some time)

A/N: i am baack!! i finally had time to finish this monster and i guess it's ready to post <3 i absolutely ADORE 5+1 fics and always wanted to write one on my own. so here it is!! hope you enjoy because i loved writing it

1. boston qz

You bit your forearm harder, trying to hold back the tears of pain. The man kneeling in front of you glanced up.

“Bite the sleeve of your jacket. Otherwise they’re gonna think you’re infected and shoot you on sight.”

You didn’t answer but nodded, knowing that he was right. Holding your breath for a moment, you took a handful of the material and bit down on it, shutting your eyes tightly. The excruciating pain in your leg was hard enough to endure, but for the first place with it competed an absolutely unbearable look of poorly concealed pity (which you initially took for irritation) on the face of Tess’ friend.

It was through her that you met Joel. At the beginning he wasn’t very keen about letting you work with them but slowly warmed up to your presence – at least as much as a man like Joel could. Most of the time he was grumbling and, in all fairness, looking slightly angry but you’ve soon understood that he’s actually a pretty good guy. Caring. Funny, if he lets you see this side of him. Also really fucking handsome, but that was beside the point.

The job was supposed to be an easy one – just meet with a couple of Zeke’s people, pick up the smuggled items and exchange them for some meds and ammunition. However, none of you expected some random rogue group to ambush you on your way back and attempt to steal the cargo.

Tess has managed to get away just before soldiers showed up, alerted by the sound of gunfire way past the curfew. Before they could spot any of you, Joel quickly pulled you into one of the nearby buildings after one of the strangers slashed your thigh, leaving you unable to run.

So now here you were. Bleeding from your leg and making a pathetic crybaby out of yourself before the very eyes of the man you respected and lowkey had a small crush on.

Speaking of whom, Joel gave you a look of sympathy before squeezing the stapler handle again, ejecting another staple into your skin. You tensed and a broken cry escaped your lips, your breathing rapid.

“It’s alright,” he murmured, putting his other hand on your knee and rubbing slightly. “Just two more and you’ll be good to go.”

You breathed out a humorless laugh and wiped your face, sniffling.

“Just get on with it. This is way more embarrassing than it should be.” In the corner of your eye you saw him look up. He didn’t move the hand in which he held the staple gun yet, so you took this moment to steady your breath and slumped against the wall. “You probably think it’s pretty pathetic, but in my defense I never had such a gash closed with staples like that.”

“M’not thinkin’ that,” he retorted and you blew a raspberry.

“Sure. Tess told me about some of your forays, you know? You could probably get run over by a damn tank and walk it off like it’s nothing.”

Joel was silent for some time. You wiped your cheeks and motioned for him to eject the last staples at the edge of the deep cut in your thigh. He mumbled to you to get ready and you took a deep breath, bracing yourself for the pain.

It hurt like hell and you couldn’t help the tears flowing from your eyes, but soon enough it was over.

The sound of shouting from outside drew your attention from the pain in your leg for a couple of seconds. You tensed up, listening intently if the soldiers weren’t busting in the building you were in, but the noises soon went past you.

“Y’know, if my brother was here, he’d have told you about the first time I had a wound stitched outside of the controlled conditions,” Joel spoke up unexpectedly, unpacking his backpack in search of clean bandages. “I nearly bit off my thumb when he was tryin’ to sew my foot back together.”

You couldn’t help but snort at his confession and he glanced at you from the corner of his eye with a slight smirk.

“Is that true?”

Joel huffed with fake indignation and lifted his left hand to your eyes, twisting it so that the dim light from outside illuminated the side of it. Above and below the small bone at the base of his thumb appeared very light and irregular lines. You looked at his face with an unbelieving smile.

“When was that?”

“Ah… Just before the outbreak, I’d say.”

“And what happened to your foot?”

“Construction work. I don’t remember exactly what that was.”

“But how hard did you have to chomp down on your thumb for it to be still visible?” you asked, laughing, to which he chuckled and shrugged.

“Hey, don’t judge. If it was Tommy who was fixin’ your leg, you’d probably end up without a couple of fingers too, just for good measure.”

He found the bandage and motioned for you to straighten your leg at the knee. You watched him carefully as he looked over your bare thigh and the (not very pretty to look at) sutured wound. The leg of your pants was cut and tossed away earlier so that Joel could stitch you up freely.

“So you have a brother. Is he really that bad at treating wounds?” you asked to distract yourself from the awkwardness of the whole situation, though Joel seemed surprisingly calm.

“He got better with time,” your colleague answered and then looked up at you. “But I didn’t tell you this to bitch about Tommy’s skills.”

“Oh?” you nudged him with your other leg. “So what moral should I draw from this story?”

You clearly saw him suppressing a smile when he shook his head lightly.

“Don’t feel bad that it hurts,” he murmured and the snicker disappeared from your lips. “I’ve seen looks like the one on your face plenty before. It’s a fuckin’ big gash, I’d be worried if you didn’t show any signs of pain.”

You couldn’t come up with any snarky remarks and just blinked when Joel sent you a quick, if not a bit self-conscious, smile, like he wasn’t used to reassuring someone else.

“The fact that you let your tears flow doesn’t make you any weaker,” he said even quieter than before. You still weren’t answering and he cleared his throat, apparently growing uncomfortable with your silence, then grabbed the bottle of alcohol. “I’m gonna pour some of that shit over your wound again. It’ll sting a bit.”

You observed without a word how he cleansed the gash and started to wind the bandage around your thigh.

Weirdly enough, you also noticed that you couldn’t stop glancing at his lips.

*****

2. bill and frank’s

“No. I said no, come back here!”

Giggles erupted from you as Joel tried (and failed) to grab you when you jumped over the couch. He sighed deeply as you made eye contact with him and, with a provocative smile, drank up the rest of the bottle before putting it down on the nearby table. The man looked so disappointed and done with you, it only made you laugh louder in your drunken state.

You two were staying for a couple of days at Bill and Frank’s heavenly place, which you looked forward to for weeks now. Originally Tess was supposed to go with you but there was a last-minute change of plans, and you made the journey alone with Joel. Not counting a few infected you stumbled upon on your way here, your venture was quite nice and after a delightful dinner with your hosts, you sneaked into Joel’s room with the bottle of wine Frank gave you and the stuff you smuggled yourself.

Joel didn’t seem to be having as much fun as you, though.

“I’m never drinkin’ with you again,” he muttered, sitting heavily on the couch with a grunt. You faked a pout, leaning over his head upside down and almost losing your balance.

“You’re grouchy because the stuff you brought tasted like shit.”

“And yet you drank most of it.”

“I didn’t,” you slurred, waltzing round the couch and grinning. “I’m feelin’ great.”

“Be careful or you’ll pick up my accent you so like pokin’ fun of.”

You snorted and flopped on the seat next to him. “Mhm, m’feelin’ fine and dandy,” you grumbled in the deepest voice you could make, ridiculously imitating his Texas drawl. “Yee-haw.”

“You’re the fuckin’ worst,” sighed Joel with exasperation but you could see a crooked smile tugging on his lips. You beamed and plopped down, laying your head on his lap. He peeked at you with his brows raised. “What are you doin’ now, you little devil?”

“Just resting,” you answered. The lamp behind Joel was blinding you with its light, so you covered your eyes with your hand to shield them. “Is that uncomfy for you? Do you want me to get up?”

“Nah. You can stay for a minute.”

As if wanting to make sure you won’t try to stand up, he laid his hand on your hair, brushing some of it to the back. You hummed and shivered when he gently scratched one specific spot on your scalp, and instinctively tilted your head, chasing his touch.

Joel snorted.

“You look like a goddamn cat.”

“Shut up,” you murmured in response, a small smile adoring your face. “It feels nice.”

You opened your eyes and once again shielded them from the lamp. Joel moved his head slightly to the side to block out the bothersome stimulus, causing you to giggle again.

“It looks like you have a halo ’round your head.” You lifted your arm and made a circle, brushing the side of his face when your hand plopped back down limply on your stomach. The older man huffed a smile, looking away to glance around the room.

“I’ll be really surprised if you remember anythin’ of what you’re sayin’ tomorrow.”

“Gimme a break,” you grumbled with a smile, not taking your eyes off him. Your hand raised itself to his face again, as if on its own accord, and brushed lightly the corner of his mouth and the stubble on his cheek. “It looks pretty.”

His brown irises flickered to you before he averted his gaze. With a hum you withdrew your hand and closed your eyes, your mind getting woozy from alcohol and tiredness.

Joel’s fingers were still running through your hair gently and you really hoped you’d remember it in the morning.

*****

3. road, somewhere in missouri

You had no idea how long you had been driving.

Ellie was asleep in the back seat and Joel was getting some well-deserved shut-eye after you volunteered to sit behind the wheel several hours ago. The clock on the dashboard was showing 4:07 and you planned on driving until the sun started to rise, then switching places with Joel.

That is, if you manage to stay awake.

You tried to drink some of the coffee Joel prepared beforehand to wake yourself up but it tasted horrible, leaving a too bitter taste on your tongue. Once you catched yourself closing your eyes for a second longer than intended and the car started to veer off course before you corrected it.

Yes, you were aware driving in this kind of state was extremely stupid, but you knew Joel was anxious to find his brother and drop Ellie off with the Fireflies as soon as possible. And you knew that if you wake him up he’ll insist on driving for the rest of the way himself, ignoring his own needs and exhaustion.

You risked a look to the side at his sleeping form. He had his arms crossed over his chest and his head propped against the headrest. Honestly, it looked like the man was just pretending to nap – his body seemed uptight, as if he was ready to spring into action at any second.

And he looked beautiful with his face bathed in the gray light of early morning. Like a painting you’d gladly admire for hours.

You sighed and cracked your neck, focusing on the road ahead of you. Several more hours to go. There was a gas tank in the back of the car, so you didn’t have to worry about that, and if you remembered correctly the map you and Joel studied earlier, you should get close to some bigger city in the late afternoon. Joel wanted to take the side roads and you agreed, but your supplies… Did you have enough of them? And what was the name of that city again…?

A hand grabbed the wheel and gently straightened the course when without you noticing the car started to veer too much to the left again.

You emerged from your reverie immediately and looked to the right at Joel who was now wide awake.

“You alright?” he asked with concern, and his voice had this enticing, raspy drawl to it that told you he really dozed off for a while.

“I’m so sorry,” you said quickly but quietly, not wanting to wake Ellie up. “I’m fine, promise.”

He eyed the tiredness on your face and the tight grip you had on the wheel.

“If you need to get some rest–”

“No, no, no. I can go on. Sorry you had to wake up.”

Joel grunted and stretched in the small space in the front seat and you tried really hard not to stare at how he craned his neck or at the way his muscles tensed, or at the strip of his skin revealed when his shirt rolled up…

“Pull over.”

You snapped out of your thoughts. “No. I told you I’m fine.”

“C’mon, darlin’, don’t make me wrestle with you in a movin’ vehicle.”

Either he had a clue about what this nickname was doing to you, or he was still half-asleep and it simply slipped out; but whether it was intentional or not, you couldn’t dream of opposing him now and with a defeated sigh (and burning neck) you pulled over, slowly bringing the car to a halt. You glanced backwards, but miraculously Ellie hadn’t woken up yet.

Joel looked you over with concern and you shut your eyes, laying your forehead on the steering wheel. “I’m sorry,” you repeated. “But I really can keep going, at least until the sun goes up.”

“We’re switchin’,” he just said, unfastening his seatbelt.

“Joel, no!” you hissed, but he ignored you and went around the hood of the car, stopping at your side and opening the door for you. “I’m not moving. You need to get some fucking rest.”

“I already did. Now scoot over.”

“No, I told you–”

“What’s going on? Are we there yet?”

Both of you looked back to see Ellie sitting up and rubbing her eyes. In a split second she went from half-awake to alert, and she eyed you and Joel suspiciously. “What’s going on?” she asked again.

“We’re switchin’ places,” Joel spoke up before you had a chance to answer the girl. “Our current driver is pretty tired.”

“I’m not!” you protested, glaring at him.

“You almost drove the car into a ditch.”

“Woah.” Ellie lifted her hands and puffed her cheeks in a nervous manner. “Just this time, I second Joel. I really don’t want to end up in a ditch, thank you very much.”

“You see?” Joel looked at you expectedly. “Outvoted.”

You squinted in the rearview mirror at the teen. “Traitor.”

Ellie just shrugged. With a heavy sigh you unfastened yourself and exited the car, but before you could go around it and take Joel’s previous place, he stuck his arm out, stopping you.

“Actually, Ellie, do you want to ride shotgun now?” he asked and nodded in your direction. “It’d do her good to lie down for a bit.”

“No,” you said firmly at the same time when Ellie agreed with an enthusiastic “hell yeah!”. You crossed your arms over your chest and glared at the pair. “You guys are in cahoots.”

“Boo-hoo,” Ellie had a mean smile on her face. “Get in the backseat and cry about it.”

“She’s so cheeky,” you murmured to Joel, trying to hide your smile, and by the look of it he had trouble doing that, too. You sighed and lifted your hands in surrender. “Alright, you two. You won.”

“Great.” Ellie grinned, then started walking off the street. “But give me a moment, dudes, I gotta pee,” she said before marching further into the field on the side of the road.

“Don’t go too far!” shouted Joel after her.

“Don’t drive off without me!”

With that Ellie disappeared behind a small hill and you turned back to your companion, scrunching your face at him. Joel shrugged and walked past you.

“C’mon. I’ll find you a blanket.”

You huffed but didn’t argue further, knowing nothing will change his mind. He could be stubborn as a mule sometimes.

You climbed into the backseat and waited for Joel to take out the blanket you took from Bill and Frank’s house from the back of the car. He opened the door next to your head and handed it over, waiting for you to unfurl it. You expected him to go take the driver’s seat right away, but he stayed in place. Only then you noticed the folded jacket he was holding in his hands.

He didn’t react at all to your raised eyebrows and questioning look, and just casually laid his jacket under your head to serve as a pillow. The gesture was so sweet it made you melt inside, and you just couldn’t stay mad at him.

“Promise me you’ll get some sleep.”

“Only if you and Ellie aren’t too loud,” you teased, trying to settle down the butterflies fluttering in your stomach. “If you start arguing about some stupid shit again, I’m taking the wheel from you by force.”

He smirked and squatted next to your seat, looking down at you with an amused expression.

“I’d like to see you try.”

You had to be really fucking tired, because for a split second you thought that Joel has just flirted with you. You hid your face in his jacket to partially conceal your smile, but it only made your face hotter because the material smelled of him so much.

“I could. You’re lucky I’m deciding to show mercy.”

“How gracious of you. I’m honored.

“But we’re swapping places when I wake up,” you added, looking at him as sternly as you could. He raised his eyebrows with a half-smile when a yawn escaped you immediately after. “I’m serious, Joel.”

“Sure, darlin’.” He leaned in and kissed your forehead before standing up. “Now sleep.”

You could only stare into space as he carefully closed the door next to your head and walked around the vehicle with heavy steps. The spot on your head where his lips touched your skin was tingling and you inhaled deeply to calm yourself down before he entered the truck again and fastened the seatbelt.

Joel put some cassette into the tape deck and turned the volume down even before the song started to play.

You closed your eyes and wrapped the blanket tighter around yourself, hiding the lower part of the face – and a blush spreading on your cheeks – under the cover.

*****

4. jackson

You looked out the window at the children pulling their sleds behind them and smiled at how happy and carefree they looked. Down the road you could just barely see the big Christmas tree in the square and for a moment it felt like the apocalypse had never happened.

“They’re pretty lucky to be growing up here,” you said quietly. Joel was closing and opening cabinets behind you, clearly looking for something.

“Not sure about it. But I guess it beats growin’ up in any of the QZ’s or Fedra’s barracks.”

After Joel’s sudden change of heart and Ellie’s confident decision that she’d rather travel with you both instead of Tommy, the younger Miller convinced his brother to stay one more day in Jackson. It was honestly a good idea because you doubted any of you three got any rest the previous night. You certainly didn’t, tossing and turning the entire time from worry.

Joel chuckled and the sound pulled you out of your thoughts.

“What did you find?” you asked. He was kneeling in front of one of the cabinets, holding a small box.

“Old cassettes. You want to listen to some music?”

“Sure.” You stood up with a smile. “It’ll be pretty atmospheric.”

Joel gave you a dirty look.

“I’m not putting on Christmas carols.”

“I don’t want to listen to Christmas carols. Find something good.”

He sighed and took out a carton box from the cabinet, and then started to rummage through it. “Alright, so what do you want?”

“You can choose. Pick something you think I’d like.” A thought struck you and you glanced around the living room, furrowing your brows. “Is there even any tape player in here or something like that?”

“Upstairs,” Joel mumbled absent-mindedly. “In Ellie’s room. We can go see if it works.”

Ellie was out exploring Jackson and you doubted she’ll be back very soon. You knelt down next to Joel, looking at him with a grin as he inspected the box, pulling out and reading some of the cassettes before putting them back down. You rested your chin on your hands.

“Just get anything,” you ushered after some time, to which he chuckled.

“You said to pick somethin’ you’d like. Gimme some time.”

“Do you think I’m that picky?”

“Of course you are.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t have to wait much longer before Joel stood up with a grunt and held out his hand to you. In the other one he held a white cassette.

“C’mon. I’m pretty sure you’re gonna love this one.”

You took his hand with excitement and let yourself be pulled to your feet. It’s been so long since you’ve been able to listen to some music – well, maybe not as long, but you missed it regardless – that you felt a bubbly joy at the thought of hearing something new.

And more than that, something that Joel has picked specifically for you. Doesn’t matter that you had to ask him.

You went upstairs to the room that was currently Ellie’s bedroom and Joel bent down, inserting the cassette into the tape player. He looked over his shoulder at you with a small smile and you beamed right back.

A loud, scratchy sound rang out.

You winced and Joel furrowed his brows. He took the cassette out, checked the empty slot and the cassette itself, and then made sure the power was on.

The first notes started to play, but they sounded distorted, like a scratched record. Joel cursed and tried again, but there must’ve been something wrong with the device, because no matter what he did, the music didn’t play right.

He tried again and again, and finally you decided to put a stop to it. You placed your hand on his shoulder.

“Leave it, Joel. It’s okay.”

“Just my fuckin’ luck,” he muttered, not turning around. “Of course Tommy gave us a place without a working cassette player.”

“It’s okay,” you repeated. You wanted to say something like ’the song probably isn’t even worth fussing over’, but the words got stuck in your throat. He picked it for you to listen to, of course it was worth it. “Maybe I just wasn’t meant to hear it.”

The man worried his lip and you quickly averted your gaze. He straightened up and put his hands on his hips, sighing.

“Nonsense,” he answered, looking intently at the device like he wanted to get it to work by sheer willpower. “You wanted to hear it.”

“Well, I did.” You got embarrassed for whatever reason, not knowing what to say. “But there’s not really anything we can do about that. It’s no big deal.”

Joel’s jaw twitched and he turned to look at you thoughtfully. You offered him a lopsided smile, but he didn’t move a muscle and you could almost imagine small gears turning in his head when he had this expression on his face.

“You okay?” you asked with a stifled laugh.

“I… have an idea,” he said slowly, almost hesitantly. Then he focused his eyes on you again. “Just… trust me for a moment.”

Your gaze softened and you took a step closer to him.

“Joel, of course I trust you. I trust you with my life.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed but his brown irises haven’t left yours for even a second.

“Close your eyes.”

“What?” you asked with a crooked smile, but he just shook his head.

“C’mon, close your eyes. And promise you won’t laugh.”

Confusion washed over you but you closed your eyes as requested. You heard Joel sighing and then he took your hand in his calloused and rough one, slowly putting it on his shoulder. Your neck got way too hot but you tried not to tense or flinch in fear of making him back out.

“Promise you won’t laugh,” he repeated and you just now realized you haven’t answered him. He put his hand on your waist, very, very lightly, and your other hand was raised to shoulder height, cradled in his warm one.

“I swear I won’t,” you whispered, your heart beating so damn loud you were scared he was going to hear it with how close you two were.

Joel exhaled heavily and you felt his breath on your hair.

And then he started to hum quietly and sway you gently from side to side. You desperately tried to remain calm, but how were you supposed to do that when your body felt so hot and he was so close–

“I reached inside myself and found nothin’ there… to ease the pressure… of my ever-worrying mind, hmm…”

Joel’s voice was deep and harsh right in front of you, and it sounded more like he was purring than singing. You suspected he slowed down the pace of the song significantly to match his movements and your heart swelled with warmth and adoration. The smile on your face widened and you took a step to the left, then to the right, gradually engaging in your dance more and more. You wanted to make it less uncomfortable and awkward for him and it seemed to have worked a bit because the next lines were much more confident, and his voice steadier.

“All my power wasted ’way, fear the crazed and lonely looks the mirror’s sendin’ me these days, hmm…”

His hold on you tightened slightly and you held his hand a little more securely, unable to hold back a goofy smile on your face.

“Touch me… how can it be? Believe me… the sun always shines on TV.”

You were falling for him all over again and it was not fair that he made you promise to keep your eyes closed. Though if he didn’t, you’d probably end up doing something dumb.

Like kissing him.

Fuck, you wanted to kiss him so bad.

“Hold me… close to your heart. Touch me… Give all your love to me. To me…”

Did he just pull you closer or was it you that took a step forward? It was hard to tell without seeing where you step, but you suddenly were very aware of the material of his shirt under your chin and the smell of shampoo he used to wash his hair, the pressure of his hand on your lower back and his quiet, drawling voice right next to your ear.

You were positive you’re about to pass out.

And it felt blissful.

Joel kept humming the chorus of the song, his voice getting softer and lower with each word. You relished in the warmth of his embrace, begging any higher power that he won’t let go of you immediately once he stops singing.

He didn’t.

Instead you two kind of naturally came to a stop but neither of you moved, still standing chest to chest and breathing a bit shakily. Your palm – or maybe it was his – was sweaty, but you ignored the unpleasant feeling, wanting to stay like this as long as possible.

“The original is much more lively,” Joel spoke in a soft whisper after some time and you smiled lightly.

“Well, I really liked your version,” you answered just as quietly, not wanting to disturb the intimate atmosphere in the room. “Joel?”

“Yes, darlin’?”

“Can I open my eyes now?”

A moment of silence.

“Yeah.”

You did so, but didn’t move your head, still keeping it on his shoulder and breathing in his scent. “Thank you for that,” you whispered and you felt him nodding.

“Anytime.”

His fingers crept a bit higher up your spine, but still his touch was so light and unsure.

You realized with a flicker of hope that he wasn’t pushing you away. He was pulling you closer.

Careful not to move too abruptly, you lifted your head and turned it to look him in the eyes. They were already on you, so very close, warm and hesitant, but also not showing any signs of discomfort or regret.

“Joel?” you asked again and you were so close to each other, it came out less as a question and more like a quiet breath. He heard it, though.

“Yeah?”

“Can I–”

Suddenly the door downstairs slammed extremely loudly and you both jumped when the noise broke the heavy silence.

“Hello! Is anybody here?!”

Ellie came back.

Both of you automatically took a step backwards, letting go of each other. Your face was scorching hot and you couldn’t force yourself to look at Joel. With a deep (hopefully unnoticed by the man standing right in front of you) breath, you quickly tried to get a grip on yourself when you heard Ellie running up the stairs.

“I was calling you, guys!” she panted and looked from you to the older man. “What’s up?”

“We…” Joel cleared his throat. “Tried to put some music on. The darn thing isn’t workin’, though.”

“Ugh, that’s a bummer.” Ellie turned to you and tilted her head. “Were you out, too? Your face is all red and shit.”

Even if it wasn’t before, it certainly was now. All attention shifted to you in a second and it made you want to cry.

“Yes,” you uttered quickly, “and… I’m actually going out again. I wanted to ask Maria something.”

You didn’t wait for any of them to stop or question you further – you all but ran down the stairs and bolted outside without even taking a jacket or a hat.

Fuck…

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

*****

5. basement, somewhere in colorado

He was dying.

Joel was dying and there was nothing you could do to help him.

You tried your hardest, though, to take care of both him and Ellie. You went out hunting so she wouldn’t have to starve, you encouraged her to get as much rest as possible while you watched over the unconscious man during the night, and not once did you show any doubt that Joel will get better.

But you had a feeling she knew why you were so reluctant to stay behind while the girl took her turn looking for food. The truth was, you were starting to crack if you sat for too long at Joel’s side, letting the intrusive thoughts take root in your mind. You needed those moments outside, because they were the only ones when you let your tears flow.

So when it was only you and him in the basement, you spent this time brushing the hair out of his face and coaxing him to drink. You checked his wound every so often, trying to keep it as clean as possible. You held his hand, humming to him that one song he sang for you in Jackson, though you didn’t know the words.

It was painful, to just sit in place and be unable to do anything to help, but you tried not to break down. Not when both of them counted on you.

So you stayed strong, hoping it’ll all turn out alright.

But luck still wasn’t on your side.

The men Ellie encountered the day before were here now, looking for you and Joel, and hungry for blood. She told you all about her interaction with them and since yesterday you were ready for a fight in case they showed up, but somehow it still surprised you and made your heart hammer in your chest in fear.

There wasn’t anywhere you could run to, and Joel wasn’t even able to keep his eyes open, let alone walk. You didn’t really have any other options.

So there was only one thing you could do, and that was to protect those closest to you.

You quickly took your backpack and passed Ellie your gun, closing her fingers around the cold metal.

“I’ll barricade the door, but if anyone comes in here, you blast their skull open, you hear me?” you whispered urgently and the girl nodded. You took Joel’s rifle from the floor and hung it over your shoulder. “I’ll try to take them out and lead them away. I’ll be back.”

“You better come back,” Ellie muttered and you looked at her softly, nodding. Then your gaze involuntarily shifted to Joel.

You didn’t know how many people were outside – if there were three or four of them, you should be able to shoot most of them before they notice you. If you don’t miss, that is.

But if there were more…

Choking back a nervous sob, you knelt next to the mattress and took Joel’s head in your hands. His eyes were only half-open and his forehead covered in sweat. Your heart clenched painfully at how weak he looked.

Acting on impulse, you leaned down and softly kissed the place above the corner of his mouth.

“Wake up,” you said to him firmly, brushing his cheeks with your thumbs. “Please, Joel. Ellie and I need you.”

You knew you had to go. You had to go now and make sure those fuckers outside don’t find Ellie and him.

But you stayed just for a second longer to press your forehead to his.

“I love you,” you whispered, so quietly you barely heard yourself.

And then you pulled away and ran upstairs.

From then on it was all a blur. You managed to kill one of the men with a clean shot between his eyes, but the other one ducked out of the way when he noticed you. Turned out there were six of them – too many – and what’s worse, one of them came up behind you, forcing you to flee sooner than you’d planned.

It would probably be wiser to take the horse but you didn’t want to endanger the poor creature, so you ran on foot.

You didn’t get far. One of the men managed to shoot you in the leg, making you keel over onto the frozen ground with a scream of pain. You turned around and saw him lifting his gun again before another voice yelled that he wanted you alive.

No. No, no, you weren’t about to let them take you.

You crawled towards where your rifle lay in the snow but just before you could reach it, it was kicked away by a heavy boot which then dealt a severe blow to your stomach. You doubled over, wheezing and coughing for air. By the time you managed to somehow catch your breath, someone pressed their foot on the gunshot wound in your calf, forcing a scream of agony out of you.

“Now, stay calm. I don’t want to shoot you.”

You clutched at your leg, glaring up at the ginger man who you suspected was the same David Ellie has encountered.

The man grinned nastily at the state you were in, and you didn’t like his expression one bit. He must’ve noticed that you were ready to lunge at him at any moment because he swiftly lifted his gun to your head. You froze.

“Where is your friend and the girl?” he asked quietly. You sneered at him, baring your teeth.

“Fuck you. I ain’t telling you shit.”

“David, she killed Paul,” spat another, younger one, looking down at you with hatred. “If that bastard has already died, let’s at least kill his bitch.”

You tried to think of a way to get out of this situation, but both of the men had their guns pointed at you and you knew you wouldn’t be able to move quickly enough with the gunshot wound.

You tried to move slightly but David pressed his foot harder on your leg, causing more blood to flow from your wound and you cried out, the pain clouding your vision.

“Don’t try anything, sweetheart,” he murmured in a warning tone. “You might bleed out.”

Your eyes were full of hate and rage but you didn’t dare to move again just yet.

“Where are they?” David asked again and you huffed a humorless chuckle while trying not to show how much pain you were in.

“You know that it was me who killed that idiot?” you asked in the most mocking tone you could muster, in the meantime desperately thinking how the fuck you were going to get out of here, preferably alive. “And your friend over there.” You nodded in the direction of where the body of the man you shot was lying. “Which one of you stood next to him? Was it you?” you asked the younger man who shot you in the leg. “I hope I hadn’t splattered you too much with the remnants of his brain.”

“You little bitch,” the other man sneered, lifting his gun again despite David’s stern order to back off. “I’d love to see the face of your friend when I blast your–”

“Leave her alone, you fuckers!!”

All of you turned your heads and your stomach churned when you saw Ellie on the horse you borrowed from Tommy. More shots rang out in the air when she blindly fired at the two men standing above you, and then the rest of the strangers who emerged from between the trees.

“Alive!!” David yelled after his men when they started chasing Ellie who grabbed the reins and cantered in the opposite direction. Then the man turned back to you. “We will catch her. Then we will find your friend, and he’ll pay for his sins.”

You growled.

“I told you it wasn’t him who killed that man.” He shook his head and you fumed with anger. “You don’t think I’m capable of that?”

“Oh, I think you’re capable of a lot.” His stare slid down your body, from head to toe, and terror gripped your heart at the sadistic excitement in his eyes. “And I think you must really care about him if you’re ready to trade your life for his. Such loyalty is admirable, but your love is misplaced.”

The snow around you was getting more and more red and you really started to worry that the bullet might’ve hit an artery. David’s eyes shifted to your leg as well, and he hummed.

“We’ll take care of that, don’t worry. You’ll be well taken care of in our community.”

“I don’t want to be any part of your fucked up sect.”

“You will. You just need a father to lead you to the right path.” He leaned over you in such a manner that it made your blood run cold. “I’ll teach you personally.”

Suddenly a shot echoed in the air and you heard a distant neighing of a horse. Your head automatically turned in the direction of the noise and David took advantage of your moment of distraction to strike your temple with his gun, thus knocking you unconscious.

*****

+1. silver lake

Joel woke up.

And he felt like he was made out of pure adrenaline and rage.

You weren’t with Ellie when he found her staggering through the snow, the face of the teen terrified and covered in blood. He comforted her as best as he could, relief and fear fighting inside him as he held the girl in his arms.

But she didn’t know where you were held. If you were even alive.

And that was a thought that Joel couldn’t bear. He wouldn’t even allow for the possibility that you were no longer…

He vaguely remembered you stroking his cheek with slow and delicate touches, and your humming while he was laying on the mildewed mattress in the basement. Maybe it wasn’t even a memory, but a dream – it was hard to tell in his delirious state.

But he was pretty sure he wasn’t hallucinating when he felt soft, cold lips right next to his and heard your voice – he knew it was your voice, he’d recognize it anywhere – whispering the words he never let himself hope you’d say to him.

Words he would be damned if he didn’t say back to you.

And that’s why he was merciless with the men he encountered on his way to you and Ellie. His own tiredness and pain piercing his abdomen didn’t matter – nothing mattered when you two weren’t with him, when he didn’t know if you were hurt or even still breathing. The desire to help and protect his girls numbed the pain in his stomach so much that he almost forgot he could barely stand just a few hours ago.

Once he found Ellie and took her to a safe location, he went back to look for you. He didn’t want to leave the girl alone, but she seemed terrified at the prospect of going back and through the buildings, so he left her his gun, promising to be right back.

One of the bastards Joel ran across on his way back was helpful enough (after being shot in both knees and having his forearm broken) to direct him to the place where you were supposedly being held – a small building hidden behind the still burning dining room.

No one else stood in his way when he cautiously reached the structure. He went in and started checking every single room, getting more and more anxious every time he found them empty. At one point he was ready to tear the walls apart and go back to see if there was anyone left alive who could tell him where you were – but then spotted a hidden, smaller metal door, which apparently led to the basement.

It wasn’t locked and Joel didn’t hear anything on the other side so he opened it slowly, quickly walking down the stairs and scanning the room for any enemies, but there were none. Half of the room was enclosed by a chain-link fence and the entry to the cage was slightly open.

And inside sat you, with a cloth around your eyes and hands tied above your head.

His knees almost gave way under him from relief when you perked up at the sound of his footsteps. You were alive. You were–

“If you fucking try to touch me again, I’ll break more than your stupid jaw!” you yelled out of the blue, starting to struggle and kick haphazardly, though the placement of your wrists was forcing you to stay in a sitting position. “You motherfucker, don’t come any closer!”

The fear and desperation in your voice broke Joel’s heart in an instant and made him stop dead in his tracks.

“It’s me,” he hurried to say, but his voice was weak and the next words got stuck in his throat when he saw your bloodied nose, bruises on your face and neck, as well as a dirty bandage tied around your calf with a seizable crimson stain on it.

He ushered inside, opening the door to the cell wide open with a loud scraping. You started panicking even more, cursing and kicking when he crouched next to you, intending to untie your hands.

“I said don’t fucking touch me! I’ll kill you!” you screamed and Joel actually had to back away a little to avoid getting kicked in the ribs.

“It’s me!” he said louder, but it was clear you didn’t hear him. In a quick movement he reached out, yanking the blindfold off your eyes, and put his hands on both sides of your face. “It’s me. Joel.”

In the first moment his touch made you recoil and the look of fury deepened on your face while you continued to scream bloody murder. Your eyes were so wild and terrified, Joel wanted nothing more than to pull you close to his chest and never let go.

“Look at me, baby. It’s alright,” he whispered soothingly, brushing his thumbs over your cheekbones like he vaguely remembered you doing when he was unconscious. “It’s me. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

Your eyes slowly started to focus on his face for the first time since he took the blindfold off, and Joel felt like something was tearing his chest apart at the sight of fear and disbelief on your face.

“It’s okay, darlin’,” he muttered in a strangled voice, trying not to show he was close to crying, too. “It’s me. You’re safe now.”

A broken sob issued from your throat when you took in the sight of him, your eyes lingering on his face and stomach where the wound was.

“...Joel?”

“I’m here,” he said softly, quickly cutting the ropes binding you to the indent in the wall and wincing when he saw the red and purple marks around your wrists. “It’s okay.”

It wasn’t okay, not for you and not for him. Your body was trembling when he finally cut your hands free and without hesitation gathered you in his arms. It seemed like all the bottled up stress was pouring out of you now with the tears as you cried into his jacket and he held you tighter.

“J-Joel…”

“I know, babygirl,” he whispered into your hair, rocking you both back and forth slightly. You were clinging to him almost desperately and it pained him physically to see how scared you’ve been this whole time, but you were safe now, you were back with him and you were alive… “I know. I’m so sorry.”

You pulled away abruptly and looked over his shoulder, your face crumpling in despair when you saw no one there.

“They took Ellie, I don’t know where–”

“She’s safe,” he quickly assured you. “She got out and I found her just before comin’ here.”

You nodded with a sigh of relief, and he shifted his gaze to your calf, gently laying his hand just above the bandage.

“How’s your leg? Can you walk?”

“One of those fuckers shot me,” you murmured, not moving or attempting to stand up, which concerned Joel. “I didn’t really have a chance to see if I’ll be able to stand on my own but they sewed it up provisionally.” Your eyes flickered to his and you smiled softly, brushing your fingers over the back of his hand. “Not as well as you, though.” Then your smile disappeared and your hand grabbed his in a firm grip, like you wanted to make sure he was really here. “How are you, though? I was… Shit, I was so afraid I’d lose you.”

Joel could only stare at you, having no clue what to say.

He was not good at talking. He knew what he should do, though – he should examine your leg and make sure it was alright, he should go back to Ellie and get you two out of here, he should calm down his goddamn pounding heart so that he doesn’t pass out and cause you any more trouble.

But he couldn’t will his muscles to move. He couldn’t do anything, he couldn’t think about anything at all – not when you were sitting in front of him, looking at him with those tearful, gorgeous eyes of yours, holding his hand so tenderly but firmly, your touch so soothing, so familiar, and he remembered vaguely the same fingertips caressing his face.

And your voice, those words…

You said his name haltingly, but he didn’t register any of that, instead letting the overwhelming feelings of relief and fear, and – and adoration – take hold over his body, and he affectionately took your beautiful face in his hands.

Your eyes widened slightly but then these irises he dreamt about so often flickered to his lips and your own parted slightly, and that was all he needed before he leaned in and kissed you deeply.

There was a moment of hesitation on your part during which Joel began to worry that he didn’t read the situation right after all, but then you cupped his cheeks, too, and pressed yourself closer to him, letting him envelop your form in his arms with a quiet sigh.

It was better than he could have ever imagined. He could taste a hint of blood on your lips and hot, blinding rage surged through his veins at the thought of those bastards hurting you. His kiss turned harder and more desperate – he needed to make sure you were really here with him, he wanted to feel your every breath in his own lungs. You didn’t pull away, only tangling your fingers in his short hair, and the small noises you were making were driving Joel crazy with lust and relief. He felt dizzy, like he was going to faint again but he pushed through it, keeping his attention solely on you.

The second you two parted, even before you had a chance to catch your breath, the words started spilling out of his mouth fumblingly.

“Listen, I… I heard you,” he whispered, panting like he just ran a mile – and his heart certainly acted like he did. “M’pretty sure I wasn’t halucinatin’, but even if– doesn’t matter, I want… no, I need to tell you this, I…”

He exhaled nervously and shook his head, avoiding eye contact with you because he was damn sure he'd burst into flames if you looked at him like that again.

Fuck, he was really not good at this.

He cursed under his breath, missing a concerned look you gave him, and felt your hand covering his where it was still situated on your cheek. He knew that with this gesture you wanted to make it easier for him somehow, but it only caused his chest to get even warmer and tighter. “Joel, slow down–”

“I… I love you,” he finally choked out, softly brushing your cheekbones with his thumbs. And damn his old, faulty heart, he wanted to gaze into your eyes again, even if it was going to kill him, so that’s exactly what he did. “I loved you for so long, darlin’, and I got so fuckin’ scared that I won’t be able to tell you and, and it’s okay if I only imagined you saying that and you don’t feel that way, but I needed to tell you, I…”

All strength left him when he paused to draw a breath. His vision was becoming blurry and for a second he was certain he’s losing consciousness again, but it turned out they were only tears filling his eyes, blurring your form before him.

Which was even worse, somehow.

“I’m sorry.” He intended to sound reassuring and strong but it came out more like a broken whisper and he hated himself for feeling so weak and helpless when you and Ellie needed comfort and strength. He couldn’t help it though – all this time when he was looking for his girls the only things that kept him going were anger, terror and regret. Now there was relief, yes, but… he felt so very tired and old.

You turned your head slightly to plant a soft kiss on the inside of his palm, and Joel’s head snapped up. Tears were filling your eyes and he immediately scanned your body for other injuries, any signs of damage or pain, but then this gorgeous smile he so loved illuminated your face, and it put all of his anxieties at ease.

“You weren’t hallucinating,” you said quietly. “I did say that. And I love you, too, Joel.”

He couldn’t help a short, breathless and broken laugh that escaped him when he really heard you speaking those words, this time as clearly as day.

You sniffled and mirrored his smile, and in the next second Joel was kissing you again.

He knew you two had to go, had to get back to Ellie and leave this god-forsaken place, so he tried to be quick, but you – your smile, your touch, all of you – were so distracting and not eager to help him pull away in the slightest.

“I love you too, babygirl, love you so much.” He peppered your face with kisses, ignoring tears running down his cheeks and disappearing into his beard and under your hands. “So fuckin’ much… Don’t ever scare me like that again.”

“Because your old heart can’t handle it?” you teased and he huffed a laugh. A damn tease in every situation, he wanted to say, but before he had a chance to chide you, you pulled him in for another deep kiss. Joel decided you’re off the hook this time.

“Exactly, darlin’. Now hold onto my arm, we’re gonna see if you can stand, and then we’re goin’ back to Ellie.”

A hiss and a grunt of pain escaped you when he attempted to pull you to your feet, but you gritted your teeth and shook your head quickly when he froze, worry evident on his face. Turned out you could stand on your own and even slowly limp forward, but clearly had to push through intense pain to do so. Joel offered you his shoulder (against which his tired body protested immediately) but it made walking easier for you, so he sucked it up.

“I got you,” he whispered when he helped you up the stairs, keeping an arm around your waist for support. You whimpered every time you had to climb up a step, and Joel took hold of your hand, brushing his thumb over your skin lovingly. “That’s a good girl. Just a couple more.”

You didn’t let go of his hand even after these ‘couple more’ steps.

He kept his hand on your shoulder when you finally got reunited with Ellie and tears of relief spilled out of your eyes.

You tangled your fingers with his when the three of you were leaving this cursed, cruel place.

You all held each other when Ellie broke down and you both hugged her tightly, trying to make her feel safe again.

He hooked his little finger over yours, not wanting to drag you down when he started to lean on you, getting significantly weaker from how far he traveled and how hard he fought in the state he was in.

You grasped his hand again that night when you laid down next to him in his sleeping bag while Ellie was curled close to the two of you on Joel’s other side.

He didn’t let go when he leaned in to kiss you again, keeping his touch soft and gentle, and pulled you as close as he could, murmuring words of love and sweet promises into your hair.

Both of you knew you had a lot to talk about in the upcoming days – and probably even weeks. All three of you needed time to heal, physically as well as mentally.

But just for this moment, Joel couldn’t be happier and more relieved as it was slowly dawning on him that after this horrible, hellish nightmare, he had both of you right next to him, breathing and alive, and not chased by anyone for now. Two persons he loved in very different ways, but who were his entire world, whether he was ready to admit it or not.

As if reading his thoughts, you shifted slightly and kissed the edge of his jaw sleepily. His eyes closed, hiding the wetness in them.

He really couldn’t believe his luck.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #the last of us #tlou hbo #joel miller #ellie williams #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #joel miller x y/n #5+1 things #joel tlou #it took me SO LONG OMG #beary writes

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bucks-babe · 10 months ago

Note

I’ve been here before lol. I just had to let you know, your virgin Bucky stories live rent free in my head. I hope one day to see him become… not a virgin 👀 if you feel like writing it of course ❤️

Pairing: Virgin!Bucky x f!reader

Warnings: fluff, smut, loss of virginity, slightly sub Bucky, soft!dom reader, riding, multiple orgasms (both), overstimulation, fingering, p in v, unprotected sex (Don’t do that), copious amounts of cum, like so much, Bucky has a big dick, cumming untouched, cumming in boxers, ball riding (I know, there’s something wrong with me), crying during sex (Bucky this time, not reader lol), crying after sex, aftercare, Bucky is so sweet, taking care of Bucky, washing Bucky’s hair (This is a warning), my limited ass vocabulary (It’s a warning), actual brain rot, no use of Y/N, check tags at the bottom

Word Count: 3.6k

A/N: This has been in the works for so long but I took so damn long to finish it. I would have never guessed that so many of yall would be so invested in this story and Bucky’s journey. This is not the last you will see of these two, don’t worry. I think we should give them each a nickname. Leave a comment on what each of their names should be. Legit just had them call each other baby this entire fic. If I end up giving them nicknames, I’ll go back and put them in for all their stories. Anyway, enjoy!

As you slowly open your eyes, feeling the warmth and comfort of Bucky's embrace, a sense of safety washes over you. His strong arms are wrapped tightly around you. As you turn to face him, you see that Bucky is already awake, his deep blue eyes gazing at you with adoration and love. You can feel the rhythm of his breathing, steady and soothing against your skin. In this moment, nothing else matters except for the love and contentment you feel in each other's arms

"Good morning," he whispers, his voice husky with sleep. The sunlight filters through the window, casting a gentle glow upon his face, accentuating the lines of worry etched there.

With a small smile, you shift closer to him, reveling in the intimacy of the moment. "Good morning," you reply softly, tracing circles on his chest.

Bucky's fingers instinctively tighten around you, as if afraid to let go. "Last night... I didn't mean to let go like that" he admits shyly, his cheeks flushing a rosy hue. "I didn't know I was into that." Bucky felt embarrassed, not being used to letting go and having someone else take care of him. It was such a foreign feeling, yet he loved it, being able to trust someone completely, trusting you more than he does himself. Your heart swells at his vulnerability.

"Oh Bucky, it's okay. I liked it, I liked taking care of you. There's nothing to be ashamed about."

Bucky's eyes soften, relief flooding his features as he takes in your words. "You liked it?" he asks, his voice tinged with both surprise and hope.

A gentle nod escapes you, your fingers continuing their soothing motion on his chest. "Yes, Bucky. I enjoyed every moment of it," you reassure him, your voice filled with sincerity.

He exhales a breath he didn't realize he was holding, a weight lifting off his shoulders. "I've never let myself be vulnerable like that before," he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm scared of losing control."

A tender smile graces your lips as you cup his cheek, caressing it with your thumb. "Bucky, being vulnerable doesn't mean losing control. It means trusting someone enough to let them in, to share yourself completely." Your words carry the weight of understanding and acceptance.

He gazes at you, his blue eyes reflecting a mixture of desire and hesitation. "I don't want to disappoint you, you know? You've been with experienced men before who knew how to pleasure you. I'm not sure if I can do the same for you." The poor thing was terrified of letting you down. He loves you so much, but what if he can’t please you? Would you leave him for someone better? How many people would even want to be with a man who knows almost nothing about pleasing a woman?

Your hand reaches out to cup Bucky's cheek, your thumb brushing across his rough stubble. His skin is warm and soft under your touch. As you sit up, your hand still resting on Bucky's chest, feeling the faster beat of his heart under your palm. His skin is warm and smooth against your fingertips, a reassuring and comforting touch.

"Last night you gave me the most intense orgasm I've ever experienced with a man. Those other men? They think that one trick that worked on one woman will work on every woman. But you, my love? You listened to me and my body, which is more than most men can say."

Your voice softens as you look into Bucky's eyes, seeing the raw emotion and vulnerability that lies within them. "Bucky, I don't want to give you the impression that you're not enough. You were amazing last night, and I’m glad that you trust me enough to share that part of yourself."

His eyes soften, a look of gratitude and relief washing over him. He leans in to kiss your forehead, his hand brushing against your cheek, his thumb tracing the outline of your lips. "Thank you," he whispers, the words feeling like a heavy weight finally lifting off his shoulders. He takes a deep breath, and you can see a newfound confidence and determination in his eyes. "I want to learn, to be better for you. To make you feel the way you felt last night, every time."

A smile tug at the corner of your lips as you lean in to kiss him gently. "I believe in you, Bucky. And I know that you'll learn and grow, just like you did last night. And I’ll be right there to show you how." With a reassuring nod, Bucky pulls you into a deep and passionate kiss, his hands cradling your face. The warmth of his touch sends a shiver down your spine.

Slowly, he pulls away from the kiss, leaving behind a trail of electric energy on your lips. "I want to make love to you today," he whispers. "I want to give you everything I have, and show you just how much I care." Your heart swells with love for the man who would give you anything.

“Are you sure, Bucky? We don’t have to do anything that you don’t feel comfortable doing. I’m perfectly fine waiting for you, however long it takes.” You cup his face, staring into his eyes, seeing determination yet anxiety in his eyes. He wants to do this, have you be his first and only, he’s sure of it.

“Yes. I want more, I want everything with you. Last night, making you feel good, it sparked something in me. I want to do it again. Fuck, you looked so sexy when you came.” Just at the thought of the taste of your pussy and the image of you writhing on the bed in pleasure makes his cock throb, filling with blood. The feel of your naked breasts pressed against him is doing nothing to stop it either.

“If you’re sure, baby, we will. You want to follow my lead or experiment by yourself?” The thought of you trusting him enough to let him do whatever he wants to your body makes him whine, bucking his hip into your bare core, the boxers doing little to hinder the feeling on his sensitive dick.

“Want to follow you, please.” As you take the covers of the pair of you, Bucky’s eyes go right to your tits, hands moving on their own accord to cup them. You’re proud that he was comfortable enough to touch you without hesitancy.

You roll onto your back, Bucky following without a second thought, hands still on you, Bucky sits on his knees, admiring the view of your spread pussy. “I want you to finger me. You remember how, baby?” Of course Bucky remembers how, he remembers how much it made you moan and wiggle on the bed, how you were clenching on them when you came, how fucking tight you got. Bucky nods, right hand moving to your pussy. He needs to use his right hand, needs to feel how wet and tight you are.

Thumb moving to your slit, he gathers the wetness that has been pooling there since you felt his hard cock through his boxers and drags it up to your clit, rubbing it just the way you taught him, the small gasp that leaves your lips lets him know he’s doing it right. His eyes can’t leave your pussy, memorized by the wetness leaving it. He trails his middle and ring finger down and slowly enters you, cock somehow getting even harder at your feel.

His metal hand comes down to rub your clit as his fingers speed up, wanting you to cum so fucking bad. “Just like that, baby. You’re doing so fucking well. Making me feel so good.” Bucky can feel his heavy balls pulling up, cum about to burst from his cock, hips thrusting in the air, meeting nothing. Heat creeps up his cheeks, he knows he’s going to cum before you without even touching anything. He wants so fucking bad to jerk his cock, coaxing his huge load out, but he can’t leave your pussy.

You clench tights around him, your orgasm building up as well. Bucky can’t handle it, the way your head hits the pillows, eyes closed in pleasure, moans getting higher in pitch. Within seconds, Bucky’s cock bursts, cum pouring from his tip, immediately soaking the front of his boxers, leaking down until it lands on the bed, his moans louder than yours. At the sound of his pleasure you cum, clit twitching under his fingers, waves upon waves passing through you.

As you come down from your orgasm, you realize that Bucky is still cumming. “Baby, why won’t it stoppp, fuckk, please, feels so fucking good, shitt, please.”At his words the last of him cum dribbles out. The sight of his flushed cheeks and the soaking wet boxers almost makes you cum again. Sitting up, you push Bucky off the bed until he stands, taking off his underwear and pulling him back onto the bed, laying him down.

“You still want to do anything else, baby?” You desperately want to have his cock inside of you, have him cumming that much in your pussy, letting it leak out all over his balls down to the bed, but if he doesn’t want to go any further you’ll stop, no questions asked.

“Oh fuck yes! Want you to ride me please.” The whole of his sentence comes out as a moan, cock still sensitive and hard, ready for you to take it however you please. Straddling him, you grab him lining him up with your pussy. You look at him and at his nod, you start to sit on him. As soon as the tip breaches you, he cums, and he cums hard. “OH SHIT! FUCK, YES! FUCK I’M CUMMING!” He’s practically screaming, but he can’t find it in himself to care, the most intense orgasm of his life coursing through him.

Hands flying to your hips, he pulls you all the way down, bucking into you with so much force you have to grab the headboard. “ OH FUCKING SHIT! DON’T FUCKING STOP! DON’T YOU FUCKING DARE!” It’s not like you could even if you tried, only option to take his assault, and fuck if it doesn’t feel amazing. Your moans almost match his in volume, pussy still trying to adjust to the size of him, balls slapping against your ass. After a few seconds, you already feel his cum being forced out of you to make room for his cock. His cum now all over both of your sexes, his balls, your ass, and the bed.

His orgasm lasts minutes, the amount of cum leaving his cock never slowing down, hips never stop slamming into yours. During his orgasm, you cum too, the sight was so hot you couldn’t help yourself. When your pussy was clenching around him so tight he somehow got louder. Eventually, he orgasm abated and his hips stopped, laying limb on the bed.

Shame washed over him, at how much he lost himself to his orgasm, how rough he was with you. “I’m so sorry, baby. Please tell me you’re okay. Please tell me I didn’t hurt you.”

“Fuck, Bucky, that was the hottest thing I’ve ever fucking seen.” Bucky’s eyes widen, not expecting you to be so turned on by his orgasm. His cock was still rock hard inside of you, giving you an idea. “What position do you want to do next?” Bucky almost cums again at those words, he knows what he wants, but is almost embarrassed to ask. However, his cock is thinking for him, washing away his inhibitions.

“Can you ride me?” You just smile and start to pick up your hips but he stops you. “From the back.” You throb at that. He wants to watch your ass bounce on him.

You pull off, hissing at the empty feeling and turn around. You grab his cum soaked balls and you feel them twitch in your palm. Pulling them up you turn your head to Bucky. “Do me a favor and close your legs for me.” He doesn’t ask a single question and does so immediately. You let his balls fall on top of his legs and put his cock right back in, not waiting a second to start bouncing, grinding your clit on his slick balls at the end of every bounce.

“Oh, fuck. How does your ass move like that, shit. Looks so sexy.” His hands ghost over your cheeks, not knowing what to do with the sight in front of him.

“Smack my ass, baby.” He groans, and lays a light slap to your right cheek. “Harder, Bucky. Leave your mark on me.” His Oh shit is ignored as he slaps you a little harder, still not hard enough, cock pulsing at the sight of your ass bouncing, feeling it move under his hands. “Don’t be a little pussy, baby. Give it a slap like a fucking man.” Maybe it was a little mean, but you needed to feel his hand coming down on you. His near constant moans get louder, clearing enjoying the degradation. The next slap is hard. “Yes, little harder, baby. Fuck! Just like that, keep going. Don’t stop, want your handprints all week.”

He keeps going, smacking you harder each time. His balls rubbing on your clit pull up and he cums once again. This time, though, he pulls out, jerking his cock, cumming all over your ass. “Fucking shit! Wanted me to mark your fucking ass? Well I’m fucking doing it. Cumming so much. Maybe I’ll just stick my dick in your ass and cum in there too.” You don’t know where that came from, but it makes you ride his balls faster, ass jiggling as he continues to cum on it. “That’s so fucking hot, keeping moving that fat ass on me.” You really don’t know where his dirty mouth is coming from but you don’t care because holy hell is it hot.

Seconds later, Bucky can’t take it anymore and shoves his cock back in your pussy, spreading his legs back out and planting them on the bed so he can fuck up into you. With your ass moving so much with his thrusts, his cum is going everywhere. Bucky lands a hard slap to your cheeks, smacking his cum into them, spreading it all around.

Just like before, he cums for minutes, cum flowing out of your pussy. The entire of both of your hips and your ass and the bed is completely drenched with his cum. When he’s done he pulls you off his cock and spins you around so you’re facing him again. “Baby, my cock is still so fucking hard, I don’t know what to do.” You coo at him, setting your hand against his cheek.

“Don’t worry, baby, I got you.” Instead of slipping his cock back into you, you grind against it, with every roll of your hips his sensitive tip rubs your clit. “Does this feel good, baby?”

“Uh huh, so good.” You see his adam's apple bob and his bottom lip wobble. The feral part of his brain that was fucking you earlier is gone, now your sweet boyfriend is left. He’s not even looking at the way his tip pops out between your folds, no, he’s staring right into your eyes. His arms wrap around your waist, pulling you against him, every part of your body touching his in some way.

You rest your forehead against his and meet his gaze, tears spilling over and running down the sides of his face. You gently wipe them away but they keep coming. One of his hands goes in between your bodies pushing his cock back inside its home, your warm walls enveloping every inch, both of you gasping. Bucky can’t decide if he wants to keep going or stop, a twinge of pain biting its way up his cock, but you just feel too good. He can’t leave your pussy, needing to cum one last time. The slow grind of your hips never speeds up, gently fucking him, no, making love to him.

Bucky tries to kiss you but the pleasure you’re giving leaves him putty in your hands. The kiss is sloppy and wet, but one of the best kisses you’ve ever had, feeling the words neither of you can get out at the moment. The hairs at the base of his cock rub your clit, building up your final orgasm, Bucky not long behind, trying to hold out for you.

“You’re okay, baby. Want you to cum for me, not far behind.” Any restraint left in Bucky’s body disappears, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he cums for the last time.

“Fuckkk, baby, love you so much, please, I need you to cum for me. Need it so bad.” The slow roll of his tears before shifts to full on sobs, pleasure too much. You pull yourself off his cock, knowing that it’s now too much for him. “No, no, I need you to cum, please.” Your hand trails down your body, fingers rubbing your clit, the sight of you makes Bucky whine, and pull you down into a kiss, where you cum, moaning into his mouth.

You roll the both of you over, placing Bucky’s head on your chest, lightly scratching his scalp, tracing shapes on his back with your other hand. When his tears subside, Bucky is the first to speak. “Thank you for taking care of me.”

You feel a lump form in your throat. Of course you would always take care of him. There is nothing that you wouldn’t do for him. “I love you so much, Bucky. I could never hurt you, only want to give you the best in life. After all you’ve done for me, it’s the least I could do.” Bucky doesn’t say anything after that, not knowing what to say, not being used to such unbridled love.

A few minutes pass before the amount of cum and sweat surrounding you gets uncomfortable. “Come on, baby, lets get cleaned up.” Bucky whines but complies anyway. “Get the shower started for me? I’ll change the bed.” He nods and heads to the shower. You work as fast as you can to get the sheets off and a fresh set on. Still naked you run to the washroom and throw the soiled sheets in the wash and start it before running back to the bathroom.

Bucky is waiting outside of the shower for you, eyes still red from crying, almost shying away from you. Grabbing his hand you lead him into the hot water. “You did so good for me, Bucky. Made me feel incredible. You know, if that was your first time, I’m going to need help from the gods to handle you when you practice more.” That gets a small smile from him. “Don’t get all bashful on me, big man, after you rocked my world back there.”

“Stop it, baby.” His words hold no heat to them, secretly loving your complements. “You did too, rocked my world, you know? Didn’t know it could feel that good. There isn’t anyone else I would rather do that with.” He’s going to make you cry one of these days, saying all this sweet shit to you, and you know he means every single word of it.

“Yeah? How do you feel? Feel okay? I know that was a lot for you.” He dips his head down when you reach for his shampoo, letting you wash his hair, then grabbing the soap and lathering the wash cloth, running it along his body. At the feeling of your soft hands on his body, taking care of him after he gave himself over to you, Bucky can’t respond, too caught up in your love. “Bucky?” Your hands stop, fearing the worst at his silence.

“Feel so good, baby. I…” Bucky chokes up, tears resurfacing. He doesn’t know why he’s crying. You pull him to you, hugging him until he stops. “Sorry, I don’t know what came over me. I just, you make me feel so safe, I can’t control myself, I just feel, you know?” You know because he makes you feel the same way.

“Yeah, I do, baby, I do.”

“Can I wash you?” After you took care of him, Bucky wants to do the same for you, never wanting you to feel like he was using you. You nod and Bucky takes extra care to get all of his cum off of you, cleaning you up just like you did to him. By the time you’re done in the shower, the water’s cold. Bucky takes a towel and wraps you up first. Before he can reach for his, you take it and dry him off.

“What do you want to do now? We can cuddle, get something to eat, watch a movie, whatever you want.” You know how important aftercare is, especially when Bucky was feeling so vulnerable after his first time.

“Can we just cuddle?” He looks almost scared to ask you for such a simple gesture.

“Of course we can.” Taking your hand, Bucky leads you to the bed, foregoing clothes. You pull the blankets up and let him rest his head on your chest, listening to the beat of your heart and steady breathing. Not too long after you hear his light snoring and know he’s asleep, you following soon after in the arms of the love of your life, excited to experience all of Bucky’s firsts with him, seeing him grow, not only in experience, but also confidence.

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x female reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes smut #bucky x you #bucky imagine #bucky smut #sebastian stan x reader #virgin!bucky #Virgin!bucky barnes #Omg this took me so fucking long to finish #thank you for the ask because it gave me the motivation to finish #Sorry to make you guys wait so damn long #Love you all #If you're still reading this drink some water

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coastershells · 17 days ago

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Hi I saw your writing and its so good💗 I was hoping you could do a Dallas x fem!reader best friends to lovers smut please🙏🏼 thank you☺️💗

A M I D R E A M I N G . .

( or did you just kiss me? you don’t know it but you already miss me.)

IN WHICH — dallas and you decide to take your ‘ friendship ‘ to another level.

SONG — watermelon - john q. public

⚠️ : semi public sex , mostly fluff for the rest of the ride though.. || requested? / yes!! : no ( not proofread , fucked up a part and i can’t find it so oh well )

୨୧ — wc : 3.5k.

you hate parties sometimes for this exact reason.

or maybe you haven’t been to enough.

you had been over buck’s for god knows how long , dallas had invited you and even walked you here — but god knows where he’s in the house by now. you promise yourself you can’t even walk straight.

you’re bored , tired , and you sort of want to go home now. you just don’t want to walk alone. so there you go , on your mission to find dallas.

in a house of crowded drunk people.

you decide ; if you’re going to go home , you’ll go big AND go home. so with that , you slowly stumble your way over to the drinks table , and lightly try to pick one up , but a hand stops you before you can.

“ don’t you suppose that’s enough drinkin’ for you? golly , didn’t know broads could drink ‘emselfs crazy.“ someone says with a familiar voice , it rings in your head.

you slowly turn your head and see dallas , he lightly puts his hand over your hand so you put the cup back on the table , and you give a crooked smile. “ dallas.. ”

“ yeah yeah , call me dallas even though i said to call me dal or dally even. ” he licks his lips. “ listen , man. i’m bored out of my fuckin’ mind. ” dallas raises his eyebrows and looks around before locking eyes with you. “ seems like you’re just about down for the count. ” he chuckles to himself and you blow raspberries.

“ just a little out of it. ” you mumble and dallas can only but pray you didn’t hear the small ‘ more than a little ‘ that slipped out.

“ tired , though. can you walk me home? i’ll be spooked if i go alone. ”

dallas shakes his head. “ not just yet , got some more stuff to handle , how about you just busy yourself for a minute , alright? maybe you’ll decide on spending the night. ” he says before turning on his heel , the loud music making it hard to even hear his footsteps. but he turns around and shoots at you.

“ don’t you dare pick up another drink. ” he says , you nod lazily , completely forgetting your thought process.

what the hell are you supposed to do meanwhile?

you should’ve followed him , or maybe you shouldn’t have.

god , you’re so damn lost.

you should’ve picked that other “ friendly , but just the two of us ” date he gave to you , going to that nice cafe at the end of the street near the drive in — the one that was covered in ivy. holy fuck you would’ve been sober.

the amount you drank really began to kick in , and you felt your head spinning like crazy. going outside would probably help.

not because it would be cold enough to bring you back — not at all. it was humid outside and inside , there was no escaping the heat unless you were thrown into a deep freezer.

with that , you departed from the drink table and stumbled across the room to the front door , relying on it to keep you stable until you opened the door and let yourself sit on the balcony and gaze at the stars. not because you want to ; you’d pick sunsets over star gazing any day , especially that one time with dallas when you finally got him to settle for five minutes and listen.

you’d kill for another calm “ friend “ date with dallas like that again.

as you sit there and think , your drunk mind wanders. from how hot it is , to where dallas is , and to whether you should stay or not.

the door opening startled you slightly , but when you hear dallas’ voice break out , you turn around.

“ golly — i oughta put a tag on you that glows if you’re just gonna run out of here like that. why are you out here? “

“ it’s the same temperature as inside anyway. “

dallas shrugs before letting his jacket fall off onto the porch. “ mhm , i hear you. ”

he sniffs , like he’s cold , almost. but that can’t be possible. “ you’re staying, ” he says. at first you process it as a question , but there was no curiosity in that sentence. he was telling you. “ not letting you walk home so late. nor do i feel like walkin’. “ he complains and you frown.

“ everytime i’m over here i’m forced to stay here because you’re too lazy. you’re barley even drunk! ” you say , not as clear as you wanted it to be but dallas hums in understanding before biting back.

“ you can’t even walk straight. ”

“ i can walk though , just hold my hand. ” you extend your arm to him and he does nothing but smile. it’s crooked , and you can tell he’s drunk now. you were guessing at first but now you can really tell.

“ i bet everything i own you can’t walk in a straight line. with or without my help. ” he says , taking your hand and pulling you up. you crash into his chest and you yelp.

“ huh? “ you say , trailing off as he turns you and places you against the wall. he doesn’t repeat himself , nor tell you what he’s doing , but you catch it. even in your clouded mind , you gasp.

“ dal — no! not here! what the fuck? ” you whisper shout and he looks around.

“ nobody’s out here. ” he shrugs and reaches under your skirt , you twitch away.

“ people are inside. not here , dal. ” you say , holding his hand.

dallas seems to pause for a second before backing away from you , looking around to the side of the house , then smiling.

“ to the back , then? ”

you shake your head , you almost nodded. “ that’s still so open.. ” you say , it comes out slurred. “ why can’t we just do it in your room? ”

he makes his way towards you again , picking you up over his shoulder and then replying. “ no doubt people are already in there. ” he says , you didn’t have time to yelp or do anything against him picking you up before the smell of weed invaded your nose. the leather was nothing new , even without his jacket. cold leather. you wish he hadn’t left it. god. what else had he done tonight?

he only placed you down when you had gotten to the back of the house instead. how nice of him to do that. you luckily , caught your footing and used the wall for support.

dallas is already at your neck and your breath hitches , the hand that was under your skirt returns again , and it’s playing with the lace of your underwear.

he probably noticed you weren’t wearing anything under , but he doesn’t comment on it. either too focused on ruining your neck yet again or how he’s slowly yet surely pulling your panties down.

“ dal — “ you try to protest and push his head away , and it does work , but his other hand gets a grip on your thigh and lifts you up.

okay , now you’re really stuck.

“ shut it. “ dallas says a little harsher than you like. “ just stay still , alright , doll? let me do this. ” the last part comes out as a half question , and you nod. you don’t recall him ever calling you that before , and it’s so random , but you don’t have the energy to ask if he has ever asked you that before. you wouldn’t like to try.

with that , a small ‘ i hope you don’t like these ‘ slips out of his mouth as you hear your panties just about rip. you wince and look down.

“ dally! “ you cry out. you don’t use that nickname much. “ you could’ve just — taken them off of me! “ you whine , but this time he doesn’t respond. what are you supposed to wear under your skirt after this?

he makes quick way of unbuttoning his pants , you can barley keep your head straight so you’re basically forced to keep looking down. and oh boy , you realize why he was so willing to just do it on the front porch.

the humidity outside doesn’t quite help your situation , you feel hot already , you’re dizzy , and drunk. you’re so sure you would’ve already been on the floor if dallas wasn’t holding you up.

dallas presses you against the wall further , and at this rate you can do nothing but whine and wait. he lifts your skirt up just enough for him to be able to see and you not. your arms find rest on his shoulders , and when he finally pushes in to you , you let out a loud yelp that dallas doesn’t try to cover up.

maybe because nobody inside will be able to hear you , you can still feel the house vibrating from the music inside. and that’s more than likely the reason. otherwise , he would’ve shut you up with a hand over you mouth as soon as a sound louder than usual came out.

dallas himself seemed to be making a huge effort not to buck into you really hard , god you don’t want to know how bad that would hurt at his full length.

“ still , baby. ” he says into your shoulder , and you have a big feeling he’s going to bite it. you whine when you feel his cock just about rub up against you , you can feel him shaking despite it being hot and it’s getting hotter and hotter and —

and you aren’t just quite ready when he actually pushes into you , letting out a soft groan as you tightnen your grip on his shoulders. you question whether you should get him back by dragging your nails against his upper back , but you decide that can be done later.

dallas’ moves his hips uneven , almost. slowly out , a little more harsher in that pushes a yelp from the back of your throat.

“ y’ smell like alcohol and smoke , darling. don’t tell me i gotta actually keep a leash on ya to — fuck , to make sure you don’t drink yourself — mad.. “ dallas says against your shoulder , and you push his head away slightly as your voice breaks into a whine. it being hot outside , you being against the wall , sweating , and his hair rubbing against your bare skin isn’t a good combo at all.

“ mmh? ” dallas hums , beginning to match his pace up. “ you don’t have to be quiet. “ he reminded you , and you looked down to the ground. a moan was pushed out of your chest when he pushed into you a little harder than he should’ve.

“ what’s so good about the ground? i’m your friend. look at me. “ you want to say that he said it in a demanding tone , but it came out more of a plea. there was no way you could look at him — not right now , atleast.

dallas took your silence as a no , and he groaned , returning to that same harsh pace he was just using.

“ have it your way , then. ”

you grip his shoulders with your nails instead , forget his back , you can’t even reach that with how mushy your brain feels by now.

you’re already mourning your ability to walk in the morning.

“ dal — wait — fuck- ” you cry out. “ what if the music — what if it c — cuts? ” you ask through helpless whines , but dallas does nothing but silence you.

“ i doubt anyone will hear even then. ” dallas groans , probably not because of what you asked , but the fact that everytime he talks he goes off rhythm.

his fault.

a hand slides to your skirt and he mumbles a small ‘ sorry ‘ before you feel a tug on the opposite side of your hip.

he just ripped your skirt , didn’t he? what are you actually supposed to wear inside? is he insane?

“ dallas! ” you say , a whine that was mixed with both sadness and the way he only sped up after that.

“ i’ll buy you a new one , ” his breath hitches. “ so just shut up with the actual words , would ya darlin’? you aren’t sayin’ anything useful. ”

you can feel that same weird effect piling up in your stomach yet again , and you shut your eyes tight as it comes and goes.

you can’t tell if your irritated or about to pass out , your vision is blurry and you can barley make out the words dallas is saying to you now. you decide that you’re both irritated and you’re currently passing out. your grip softens on his shoulders , and you’re slightly sad you can’t see the damage done.

you’ll see it when you wake up.

when you wake up , dallas has kept his promise to not taking you home. the first thing you notice when you wake up is the deafening silence. none of the loudness from downstairs is there anymore , and you can’t exactly move. your legs feel numb and there’s also an arm wrapped around your waist , the other lays higher. right under your chest. you notice you have on rather baggy sweatpants. you don’t know what color , but the material is similar to yours. are they yours?

you go to feel down with a hand , the one under your chest slightly moves.

no , they can’t be. way too loose. your smell is last to come , the smell of weed is gone , but the leather still sticks. and it’s all over you.

dallas is holding you. and he’s asleep.

when you first met dallas , he was rude. well , not rude. but he had no sense of respect. any girl that even came in his sights he just had to hit on. you happened to be one of ponyboy’s friends. you usually tagged along with him and dallas was there occasionally. you think the first place you met him at was the lot. he had asked you if your hair color was your actual one , and if it was the same color that your —

— your eyebrows. you know he didn’t want to say that , but you guess he knows the real answer now.

dallas must’ve been fake sleeping , or maybe a coincidence , because his arm’s completely moved and he started to wake up. you could finally stretch properly.

“ you watchin me in my sleep? ” dallas nudges your shoulder and you ignore what he said. “ good morning , dallas. yes , i’m fine after last night dallas. ” that’s a lie , you can barley remember anything. and the headache is coming for you. he hums in of what you had said acknowledgment and gives off a laugh. it’s dry , and his voice is raspy with how he just woke up.

“ you were drunk out of your mind. had to wrap my jacket around you and tell buck you were knocked out around back. do what you will with that information. ” he turns to get up , and you lightly tug on his shirt. “ hey , what the hell? you’re just gonna leave me here? i can’t stand. ” you grumble and he smiles.

“ not leavin you. getting you a new shirt. you can wear one of mine until we make it to your house. you can rest there. ” it annoys you how dallas has already made plans for you when your hangover is getting to the best of you. “ can’t we just stay here and rest? ”

dallas shakes his head. “ i’d ask you to live here if i could. fortunately , no. i’ve got work , babydoll. ” he says as he opens a drawer and pulls out a cigarette. it amazes you how before he even thinks about brushing his teeth , he smokes. he walks back over to his nightstand and grabs a lighter , bringing it to the cigarette.

“ listen , i’ll get my job done fast. you’re gonna rest at home , i’ll ring you and you’ll doll yourself up. i wanna take you somewhere nice later on , alright? ” dallas says almost like he’s asking if you want to do that , but you know he’s telling you. and now your whole day has been planned out.

you can’t find it in you to make an excuse , so you decide to just nod. “ another friend date that’s only the two of us? ”

“ nope. ” he says quickly and takes a drag from his cigarette. “ a real date. which means ponyboy ain’t allowed for real this time. no kids. ” he says , and you’re sure he’s quoting steve. you scoff and he does nothing but take another drag from his cigarette.

“ come on , i’ll walk you home like i always do. ” he says. “ wouldn’t really count it as walking since i’ll be carrying you , but — ”

you cut him off with a groan.

he gets the memo.

“ alright , attitude. ” dallas mumbles. he throws a shirt your way.

B O N U S

( sort of..? )

just like dallas had said in the early morning , he carried walked you home and gave you a ‘ friendly ‘ kiss goodbye. hours felt slow , maybe because you kept looking at the time but you swear time has never been slower in your life. you only started to ponder on what to wear when dallas had called you and said to get really pretty.

you decided on something that wasn’t exactly flashy , a black skirt , a random worn out top , boots gifted to you by dallas , and a leather jacket that you had never gave back to him. you wouldn’t say you did exactly much to your face.. more on your hair than anything.

you were just about finishing up when you heard a car coming down the street and a honk outside. you didn’t have to look out the window to know it was dallas.

and so it was , him in all of his glory and nicely dressed , ( not really , but you won’t insult him. you’re too nice. ) he greets you with the same flirty line he always uses , paired with a random pet name that he probably came up with on the spot.

most of the drive is filled with silence , not awkward , but almost like one of you should say something specific.

dallas decides to be that person.

“ i like you a lot , y’know. ” he says and you hum. you’re so positive you know what he’s getting at , but you try to stay oblivious. you want him to say it directly.

“ like — jeez. ” you look over and he looks — nervous? almost? “ like how ponyboy likes sunsets , yeah? and how two bit likes beer. like that. ”

“ i don’t get it. what do you mean? ” you say , trying to hide the smile in your voice since he can’t look over. you just hope he’s not using the corner of his eye.

“ alright , fuck. i love you. that what you wanted to hear? ”

you try to egg him on. “ and? what else? ”

he raises an eyebrow , but sighs and actually thinks for a second. the car stops at a traffic light.

“ i don’t want to see other guys treat you how i treat you. ” he says , almost a whisper , before he perks up again and awkwardly sniffs before changing the topic. “ what are you gonna order? ”

“ whatever’s fine , i guess. or i’ll just decide when we get there. ” you shift uncomfortably in the seat.

dallas doesn’t argue with that , whether he understands or just doesn’t want to.

the only thing you can hear is the far away sounds of people talking. you decide it’s your turn to speak.

“ i love you too , dallas. like how ponyboy likes the sunsets or whatever. didn’t expect you to be so emotional , though. ” you giggle and he blows his breath.

“ shut it , will you? the silence is nice. ” he licks his lips and you relax into the seat.

“ it’s nicer when i’m around you. ”

this time , it’s dallas’ turn to nod in agreement.

and you remind yourself ; you never saw the scratches you had made on him.

you shrug to yourself.

the light turns green , and dallas pulls off.

“ yes , i’ll be your girlfriend dally. ”

you look over and see a small smile on his face.

you are so sure he needed to hear that just as much as you did.

i have no excuse for not posting. nor do i have the strength to after editing this. i’m going to sleep.

taglist : @mrsdillonx , @r0seb100d , @socgf , @staygoldmarty , @every1hatesmayaa

#x reader #dallas winston x reader #dallas x reader #dallas winston #the outsiders #the outsiders dally #dally winston #friends with secrets #LOL #you thought the tags were gonna be normal?#i’m marii. they are never normal.#probably ooc #LMAO idc #sorry #i do

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illneverrecover · 11 months ago

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god dammit i like it (M) | changkyun

➛pairing: Im Changkyun (I.M.) x reader ➛genre: card shark/gambling Changkyun, cocktail server reader, poker!AU, hurt/comfort, smut, angst, fluff (in that order). ➛word count: 9005 (oof) ➛rating: M ➛warnings: excessive alcohol use, cursing, dirty talk, very very soft femdomme energy, oral sex (female and male receiving), changkyun begging, unprotected sex, creampie, cock warming, very brief mentions of blood, more soft clown changkyun. ➛summary: One last game, he tells himself. Just one last game, and he'll have enough money to take care of you the way you deserve, to show you how much you mean to him, to give you the life that you want... as long as he doesn't get caught. ➛notes: My second time writing Changkyun and as always, it's for the one and only @taetaesbaebaepsae. She had commissioned me (back when I still did those) to write something based on the God Damn MV, and then patiently waited for me to get my life together. I thoroughly enjoy creating new ways to hurt you with your ult bias, so I hope you enjoy this one! I did edit this one, but just barely, so please be gentle with me. Let me know what you think! ➛song: God Damn - I.M | Habits (Stay High) - Tove Lo (Hippie Sabotage Remix) ➛tagging: @taetaesbaebaepsae @lvupmushroom @thiccasswonhoruinedmylife - thank you for letting me use your likeness for this, and for looking it over to make sure it would truly hurt Kristy's feelings. Teamwork makes the dreamwork, bbs.

He’s an idiot, but you already knew that.

The alcohol in his gut sloshes as he moves to stand, his glass painfully empty. Changkyun stumbles towards the bar, the thrumming in his head keeping pace with the bass thumping through the speakers of the club.

His eyes are glassy, faraway when he reaches his destination, the cup fumbling out of his grasp as he indicates to the bartender he wants another. The bartender looks him over, seemingly debating on following through with the request, but he turns to grab the bottle of whisky regardless.

Changkyun hates it. Hates that he’s so drunk, that you’re not here, that the guy serving him thinks he’s a mess. He knows he’s an idiot, that he should stop. Put down the glass and pick up his phone. That he should just call you and tell you he’s sorry for being such a moron all the time, and that he’ll listen to you from now on. That he does love you, and wants to take care of you, and he can fucking prove it, if you’ll let him.

But then he recalls the look in your eyes when you caught him – the disappointment, the pain – and he reaches for his now refilled glass, taking a swig before facing back towards the club.

He doesn’t deserve it – doesn’t deserve you, to provide for you, to do any of it. Not when he’s such a jealous asshole, not when he’s such a fuck up. You deserve the world. Someone who can really give you what you need.

Fuck, he wants to be that. There’s some moments when things are good, when you’re tucked into his arms in bed, sleeping softly beside him that he thinks he might be that – someone who can provide, be reliable, strong. But then he remembers your fights; his words of jealousy and anger, his avoidant nonchalant fake ass attitude, his fragile little ego shattering with a flick of your eyebrow and a sharp word.

So he leaves his phone in his pocket, instead slinking back towards his booth before dropping into it. It was easy to ignore his friends’ questions, to insist that he was fine, to pretend to be more interested in the tray of shots being dropped off at the table. He accepted the small glass, slamming it down before he could think about the burn, about the empty churning in his stomach.

It was easy to ignore his friends, but damn, Changkyun was tired of pretending he wasn’t fucking exhausted of trying to be okay without you.

It had always been push and pull with him.

From the minute Changkyun had walked into Yvonne’s, the lounge where you worked, you could feel the snap of electricity, the buzz of magnetism that pulled you to him. He would’ve stood out from his clothing alone; his lithe form draped in a bright red perfectly cut suit, shirtless under the vest to show off his tanned, broad chest. The combination of cut and color was lethal on him and he knew it, his dark hair swept back to allow the full potency of his sharp gaze. The group of men he was with were also impeccably dressed and attractive, but there was something about him that had your eyes following him, unable to look away.

Luckily for you, he had seemed to feel the same way.

His friends had gone to sit at the Baccarat table in Kat’s section, but he had stayed behind, noting which tables your body was sliding between as you delivered drinks before he made his selection at the blackjack table at the end of your section.

He couldn’t keep his gaze off of you, ordering more drinks than he was actually playing cards you were certain, but you weren’t going to stop a paying customer. The table he was at was pretty low stakes overall; the crowd was a bunch of casual players, but he had enough money to keep up with the table, so they were willing to ignore his flirting.

You were also trying to ignore it, playing into him enough to ensure your tip would be secure, but also knowing that this was likely all just fun for the rudely handsome stranger. And if there is one thing you enjoy doing, it’s having a little fun – especially while at work.

But there was something in the way he looked at you, the way that he spoke to you, that had you hanging on a bit more than you’d care to admit. You wanted to tell yourself it was just the fact that he looked like that in that suit – that his tattoos and cocky smirk on top of it all was just too much for you – but you knew it was more than that.

It was when you were dropping off his umpteenth cocktail that he finally made a move, his tattooed hand wrapping around your wrist to stop you and slide a piece of paper into your palm.

“When do you get off?”

You smirked, trying to ignore the sudden rush of blood in your veins at his skin touching yours. “Why? Who wants to know?”

His face deadpanned, his mouth dropping to a pout, and the juxtaposition of such a cute expression on such a lethal man made you laugh.

“I don’t even know your name,” you clarified, pulling away from his grip and tucking the paper into your apron.

“You could call me whatever you wanted,” he replies, voice low, glare fixed on you, “but others call me Changkyun.”

The same things that had drawn you to him also made you roll your eyes, his cockiness frustrating just as much as it was attractive. He insisted on waiting until you had finished your shift, ensuring that you made it safely to your car before reminding you about the paper tucked into your apron pocket.

“It has my phone number on it so you can text me and let me know what time you want me to pick you up tomorrow.” He had murmured, his face so close to yours that you had forgotten to breathe.

“Pick me up, hmm? Well aren’t we feeling awfully sure of ourselves,” you replied in a shaky breath, hating how much he was affecting you. “What are you picking me up for?”

“I was hoping to take you on a date, but if you have things you need to do - errands, work - that’s fine with me too. Just let me take care of you.”

It was as easy as that, the way he slid into your life. You hadn’t believed the offer, not really, but decided to text him anyway. You had some things to do before your shift, why use your gas when you could waste his?

But Changkyun was effortless, showing up in gray sweats and a black t shirt promptly at the time you requested, ready to chauffeur you all over town. He kept up with your teasing about his sad fuckboy music he was listening to, and let you mess around with his AC without complaint, like he had been doing it for a hundred years.

Maybe that’s how he broke your walls down – acting so nonchalant, while also being dependable, always showing up when and how he said he would, always ready with an easy smile and a light joke.

It could have been days, maybe weeks, but it didn’t take long for you to realize you wouldn’t be able to stay away from him. That you didn’t think you wanted to.

Which was a complete contradiction to what you had told him – that you weren’t interested in anything serious, but if he played his cards right, you could be convinced for an evening of fun. An offer he had declined, telling you that he would wait until you changed your mind and wanted him fully. An answer that had infuriated you to no end, but one that felt inevitable.

It was the 14th or 15th day of hanging out that he finally said the words, putting the feelings out into the space between you. His “I love you” came out rushed, as if the words had pained him, but the flush of his cheeks and shimmering soft eyes had you cracking, reaching for him to smash your mouth into his own.

The kiss was unlike anything you had ever felt; the intense rush of heat nearly choking you when his tongue traced the seam of your lips, seeking entrance. He groaned when you had opened, the feeling of his tongue on yours sending the kiss deeper, starved for each other. He tasted like whisky mixed with the faint hint of gummy bears he was always snacking on, and you were drunk on his mouth, drunk on him. You don’t even remember if you had said the words back, the volatile energy between you now snapped and now your full focus until it was fully satiated.

Changkyun slotted into your life like he had always been there. The familiarity of it soothed you, brought you a deep peace that you didn’t know you needed – but there was the other side of you, the one that had never allowed anyone to get this close, that was terrified of what this would mean. That knew letting someone in also gave them the power to break you.

It was always a push and a pull with him, an intoxicating desire to give in, to let your heart find a home with him – mixed with the fear that eventually, that home would be ripped away.

“Fuck,” Changkyun cursed, and your fingers tangled in the hair at his nape, tugging.

“No marks,” you reminded him, though you would be lying if you said you didn’t love the feel of his mouth at your throat. His tongue was laving at the junction of your skin between neck and collar bone, suckling it between his teeth before soothing it with sloppy kisses.

You had been pressed against the wall of your apartment, him latched to you like a man starving until you had coaxed him down the hall towards your bedroom, letting him push you down onto the bed before resuming his work on your neck.

“Mmm,” he acknowledged, though he didn't stop his ministrations. “I wish I could mark you up, make sure everyone at Yvonne’s knows who you come home to.”

You had let out a breathy giggle, eyes rolling though he couldn’t see it. His silly jealousy over the stares you got while working at the lounge was just that - silly, nothing of merit - and yet, you couldn’t help but play into it just a little bit.

“Oh yeah? Who’s that?” you whispered, using your hand in his hair to guide him to your mouth, only stopping his descent when he was a breath away.

“Don’t play games, sweetheart,” Changkyun leaned forward, nipping at your bottom lip, and your grip deepened. “We both know I’m the only one you’d let stick around this long.”

He was right about that.

Closing the distance, you melted your mouth into his, letting him take control of the kiss for just a moment before you tug at his head once more, dragging him down your body. He complied quickly, pressing small kisses into your flesh as you guided him lower.

“I don’t know,” you breathed, eyes hazy as Changkyun settled between your thighs, a groan leaving his throat when he saw you had forgone any kind of underwear beneath your skirt. “That one guy at table 7 was tipping really well, I bet I could-”

Your words were choked off with a moan as Changkyun dragged his tongue from the bottom of your cunt to your aching clit, giving it a singular swirl with the offending muscle before pulling back.

“What was that?” he asked, but he didn't wait for a reply, not before delving back between your legs. He lapped at your center, taking his time tasting you before he settled up near your clit, sucking it between his lips.

Any retort you had been working on died as he made quick work of you, sucking and licking until you were bucking up into his face, both hands tugging at his hair to hold him in place. He had become pliant beneath you, molding himself just where you needed in order to push you over the edge. Just when you felt like you couldn’t take any more, that you were going to snap, Changkyun slid two fingers inside of you, curling them upwards.

“Please, come for me, sweetheart,” he begged, murmuring against the heat of your flesh. “I want it so bad.”

His words were your undoing, and you find yourself doing exactly as he asked, moaning out his name as he takes you over the edge, his mouth and fingers working you through it in tandem.

You exploded, white bursting behind your eyelids until you were boneless, unable to do anything but ride out your orgasm at the will of the man in front of you. Changkyun made sure to taste every drop of your release, slowly sliding his hand away from you only to quickly replace it with his tongue to lap at you until you were shoving him away.

You wanted to make him feel as good as you did in that moment, wanted to return the favor, so you pushed him off of you and onto his back, switching positions to settle between his legs.

Hands tugging at his boxer briefs, Changkyun complied to your silent request, lifting his hips until you could drag them off. You were quick to palm his erection in your hand and squeeze, relishing in the hiss he rewarded you with, your thighs squeezing together.

“Please,” he groaned, and fuck did he beg so prettily. “I just want to be inside you already, let me be inside you, yeah?”

Teasing the head of his cock with your lips, you hummed, playing as if you were considering his words. The truth was, having a beautiful man like him pleading you for anything was your kryptonite, and you would give him anything he asked for as long as he sounded like that.

Taking a final swipe of your tongue over his sensitive flesh, you gave him a smirk, moving until you straddled him, hovering for just a moment. Grasping his length, you line him up with your dripping cunt, sinking onto him slowly, tortuously.

You may be giving him what he had asked for, but only because you wanted to, because you had deemed it aligned with your desires. Changkyun gave you full control over your pleasure, and you took it greedily.

Once fully seated, you moaned, hips beginning to undulate and swirl against his. Pressing your palms into his chest, you began to work yourself over him, sliding back and forth until you were panting, thighs burning.

His eyes searched yours, waiting for permission before he did anything more than take what you were giving him. “Fuck me, Changkyun,” you gasped, voice teetering into a whine. “Wanna come on your cock.”

Changkyun didn’t need to be told twice, didn’t need any more instruction before he was thrusting up into you, pelvis meeting yours. His hands tugged you down until your chest was flush with his own, his mouth seeking yours and coaxing it into a filthy kiss.

“Fuck, yes, please come on my cock,” he rasped against your lips, his pupils blown as they make contact with yours. His gaze was intense, searing, but you couldn’t look away, didn’t want to. You wanted to be engulfed; consumed by him. “Use me, baby.”

Slamming down onto him, your pace began to turn frantic as he matched you thrust for thrust, each connection against your tender clit sending you further into oblivion.

“You feel so good, Kyun,” you praised him, adjusting until your face was pressed to his neck. “So good for me, so perfect.”

His answering moan reverberated in your chest, his arms tightening around you as his pace turned punishing, and it drove you crazy how something as simple as your words has him frenzied, falling apart beneath you.

Drunk on the power, you felt yourself hurtling towards your climax, nails digging into the skin on his back as he relentlessly slammed up into you. “Fuck, yes,” you cried, letting yourself go, giving in until you were over the edge, orgasm overtaking your senses.

It was too much for Changkyun; the way your scent was all around him, intoxicating him, the way you were moaning curses and his name, the way you were clenching so fucking tightly against his cock. Before he could stop himself he was chasing his high right alongside you, shuddering as he pumped his release deep, unable to still his hips even when you were mewling from the sensitivity.

Panting heavily against each other, you had tried to pull away only for Changkyun to roll you beneath him, pinning you under his weight. He was still fully lodged inside you, face nuzzled into the curve of your neck, his breath warm against your still sweaty-from-sex skin.

“What are you doing, Kyun?” you chuffed, making a feeble attempt to lift his weight before letting him resettle against you. It was all for show, the response he expected from you. The truth was you didn’t mind it - the feeling of him still inside you, the familiarity of his lips on your skin, the intimacy of it all - you didn’t mind it if it was with him.

“Just let me hold you like this for a bit, hmm?” he mumbled against your neck, and you hummed your agreement, letting your eyes fall closed. He pressed a few lazy kisses to your throat before his breathing became measured, even, and you decided joining him in slumber wouldn’t be such a bad idea.

“Promise me,” you murmured, voice thick and lazy. You were still naked and draped across his chest, listening to the calming beat of his heart. You had already woken and showered, deciding that clothes weren’t necessary before jumping back into bed together. That was several hours ago now. The smoke coming from his cigarette was curling up towards the ceiling, leaving a dreamy haze in the room.

“I’d promise you anything,” he replied quickly, taking a drag, “but what specifically am I promising you this time, sweetheart?”

“No more going to Kihyun’s high roller floors, Kyun. I know the pots are bigger, but you don’t know those men at those tables - not like I do.” You paused then, taking a shaky inhale.

Being in your line of work, you were no stranger to dangerous men, however you purposefully stayed away from serving on those floors of the lounge for a reason. Those men were the worst of the worst, and even if they weren’t, they rubbed elbows and served those who were. Either way, the money may be sweet, but the risk wasn’t worth it. You made better than you ever had at the lounge with the sections you served, and that was fine with you.

But Changkyun had always wanted more.

Ever since you had told him about your lofty dreams - the ones that you had saved for yourself in the darkest parts of the night, when your mind was racing and you couldn’t sleep - he hadn’t let them go. Truthfully, you always loved the idea of retiring your waitressing shoes and being able to finally write full time, working on the novel you’ve been imagining for years in some quiet home somewhere, tucked away from the world. But it broke you to see Changkyun willing to risk his life to see it come true by hanging around that crowd, placing higher and higher bets at Yvonne’s most hazardous tables.

It was strange for you to accept that he would even want to do this for you, to support you in this way, but he always knew how to soothe those concerns, promising you that he genuinely wanted to care for you before gently ribbing you to stop being so damn stubborn.

However, it was his stubbornness that had been creating a wedge between you.

“They’re bad people, Changkyun. And I don’t mean like - scamming old ladies for their pension money bad, either. I mean like extremely shady dealings with people who are involved with things that would get them sent to prison, bad.”

His free hand fell to your head then, smoothing your hair back as he took another puff of his cigarette.

“I know they are. I’m only just polite enough for the rules of the game, I never engage with them more than that. I’m not there for friends or connections, just the money.” He took a final pull before dropping the spent butt in the ashtray on the bedside table, his other hand moving to rest over the one you had placed on his heart.

“I get that, but it doesn’t take much to get on their bad side. It could be the slightest thing. Sometimes, just winning is all it takes.”

He sighed, but let the silence linger, instead letting himself get lost in stroking your hair softly. You were about to say something again, to make sure he had heard you, when he finally spoke.

“I just want to take care of you, you know?” His voice was low, thick with emotion, though he tried to swallow it back. “Give you what you deserve.”

That pain came back, the one deep in your chest, and you sat up to face him. “I know that. But I already have everything that I need, right here.”

You tap his chest once, twice - his hand still firmly resting on top of your own.

He met your gaze, giving you a small, cocky smirk, as if his eyes weren’t shiny with unshed tears. “What, you mean this hot body?”

You scoffed, eyes rolling. Maybe you should’ve called him out on his side stepping, forcing him to vocalize that look he had been giving you, but instead you fell back into step with your teasing. It was, after all, the familiar dance between you two.

“No, stupid. I meant you - you’re all I need. The rest of this shit is just noise.”

“I bet I can make you make some noise–”

“Changkyun–”

“Okay okay,” he laughed as your soft touch turned into pointed jabs into his chest, sitting up to wrap his arms around you and stop your onslaught. “I hear you, sweetheart. You’re right. I’ll stay away,” he said, pulling you up and back until you’re leaning against his chest, arms still wrapped tight around you.

“Promise me?” This time when you say it, you made sure your eyes were locked on his, made sure the fear you felt was evident behind the words.

“I promise.”

It felt like a sign from the universe. Well, either that, or a promise from the devil.

But sometimes, those can look the same.

The posting for Kihyun’s upcoming game had just gone up, but it was already making the rounds. Games like these were advertised in a certain way - you had to know where to find it in order to play, and the regular gamblers all knew the common message boards to keep an eye on. Changkyun hadn’t been looking for it, wasn’t even checking the forums anymore – but had gotten a text about it from Joohoney, a screenshot of the flyer accompanying his message of “Bro, did you see this shit??”

A high stakes game, in two nights. The winning pot large enough that he would be able to retire you permanently, and he wouldn’t be too far behind you, honestly. You were already off work that night, plans in place for a girls night with Kat and a few of the other servers, so you wouldn’t be at Yvonne’s.

It would just be one last time.

One last game, and with enough luck, he could finally give you the life that you’ve always wanted, provide for you in the way a man should. Sure, you wouldn’t like it – the idea of him going to the tables again – but that was only if you found out, and the chances of that were slim.

He could win the money and set it aside, give himself a week or two of regular games to make it seem a bit more feasible. A few days of being off your feet and back on your laptop would have you forgetting about work anyway, and the top floor of Yvonne’s would fade quickly away from your memory.

It had to be a sign. He could do it, could pull it off, could be the man that you deserve.

His fingers hovered over his phone, the reply ready to be sent to Joohoney. It would be just as easy to delete it, to tell him that he’s done with that shit. To text his best friend back and tell him that he can’t, because he told you he would walk away and stay away from those men. Joohoney might give him some shit, but he would understand, likely wouldn’t push the matter.

But the money…

It didn’t take long for Changkyun to do the math; it would take months at the regular tables to get this kind of money, and that’s only if he kept winning. Which didn’t seem like long in the grand scheme of things, but when he thought of how your eyes lit up at the idea of writing full time, made it seem like it was centuries.

You wouldn’t have to know. It would just be one last time.

He pressed send on the text, foot tapping nervously until he saw the read receipt pop up under his message.

“I’m in - one last game.”

You were mad at him again, but your friends didn’t need to know that.

All they needed to know was that you were in the mood for a girls night out, and if they knew what was good for them, they’d be there in their sluttiest outfit ready to indulge with you.

However, it only took you ordering the second round of shots to have Bri’s questioning stare fixed on your own.

“So, what did he do this time?” she deadpanned, sipping from her straw.

“What? Who? I don’t know what you speak of,” you replied. “I’m just enjoying a night out with my friends.”

“Sure, okay,” Kat nodded, giving a convincing performance of someone who actually believed your nonsense. “If he didn’t do anything, then why isn’t he here, buying us all drinks?”

She had you there. Changkyun was always wanting to show up on your nights out – not to crash them, but so that you and your friends could enjoy your time without having to worry about a single thing. He covered the tabs, made sure everyone was having fun, and ensured each person got home safely – all while staying tucked away at a nearby table until you needed him, never putting too much pressure on you.

It had pissed you off the first time he had suggested it, but after he showed you what he meant, showed you how he could be supportive in the shadows while still letting you shine, you had slowly given in. Part of you loved being able to enjoy yourself with your friends while knowing he was always looking out, even if he wasn’t directly visible.

“Maybe he’s busy.”

Twin glares pinned you to your seat, and you allowed several beats of the bass blaring in the speakers to pass before caving.

“Okay, fine, yes. We’re having a slight disagreement,” you conceded with a sniff, “over something that happened at work.”

“Wait a minute - is this about what happened with Vanda?” Kat questioned, mentioning the newest server at the lounge. She had only started a few weeks prior, but had been making a lot of work for you - constantly acting like she knew what she was doing in front of management, only to flounder and follow you and the senior staff around asking a million questions the minute they weren’t on the floor.

It wasn’t her confidence in her lacking serving skills that had bothered you, not really. It was more so how the minute she did get called out on a mistake, she was quick to try to throw you and your friends - the same people who had just been helping her ass - under the bus.

You had told Changkyun about an incident earlier in the week of this exact scenario – she was flirting with another customer instead of checking on the tables in her section, and a patron of hers ended up getting up to go to the bar to order a drink. It wouldn’t have been a huge deal, mistakes happen after all, except she had immediately told the manager on duty that you had promised to cover that table. Which was news to you.

“Are you serious? After all the help you’ve given her?” Changkyun had shook his head, irritation evident in his voice. “Did you tell the manager the truth? Who was on?”

You had smothered a smile at the question, trying and failing to hide how much you loved him wanting to know more about your life.

“It was Amy, and yeah, I told her. She believed me, but still. I don’t get it, I’ve never done anything to that girl.”

“Want me to show up to Yvonne’s and request her section with the guys, give her some shit? You know how annoying I can be when I want to,” he offered, brows raised in a teasing lilt, but you could tell by the line of his mouth that he meant it.

“Yes, I do know how truly annoying you can be. It’s almost like a super power.”

He grinned then, a full one, and you wanted to kiss his stupid mouth.

“But no, it’s fine. I got this. I know how to handle people like this, and having anyone else fight the battle for me will only make her more bold about it.” This wasn’t your first rodeo, after all - you had been serving a long time, and doing luxury serving at Yvonne’s for even longer than Vanda had been out of diapers. If there was one thing you knew how to do, it was handle people.

But did Changkyun listen to you?

Well no, of course not.

He did exactly as he had threatened - showed up the following day with his full group of rowdy friends, sitting in her section and dedicated to being the most obnoxious people Vanda dealt with all night. They didn’t do anything harassing or illegal, just toed the line of being pretentious drunk pricks gambling and drinking – sending back drinks for being made incorrectly, asking for complicated cocktails and shots, requesting a rundown of the entire menu before telling her they were no longer hungry.

Kat and Bri had found it hilarious, stating that your boyfriend’s malicious compliance of the rules while still making Vanda run around so much she was pouring sweat was truly an artform. And there was a tiny piece of you, deep in your soul, that was pleased at the lengths he was willing to go for you.

But you were also pissed, because you had been exactly right. It did nothing to stop Vanda from sending bullshit your way; if anything, it had spurred her on, the following shift of yours even more annoying and mind numbing after hours of her questions and subtle sabotage.

“Yes, it’s about what happened with Vanda! I told him to let me handle it, and he didn’t listen. I know he meant well, I get that, but still. He didn’t listen.” You had known his heart was in the right place - you hadn’t questioned that. But it didn’t negate the fact that it made you feel so small when he didn’t listen to your requests.

“I thought that was hilarious,” Bri said, arm reaching out for another shot glass. She had one already prepped in front of her, but preferred taking her shots two at a time. “But I get it. Vanda’s been worse since.”

“I can handle Vanda, I don’t really care about that. But it feels like our fights are usually because he just doesn’t listen to what I’m telling him. It’s like he thinks he knows better than me.”

Deep down, you know he didn’t mean it in this way, but it was like he didn’t trust you - your judgment, your read on the situation, whatever it is – and that hurt, especially when you had worked so hard to open up that piece of yourself to him.

“And I know that I’m not always right, and it’s not like I don’t want to hear his opinions, but I don’t like the choice being taken from me. Or worse, dangled in front of me like he’s going to consider my feelings, only to have him do whatever.”

Downing her two shots in rapid succession, Bri shook her head, reaching for her chaser before speaking. “I think that’s part of the problem, he thinks he is considering your feelings. He thinks he’s standing up for you and fighting for you. He thinks he’s taking some of that burden off your plate.”

“I don’t need, I mean, I don’t-”

“When is the last time you let anyone fight a battle for you?” Kat interrupted, elbows leaning on the table to make direct eye contact with you. “You tell everyone that you got it, that you can handle it. And we’ve seen you do it, so it’s not that we don’t believe you. But sometimes, we want to help you, for no other reason than we love you. And we can.”

The direct read into your defenses had your throat tightening, and you blinked back the tears that threatened to form and ruin your makeup.

“He should listen and take your feelings into consideration, absolutely,” Kat continued, voice gentle, “but also, you should let him support you and help more. I think if you let him be there for you in smaller ways, he wouldn’t feel the need to be the knight in shining armor so much.”

There was a lot of wisdom in your friend's words, and you had taken a moment of silence to chew on it, to let it sink in.

“He really loves you, you know that, right? So stop being a dumb bitch about it,” Bri deadpanned, but her expression was soft, “and let him love you. And you know I say that with affection.”

“I know,” you said, nodding at your friends. As much as it wasn’t easy to admit, they had a point, which also meant that maybe Changkyun did, as well. “Thank you both, seriously.”

It had only taken one text message, a quick “This tab isn’t going to pay itself” with a kissing emoji to have him showing up at the bar, settling into a table a few down from your own with a wink and a sly smirk, where he proceeded to wait out the evening, taking care of you and your friends as always when the time came.

“I’m still annoyed with you,” you had panted against his mouth when you got home, letting him push you up against the wall and cage you in with his arms. He was on you like a starved man, and it had made your buzz intensify, making you drunk on him, his kiss.

“Of course, I understand,” he mumbled, words barely intelligible in the urgency of his lips.

You had to fight to pull away, using one hand on the base of his throat to push him back for a moment to catch your breath.

“But, also, thank you. For what you did with Vanda. And for always wanting to protect me.”

If Changkyun noticed how soft your voice got, he didn’t say anything, instead leaning down to press his forehead against yours. You could tell he was going to say something – probably something devastatingly sweet – and you needed to finish what you were going to say, before the bravery lost you.

“I’m not used to having someone who wants to fight with me, or for me, you know.”

“I know,” he replied in a rush, like he had already known your confession, knew what you were going to say long before the words had formed. “I know, and I also shouldn’t be an ass and push all the time. But I will always protect you, yeah?”

Nodding, you fought back tears for the second time that evening, but this time you didn’t shy away from letting him see the emotion in your face.

“You’re mine, and I will always fight for you, sweetheart.”

This time when he kissed you, it was slow, purposeful, heated. Like he was going to make sure you felt and wanted for nothing other than him, his touch, and that you could allow yourself to fall into him forever and would always have a safe place to land.

Maybe it wasn’t so bad, to be vulnerable with someone, to let them in, if you could feel like this.

Or maybe it wasn’t so bad, only because it was Changkyun.

Tonight was the night, and everything was in place.

So why did Changkyun feel a ball of anxiety forming in the base of his gut?

Everything had been going according to the plan so far, not that there was much of a plan for any of this. It mostly relied on you and your friends being away from Yvonne’s for the night, which was easy enough since you were all off on the same evening. A rarity that you all were going to take advantage of, and had planned for movie night with drinks and sushi take out over at Kat’s place, an event that was common enough that Changkyun knew it usually ended in a sleepover.

He had dropped you off an hour prior, kissing you gently and shouting a greeting down the hall to the girls before heading back to the car, ignoring the feeling of guilt roiling in his stomach. He had just kept reminding himself that he was doing this for you, doing this so he could support you and give you the life that you deserved.

It was one last time, one last game.

But that pit didn’t dissipate as the evening went on, not even when he met with Joohoney who had insisted he take a shot when they arrived at Yvonne’s to help with his nerves. It had burned his esophagus, blurring the edges of his tension a bit, enough that he felt confident walking through the lounge next to his friend..

“You good?” Joohoney asked, slapping a hand on his shoulder.

Changkyun nodded. “Yeah, just really wanna win some money, you know?”

Joohoney had given him an understanding grin before guiding him past the tables in the lower section of Yvonne’s towards the stairs leading up to the high roller tables.

“It's our lucky night, Kyun,” Joohoney said, pausing in front of the door leading to where the game was about to begin. Through the heavily frosted glass, Changkyun could see several bodies already seated at the few VIP tables, and he felt his pulse spike. “We’re going to win.”

“I hope you’re right.”

The sleepover at Kat’s had been just the reset you needed.

A night of screaming at the television, drinking cocktails and eating your bodyweight in sushi with your friends was healing in more ways than one, and you had left the next morning feeling lighter and more content than you remembered in a while.

It was surprising to find your apartment dark and quiet when you returned, as you had assumed Changkyun would be there waiting for you, like he always was. You had given him a key long ago, figuring there was no point in pretending like he didn’t spend all of his free time glued to your side, but not fully ready to give up the independence of living alone quite yet.

Sending him a quick text, you let him know that you’re home and about to catch up on sleep before your shift later. He replies quickly that he had fallen asleep at his place after a late night with Joohoney, but that he would be there once you got off work.

Nothing had felt out of the ordinary, and you felt energized enough from your nap to get ready quickly, getting to work much earlier than you normally would for a shift.

You should’ve known something was up the minute you walked into work and saw that Vanda had a shit eating grin on her face.

She kept sneaking side glances, watching you with a scrutiny that made you uneasy. She’s normally more obvious in her attempts to annoy you, and her passive aggressiveness is setting your teeth on edge.

After the third glare and giggle on your way to drop off more drinks, you decide you’re going to confront her and ask her what her deal is, when she beats you to it.

“Did you have fun last night?” Vanda questions, a stupid smirk on her face.

“Why do you care?”

“Seemed like Changkyun did,” she continued, like you hadn’t asked a question. Your stomach dropped.

Raising a brow, you wait for her to go on, not wanting to give her any more satisfaction. She clearly knew something that you didn’t, and she was already well aware of that fact.

“How much did he actually end up winning last night? I mean, him and Joohoney were upstairs until last call, and he seemed pretty happy when he left.”

Instantly, your throat tightens, unease now unfurled into full blown anxiety. He was here last night? If he was here last night, and with Joohoney upstairs, no less…

“I didn’t manage to hear how much he won, just that Changkyun shouldn’t worry, because you would never find out.”

It was enough. You had heard enough.

It was surprising how quickly you switched into autopilot, spinning on your heel and striding out of the room before your throat tightens, before your vision fully blurs. Vanda says something more behind you, a lilt of concern in her voice, but you can’t hear her, not anymore.

Your mind quiets as your body takes control, moving you to find your manager to tell her that you need to leave, before grabbing your purse and coat, and leaving the lounge. Turning towards your apartment, your rage fuels your step, gut churning with the betrayal of knowing the only reason why Changkyun would be upstairs at Yvonne’s last night, why he would be leaving looking so pleased with himself.

The wind bit at your face, chapping your lips, but you didn’t care; needing the night air in your lungs and for the anger to be burned out in your movement before seeing him.

Because once you walked out your anger and faced the betrayal, you would need to deal with the deep seated fear for Changkyun’s safety, and how the hell you would be able to protect him now.

Changkyun wasn’t expecting you so early when you barged into the apartment, and the mix of confusion and excitement quickly bled away once he saw the look on your face.

He strides towards you, grabbing your shoulders, concern knitting his brow. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

Blinking, you allow yourself a moment to stare at him, to drink in his full mouth and stupid handsome face, before you swallow around the knot in your throat.

“Tell me it isn’t true, Changkyun.”

You hate how your voice sounds; weak and strained and like you’re just bone deep tired, defeated. Maybe you are.

“What are you talk-”

“Tell me that you weren’t upstairs at Yvonne’s last night,” you sigh, irritated with the ruse. “Tell me that you didn’t go and do the exact thing that you promised me you wouldn’t, and that I didn’t have to find out from fucking Vanda, of all people.”

Pulling away, you slide from his grasp, tucking your arms around your middle so that you wouldn’t be tempted to reach back out for him. It was tortuous, how much you want to reach for him, even when your heart is breaking.

“Sweetheart, I just- it was just going to be one last time, one last game. The pot was too good, it was enough to get you set up, so you could quit,” he lets the sentence hang, almost waiting for you to interrupt, but when you stay silent, he continues. “Joohoney made sure everything was good, and we won just enough to get what we needed, not enough to rock too many boats. I had it under control.”

Closing your eyes, you let the last sentence settle around your shoulders like a heavy weight, the same old feelings bubbling up. “It wasn’t about you being in control or not, Changkyun. It was about listening to me, actually listening to me. You promised.”

It was on the last word that you broke, that the tears started to fall, and for once you didn’t turn away, wanting him to see.

“You promised me you would stay away, and then you didn’t. You hid it. You thought you knew what was best for me, instead of just listening to me.”

Pain laces Changkyun’s face as he takes a step towards you, only pausing when you take an equal step backwards. “I’m so sorry, I don’t think I know better, I just-”

“Please leave. I’m done.” Your voice is low but measured, certain.

“Baby, please, let me just explain, and- and-”

“I don’t want to hear an explanation. I want you to leave.” Tears continue to fall, but you don’t drop his stare, willing him to understand just how serious this all is, how serious you are.

He wants to fight it, wants to say more, but something in your eyes must convince him, because he keeps his mouth shut. Instead, he moves back to the couch, grabbing his coat and phone, before making his way to the door. His gaze is mournful as he gives you one last look, lingering, before shutting the door behind him.

You aren’t sure how long you stand there, unmoving, before the autopilot kicks back into gear, forcing your limbs to move. Heading towards your room, you place your phone on the charger before you curl into your bed, surrounding yourself with the blankets and the lingering scent of Changkyun.

And then you let yourself break down.

Changkyun was drunk. Too drunk.

He shouldn’t have taken that last shot, especially not after that last drink from the bar. It was too much, but fuck it. Who cares?

“I’m not sure what I’m doing,” he mumbles to himself, not caring how crazy he looks. He wishes someone would just give him some direction, tell him what he would need to do in order to fix this.

He didn’t listen. He never listens.

And now he’s lost the only good thing he’s ever fucking had, the only reason he got up each morning and what’s the point, if you’re gone?

Fuck. Fuck.

Sliding down low in the booth, he lets his head hang, the whisky glass precariously dangling in his hand. His body felt so heavy, so numb, and yet the anguish deep in his chest only worsened, throbbed along to music blaring in the club.

If only he could apologize, he’d beg for mercy, he’d promise he’d never fuck up like this ever again. Explain how you were right - how he doesn’t need the money, or any of that shit, as long as he had you.

He needs you.

His heart is in a vice grip, squeezing so tightly that he thinks he might explode from his body, his skin, until he’s nothing but red.

Pain suddenly licks up Changkyun’s palm, and he looks down to see the glass cup gone. In its place are thousands of tiny shards, twinkling in the dim club lights, reflecting everything back to him. More red, but this time welling in his palm, pooling in the deep lines of the skin.

“What the fuck, are you alright dude?”

Changkyun thinks it’s Joohoney who asks him, or maybe it’s Hyungwon? It doesn’t matter either way, because it’s not you.

He goes to stand, to ask for a bandage or a rag or something, but instead his vision blurs, the room spinning. And then he’s flat on his back, blinking up at the cacophony of lights, faces coming in and out of focus, but not the one he needs, not the one he’s looking for.

He can faintly hear his friends talking to him, feel them digging in his pockets for his phone, but he can’t be present anymore. It’s too torturous, too heavy. Much easier to close his eyes, to think about your face. To let himself get lost forever.

He’s happy to die here on the floor of this stupid club, imagining your smile, your laugh, your lips as you say his name.

Changkyun just wants to take care of you, just wants to give you everything that you deserve. How can he do that if he’s here? If he can’t listen?

He lets the darkness swallow him.

Changkyun isn’t sure where he is.

He feels like he got hit by a truck, his head specifically feeling like it had been trampled on, though it’s his right palm that's aching in time to his pulse.

Without moving, he opens his eyes slowly, trying to take in his surroundings. It’s dark, wherever he is, and his head is propped on a pillow, body stretched out on a couch. He can see a small trash can directly in front of him, as if whomever brought him here wasn’t sure if he’d be capable of finding a bathroom if the contents of his stomach decided to make a reappearance, and he groans.

Fingers swipe through his hair, easing the pounding in his skull by a fraction.

“Hi, sleepyhead. How are you feeling?”

Changkyun thinks he has to still be sleeping, must be having a very good dream if it’s your voice he’s hearing, your scent he’s inhaling as he settles onto the pillow. He smiles to himself, not wanting to speak and having the dream fade too soon.

“Changkyun? Are you going to answer me?” This time, you peer over him, leaning down to stroke his face. You let your fingers linger briefly on his cheekbone before lightly touching his lips.

His eyes snap open.

“Is this real?” He asks, voice hoarse, gaze searching your own. He doesn’t feel strong enough to sit up quite yet, but you don’t seem to want to make him, either. “Are you really here?”

“Technically, you’re here at my place, but yes, it’s real.” You reply, your nails sliding back up to his hair to give his scalp a soothing scratch.

He swallows as he stares at you, as he drinks in the tenderness in your eyes that he thought he wouldn’t get a chance to see again. It took him a moment before he recognized your apartment in the dim light, and another more before realizing the pillow he’s laying on is settled in your lap.

Even knowing that this was real, that you truly let him back in, he was still too scared to speak, not wanting to scare you off. Not wanting the moment to end.

When he finally gathered enough courage, he cleared his throat.

“I’m so, so fucking sorry, sweetheart. You’re right. I don’t listen. I hear what you say, and then just act like an ass who thinks he knows everything.” Changkyun swallows thickly. “The only thing I do know is that you’re my everything. You’re all I need. Please, don’t give up on me yet.”

His pleas make your eyes well, and you force yourself to take an even inhale before speaking.

You want to tell him that you couldn’t give him up, that you had tried because you knew it would be easier in the long run, but your heart wouldn’t allow it. You want to say that you had regretted telling him to leave the moment the words left your lips, that you hadn’t meant them. You want to say that you were just so tired of not being heard, of people making decisions for you.

Instead, you roll your eyes playfully. “Now why would I do that, after all the trouble I went through to patch up your hand while you were black out?”

You will tell him those things, but later. When the sting of last night had faded a bit from both of your memories, and the impact intended can land.

He gives you a small grin, meeting your gaze. His hand - the bandaged one - raises slowly, tentatively, until it’s cupping your cheek.

“I just wanted to give you the world,” Changkyun murmurs, almost reverently. “I will give you the world, the right way. It might take me longer, but I will.”

His words soften you more, and you reach for his other hand, pulling him up until he’s facing you. He’s slow to move, the onset of a hangover taking hold, but eventually he settles sitting upright, eyes still intense on your own.

He is always trying to take care of you, trying to lessen your burdens. You know you’re not the best at accepting the help, but dammit, you were trying. For him. And he was trying for you, too.

You lean forward until your foreheads are touching, breaths mingling.

“I already have it, stupid.”

He kisses you then, a gentle press of lips that quickly builds, as everything always does with him. A push and a pull. Changkyun leans away slightly, grins against your mouth. “I’m an idiot, but you already knew that.”

“You’re my idiot. The rest is just noise.”

#changkyun x reader #changkyun smut #I.M. smut #I.M. x reader #IM x reader #monsta x smut #monsta x fanfic #monsta x x reader #ksmutclub #im changkyun #i.m monsta x #my writing #fic: god dammit i like it #fic: gdili

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zepskies · 1 year ago

Text

Code Red

Pairing: Boaz Priestly x Female Reader

Summary: When you call him for help, Priestly realizes that he finally has the relationship of his dreams.

AN: So I didn’t think I’d ever write for this character, but it was prompted by a lovely anon and encouraged by my friend @thatonewriter15! I hope you enjoy. ❤️

Song Inspo: “Perfect” by Ed Sheeran. “I’ve found a love…”

Word Count: 1,500 Tags/Warnings: Period talk, suggestiveness, mega fluff

He was in the zone.

Four six-inch double buffalo chicken clubs with banana peppers on whole wheat bread (gross, but he wasn’t the one eating ‘em), two spicy Italians, and a tuna on rye.

Priestly wrapped them up with practiced precision and slid them down the line to Piper, Mission Impossible-style. She smiled at his antics and took them and brought them over to Tish at the register.

Priestly had another turkey and provolone on his docket, hold the mayo, when his cell buzzed in his pocket. Today he actually did have pockets. As in, he was wearing joggers, boots, and a graphic tee that said: NO TEQUILA, NO ENTRY.

He swiveled his phone in his hand like a drummer with a drumstick. He smiled when he saw your name flashing across the screen, and he answered it.

“Hey, Beautiful. What’s up?” he asked.

“Boaz, I need you,” you said. To his ears, your voice was sultry, and a bit strained.

He perked up with raised eyebrows.

“What’s holding up the turkey and cheese?” Piper asked.

Boaz held up a finger to the blonde and tucked the phone between his ear and shoulder. His hands busied themselves with the next sandwich order, but he was all too attentive to your every word.

“Oh yeah?” he replied to you. His smile deepened. “Well, that’s convenient. Because I’m craving some of you, baby.”

You gave a breathy chuckle. “Normally I’d take you up on that, but no. I need you. As in, I really need you to do something for me.”

Priestly arched a brow. His brain was already filling up with ideas of how he could best help you. He mentally took an inventory of the “tools” in your nightstand drawer, and which ones he could best use to his advantage when he—

“Uhh, well, I got about one more hour in my shift,” he said, lowering his voice, even as it deepened a notch. “But if Jen covers me, I can be outta here in half the time.”

“Oh my God, good,” you gasped. “I’m in so much fucking pain, you have no idea.”

Priestly blinked, and any thoughts of kinky fun times came to a screeching halt. Concern took over when he realized that the strain in your voice wasn’t from the sexy kind of need.

“What’s wrong?” he asked quickly.

“I’m out of Midol, my uterus is rioting like it’s a Vietnam War protest, and…oh yeah, I need more tampons too,” you said. “But I legitimately cannot move from this couch.”

Priestly couldn’t help but smile in amusement.

“Ech, I hear ya. Are we in a Code Green, Code Yellow, or Code Red situation?”

Jen glanced over at him from where she was mopping the floor, and she gave him a questioning look.

What’s wrong? she mouthed.

“Code Red, definitely,” you answered with a sigh.

Priestly grimaced in sympathy. He mouthed back to Jen, Code Red.

She nodded in female understanding, and raised a hand that said, Say no more.

“Okay, yeah,” Priestly replied to you. “Don’t worry, I got you.”

You released a sigh of relief. “And if you want to throw in a Snickers, I wouldn’t hate it.”

He chuckled at that one.

“You got it,” he said. “I’ll be home in T minus an hour, give or take.”

You groaned. “Can’t you just steal a DeLorean or something?”

“You know, I could, but that would mean I’d be going back further into the past before you even needed to call me, and I’d still probably be making sandwiches since I’ve been working here since damn near 2000 B.C. But you know what, they should really call that movie Back to the Present, since they don’t actually go to the future until—”

“Okay,” you had to laugh, even though it was edged with discomfort. “I’ll see you later.”

At the supermarket, after his shift at Beach City Grill, Priestly had most of the supplies he needed for a successful mission. All he was missing was his old enemy on Aisle 2.

Once again, he faced a wall of tampons. All bright colored boxes and numbers and sizes…

Okay, not Code Green, so not the slender ones that might as well be match sticks. Not Yellow, so no to Regular…ah! Here we are. Super Plus.

AKA: Code Red. Complete with leak guard, no latex. He grabbed the blue box and threw it into his basket of essentials, including no less than three assorted chocolate bars and a pint of Ben & Jerrys. He knew his girl, and you liked your Half-Baked ice cream with chocolate chip cookie dough and brownie pieces.

He brought over his haul to the checkout line. Sure enough, Gerry, one of the locals, was finally old enough to buy a case of beer by himself. He glanced at the blue box Priestly was taking out onto the conveyor belt and smirked.

“No slender regulars this time?” Gerry remarked.

Priestly’s smile was tight. “No, Gerald. Slenders are for pussies.”

“Literally,” the blonde beanpole snorted. “What, your girlfriend got a heavy flow this month?”

Priestly rolled his eyes, and his mouth pressed in a line. The word flow still kind of grated on him like nails on a chalkboard, but what irked him more was this guy imagining any part of your intimate parts.

“All right, my girl’s flow is none of your business,” he said. “Once you hit puberty and grow your first pubes, you’ll understand.”

Gerry floundered while Priestly continued on to make his purchases. Even the cashier was smiling, trying not to laugh as he silently gave Priestly his props for a burn well made. Priestly shot the guy a nod and a smile before he left with his spoils.

“Honey, I’m hoooome,” Priestly sing-songed.

He stepped through the door with his keys still jangling in his hand. He was trying to balance the big bag of groceries while closing the door to the apartment he shared with you.

Your head perked up from the living room couch, and your hand slowly curled up, beckoning him over. Priestly obliged you. He peered over the side of the couch and smiled at the way you were all curled up under a throw blanket, already in your pajamas, while FRIENDS reruns played on the TV.

“Finally,” you said with a tired smile. But not the kind of finally that just meant you were impatient for the goods he carried. The kind of finally that also meant you were happy to see him.

He laid a comforting hand on your head, leaned down, and pressed a kiss above your brow. You held him there by the collar of his shirt, prompting him to kiss you for real. Your hand moved up his tattooed neck and your nails gave the back of his head a little scratch, careful not to disrupt the blue mohawk.

He reluctantly pulled away from your lips, just enough to try and gauge how you were feeling.

“How’re you holdin’ up?” he asked.

“Like a beach umbrella in a hurricane,” you replied wryly. “You got the stuff?”

Priestly held the grocery bag tucked under his arm like it was a drug deal.

“Oh, I got the stuff, if you got the money,” he said.

You nodded, and your small smile turned mischievous. “I got your money, Big Man.”

With your hand delicately hooked behind his neck and the other gliding up his arm, he didn’t realize he was falling into a trap.

You tugged his arm hard enough to try and get him to fall over the back of the couch.

“Hey!” he yelped. Yet he also laughed while you tried your best to pull him overboard.

He had to toss the bag of groceries to the floor next to you, but he managed to get over and onto the couch without crushing you. He probably smelled like old sandwich and mayonnaise, but you didn’t seem to care.

You just helped him settle in behind you, with your back to his chest. This was the only way you’d find comfort for your lower back. It had been aching since you woke up this morning.

You grabbed his closest hand and guided it under your overlarge sleep shirt, then under the waistband of your panties. You laid his warm hand flat against your cramping lower belly.

Priestly pressed a kiss behind your ear and tucked his arm underneath your head. He felt the rise and fall of your sigh as you leaned back against him, and his smile softened.

“You’re gonna fall asleep without digging into your treasure trove,” he teased. “I even got your favorite ice cream.”

You glanced at him over your shoulder in interest.

“Half-Baked?” you asked.

“Yep, for extra brownie points. Eh? See what I did there?”

Your body shook with a quiet laugh. You reached your hand back to touch his bearded cheek this time. Your fingers toyed with his many earrings.

“Did you know that you’re my favorite human?” you said. “Like, ever?”

He smiled against your neck. “Could’a sworn I was your third favorite, behind Ben and Jerry.”

“Nope, just you,” you said, snuggling back further into his warmth. “Thank you, baby.”

Priestly realized then that he’d found it.

He’d really, honest to God found the life he didn’t think he’d get, with a woman who didn’t want him to change; who just wanted him to be here.

Though he smirked when you reached for the bag and dug out the pint of Ben & Jerry’s.

“That’s what I thought,” he said.

You giggled. “Shut up.”

AN: Priestly was such a fun character lol. I rewatched 10 Inch Hero this past week and this was the first thing I thought to write! If you liked this, let me know! (And if you want more Priestly.) 😘

Read the Prequel!

If you liked Code Red, read the start of their story:

▶️ The Miracle Man

Priestly Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Tag List:

(Lovelies from my "Everything" tag list. If you want to be tagged on Priestly stuff specifically, check out the Tag List link in my bio.)

@kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @ades106 @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @brianochka @branj19 @hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog

@globetrotter28 @charmed-asylum @waywardxwords @deanwinchestersgirl87 @this-is-me19 @rachiem4-blog @sweettimelady @leigh70 @clinicallydepresso @emily-winchester @xiphoidbones @skoveu @nyotamalfoy @kmc1989

#Code Red #10 Inch Hero #Boaz Priestly #Boaz Priestly x reader #Boaz Priestly x female reader #Boaz Priestly x you #jensen ackles characters #jensen ackles #Priestly x reader #Priestly x you #Priestly #Priestly x female reader #zepskies writes

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viking-raider · 1 year ago

Text

Thankful

Summary: For Thanksgiving, you decide to take part of a military support group event and host a Veteran, having them over for dinner. Forming a lasting bond with a certain Captain.

Pairing: Henry Cavill/Reader

Word Count: 3.8k

Warning: G - Cotton Candy Goodness, Angst, Mention of Loss of Family Member, Mourning, Cold Mother, Embarrassed!Reader, Hurt/Comfort, Alcohol Use, Fluff, Friendly Bets, Southern Charm

Inspiration: It’s for Thanksgiving. 🍗

Author’s Note: I hope you enjoy this! Line divider by @FIREFLY-GRAPHICS! My Syverson's first name is Austin.

If you would like to get notifications for my writing! Just follow my Tag List blog, @VIKING-RAIDER-TAGLISTand turn on the notifications for it! It’s that easy! @VIKING-RAIDER-LIBRARY

You had received the message from one of the countless Military support groups you were a part of about the Sponsoring a Veteran for Thanksgiving event, and if you were interested in participating. You had hesitated for a couple days, before finally caving. You didn't have much family left of your own, just your mother. Since your father passed, when you were a kid and your only sibling, a brother, had been killed in the line of duty. Which was why you were a member of the support groups, looking to keep a closeness to him, and find some sort of peace with his death.

“All right.” The lead organizer, retired Lieutenant Sarah Timmans, sighed, looking over her clipboard at the list of names of all the Veterans that had been signed up for the event. “Your mother knows you're hosting a Vet, right?” She asked, cocking a brow at you, knowing how sensitive and touchy your mother was still about being around anything directly Military.

“I told her, I was bringing a friend over.” You answered, biting your lip nervously, knowing your mother's own mood swings on the subject.

“Girl, she's going to flip out on you.” Sarah said, shaking her head, eyes bulging. “Maybe, you should just do something one-on-one with them?” She suggested, trying to bypass a disaster.

“She's expecting us, and I'll get an earful, if I skip another family gathering.”

Sarah snorted at you, smirking. “It's your KP!” She teased, going down the list to find your name and who you'd been assigned. “So, your Vet is Captain Austin Syverson. He just retired seven months ago after nineteen years in the service of the U.S Army. Special Forces.” She informed you, looking up from the clipboard to scan the crowded room for a moment.

“Ah, there he is!” She smiled, motioning behind you.

Turning around and following her gaze, you were surprised for a moment, standing on the other side of the room, in a small cluster of other Vets, was a tall, thickly muscular guy, with a shaved head and well groomed beard. Everything about him exuded authority, self-confidence and calm. He was so damn handsome in his pair of dark wash blue jeans, brown cowboy boots and fleshly ironed, black dress shirt that was tucked in, showing off his belt buckle. Your insides tingled as you stared at him, throat going dry.

“Damn, that's a Texas boy.” You mumbled under your breath.

“Sure is.” Sarah agreed, checking him out as well. “You should go introduce yourself, before he thinks you stood him up.” She added, a hint of encouragement in her voice.

“God, you're right.” You started, frightened he just might, then weaved through the crowd towards him, pausing for a moment, until he noticed you. “Hi there.” You beamed up at him, your knees like a nervous jelly.

“Ma'am.” Syverson greeted you back with a Southern drawl, tipping his head forward.

“I'm your host, Captain Syverson.” You informed him, introducing yourself.

“Oh.” He replied, giving you a proper look over, a smile pulling over his lips as he took your lovely figure in the white, knee-length dress covered in delicate yellow flowers, paired with black flats. “It's a pleasure to meet you.” He said, his bright blue eyes meeting yours once more. “You can just call me, Sy.”

“Nice to meet you as well, Sy.” You answered, cordially extending your hand.

Smirking broader, Sy gently took your hand in his, shaking it. “I'm grateful that you've allowed me impose myself on you and your family's holiday.”

“Oh, it's quite all right.” You waved it off, shrugging your shoulders. “It's really just me and my mom, so nothing major.”

“Well, I'm just a Captain, so it'll literally be nothing Major.” Sy quipped, making the group around him crackle at the inside joke.

You dropped your head, hiding your amused smile, knowing the two of you were more than likely to get along, if he had that sense of humor. “Fair.” You nodded, lifting your head. “More than fair. Well, we can leave whenever you like.”

Sy turned over his wrist to glance at his watch. “We can go now, if you like.” He replied, twisting to a chair that was behind him and picking up a black, denim Sherpa coat off the back. “I'll see you boys later. Have a good Thanksgiving.” He bid the men, patting a couple on the shoulder, before following you out of the building.

“You can follow me to my place or we can ride together.” You told Sy, standing on the sidewalk with him, chewing on your lip.

“I can follow.” Sy answered, smiling down at you. “My truck's just over there.” He said, motioning over to the big, 2021 Dodge Ram, parked a short distance away.

“Okay. I'm just right there.” You informed him, pointing out your little KIA Niro.

“On your lead then, Major.” Sy quipped, winking at you, before heading off towards his truck.

“Christ,” You huffed, watching after him for a moment, your hand moving up to a necklace around your neck. “He reminds me so much of you, Phelan.” You sighed, then made for your vehicle.

Pulling out of the parking space, your phone started to ring, so you connected the car's Bluetooth. “Mother.” You answered, glancing in your rear-view, to make sure Sy was behind you, before you started out of the parking lot and into the street.

“How much longer are you going to be?” Your mother snapped through the car's speakers.

“I'm just leaving now, mom.” You sighed, pressing your lips together. “I had to find my friend and now we're heading there now. We should be there in about ten or so minutes.”

“Why is he spending Thanksgiving with us? Doesn't he have his own family?” She demanded, clearly pacing the house.

“I'm sure he has a family, mother. But I invited him over to ours and he accepted. So, please, be nice to him. He's a very polite and outstanding person, who doesn't need to be pestered and guilt tripped, or reminded his mother is lucky, that her son is still alive and not in the military and so on.” You hoped to warn and deter her from her usual interaction with the males she came into contact with. “Let's just have a nice dinner, for once.”

“How can we, when your brother isn't here.” She growled, then the line went dead.

“At least, I'm here.” You sighed, deflated by her words. “I should really warn Sy before we get into the house.” You thought, then pushed that unpleasantness aside.

Sy managed to keep behind your car, drumming his thumbs on the steering wheel. He felt a little nervous about going to a random, pretty young lady's home to have Thanksgiving dinner with her mother. However, he didn't have any other plans for the holiday under his belt, other than staying on the ranch he'd started up on his return home with Aika.

“Idle hands are the devil's workshop.” He commented aloud, following you off the on-ramp.

It would have just been him and his pup, working the horses all day, before making another ten minute meal and sitting in front of his laptop, since he still hadn't gotten around to buying himself a proper tv for the living room. So, he let one of his buddies nag him into signing up for the event. Sy wasn't at all disappointed either.

You were more than easy on his eyes.

Finally making it outside your place, you got out and met Sy in your driveway, shifting glances between him and the front door.

“Are you all right?” Sy asked, squinting down at you.

“Okay, look.” You blurted out, not looking back at him. “My mom is super touchy about the military.” You started to explain to Sy, giving him an embarrassed glance.

“Why?” He frowned, confused.

Your shoulders slumped slightly and a tired expression washed over your face. “My brother died in Afghanistan six years ago. My mom has taken that to her heart and soul. So anything military tends to set her off.”

“Then, should I even be here?” Sy asked, concerned about causing your mother any distress.

“It's my house and you're my guest.” You told him, bluntly. “I want you here for dinner. It'll be nice to have someone over that might actually engage with me.” You said, heading up the footpath towards the front door. “And not remind me that I'm not my dead, older brother.” You added under your breath, but Sy's sharp ear heard you all the same.

“Mom!” You called out, toeing off your shoes as you stood in the entry with Sy. “We're here.”

“Took long enough.” Her voice echoed back somewhere in the house.

You looked up at Sy. “I'm so sorry.” You mouthed, shaking your head.

“It's all right.” He smiled, his hand touching the back of your arm.

“Do you want something to drink?” You asked, showing him into the kitchen and pulling open the fridge. “Got wine, a couple bottles.” You twisted your upper half to peek at an upper shelf. “Looks like she's left my Ardbeg whiskey alone.”

“I wouldn't mind a little whiskey.”

Nodding, you shut the fridge and got down two glasses with the whiskey bottle. “Straight or on the rocks?”

“What are you having?” Sy asked, leaning back against your sink, a twinkle of mischievous curiosity in his eyes.

“The rocks.” You answered, a playful smirk tugging on your lips.

Sy drew a breath in through his nose, pressing his lips together as he nodded. “Impressed.”

“Thank you.” You chuckled, grabbing a couple ice cubes from the freezer and dropped them into your glasses, then poured you and Sy a generous amount of amber liquid. “Here you go.”

“Thank you, ma'am.” Sy tipped his head, taking the glass from you and took a sip. “Damn, that's smooth.”

“Mmm, for a twenty year old bottle, it should be.” You snorted, taking a gulp of yours.

“Twenty years.” Sy choked slightly. “Damn, almost as long as I was in--” He caught himself, eyes shooting to the two kitchen entrances. “Well, you know.”

“Yeah.” You nodded, a little stiff, praying your mother was lurking nearby, and polished off your drink, before moving over to the oven, revealing a nice sized turkey, just starting to turn a golden brown, filling the kitchen with a mouth-watering scent. “I started this about an hour and a half ago, so it should have about another hour or so to go. While it does that, I can show you around.”

“And, if you're as much of a Texan as I think you are, I'll pop the football game on.”

“You don't have to put the game on.” Sy laughed, feeling called out. “We can watch whatever you and your mother want. I'd hate to impose.”

“Captain Austin Syverson, you're not imposing.” You informed him, putting your foot down.

Sy's eyes widened and he gave you a half smirk. “I do love a woman that takes charge. Yes, ma'am, if you say so.”

“Besides, I'd love to see the Chiefs kick the Cowboys ass.” You added, teasingly.

“Oh, you're a traitor to your home state!” Sy gasped, horror on his face.

“Texas isn't my home state.” You giggled at him, then tisked. “Kansas isn't either, to be far.” You snorted, amused by the banter. “But I like Mahomes.”

“What's wrong with Dak Prescott?”

“Nothing! He's a great QB. I'm just a Chiefs girl.”

“I may have to call this Thanksgiving off.” Sy said, draining his whiskey glass and set it on the counter behind him and pushed off the edge. “To eat at the same table as a Chiefs girl, may just be too much for this ol' Texas boy.”

You were worried for a moment that Sy was genuine, and felt terrible for bringing it up, until you finally noticed the look in his eye and relaxed. He had a dry humor and pulled it out on you, catching you good.

“Shoot, you had me there.” You chuckled, breathy.

He winked at you, amusing you more with his cute double blink.

“Well,” You sighed, looking at the kitchen. “This is the kitchen.”

“A very nice kitchen.” Sy echoed, nodding and rubbing a hand over the counter top. “Nice and clean.”

“Thank you, I do my best.” You replied, bowing your head. “Out that way is the dining room, where we'll be having dinner.” You said, motioning to your right, and Sy peeked in, finding a long, glass table already set for three people with nice little autumn decorations as a centerpiece. “Over here, is the living room, where we'll probably be starting our football rivalry.”

You showed him into the living room, just as your mother came downstairs, in nothing but a pair of loose shorts, a tank top and an open bathrobe, a half glass of white wine clutched in her hand. You felt a cold shard of embarrassment go down your back. You had hoped, when you told her you were going to get Sy, she would have dressed into something—anything.

“Mom, this is Sy.” You told her, keeping your voice even. “Sy, this is my mother, Dana.” You introduced them, chewing the inside of your lip to bits.

“Pleasure to meet you, ma'am.” Sy greeted her politely, nodding his head kindly, like nothing was out of place.

She looked Sy over, taking a gulp of her wine. “How do you and my daughter know each other?” She inquired, lifting a brow at him.

You stiffened, you hadn't considered fielding that question from her while Sy was over.

“Work.” Sy said, casually.

“So, she's your accountant?” Dana pressed and showed no sign of easing off.

“I am.” You chimed in, hoping to get her to drop the subject and leave Sy alone.

“That she is.” Sy confirmed, backing you up. “Helps me out with my ranch.” He told Dana, tapping that belt buckle at his waist, bearing the Hook Hill Ranch logo on it.

“Hmm.” Your mother grunted, not sounding convinced. “Why aren't you spending Thanksgiving with your family?” She asked, giving Sy a hard look.

“Mom!” You snapped, horrified.

“It's all right.” He assured you, giving you a soft smile. “I'm an only child. I've never known my father and my mother ran off, when I was ten years old, leaving me to be raised by uncle, her brother. He had a heart attack three years ago, while milkin' his cows. So, it's just me and my dog, Aika, nowadays. Your daughter was kind enough to ask me over to your Thanksgiving dinner, and I accepted.”

“Satisfied?” You asked, annoyed your mother caused Sy to divulge such personal information.

Rolling her eyes, your mother turned in a flare of her bathrobe and headed back upstairs.

“Turkey will be done in an hour!” You called after her, with no reply. “I'm so sorry.” You said, turning back to Sy.

“It's okay.” He said softly, more concerned for you. “Is there anything I can do to help you finish up with dinner?”

“Um,” You tapped your foot. “No, I don't think so. Besides, you're my guest. You should relax.” You told him, waving over to the couch. “I can handle everything.” You assured him, rounding the arm of the couch to swipe the remote of the coffee table and turned the tv on, quickly finding the football game. “Ooh, Cowboys are beating the Chiefs by two points!” You hissed, casting a glance over your shoulder at Sy.

Sy moved to join you, holding your gaze. “I bet you a round of drinks, at a later time, that the Cowboys beat your Chiefs.”

“Are you asking me out on a date, Syverson?” You asked, surprised.

“I am.” He admitted, unashamed.

“Then, you're on.” You grinned, giving him a cocky look. “But, if the Chiefs win, I want to see your ranch.”

“Bold.” Sy smirked, a chuckle rumbling in his chest. “I'll even cook for you.”

“Sold.” You agreed, extending your hand out to him.

He shook your hand, then sat down on the couch, getting comfortable to watch the game, while you returned to the kitchen. Pausing for a moment, you refilled his whiskey glass and took it out to him, giving him a soft smile as you set the cool glass down on a coaster and went back to prepping dinner. Sy watched you over the back of the couch, moving and bumping about, taking a deep breath and taking all the lovely smells of your hard work wafting towards him and making his belly rumble.

Lord have mercy, she's gorgeous.

“You sweet on my daughter?” Dana's voice came up behind him.

Sy's head swung around to look back at her, seeing she'd finally gotten dressed, now wearing a pair of black leggings and a loose, cream colored jumper, but no shoes or socks. “I just might be.” He answered, meeting her gaze head on. “She's a sweet, generous young lady.”

“Young lady, how old are you?” Dana huffed, dropping down into a recliner at the end of the couch.

“I'm thirty-eight.” Sy replied, with an odd amusement.

Dana looked Sy over, her gray eyes scrutinizing. “At least you're both in your thirties.” She huffed, curling her legs underneath her and glared at the tv.

What a curious woman. Sy blinked, shaking his head at her.

The two of them sat quietly, not speaking or interacting with each other any further. Which didn't bother either Sy or Dana. You peeked in at them from time to time, scurrying out to fill Sy's glass, whenever you noticed it was empty and always asking if he needed or wanted something, before vanishing back into the kitchen or dining room.

You wanted the dinner to be as great as possible for Sy, and your mother.

“Dinner is ready, everyone!” You declared, coming into the living room, glancing at the football score, discovering the Chiefs had recovered since the last time you'd entered, now ahead by four points.

“Smells delicious.” Sy complimented you, as he and your mother came into the dining room, finding the set table.

The turkey was juicy and golden-brown, slices already carved and on a plate beside it, with sides of stuffing, mashed potatoes, rolls and cornbread muffins, yams with marshmallows, peas and asparagus, accompanied with pecan and pumpkin pie. There were two decanters of red and white wine, a bottle of Ardbeg, and a pitcher of iced tea.

“Thank you.” You grinned with shy pride, biting the inside of your lip. “Sit wherever you like and dig in.” You said, motioning to the chairs around the table, before slipping into one.

Sy joined you, winking at you, as he picked up a plate and started helping himself, piling his plate with meat, rolls, yams and cornbread. “Mmm, this is amazing.” He hummed, nodding his head and chewing his mouthful of turkey and mashed potatoes.

You were giddy that Sy was so in love with your cooking, glancing towards your mother, who was at the end of the table. But found she was sipping a glass of red and nibbling on a buttered roll, to your slight dismay. Pushing the feeling away, you fixed your plate and dug in, moaning at how tasty it was.

“So, your team was winning.” Sy commented, giving you a side brow as he continued to eat.

“Yeah, I noticed.” You smirked, feeling bubbly, as you poured yourself some wine. “Looks like we'll be spending some more time together.”

“That it does.” He nodded, feeling your mother's eyes on him. “I'll have to show you the new foal that was born last week.”

A flood of excitement filled you, you loved the thought of seeing a baby horse. “Oh! I bet they're just the cutest thing on the planet!” You gushed, eyes bright with love already. “What did you name it?”

“Oh, I haven't named the little rascal, yet.” Sy laughed, watching you just gush. “Maybe, you could help me come up with a name for her?” He suggested, looking at you over the rim of his whiskey glass.

“Hmm.” You hummed, falling into a meditative state as you brewed over a name for the baby horse.

“So,” Dana cleared her throat, eyes narrowed between you and Sy. “You're a Rancher?”

“Yes, ma'am.” Sy nodded, turning to regard her, nothing by polite respect in his expression.

“How long have you been one?” She questioned, swirling the wine in her glass.

“Ranchin' has been in my family for generations.” Sy replied, not letting her trip him up. “My many great-grandfather came over from Ireland, just after the American Revolution. Then, when the Civil War happened, my family fought and were granted land at the end, for their service. We've been doing it ever since.”

“So, your family fought for the South.” Dana said bluntly, causing you to choke on your food.

“Mother.” You rasped, eyes practically popping out of their sockets.

“No, ma'am.” Sy said coolly. “We fought for the North.” He told her, and left it at that.

“Are you satisfied?” You asked her slowly, eyes still wide and mouth agape.

“No.” She answered, getting up and leaving the room.

“I'm so sorry, Sy.” You stuttered, ashamed of your mother.

“It's all right, love.” He shook his head, wiping his hands on his napkin. “It's not your fault. It's not hers either, really.” He said softly. “She's mourning her son, and doing so takes the form in many ways. That's how your Ma is coping with your brother no longer being on this Earth.” He told you, resting back in his chair and fixing his blue eyes on you. “You're coping by going to support groups and trying to understand the kind people that he was, that he worked with, that he died surrounded by.”

You bit your lip, a lump of emotion strangling you and blurring your eyes; Sy was right. You wanted to be surrounded by those like your brother. It was like still having him there, in a way. You felt the strong, rough warmth of Sy's hand slip into yours, squeezing it and rubbing his thumb over your wrist as the two of you sat there, quiet and surrounded by your Thanksgiving feast.

“You know,” Sy spoke, breaking the silence. “I could actually use an accountant for my ranch.” He said, smirking over at you. “Plus, how about drinks at my place, while you figure out a new name for my foal? Who cares who wins the game.” He chuckled, arching a suggestive brow at you.

“Are you hinting at a sort of date, Syverson?” You asked, playfully thumb warred him.

“It's possible.” Sy laughed, letting you pin his thumb. “Maybe, I'll even cook you Christmas dinner.”

“Oh, I think I'd like that.” You told him, grinning, thankful you'd decided to host him for Thanksgiving.

#Syverson #Captain Austin Syverson #Thankful *fic*#Thankful #Viking-Raider Fics #Captain Syverson x Reader #Captain Syverson/Reader #captain syverson #captain syverson fanfiction #Syverson x Reader #Syverson/Reader #Fluff #Cotton Candy Fluff #Thanksgiving #Thanksgiving Fic

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hintsofhoney · 2 years ago

Text

Radio and the Rain

Pairing(s): Dean Winchester x F!Reader

Summary: When a bad storm forces you and Dean apart on a hunt, he realizes just how much you mean to him.

Tags: 18+, smut, making love, p in v, all that jazz... nothing too crazy

Word Count: 2.4k

A/N: Hello, I'm back after almost 6 months. Moving across the country (again) among other big life events (all good ones!) gave me the worst writer's block of all time, but thanks to my friends (@soaringeag1e & @emoryhemsworth), writing this fic per their suggestion (based off Radio and the Rain by Chris Young) is what finally pulled me out of it! Beta'd by my angels @wayward-dreamer and @makeadealwithdean. Alright, hope you all enjoy, and I promise I'll be back again with more things soon!

You can also read me on Ao3!

DEAN WINCHESTER MASTERLIST | SUPERNATURAL MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

“Y/N!” Dean calls out, doubtful that you can hear him over the sound of the rain coming down as he tries to ignore the panic building inside him. His hair is stuck to his forehead from the downpour, water droplets streaming down his face as he tries to shield himself from the weather. It’s no use. He’s soaked to the bone – he’s not sure he could have worn enough layers to keep him dry, not in this storm – and the darkness of the forest seems to go on forever. He could have sworn there was a town nearby – some light pollution would be really helpful right about now – but he seems to be shit out of luck. Thunder booms above him, almost deafening, and he keeps on what he hopes is the right path, his heart rate steadily increasing. He needs to find you.

“Y/N!” he yells again after another minute passes. If he’s soaked, he can’t imagine what you must be. He remembers what you’re wearing; skinny jeans, a thin green t-shirt, a black faux leather jacket, hunting boots. Normally, he doesn’t complain about your refusal to wear more layers, but right now, ‘I told you so’ is on the tip of his tongue. He would need a large amount of hands to count how many times he’s told you to prepare for anything , and that a flimsy t-shirt and jacket weren’t gonna cut it, but in your defense, this storm came out of nowhere. He had to give you that, at least.

“Dean!” he whips his head around at the faint sound of his name making its way through the rain, and yells yours out once more before making his way towards your voice. His eyes are adjusted enough to the dark to where he can make out silhouettes of fallen trees ahead of him, stepping over them with little caution as you call out to him again. He has to make sure you’re okay. He has to get to you.

“I’m here, Y/N!” he yells, “Where are you!?”

“Dean!”

He hears it, clear as day from behind him. He turns around in time to see the outline of your soaked body appearing from behind the trees.

“Y/N!” He rushes to you, taking your cold hand in his, and you can’t tell if he’s relieved or angry to see you – or a little bit of both. You should have listened to him when he told you splitting up was a bad idea, but completing the hunt had been the only thing on your mind, Dean’s lectures about safety be damned. “Jesus, you’re freezing,” he comments, like he isn’t an icicle himself. He wants to say, ‘I told you splitting up was a bad idea’, but he holds his tongue. He can lecture you later.

He grabs you firmly by the shoulders, looking you up and down. “Are you okay?”

With the rain pouring down, he sounds like he’s whispering, even though you can tell he’s only a decibel away from full-on screaming. Lightning strikes in the distance, and you’re able to get a clear view of his face for a brief moment. Water streaming down his clenched jaw, hair soaked and plastered to his forehead, worried green eyes searching yours. They land on your cheek, which you think is bleeding thanks to the branch that smacked you in the face a few minutes ago, and you roll your eyes at his over-concern.

“I’m fine, Dean. It’s just a scratch.”

“C’mon,” he replies gruffly, pulling you into his coat in an attempt to shield you from the rain. “Baby’s got a first aid kit in the back.”

Ten minutes of walking later and you can make out Baby’s silhouette parked on the road on the other side of some trees. The rain seems to have gotten even worse – if that’s even possible – and the thought of being underneath some type of roof (Baby’s was just as good as any) where you’d have an opportunity to get dry was getting your tired legs through the last bit of your trek out of the muddy woods.

Your first step onto the dirt road comes with more rain as you come out from under the umbrella of trees. Dean opens the back door for you, ushering you inside and telling you not to worry about your shoes (something that he was usually a stickler about; he liked a clean car). To your surprise, he gets in behind you, quickly closing the door before the backseat can get even more wet. He leans over the front bench, fishing his keys out of his pocket, before starting the ignition and turning on the heat. The radio comes on as Baby starts up, and he lets it play as he opens the glove box and pulls out a flashlight, before sitting back and reaching underneath the driver’s seat for the first aid kit.

“Hold this,” he orders, turning on the light and handing it to you, the brightness of the bulb causing you both to squint as your eyes adjust.

“Dean, I told you, I’m fine,” you reiterate with an exhausted sigh, watching as he opens the white box in his lap.

“Shine it on your face, I need to get a better look.”

You roll your eyes, pointing the flashlight on your cheek, allowing Dean to grab the underside of your chin as he moves your head to the side and examines the damage.

“Needs to be cleaned,” he announces, letting you go and pulling out a small bottle of rubbing alcohol and gauze from the kit. You watch as he unscrews the cap and flips the bottle over, letting the cloth absorb some of the liquid before flipping it back and closing it. “This is gonna sting.”

He says that every time, and you chuckle softly in response. “Yeah, not my first time.”

He doesn’t even crack a smile. He grabs underneath your chin again, dabbing your wound with the cloth, and you’re too focused on his mood to even notice the sting. A minute passes by, and you’re sure it’s clean by now, but he seems to be on autopilot, jaw clenched and eyes both focused in on what he’s doing and glazed over at the same time.

“Dean,” you say gently, placing your free hand on top of his, stilling his movements and pulling him out of his trance. “I think it’s clean.”

Silence, except for the rain and the radio, which is quietly playing Is This Love by Whitesnake (not usually what this station plays, but it’s 2 a.m. and you figure they probably save the sappy 80s songs for this time of night).

And then, “You can’t do that.” His voice is barely above a whisper.

You furrow your eyebrows and tilt your head. “Do what?”

“Scare me like that. I didn’t – I thought –” he shakes his head, dropping his hand and placing the gauze back in the kit, along with the rubbing alcohol, before closing it and shoving it back under the seat. “Just – you can’t do that.”

“Dean, the storm came out of nowhere. We’ve split up on hunts so many –”

“And it’s never my idea!” he interrupts.

“What do you want me to say, Dean!? ‘I’m sorry that God decided to flood the earth again while we were out hunting werewolves’!? I am fine , okay? I can handle –”

He cups your face in his cold hands, careful to avoid the fresh cut on your cheek. “I don’t doubt that you can handle yourself. But I can’t lose you, do you get that?” His face is inches away from yours, and the flashlight slips out of your hands and onto the floor as your breath catches in your throat. The radio starts playing the all-too familiar beginning chords of Night Moves , and you can’t bring yourself to do anything but nod. Dean tucks a strand of wet hair behind your ear. “I can’t lose you,” he whispers.

“I know,” you reply breathily. You place your hand over his again. “You won’t, De.”

The corner of his mouth lifts up into a brief half smile – one that you would have missed had you not been watching his every move. His thumb brushes over your bottom lip with a feather-light touch, and all you can hear is the radio and the rain.

“Your lips are freezing,” he comments, not-so-subtly (in true Dean fashion).

“Shame there’s no way to warm them,” you whisper back, biting back a smile.

“Hm,” he smirks, leaning in. “I can think of a way.”

You close your eyes as his lips meet yours, instantly sending warmth back into your body. Night Moves is still playing, and you ignore the irony as you kiss him back like not freezing to death depends on it. It’s not your first kiss with Dean, but it’s the first one that feels like it really means something, like you could be more than just friends who hook up occasionally. His hands move from your face to your jacket, unzipping it before he helps peel it off your body, your wet skin making everything a thousand times harder. He carelessly throws it into the front seat before his lips move to your neck and he works on getting his own top layer off. He finds your sweet spot right under your ear, one that sends warm shivers down your spine, and then his hands are back on your body, finding their way underneath your soaked shirt, trailing up your sides. His palms feel warm against your skin, and you don’t know if it’s the heat blasting through the vents or the adrenaline pumping through your veins, but you’ve never been hotter.

The two of you separate for a few seconds and tug off the remainder of your clothes, everything landing in a nice pile on the front seat — muddy boots included. The cleanliness of his car is the last thing Dean is concerned about right now.

You feel a lot more comfortable naked — meaning, you’re only wet where you want to be now — and you lean back in the seat, your head resting against the door, as Dean hovers over you, taking you in. The flashlight on the ground was your only source of light with the moonlight blocked out by the storm still raging outside.

“You’re beautiful,” he states, not like an opinion, but like it’s an undeniable fact. Like if you were to look up ‘beautiful’ in the dictionary right now you’d find a picture of your face.

You smile. “Thank you.”

His finger traces your jaw bone, his thumb gently outlines the scrape on your cheek. “I don’t think it’s gonna scar,” he says. You love it when he’s like this: pure and unfiltered, saying exactly what he’s thinking when he’s thinking it.

You chuckle softly. “Good. Be real ugly if it did.”

His expression turns serious. “No it wouldn’t.” He states that like it’s a fact too, and you have no choice but to accept it.

“Okay. It would be pretty badass, I guess,” you concede.

He smiles and nods, leaning down to kiss you softly, quickly, before pulling back and whispering, “Yeah, it would.”

He trails his kisses down your jaw, neck, collarbone, and you catch the next song on the radio — Feels Like the First Time — and roll your eyes and try not to laugh because of course . You’re brought back to the present when Dean’s mouth wraps around your nipple, his tongue flicking over the hardened bud as your hands instantly come to grip his wet hair.

“Fuck,” you breathe, back arching off the leather seat, and he chuckles softly before releasing you with a ‘pop’.

“That’s the plan, sweetheart.”

You roll your eyes again, but they quickly close as he moves to give your right nipple some attention, gently pinching the other between his thumb and pointer finger. Your moans cause his cock to twitch, and you feel it against your inner thigh, imagining what it must look like right now.

“Please,” you beg, and you both know exactly what for. He gladly returns his lips to yours, before nestling himself comfortably (or as comfortable as one can get in the backseat of a ‘67 Chevy) between your legs, still damp and sticky from the rain. He kisses you hard as he enters you slowly, and you moan into his mouth as you adjust to his size. Nothing’s ever felt so good.

“Jesus,” he breathes, pulling away momentarily and bracing himself with one hand on the fogged up window as he bottoms out and stays there, looking down at you like you’re the only thing that matters to him, and right now, you are. “Mm, fuck .” He starts to move, letting his head fall into the crook of your neck, his hot breath and soft groans doing nothing to help stall the tightening coil in your abdomen. “‘m never letting you out of my sight again,” he whispers.

All you can do is nod; he feels so good, you never want him to stop.

“Can’t fuckin’ lose you,” he mumbles, his face coming to hover above yours as he cups your unscathed cheek with his free hand. “You hearin’ me?” He shakes his head. “I can’t.”

You nod again, a little more aggressively this time. “I know, Dean. You won’t,” you reassure him through unsteady breaths. It’s your turn to shake your head. “You won’t.”

You hadn’t noticed his thrusts speeding up, too lost in your emotions until he hits a spot that you didn’t even know you had.

“Oh, fuck ,” you hiss, arching your back. “Fuck, right there.”

He listens, picking up the pace ever so slightly, his lips on your neck again, his heavy pants in your ear. “Shit, sweetheart, you feel so good.” He’s breathing so hard it’s barely audible, but you hear it clear as day, and it’s what brings you to the edge.

“Fuck, Dean, I’m gonna —”

“Me too, me too.”

And then you’re tensing underneath him as a wave of pleasure washes over you, his cock twitching inside you as he fills you up, and he’s holding himself up on trembling forearms, desperately trying not to collapse on top of you as the exhaustion from the day finally hits you both like a tidal wave. Through heavy breathing you notice that it’s still pouring outside — probably deeming you stuck here on this no name road until it lets up — and that You Shook Me All Night Long is playing on the radio, and you can’t help but giggle softly and shake your head.

“What?” he questions, confused.

“I think both the weather and the radio are demanding that we go again.”

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#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester smut #dean winchester #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester fanfiction

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water-to-drink · 2 years ago

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Isn’t It Romantic?

(Pairing): Miguel O’hara x gn!Reader

(Synopsis): You can’t fall asleep so you decide to look out the window

(Tags/Warnings): Fluff, non sexual nudity, you’re naked in front of a window (no one sees you though), implications of boinking, Miguel is taller than reader (he’s 6’9/205 cm), ooc Miguel?, Miguel uses some Spanish words, and some foul language (lmk if I missed anything)

(A/n): First time writing for Miguel, well first time writing something other than Genshin. But I hope y’all enjoy this

────────── ☽♡☾ ──────────

Lights from neighboring buildings instantly make you regret opening your eyes due to them not being used to the light, but after trying and failing to go back to sleep you decided to occupy your time with something until you start to feel drowsy. Your hand feels around the nightstand for your phone, remembering you threw it on there in a haste. After a good while of helplessly feeling around you grab your phone, you could have just lifted your head up and have the lights coming from outside to help you see where your phone is, but that’s too much work for you right now. You tap the screen and wince at the sudden brightness

A bit past 3…

You put your phone on the bed, screen down and turn your attention towards the windows. Mainly the view right outside

You carefully slip out of your lover’s warm embrace and let the blanket fall off you, leaving you completely bare. With the how high up your apartment is you don’t have any reservations to being naked while looking out of the window. You did a lot more than this in front of this window, like what transpired just a few hours ago

The street below, once filled with cars and city buses now empty with the exception of a single car passing by. “The city that never sleeps?” That’s some bull, but it is nice to see the streets that are bustling in the waking hours be in a state of serenity for a good several hours. With this peace an unusual stillness hangs in the air, an ambiance one would see only in the dead off night. The mood helps amplify a sense of romance you get when looking at the buildings. It feels as if the world has stopped and the only people around are you and your lover, Miguel

Bad romance novel type cheesy, you know. But you just help but think that way

Sounds of rustling sheets and the creaking of the bed brings you out of your thoughts

“What are you doing out of bed?” Miguel asked with his voice husky from lack of use as he wrapped his muscular arms around your chest

“I couldn’t fall back asleep, but I’m fine. You should go back to bed, you barely sleep enough as it is.” You lightly scolded the towering man as you began to caress his arms. No matter how many times you committed his body to memory, you were still mesmerized by each groove, bump, and dip you felt

“Tú sabes, I can’t sleep without you by my side.”

“Damn, now I feel bad.” You chuckled

“Not your fault, mi amor.” He kissed the top of your head. “Pero, why are you looking out of the window?”

“I was thinking this view feels like something out of a romance novel, think about it. You and your lover lay in bed as the lights from the outside acts as the only illumination?”

“It does.” You felt him smile against your scalp

“And the city is beautiful at night, don’t you think?”

“Sí, pero… I would rather look at something more beautiful.”

“God, Miggy…” You mumbled as you buried your face into Miguel’s upper arm. You know he’s referring to you which makes you want to hide your flustered expression from him despite him not having a good view of your face

“I mean it, but in all seriousness you need to go back to bed.” You hummed in acknowledgment as Miguel unwrapped his arms. “Vente, culo grande.” He said while playfully patting your butt

“Hey! I should be calling you that, your ass is bigger than mine!!” You laughed out

God, how you love this man

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o’hara fluff #miguel o’hara x reader fluff #atsv x reader #across the spiderverse x reader

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ivenhae · 25 days ago

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AFTER LIKE

Pairing: Hot nerd?Heeseung x Fem!Reader

cw: cursing + kissing, slight skinship

📗: heeseung being a nerd doesn't have any significance, just for the plot of hee with glasses🫣 mainly fluff but angst if you squint lololll, reader is a bit shy and heeseung is kinda cocky? height difference (reader is short obvi), reader calls hee a stupid nerd, let me know if there's something else💋

Mentions of Jake and Jay from ENHYPEN.

Inspired by: After Like - IVE

💌: originally written for karina from aespa but it was so heeseung coded too so i decided to make his ver as well! this is my first writing work so i hope you like it and let me know if you would like to be tagged in my future works! -love, unika🩷

Divider credit: @cafekitsune ♡

read KARINA ver!

또 모르지 내 마음이

저 날씨처럼 바뀔지

날 나조차 다 알 수 없으니

Who knows?

My mind might just change like the weather

Even I don't know myself.

New years eve, what was so special about this thing anyways? It's just another year after all... Heeseung thought, swirling the pen around his fingers as he studied or rather just stared at the book on the desk. His mind wandered back to his orignal thought, you. He closed the book, huffing in frustration, you must be in at the party that you were going on and on about earlier, your eyes twinkling in enthusiasm as you described the dress you were planning on wearing later, "shit..." He mutters under his breath as he remembers the picture you showed him, a mirror selfie of you in that pretty baby pink, spaghetti strapped dress that stopped right above your knee. The dress was modest, just like you but it was enough, enough to drive a man or him, crazy. "You have to be there hee!" He remembers the way you chimed looking up at him with those damn doe eyes as you tugged on his sleeve and then he saw your face fall when he declined, "Can't Y/n, I have..." He trails off getting lost in your eyes for a moment before he catches himself, clearing his throat as he shakes his head "...I have to study" That cute pout on your face as you huffed before starting about how he should enjoy himself and that it's new years eve, which he didn't pay any attention to because he was too busy staring at your cute face. "what am I even doing?" He mumbles as he finds himself standing in front of his closet, staring at the pile of clothes.

그게 뭐가 중요하니

지금 네게 완전히

푹 빠졌단 게 중요한 거지

That doesn't matter

What matters is

I'm into you right now.

God, why did he have to be such a coward? He thinks, his hands clenching on his sides as he stands outside Jake's house. The feeling of his heart beating rapidly and the loud music from inside only adding to his nervousness, he had been to his friend's house countless times for countless parties, then why is he so nervous today? "Oh? Aren't you a little too early?" Heeseung's met with Jake's sarcasm as he walks in the house, he rolls his eyes as they hug, Jake pulls back before taking a look at Heeseung, "You look good! But man you're so late! I thought Y/n said you had to study or something" Heeseung sighs, "Yeah I..." Heeseung trails off, he takes a deep breath before continuing "Jake, I think I'm gonna tell her..." He says softly, looking at Jake as if asking him if it's a good idea. Jake eyes widen, "Really? Don't tell me that's the only reason why you came here..." Jake gives him an aww expression before continuing, "You know what? She hasn't been enjoying herself at all today and I think...its because you weren't here" Heeseung raises an eyebrow, nibbling on his bottom lip nervously, "Really? You...you think so?" Jake flashes him a smile as he nods, "Really bro, and it's new years eve! Don't you think it's the perfect time to tell her how you feel? And it's..." Jake takes a look at the time on his phone before turning to Heeseung, "It's almost 12..." He says softly, Heeseung's eyes widen slightly, he turns to look at the stairs then back at Jake who just nods at him, patting his back. Heeseung mouths a 'thank you' before making his way up the stairs. He steps out on the rooftop, his eyes scanning among the people to look for you, oh. There you are, and ofcourse you're with Jay. He has a hand on your waist as you have yours on his shoulder. The beating of his heart is faster than the loud song playing as he watches you with him, he stays there, the ache in his chest only increasing, but then he sees Jay lean in closer to you and it's his final straw, something inside him snaps and he's already making his way past the crowd striding towards you.

아마 꿈만 같겠지만 분명 꿈이 아니야

달리 설명할 수 없는 이건 사랑일거야

Seems like a dream but it’s definitely not

Can't explain it, it must be love.

"What?" "I said I'm leaving!" You place a hand on his shoulder as you repeat, trying to make yourself audible over the loud music. "Huh? It isn't even 12 yet Y/n!" He places a hand on your waist unconsciously as he leans in, almost yelling so that you could hear him. "I know but...the person who I was dressed up and here for isn't even here...I...I feel stupid" You say, you don't know why you told him that, but you did. Jay looks at you with an arched eyebrow, as if waiting for you to explain further, you sigh stepping back slightly before looking up at him, "Heeseung! That...stupid stupid nerd who just can't seem to understand my stupid stupid hints! I'm always trying to look good so that he sees me... trying to drop hints and make him realise that i like him but he's just doesn't get it! Always just being there...looking so...so good!" You huff, a soft pout on your lips, Jay chuckles softly shaking his head before his smile fades slowly "Y/n-" "No it's okay!" You shake your head as you start stepping back slowly. "I'll just go home and spend this stupid-" You pause as you bump into someone, before you could turn to say sorry, you feel hands grabbing your waist "Just exactly how many times did you say stupid?" You gasp softly as you hear his soft voice and feel his warm breath on your ear, moving back slightly as you turn around, there he is, in that stupid black shirt with his stupid glasses, the sound of Jay clearing his throat behind you brings you back to reality, "Uh yeah, that's what I was trying to say, you two can talk I'll just..see you guys after midnight, I guess" Jay says awkwardly before walking away, but none of you move, just standing there and appreciating each other. "Stupid nerd huh?" Heeseung breaks the silence first, a cocky smirk on his face and his head tilted to the side, oh he's giving you that cocky expression that makes you feel the butterflies in your stomach "I...I didn't mean it like that..." "I know" Heeseung sighs as he moves closer to you, his fingers gripping on your chin gently as he tilts your face up, making you face him, "You look beautiful...did you mean it angel?" Angel? Fuck. "That you're a stupid...no! Ofcourse-" He chuckles softly, cutting you off, "No, That you dress up all pretty...for me? That you like me?" Your eyes widen slightly as you look away, "Nuh-uh, look at me angel, I need to know, please." Your breath hitches at his words as you slowly turn your gaze towards him again, "I...yes..." You whisper softly and he lets out a breath he didn't even know he was holding until now, he leans in, his fingers still holding your chin as his eyes bore into yours through his stupid glasses, "Guess I am a stupid stupid nerd that I couldn't even understand that a pretty pretty girl like you liked me too huh?" Wait. Did he just say, too? "Too? h-hee..."

방금 내가 말한 감정 감히 의심하지 마

그냥 좋다는 게 아냐 what's after 'Like'?

Don't try to doubt what I just said

It's beyond like, what's after like?

As if on cue, the music suddenly dies down, "Everybody! Time for the final countdown!" Someone yells as the countdown begins 10...9...8...7... You both turn to look at each other again, Heeseung swallows, his eyes flickering to your lips then back to your eyes again,

You and I

It's more than 'Like'

L 다음 또 O 다음 난 yeah, yeah, yeah

"I like you Y/n and fuck, I think it's more than like" Your breath hitches yet again at his confession, 6...5...4...3... You somehow find your courage, arms wrapping around his neck as you look up at him,

You and I

It's more than 'Like'

What's after 'Like'?

"What's after like?" 2...1... Heeseung's hands cup your face as he leans down, capturing your lips with his own in a sweet kiss, your arms tighten around his neck, pulling him closer as you both get surrounded by loud cheers and fireworks, when you finally pull away, his thumb brushes on your cheek softly, an adoring smile on his face as he looks at you, his voice a soft whisper, "Love."

-likes and reblogs are very much appreciated🫣🩷

#ivenha writes 🩷#enhypen drabbles #enhypen imagines #enhypen x reader #enhypen x female reader #enhypen x y/n #enhypen fluff #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen fic #enhypen angst #enhypen heeseung #heeseung x reader #heeseung x female reader #heeseung fluff #heeseung angst #heeseung drabbles #heeseung imagines #enhypen scenarios #Spotify

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reverieblondie · 1 year ago

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Neighbors

Chapter 2: Heroic Spiders

Part 1, Part 2 , Part 3 Part 4

Pairing: TASM!Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings: Burglary and knife being held to readers throat.

Summary: First day at work and your trying to keep a positive mindset despite your irritating neighbor messing with you. Whatever you just have to ignore it and keep going!

A/N: Sorry I've been behind on posting, I got sick with the flu for a week and that has made me behind. But I have four fics in the works currently! I am enjoying writing this series its a good pallet cleanser and has been helping me get all my cheesy rivalry romance ideas out. Hope your enjoying it! If you have a request please drop it in my inbox! I love getting ideas and interacting with all of you! If you want to be tagged for this series or anything else please leave a comment asking! Thank you so much for your support!

Word Count: 3,751

Chapter 2: Heroic Spiders

Cockroaches….that damn neighbor must have just been messing with you…

Exhausted, your neighbor's little comment had compelled you to spend the rest of the night checking every surface where a cockroach could be hidden, only to be met with nothing. Maybe he had done it just to stress you out, what a jerk…whatever, just avoid him, that should be easy.

Though you can’t get too wrapped in thinking of your smartass neighbor right now, you need to focus on getting ready for work. The job you managed to land was at a bar in the neighborhood with an owner who seemed nice and paid decently; though you were still on the hunt for a second job, New York is an expensive place to live and your scholarship can only help you so much.

Being a bartender was easy for you, it was one of the first jobs you got when you started going to school, plus there were always bars near campuses. There is also the fact that for your school schedule getting to work nights worked out best for you. Bartending was fairly simple and getting your certification was easy enough, yes you had the occasional creeps at the bar but usually, it was an overall safe environment with people just trying to wind down after their long work weeks. Plus when people are tipsy they tend to tip well, perks of the trade.

Moving to New York for a scholarship has been a whirlwind of unfamiliarity, but bartending is something you knew and were confident in. Plus maybe there would be other people around your age working there, your shot at a friendship with the neighbors wasn’t going well but maybe you could be friends with your coworkers.

Finished getting ready, you gather your bag and give yourself a once over. The outfit looks nice, the hair is done right, and the makeup is nice just the way you like it. This is perfect, you feel confident, and nothing is going to mess up your night!

Walking out of your apartment you lock your door and you hear the creaky elevator doors starting to close. Quickly you call out for someone to hold the door as you run to the elevator, and to your delight a hand catches the door before it can shut. Getting to the elevator you wear a sweet smile ready for whoever held the elevator for you but once the doors open back up your smile sinks into a bitter glare. It’s him….the spider catcher with the grumpy attitude.

As you begrudgingly walk into the elevator you see that his face equally doesn’t look too pleased to be seeing you. A part of you wishes he wouldn't have held the door so you could skip being stuck in the cramped elevator with him, but you don’t want to risk running late on your first day. So instead you must suffer through the awkward silence that’s filling in the space between you too.

Standing there side by side your thoughts are lamenting why this elevator had to be so slow. Trying to keep yourself appear unbothered by him, your eyes go to observe him despite your trying not to. Today he looks a bit less tired and is wearing normal clothes, not his pajamas. His hair is still fluffy but you're starting to think that’s just how he wears it. Also, his brown eyes are covered up by glasses. Danm, he’s got that whole cute nerd thing going for him huh…

As you're studying him his eyes move to you and you quickly avert your gaze feeling flustered to have gotten caught looking. Get a grip girl you can’t think he’s cute he is a rude jerk who called you dramatic, you can’t think he’s cute, absolutely not! Staring straight ahead you swear you heard him slightly snickering to himself, just being so close to him so making your blood boil. Never before has someone bothered you so much but here he is driving you mad.

Shooting your eyes over to him you're making sure to give him a dirty look, one that says, I don’t like your jerk face. Though he’s not paying attention, opting to fiddle around with his camera instead. Looking at the camera you note that it appears to be an older model then some white lettering on the device catches your attention.

“Peter Parker…” you whisper, as you do his head shoots over to you with a confused look on his face. Moving your head at the number of floors you still have left to go, you feel his eyes still on you.

“It’s rude to stare,” you say irritatedly

“Yeah, I know that, do you?”

You whip your head around facing him now, “I wasn’t staring at you, I was reading the name on the camera.”

“I was talking about before you said my name.”

“Well I wasn’t staring at you then either,” -your liar, you were staring…

“Yeah sure…y/n”

Your eyes go wide at him saying your name and you look at him confused. He points down at your bag with a smug look on his face.

“Your school ID is hanging out of your bag”

Looking at your bag you see he was right so you quickly tuck your ID back into your bag. Well isn’t he just clever….

Folding your arms in a huff the two of you fall back into a silence. He messes with his camera once more and you stare straight ahead while irritation grows. Maybe it's the awkward silence or maybe it's your need to have the last word because you can’t help yourself from muttering to him “I didn’t see any roaches….”

He slightly laughs “Yeah your spider friend made sure of that”

“What?! You think I’m going to get them now?!”

He shrugs “That’s why you should be nicer to spiders, they help us in more ways than we know”

“Didn’t realize I was talking to a spider enthusiast….”

“I’m not a spider enthusiast..”

“Could have fooled me…”

The elevator grows quiet again and it seems this time you are going to have the last word. Success. Though as you're standing there you can feel eyes on you turning to give him a dirty look again, he might start thinking that's just how you look. Peter seems completely unfazed by the look you give him as his eyes scan you up and down. As if the elevator wasn’t already cramped now having a guy looking you up and down makes the space feel downright claustrophobic. You can’t help how his eyes on your bare legs make you want to squeeze your thighs together. Is he checking you out right now? Maybe you should scold him?

“You do know that it’s going to be cold and raining tonight right?”

The comment takes you aback for a second, he must be referring to your chosen outfit for work tonight and your lack of an umbrella and coat. A black long-sleeve top paired with shorts and a pair of comfortable tennis shoes is perfect for having to be on your feet all night. You wear these outfits because when you show more skin as a bartender you get more tips, well at the bar you used to work at anyways that's how it worked.

Looking over at Peter you shrug trying to come off as unfazed as possible, “the weatherman said that it wasn’t going to rain a little cold but I can handle that.'' you say matter of factly to Peter.

“Let me guess, the weatherman from channel 12? Yeah, he’s always wrong.” furrowing your brows you look at him confused. One, how did he know what channel you were watching? Two, how was he so sure of himself?

“Well, he’s a weatherman, are you? Unless you're telling me you're a weatherman and a spider expert” You fold your arms and look at him with your eyebrows raised inquisitively.

Peter looks at you eyeing him and slightly giggles to himself, “No I am neither but, I just have a…sense for these sorts of things''.

You look at him and roll your eyes. “Well I am going to go with what the weatherman says, no offense to your weather sense abilities.” for theatrics, you hold up your hands and wiggle your fingers mockingly.

This causes Peter to laugh out loud a bit “Well when you get caught in the rain and you're freezing, just know I told you so.” Peter adjusts his gaze back to the elevator staring at the warped reflections of the two of you with a sly smile on his face.

“Don’t worry about me, I can handle it.”

“Like you handle spiders?”

Smartass….

Before you can give your rebuttal the elevator is stopping with a loud whine and then opening up. In a huff, you exit quickly having had enough of Peter Parker. Sure he may have one this round but next time you will for sure have the last word.

“Can I get a whiskey on the rocks with a twist”

Before the guy could finish his sentence you're already pouring the amber liquid over the singular ice cube in a fresh glass. The final touch is the lemon rind being rubbed onto the lip of the glass cup then dropping the rind into the glass to keep working its aromatic magic. Sliding the glass over you smile at him. Going to wash his used glass you watch through partials as he places a fair tip in the jar for your service. You will be sure to always be quick with his drink to continue to get the good tips.

As you had hoped work was going smoothly, The bar was perfect, manageable with steady business. The perfect blend of just being busy enough that you see new people and keeping the shift going by fast but slow enough that you don’t feel like you're drowning. The best part is that the new boss Gregory was a nice family man who had inherited the bar from his dad.

Gregory and you had started small talk while he showed you the ropes, you learned he had a wife with a son and another on the way. He revealed that he liked to hire college students who needed a flexible schedule. Though, much to your chagrin you were the only college student working at the bar at the moment. The last two recently quit due to them finding different careers with their degrees, a thing you're sure to do as well when you graduate.

Though nobody else was a college student like you, everyone you met was nice and welcoming, making you feel like you could finally get that friend circle you had been craving. Though you need to play it cool, the last thing anyone wants is to be smothered by the new girl desperate for friends. -baby steps for now.

The bar seemed to be a great fit, everyone was nice and all the customers seemed pretty chill. Maybe your luck was starting to finally turn around, maybe this would all work out and everything would go as you hoped.

Maybe…

Taking a deep sigh you stare at the rain as it pours down onto the darkly lit sidewalk that you need to take to get home. Looks like your luck hasn't exactly changed. Resting your head against the front of the bar you hold yourself trying to keep warm as best you could. Seems that your neighbor should think about becoming a weatherman with that accurate weather sense of his. You even checked your phone's weather app and it said the rain chances were low!

Now it's been 30 minutes since work ended and the bar closed and that was 30 minutes of you standing underneath the bar awning alone in a shifty neighborhood. If the rain wasn’t here to hinder you could have been home by now cuddled in your warm bed. No, with how everything was going for you it only makes sense that this is the outcome of your first night at work, and you only have yourself to blame.

Coworkers had offered to stay with you but you knew how exhausted everyone was so you decided to just tell everyone you would call a cab. However, cabs cost money, something that you do not have a large sum of. So here you are waiting, as patiently as one can in a cold night rain storm, with your apartment keys tightly weaved between your fingers due to you still not having bought pepper spray. Maybe you could make a run for it? But you're completely exhausted from your first day so the last thing you want is to go take a sprint back to your apartment, but it might be your best bet.

As you're leaning down to tighten your laces for your run a loud crash is causing you to jump. Startled, you nearly dropped your phone and keys, looking at where the noise came from. It of course came from down an alley of the bar, a dark and creepy alley…

Now there are two things you can do, one is to leave the area for a safe spot, this is the safe and smart option due to it being late at night and you being by yourself with only keys for protection. Then there is the option of being a dutiful employee and making sure that the bar is okay and not being robbed. Taking a moment to think you bounce on the heels of your feet shifting with uncertainty. - You're going to regret this…

Phone in hand and keys in your fist, you're briskly walking down the alley with your head on a swivel as you get drenched from the rain trying to figure out where the noise came from. Damn, your need to be a good samaritan, this is how people get robbed.

Ignoring your inner thoughts as you go further down the alley you come across a broken window from the building next to the bar. Thankfully it’s not the bar and nobody seems to be around, you sigh of relief. So what now? Do you call the police? You could do that but do you want to have to wait around for them to get here? Examining the window you figure the best scenario is to get to a safe area then call them and explain what you heard.

Tucking your keys into your pocket you start walking out of the alley but before you can get out, a sudden hand on the back of your neck has you being shoved into the brick wall of the building's side. Letting out a sharp scream, a hand is covering your mouth and a knife is being pressed to your neck. Eyes wide you feel yourself shaking as you stare at the bloodshot eyes peeking through the ski mask. A part of you wants to fight him off but every time you slightly move the man presses against you harder making you wince from the crushing weight. “Shhh, stop moving and I will make this as painless as possible.”

Shit, Shit… you feel yourself starting to panic at the man's words. What does he mean? Mind scrambling your eyes start to fill with tears, “Drop the bag to the ground and slide to your knees…”

No, No, No! You want to fight, you want to push him away but you can’t muster the energy, your limbs feel like jelly. Dropping your bag from your shoulder you shut your eyes tightly as you lean further into the wall, hoping for the wall to open up and swallow you, for someone to walk by and see you. Anything…please anyone…

Then a thwip noise and suddenly all that weight on your body is suddenly off you and you're sliding to the wet ground. Keeping your eyes shut you don’t dare look as you hear what sounds like grunts and punches. Then what sounds like the drop of something and running away, curling into yourself you're just trying to be invisible, wanting to wash away with the freezing rain. Then a voice, slightly muffled, is cutting through the pour of the rain, “Hey? You okay there….miss?”

Opening your eyes you see the masked vigilante…Spider-man. Squatted in front of you he holds your phone towards you and your bag in his other hand. White lenses watch your shivering body as you slowly nod and reach out to grab your phone.

“Are you hurt?” his voice asks calmly as he studies you, shaking your head he hums to himself before standing up and holding his hand out towards you.

“Good, let's get you out of this rain. You might want to carry an umbrella with you, it gets rainy this time of year.” All you can manage to do is nod absentmindedly as you take his hand as he pulls you to your feet. Staring at the red and blue-clad man as he continues to ramble about the weather this time of year, it's all honestly lost on you as you're still in shock over what happened and what could have happened.

“I don’t have an umbrella…” is all you managed to say. Your soft words stop his rambling and even though you can’t see his face you know it's contorted into a look of pity. You're happy you can’t see behind the heroic spider's mask, being pitied like a child would only make you feel worse in this moment.

“Well, we will have to worry about that part later, for now, let's get you home, huh? Where do you live?”

“Crescent apartments.”

“Okay good, that's a short swing,” you watch as he starts to stretch and roll his hips, tilting your head you give him a look and he chuckles and shrugs. “Swinging is all in the hips, scared of heights?” he holds his hand out to you once more. Shaking your head you grab his hand and he puts your bag over his head before pulling you closer in a careful embrace.

“Just hang on tight and it's best if you keep your eyes closed, the rain might sting your eyes if you keep them open.”

Nodding you wrap your hands around his neck and with a strong arm wrapping around you and a thwip you two are off. Heeding his advice you keep your eyes shut and head tucked into his neck. You can't ignore how even though he's wrapped in a spandex suit, he's still giving off a comforting warmth that causes you to forget all about the rain and the cold you were once feeling. The only thing you are focused on is the sound of the wind past your ears and the rhythmic beating of his heart. It's calming…

In what feels like a quick short minute you're no longer hearing the whooshing and the cold wind is no longer nipping at your bare legs. Keeping your head buried you feel yourself get placed down on your feet as a hand gently pats your back albeit kinda awkwardly but there's a tenderness there. “We have arrived…”

Letting go, you look up at him again, still feeling shocked by everything that happened in such a short time. Opening your mouth you try to think of anything to say as you shield your eyes from the rain, but before you can manage anything spiderman is placing his hand on your shoulder “Get inside and get warm, you might get sick.”

Then with a flick of his wrist, he's swinging off disappearing into the hazy lights of a rainy New York. Standing there you watch with a slack-jawed expression. That was Spider-Man, you were saved by Spider-Man…you have got to start being nice to all these spiders coming into your life.

Mind still hazy from shock, you're on full autopilot as you arrive at your door going to grab your keys from your pocket. You finally look down and your blood runs cold again. You have your keys and your phone…but your bag is gone. Thumping your head against your door you let out a low groan your sure your cranky neighbor is sure to hear, but you can’t care about that now Spider-man has your bag…shit…

Pushing inside your pacing around, how do you get your bag back? Is there a way to get a hold of him? Is there an emergency number? A signal? Walking aimlessly you feel tears pricking at your eyes. Frustration is starting to get at you from what seems to be the worst night of your life. First the neighbor, then the freezing rain, getting attacked, and now your bag is gone with some mystery masked hero! That bag had all your IDs, your money, and your planner!

Twap

Pulling from your panic you Look at your window you see your purse stuck to your window with a note attached. Carefully you approach and retrieve your bag, checking the contents you see that everything is accounted for. Then you read the note:

‘I accidentally stole your bag, my bad! Stay warm!’ with the note you see a doodle of a spider with a smiley face. The little picture makes you chuckle slightly as you scan over the words. Spider-man has nice handwriting, you would assume it would be quick and scratchy but it was actually…pretty…huh…

Reread the note and place it on your nightstand and you trug yourself into your bathroom. As you're starting the shower to warm yourself up it’s then you finally glimpse yourself in the mirror. What stares back at you is a mess, make-up is running, your hair is flat and stringy and your face is puffy from when you were fighting off tears. As you stare in the mirror, you're looking at someone you don’t even recognize… a lump in your throat builds but you try to keep yourself from breaking down. Just remember your mantra- don’t let it get you down…stay strong…this was your dream…this is a great opportunity…

This night was a mess….This whole move has been a mess…

No friends…your neighbor hates you…barely making it by and it hasn't even been a full week…you still have school to worry about, how would that end up getting messed up…

Sinking to the floor, rest your head against the wall trying to keep your tears in.

Maybe this was all a mistake…maybe this move…was a mistake…

Tags:@huesdreamhouse @keiva1000 @spdrwdw @betizda @lunablackcosplay

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babyboiboyega · 9 months ago

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Gekko Headcanons #1 : The Cookout

Pairing: Mateo De la Fuente/Gekko x Black!Gn!reader Headcanon: Taking Mateo to a family cookout would include... Content: fluff, profanity Word Count: 2.6k Author's Note: its been toooo long since I've written something, and of course my newest hyperfixation is the thing that gets me to write again LMAO gotta love it y'know? I am very new to the world of Valorant and this character, so please...if any of this seems ooc, kindly let me know. I'm still learning about him, I'm still feeling him out, but I just enjoy the character so much already. I also enjoyed writing this, so I hope y'all enjoy! <3 Tag list: @liyaawrites (aka, the person responsible for this obsession!!)

I wanna start off by saying that the second you mention taking Mateo to meet your family, the boy is geeked out of his mind. Maybe it's in passing during a conversation, or maybe you consciously bring up the topic once you feel it's the right time; either way, it’s met with wide, brown eyes that sparkle in excitement, and thick lips that part on an immediate agreement. Not only does an agreement follow, but he also immediately starts to ask what he should bring. What kind of get-together is it? Does he need to know anything beforehand? How does he need to dress, because he’ll be damned if he shows up underdressed when meeting the family of the person he loves. He only stops worrying when you tell him exactly what the function is – a cookout – and what he’s expected to bring – some dish that your mom/grandmother/auntie or other family member is requesting. And once those questions are answered, he goes straight to worrying about making sure it’s up to their standards. You have no idea why, but your family gives you and him the job of bringing the macaroni (and not any store-bought macaroni- they’ll know the difference). When he learns that it has to be homemade and that its a staple in the entire cookout, he instantly looks up recipes while thinking back to the ones his ma or abuela would use, wanting to put his own spin on it while also wanting to make a good first impression. It gets to the point where you find him up late one night, his phone’s screen illuminating his features from where he lays beside you. He’d turn his phone to you sheepishly, apologizing for the bright light and displaying a page called “how not to make macaroni and cheese” or something along those lines with a sheepish smile.

“Think they’ll like this one?” “Teo…baby…it’s 3 am.” “...you’re right, I should look for another one-”

The days leading up to the cookout are spent with him constantly going on about how excited he is to meet your family – specifically the cousins you’re the closest to and have mentioned before. In response, you warn him that your family can be…a bit much, specifically when someone brings their partner around. They have a tendency to ask too many questions, get a little too comfortable joking around, and are just all around loud and obnoxious sometimes…and he’d only reassure you with a knowing smirk and a raised eyebrow that not only is his family the same, but he’s so used to being around large families as his used to have get togethers all the time. He’s dealt with it before, and it'd be worth it to deal with it again if it meant he got to meet your folks. Despite the sentiments, you still warn him – especially of that aunt who always likes to make smart-ass comments and loves calling others out despite having her own problems in her life, to which he lets you know that he’s dealt with one of those and he’ll make sure that y’all are far away from that aunt at all times. He would offer to keep you dancing all night just so you had an excuse to not talk to that person, which would only lead to a conversation involving line dances.

Despite Mateo's affinity for the punk/skater aesthetic, I’d like to think that his Hispanic roots have resulted in him having a good sense of rhythm. I also like to think that he listens to a lot of music in his spare time, fostering an appreciation for different genres. With that being said, I think our boy could keep up with the line dances. When you offer to teach him a few just for fun, he’d be excited as hell, his lips curling into a full-blown smile as he’d watch you turn the music on and scroll through the first ‘cookout line dance’ playlist you find. When you find a suitable one and try to teach him, he’d be playful about the entire thing, claiming that he needs you to do it a few times although you know its just so he can see you dance, his eyes lingering heavily on your hips as you do so. And when you finally get him to join you, you realize that he may not have the steps down, but he’s got enough swag and rhythm to keep up and look like he knows what he’s doing, which is enough.

“One more time, princesa- I promise. I’ll get it this time.” “You’re just looking at my ass, Mateo-” “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” (with a shit eating grin on his face)

Now…when it gets to the day of the cookout, you two would be up pretty early, going to get the supplies to make the macaroni before starting on it at home. He’d want to help so badly, but he’d also have no problem getting your input on it – after all, it is your family and you know how they usually like their macaroni. But he’d also insist on doing most of it himself which would result in about a few hours of him moving around the kitchen with a focused look on his face. His focus is only broken by you checking in on him, it instantly changing to a cocky, yet playful, smirk as he would nod to the pan that’s in the oven.

“How’s it goin, baby?” “Look at that masterpiece and tell me how it’s goin, mi carino. You see that golden brown on the top, you smell that delicious, scrumptious, decadent-” “Aaaalright, that’s enough-”

You know I have to mention the process of picking out outfits. I absolutely believe that Mateo would not only be down for, but would love being one of those couples that wears complimenting outfits. Not matching completely, but maybe having one article of clothing that’s the same color or maybe even wearing the same accessories. You two have too much personality and style to limit yourselves to wearing the exact same thing when going out, so he would love to wear complimenting outfits. He’d always make sure to pick colors that you enjoy wearing despite thinking that you look beautiful in every color.

“What about green?” “Oh…well…you know I don’t exactly look the best in green, baby.” “I wholeheartedly disagree, but we can look for something else, mi amor. No problem-”

I think that he’d be so invested in making sure y’all look good that he’d kind of forget about the macaroni that's in the oven. You can’t even blame him, because you’d be able to see the excitement radiating off of him as he gets ready, so you’d just gently, but amusedly, remind him.

“Teo.” “Yeah?” “Your macaroni-” “Mierda- my macaroni-!”

His attention would instantly switch to the macaroni, so much so that he’d still be standing in the kitchen, his eyes on the oven when you walk in fully dressed with Wingman trailing behind you, Mateo’s shirt in his beak as he chirps and trills. You wouldn’t be able to understand him, but you don’t really have to to understand the comedic radivore’s noises. You’d only be able to nod and agree with the little guy as you both watch Mateo hurriedly throw on his shirt before taking out the macaroni.

Now…lets get to the cookout itself. He’d hear the music and chatter immediately after stepping out of the car and would just look at you with a smile and excited eyes, offering to take the dish with one hand and your hand with the other. You’d be able to see that recognition in his eyes, the myriad of sounds that signify a family fellowship being ever so familiar to him. Homeboy would walk in the door with a wide and inviting smile, greeting people politely while also showing that he can be rather extroverted when he wants to be. Of course, he gets the typical ‘this must be yo lil friend’ from your family members, but he takes it in stride. But while taking it all in stride, he’d also make sure to kiss your cheek, your forehead, hold your hand, wrap an arm around your waist– anything to show that the words ‘lil friend’ are just a title your family members have given him, and that the truth is he’s yours.

He’d show the macaroni to the family member(s) in charge of the food, watching with baited breath as they take the foil off of the top, their eyes looking at the golden-brown cheese on top before looking up at you two with a smile.

“Oooh, this looks good, Y/N.” “Actually, Mateo made it. I just helped him when he needed it; it was all him.”

He’d absolutely be geeked when they turn to him with an impressed look, their smile widening as they set it on the table with the rest of the food. And if you thought he had a big head when being told that it looked good, it’s nothing compared to when the first family member comes up and tells him that it tasted good. Chile, you’d never hear the end of it…though you don’t want to. It’d be endearing and sweet that he takes so much pride in making something your family enjoys. And when it comes to him actually eating the food prepared, he would not hold his appreciation back. There’d be a lot of ‘who made this’, followed by just as many ‘dios mio’s as he can dish out. The same goes for the dessert portion, especially the homemade pound cakes from your family members. Yeah, he’d have no problem asking for a to-go box; one for food, and one for dessert.

Throughout the duration of the cookout, he’d find himself constantly in conversation with someone from your family, whether it be because he had been pulled into a conversation, or whether it was because someone approached him with the intent of asking questions. Either way, Mateo would be game for any question asked, usually answering with an air of confidence, friendliness, and humor that made others love him instantly. When asked questions about you two’s relationship, he’d be quick and incredibly willing to answer, his eyes glancing at you adoringly as he does so with a smile on his face. It’d get to a point where you would have to ‘rescue’ him from more questions, citing that you wanted to dance just to get him away from your family member(s). And he’d happily let you pull him away, however, not before promising the uncles gathered around a table that he’d play spades with them the next round.

At some point in the night, you’d lose him for a few minutes, coming back to his empty seat after fixing a plate of dessert for both of you, and after scouring the yard, hoping that he hasn’t gotten himself into a less than pleasant conversation, you finally find him. Except he isn’t in a conversation- not with an adult, anyway. No, he’s seated in the yard, not too far at all from the kids table, smiling widely as the kids from your family gather around him. Their hands reach for and gently run over his hair, the dyed shapes and colors instantly catching their attention as they speak over each other, asking him questions.

“Why’d you do that to your hair?” “Did it hurt? Why’d you pick spots?” “My mama says people who dye their hair like that don’t want a job.” “Can I do that to my hair?”

You’d only be able to watch in fondness for a few minutes as he struggles to answer their questions, his facial expression showing exactly how much he enjoyed being the center of attention for the kids. It would get to a point where he’d look up at you with an expression that screamed for help despite the smile still on his face, and you wouldn’t hesitate in rescuing him. You’d never seen Mateo around kids before now, but going off of the vibes and interactions you’d see, it’d be easy to come to the conclusion that he’s pretty okay with kids. Because of his chill demeanor, not only is he seen as ‘cool’ to the youngins, but he’s also easy to interact with. It would certainly help that he’s got a little crew of adorable creatures who are intelligent enough to interact carefully with the kids. There’d be peels of laughter and excited chatter as Wingman does a trick when prompted by Mateo. There’d also be a time where Wingman turns to Mateo, chirping quickly and constantly looking back at the kids…and after a short conversation between the two, he’d probably smile, nodding his head towards the kids with a ‘have fun, be careful’. That’d be the only thing Wingman needs to hear before turning and joining the group of kids in their activities, the laughter being a constant noise as long as the creature is interacting with them.

When it gets to the end of the night and people start filtering out of the yard, he’d check in with you, asking you if you’re tired or if you still want to hang around with a look of understanding for whatever answer you give. It's only when you smile tiredly and sheepishly at him that he’d nod with a smile, telling you that maybe it's time to go. It wouldn’t be long before you two have a bag with your to-go boxes in them, making your rounds with your family members and saying goodnight. He’d leave Wingman to play with the remaining kids until it’d be time to go, waving him over once you two are ready to leave. (You can’t help but feel like you two have your own little family, and the earlier sight of him interacting with the kids certainly adds fuel to that thought).

The ride home would be spent going over certain conversations and interactions that had happened during the night, showing just how attentive Mateo had been the entire night. You’d also learn of some of the conversations he’d had when you weren’t around…and he’d instantly wave away your apologies for the nature of those conversations, an easygoing and amused smile on his face as he does so.

“Please tell me she did not say that to you- I’m so sorry, love-” “No need to say sorry. It was pretty funny, so its okay, mi cielito. So…you tried to turn the speed all the way up on the treadmill, yeah?” “Yeah, that’s enough of that-”

To put it simply: Mateo would be ecstatic that he not only got to spend an entire day with you and your family, but that he got to see how you interact with your family. It’s truly nothing like seeing the love of your life in their safe space with people they trust. He could’ve sat and watched you speak to cousins, aunties, uncles, whoever else and would’ve been completely satisfied. He’d go to bed thinking about the glow you had on your face as you spoke to family members you’d missed, and how he’d heard and seen you genuinely laugh with cousins when recounting old stories, and how you and your family connected over food, music, and fellowship...and yeah, he’d have to admit to himself in the middle of the night, while holding you close, that he couldn’t wait to have that with you in the future.

A/N: I hope that was fun to read, it was certainly fun to write! Once again, this is my first time writing for this character that I just found out about like...two weeks ago, y'all...be patient with me while I'm learning. BUT I'm gonna really try to write more this summer because I definitely won't have time to in the fall, so keep an eye out!

#gekko #gekko valorant #gekko x reader #gekko x you #valorant #valorant gekko #Mateo Armendáriz De la Fuente #black fanfic writer #black fanfiction #gekko oneshot #gekko headcanons #gekko fanfic #gekko oneshots #valorant headcanons #valorant oneshots #valorant fanfiction #black authors #black fanartists

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pxgeturner · 11 months ago

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Miguel O'Hara is a world-renowned professional boxer, and Hobie's other best friend. One night he finally makes the two worlds collide and sparks immediately fly between the two of you. But will he distract you from meeting your publisher's deadline? And will you distract him from getting World Champ?

before you follow. m.list. Iron Fist gfx library. series m.list. tag list.

Prologue. I. II. III. IV. V. VI. VII. VIII. IX. X. Epilogue.

wc. 1.5k

an. hi. its me! Giselle, or gi, or gigi to few (not to be confused w gg, that is one of my moots. she makes really cool art.) n e ways here is the awaited Prologue for Iron Fist. Oh goodness I'm so nervous. I just want to make a few things clear. the reader is an author (obvs). She's recently graduated uni and is Latina! I write with a woc!r in mind always. I try to be as inclusive as possible, pero porque soy Mexicana, r might lean towards being more Mexican but I'll try to keep her Spanish standard and not be too specific to my family's culture. much love! hope you enjoy <3

please don't forget to reblog! likes do nothing to boost engagement.

Your foot taps against the floor. The damn blank document stares back at you. Mocking you is what it’s really doing. Fuck you, you think, I achieved my goal. I published a book and it is a damn bestseller! Only problem is that the readers want more. It’s been… some time since your first book. And sure, Jess said you can take a break before starting a new project. But you also know that it’s good to ride on existing publicity. At least be able to make an announcement that you’re writing something while all this excitement lasts. Maybe you should write something about vampires. You love vampires and how they fit into romance and how them drinking blood is a euphemism just a bit away from, the whole cannibalism-equals-all-consuming-love trope and how when a vampire attacks it’s often an allegory for rape and— but you have nothing to add to the conversation. You have nothing new to say, no new perspective or hot take, or twist. You have nothing. No ideas.

Not a single word on the page.

You have an idea, leaning forward to peck the keyboard. “F-u-c-k. T-h-i-s!” You highlight the text and italicize it.

Fuck this. At least it’s words on the page.

You reach for your cup and take a sip. “If all else fails I can ride on the rest of the signing bonus and royalties for a bit since the book is doing good, and once that dries up, I can apply to be circulation assistant at a library or something.” You sigh and take another sip. “But nobody has to know for now.” You get up, searching for your phone. You find it resting on the arm of the couch, you grab it, sliding onto the cushions, resting your head where your phone just was. “God, don’t make me a one hit wonder, I wanna be a star. I wanna be the one to push that bitch Colleen Hoover into obsoletion. Please God. Please.”

You open your phone and look for your mother on speed dial.

“Hola, nena!” Your mama’s voice is happy, she must be having a good day. You move into the kitchen. You need a snack.

“Hey, mama, how are you?” You hold the cell with your shoulder as you look through your pantry.

“Good, good,” you find a pack of roasted seaweed snacks and grab it.

“I went on a date anoche.” Your shoulder drops and the pack of seaweed slips out of your grasp.

Mi mami fue a una cita. Con un man! You stand there, trying to process that she is actually back on the dating scene.

“How did it—” you aren’t holding your phone anymore. You use the wall as support to lower yourself to pick up your phone and snack.

“—ay, mami, lo siento, mi cellular se cayo de mi mano.”

“Todo bien, hija! I’m glad you’re ok.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m ok, I’m ok. Anyways— how was the date? What’s he like? Am I going to have a stepfather soon?” you joke.

“My time for marriage is gone, muñeca, I’m just looking for companionship, pero, tu lo sabes.” You hear some subtle clinking in the background of the call, she must be stirring her coffee. You open your snack and park yourself on the couch. “Are you writing?” Ugh. Not you, too.

“I was, just finished for a bit before I called you.”

“You called me to procrastinate.” You choke on your seaweed from the accusation.

You clear your throat, “I called to check in with you. I call you practically every day.”

“But right now you called me to check up on me as an excuse to not write. Nena, I know you.”

“Okay, fine. I might be having some writer’s block,” you admit, sighing.

“And that’s okay, nena, but then you need to get out, get some inspiration. Allow the world to give you a story.” There’s mama, with her easier-said-than-done advice. But, maybe you should get out of the house.

“Alright, I’ll go out soon.”

“Tonight,”

“—I will go out to the Chinese place across the street and nothing more. I’ll talk with Hobie when he gets back to see if he has any ideas.” You hear your mama make a noise in her throat.

“You still live with that boy?” Here it comes. You’ve lived with Hobie Brown for three years and have known him for five. She’s always been apprehensive of him, since he’s radical and looks like he’s been in jail, with all the metal in his face, and why does his hair look like that? But Hobie is the one who’s kept you sane all these years. He’s held you while you cried and pushed out of your comfort zone when you were getting too stuck into your routines, most likely by dragging you to a concert or a protest. You help him thrift and flip clothes and ever since that one time his stylist had an emergency and canceled, you now help him tighten his wicks every so often. On days like that the two of you stay in, watching nostalgic movies and listening to any demos he’s recorded recently. He’s like a brother to you at this point.

“Yes, mama, I still live with Hobie. Nothing’s changed.” You move the phone down to your chest and take a deep breath.

“I didn’t like him when I first met him,” you clench your jaw as she continues— “…and although he’s one of those kids, I can tell he is a good boy. I’m glad he takes care of you.” You relax. “But it wouldn’t hurt to have someone you could kiss.” “It would be nice, but right now it’s not happening.” “Alright, muñeca. I’ll leave you alone for now, but keep your eyes open for a nice man.”

“I will, con cuidado, mami, besitos.” You make a kissing noise into the phone, and she responds with a goodbye of her own, and you wait for her to hang up the call.

You sigh, and look at the coffee table. Hobie left his song book at home, weird. It’s open to the song he was working on the other day. It’s a slower song, you can still hear the melody. You drum your fingers to the tune. He’s on an unfinished verse. You pick up a pen from the little catch-all dish and scribble down a line or two.

…

Hobie weaves through the roar of chattering, anticipating fans and into the tunnel, and walks past employees and into Miguel's prep room to see him tying his shoes. “Hey,” Miguel looks up. “Hey.”

“Are you excited?” He moves to sit by the boxer, shimmying up against his shoulder.

“Haven’t really been excited for one of these in a while.” Miguel breathes.

“Well, one step closer to retirement!” Hobie bounces out of his seat. He turns to face his friend, putting a hand on his shoulder. “You’re gonna do great, you big fuckin’ bear of a man.” He ruffle’s Miguel’s hair.

Miguel gives a half-ass hum in response.

“Well then, I’ll be out there, mate, cheerin’ you on.” He puts his hands in his vest pockets and walks out the room.

As he reaches the empty doorframe, Miguel speaks up. “Thank you, Hobie.”

“Anything for you, mate.” Hobie nods and goes to join the audience. Miguel fastens his gloves and puts on his robe. He warms up waiting for his coach.

“Ready, O’Hara?”

Miguel turns around. “Always ready for a fight.” He clenches his jaw. Walking down that hallway, the festive colors lighting up his path and the music blaring, he does his little bit, the movements molded into muscle memory.

This is it. This is his last year fighting. If he gets world champ again, he’s free.

Soon, he gets to fight his last fight. And dammit, the world championship will be his last match. Then, he’s never gonna have to come back.

He weaves under the ropes, entering the ring. Sitting on the stool, he shrugs off the robe and lets Carlos put the mouthguard in.

“You are going to show this guy exactly why people call you el oso!” Miguel beats his gloves together and nods. He might not like his job right now, but he really wants to hit something and goddammit if his opponent doesn’t look so beatable right now.

Coach Carlos steps out of the way, and Miguel stands to walk to the ref as he calls for him to center.

“We went over the rules in the dressing room.” Right before Hobie got here. “I want to remind you to protect yourself at all times, and obey my commands.” Ring the damn bell already. “God bless you both,” I don’t need it but this kid might. “Touch up,” here we go. He touches gloves with his newbie opponent and each goes back to their respective corners.

Miguel takes an orthodox stance.

The bell rings.

Miguel lands the first punch. He also lands the last.

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the-little-ewok · 2 years ago

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Hard at work

Santiago Garcia X F!Reader

Rating : E/18+

Word count : 3800 (ish)

Warnings : SMUT, office setting (power play dynamics), PIV, unprotected sex, fingering, Dom!Santi (pretty soft), oral (f/receiving), lil bit dirty talk, reader wears a skirt, fluff, semi public sex (I guess. But not really?), Marking, *additional warnings under the fic at the end because spoilers ( nothing bad)

Prompts / summary : “I’m afraid I can no longer remain professional.”, "I think I've made my intentions clear", "Noone needs to know" / Santiago Garcia is your boss. And you should absolutely not be fucking your boss on his desk during the work day…

A/N : I've chosen to put some warnings at the end of the fic as I want to keep a couple of surprises. Nothing bad or super triggering I promise. But if you are worried please check before you read.

Thank you Vi for the hilarious tongue in cheek title 😂 and to the anon who requested!

Please if you read take time to reblog and maybe leave a comment or a couple of tags! The only way writers keep writing is if they hear from you.

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

Ping

S. Gacia: I need to talk to you in my office. Now.

You stare at the message on your computer screen, debating if you could think of a good enough excuse not to go, unsure if you could keep your composure when you were alone with your boss today.

It wasn't that you were avoiding him exactly. You liked your boss, you really did. He was hard working, fair, supportive, maybe a little demanding at times, well, actually demanding all the time, but he was hot, in a sort of 'your daughter calls me daddy too' kinda way. He had the eye of every girl in the office, yours included. Most people would be glad to have a boss like him.

The problem was he always seemed to find an excuse to be inappropriate with you — pressing up against you as he leans over you to get a coffee mug out of the cupboard in the break room, brushing his hand against your thigh during meetings, looking at you, and not just a normal look, a complete undressing eye fuck that made your face heat and your thighs press together. He made you want him all the damn time.

And while so far nothing has happened at work, everyone else in the office has noticed the growing situation between you. Disappearing away from your pc to meet with him would only add fuel to the fire.

Ping.

S. Garcia : When I say now, I mean now.

With no good excuses coming to mind you get up with a sigh, smoothing down your skirt and making your way over to his office.

The door is pushed open already, Santiago sitting at his desk, the sleeves of his white shirt rolled up to his elbows, the top few buttons undone, giving an air of relaxedness, but you can tell he's anything but. Your heart gives a now all too familiar flutter in your chest.

"Mr Garcia?"

You tap the door lightly to get his attention. He gestures you in with a silent wave of his hand, barely looking away from the laptop as you step into the room.

"One moment, and shut the door" he instructs you, tapping away at the keys and muttering in Spanish to himself. You swallow hard as you close the door behind you.

Eventually, your boss sighs, rubbing his hands down his face and shutting his laptop.

"Is everything okay?" You venture inquisitively. Perhaps whatever has frustrated him is the reason he called you in here? Maybe he needs your help with work?

Santiago gets up from his desk, coming around to stand in front of you, just a few steps from where you awkwardly shuffle your feet, waiting for him to speak.

"We need to talk."

You can't help but go through a mental rolodex of things you might have done that you need to talk about with him, but nothing comes to mind.

"I'm afraid I can no longer remain professional," he continues, leaning back against the polished wood with a sigh, as though it's your fault, as though you've done something to encourage him. Perhaps you have. You did specifically pick this outfit today, hoping it would spark his attention, and as his eyes roam a slow trail from your toes to your face, licking his lips, you know it worked, but maybe a little too well.

You choose the innocence card, pretending there hasn't been an underlying tension since you started working together.

"I'm not sure what you mean?"

He doesn't even hesitate for a second before he answers, clearly expecting your response. His dark eyes bore into yours, blatant desire shining through.

"I think you are."

You swallow hard. Sure you might have hoped to get a reaction out of him, but you hadn't actually expected it to work. Especially not when there were specific rules in place about office relationships, especially during work hours.

"No one needs to know," he offers slickly, like putting a deal on the table, some form of forbidden contract. He steps towards you, then around you, coming to stand at your back, close enough that you can feel the warmth from his body.

He leans into you, gripping your upper arms and then slowly allowing his palms to slide down, his lips grazing the shell of your ear as he whispers.

"It's just us in here. Nobodys going to know what happens here today." His hands ghost over the tips of your fingers, continuing down, stepping closer so his body is pressed up against yours.

"Mr Garcia, I don't think this is the time. We have…we have… work to do." You stutter out as his hands map the curve of your hips, pressing himself against your back. Even as you speak your body leans back against him, tilting your head back onto his shoulder, betraying your every thought about him. You can almost feel the smug smile he's probably wearing, knowing he was right in his assumption that this isn't one sided, and that you really aren't thinking about the work piled on your desk.

Your eyes flutter closed as he presses a trail of kisses down your neck, before his tongue licks its way back up to take your earlobe in his teeth, tugging gently.

"Work can wait. I think I've made my intentions clear," he breathes against your skin. He says it like you have a choice about what happens next. Like there's any possible world in which you would say no.

But you aren't going to let him have the upper hand entirely. You can't just collapse into his arms and beg him to fuck you. He might be your boss, but that doesn't mean you can't have your own fun too.

"I'm really not sure I understand what you mean? Perhaps you'll have to be a little more direct, sir."

There's a hitch in his breath that lets you know the sir hit exactly the way you expected it to.

What you aren't quite expecting is the way he nudges you forward before pressing a hand between your shoulders, forcing you down, bending over his desk. The touch isn't violent or forceful, he isn't the sort of man to do that, but it's commanding enough for you to willingly follow the direction.

Taking both your hands in his he presses them down onto the desk, leaning over you.

"I can make my intentions as clear as you need," he growls, standing back up. "Don't move, or you're fired."

You'd like to think you know him well enough that it's probably an empty threat, but damn does it make your pussy flutter anyway. You press your palms harder against the cool wood, resigned to let him do as he wills with you.

His hands slip across your hips and down over your ass, admiring your position, before he hooks his fingers under the edge of your skirt and raises it, just a little. He's testing you. It's a silent request about how far you want this to go.

You don't move to stop him, so he lifts your skirt the rest of the way, almost delicately slowly, hitching it up over your hips.

He gives a soft hum of appreciation at the pretty lace panties you're wearing, the ones already starting to soak through with your arousal at the fact your boss has you bent over his desk, admiring your ass.

"Pretty," he drawls, pulling back the elastic and letting it snap against your skin, giving a stinging bite and making you gasp. "Not very work appropriate though."

You open your mouth to offer a sarcastic response that people at work don't usually see your panties, but the words catch in your throat as he slides his fingers into the waistband and tugs them down quickly, letting them fall the rest of the way, fully exposing you.

Not satisfied with that, he uses his foot to tap your ankle, encouraging you to lift first one foot, then the other, stepping out of your panties before he kicks them to one side.

"Spread your legs."

If you weren't wet before the gush of arousal you have at his words certainly soaks you now. It isn't a question, it isn't a request, it's an instruction, a command. You spread your legs just a little.

Santiago nudges them further apart with his foot, spreading you for his benefit, before he grabs your ass, squeezing as he surveys you with a groan.

"You're practically dripping on my carpet," he comments, making your face heat.

You hear the whisper of fabric and glancing behind you you see him kneel on the floor, his hands dropping to your thighs, fingers digging into your flesh.

He meets your shocked gaze.

"Now let me be very, very clear in what I want."

The broken noise that leaves your throat as he licks a hot stripe through your folds isn't one you've ever made before, your body jolting forward on the desk.

Your rational brain tells you this is a bad idea. You should be working, not letting your boss eat you out on his desk of all places. But then he seals his lips over your clit, sucking hard, and you can't seem to care about work anymore.

You quickly realise he's too good at this, too good at making you tremble all too quickly, taking long slow laps at your clit, pressing his hot tongue deep inside you, growling and groaning as though you were the best thing he's tasted. He has you on the edge of a climax in no time.

Your fingers dig into the hardwood, curling around the edge of the desk, biting out a curse as his tongue completes another slow circle around your clit.

You wish you could see him, tangle your fingers in his short curls, direct him how to throw you over the edge, but you suspect he knows exactly how, and he's dragging this out for his own pleasure.

"Mr Garcia…Santiago…" you hiccup pleadingly, barely able to get enough air in your lungs.

You don't know if it's mercy or torture when his mouth leaves you, giving a playful bite to your ass before he gets to his feet, gently tugging you up, unpeeling you off the desk, his hands on your waist, steadying you on wobbling legs as he spins you to face him.

"Clear now?" He asks, almost impatiently. His eyes are dark, your slick still shining on his chin as he makes a show of licking his lips.

"That was…pretty clear," you breathe shakily.

He smirks as he takes your chin between his thumb and forefinger, holding you still as he presses his lips to yours, allowing you to taste yourself as his tongue slips into your mouth.

It's not the type of kiss you're expecting from him. He kisses you sensually, tenderly, it's slow and decadent. He lets go of your chin in order to slide his hand around the back of your neck, holding you to him as his tongue slides against yours, drawing soft little moans from you.

When he pulls away your lips are kiss swollen and your fingers are tangled in his curls the way you wanted to do only moments ago.

"I want to fuck you here, on my desk," he whispers against your lips. "I want to stain the wood with your cum so there's always a part of you in here with me."

Oh fuck.

You don't answer initially, forcing down the moan of desire that tries to escape. Instead, you lift yourself up onto the desk, feeling the cool wood against your heated skin, before you curl your fingers around the white collar of his shirt, pulling him close to you. You're done waiting. You're done playing. You're done being professional.

"So fuck me already."

His mouth crashes into yours, kissing you hard as you both scramble to unbuckle his pants. He's barely shoved them down before his hands are gripping your thighs, tugging you roughly forward to the edge of the desk, lining himself up at your entrance, his actions messy and impatient.

Even so, he presses into you slowly, allowing you to adjust to the stretch that borders pleasure and pain, swallowing each of your moans with his kisses, letting out a low groan as he bottoms out, giving a soft nip of his teeth to your bottom lip.

"Fuck, you feel so good. Pussy is so wet for me," he slurs, taking your chin back in his fingers, forcing you to look at him. "How much have you thought about fucking your boss you filthy girl?"

Ring. Ring.

The sharp trill of the phone cuts in, making you both pause, turning to look at it mocking you from its space next to the laptop.

Shit. No. Not now. The timing could not be any worse. You need this. You've waited too long for this.

Santiago looks at you, his gaze questioning. You shake your head, silently pleading with him not to answer, not to put an end to this yet.

He lets out a soft curse, glancing over to the phone and reading the caller ID.

"Be quiet," he hisses, leaning over you and to your shock, clicking the answer button.

You don't quite know how to react as he grabs one of your thighs, hoisting it up over his hip, forcing his cock deeper as he starts to thrust into you. It steals the breath from your lungs and you let out a choked noise, throwing a hand over your mouth to smother it, still shocked he's actually taking this call.

Santiago lets out a quiet laugh at your reaction as he speaks on the phone, his eyes never leaving yours.

"Fish, what's up?"

"Just checking in on how things are going," the man on the phone answers easily, clearly unaware of the position your boss was in.

"Hard at work," Santiago answers, thrusting deeply into you with the last word, and you squeeze your eyes shut, desperately muffling your moans of pleasure.

You can't believe he's doing this, casually carrying on a conversation as he leisurely rocks into you. Your mind can't really keep up with the discussion— something about a BBQ on the weekend — too distracted in concentrating on keeping quiet, and hoping the wet squelch of your pussy isn't being picked up on the call.

You bury your face into his neck, trying not to allow the pleasure threading through you to give you both away. It's an uphill battle. Each steady thrust pushes you closer, your pussy already sensitive from his earlier ministrations.

You're not expecting it when he turns his head, his teeth biting down on your pulse point. It's just enough to send a shock through your system, making your eyes snap open, and your pussy clamp down on his cock.

Santiago's eyes go wide and it's him that lets out a choked moan, clearly far louder than he intended to. There's a beat of silence in the conversation as he scrambles for the phone receiver.

You have a moment of smug satisfaction at his panic, but the joy is fleeting, as when his eyes are back on you, smouldering and dark, phone in his hand, you realise you are in trouble. A lot of trouble.

"I'll call you back."

Click. With the press of a button the phone call ends, the receiver clattering noisily back onto the desk. Santiago's hands grip your hips, his fingers digging in hard enough there will be marks.

"You shouldn't have done that."

You have a moment of panic that he's going to end this, leave you on the edge, unsatisfied, and send you back to your desk desperate and needy. But instead, he pulls almost all the way out of you, before slamming his hips into yours.

You let out a strangled moan. Every time you think he can't possibly go deeper, he angles his hips and sinks in further. You want to scramble back on the desk, give yourself a moment to breathe, to think, to process the bliss, but Santiago's hands grip your thighs, holding you in place as you fall back on your elbows, splayed out across his desk, being used solely for his pleasure.

Santiago follows your movement, bending himself over you, causing the angle of his thrusts to change just slightly and hit something bright inside you. Pens and papers clatter noisily to the floor as the desk rocks with you. In a desperate attempt to stop yourself from suddenly being pushed over the other side, you grab onto his shoulders, holding yourself in place.

There's a growing blissful ache in your pussy and muscles that lets you know you'll still feel this tomorrow.

But you don't care, you can't care. All you care about is the knot in your stomach tightening, your muscles straining, your vision whiting out. All you care about is the pleasure careening through you.

Your pussy clamps down around him, your nails digging into his shoulders as your climax bursts through you. You give all pretence at being quiet, throwing your head back as you all but scream his name, uncaring who hears.

"Fuck, Santiago!"

The clench of your pussy drags him over the edge with you, and he muffles a growl into your neck, filling you with hot bursts of cum.

He pauses there, buried deep inside you, your pussy still pulsing as you come down. Lifting his head he captures your lips in a sweet kiss, his hands tenderly massaging your thighs, slipping up your back to pull you to sit up, holding you against him.

When he eventually pulls away, his eyes roam your face, taking in your dishevelled appearance, pressing a final gentle kiss to your lips, before he slips out of you, pulls his pants back up and disappears around the other side of the desk.

You slide off shakily, your skirt still bunched up around your waist, turning to watch him throw himself down into the office chair, your panties dangling from his fingers like a hard won prize, back to his cocky, self assured, smug self. All traces of the softness he had only moments ago, wiped away.

"You won't be needing these back," he grins, opening his top drawer to drop your panties inside, before snapping it shut, his gaze daring you to protest as you stand open mouthed.

"Can I at least have something to clean-"

"No." He cuts you off, going back to clicking through his emails on his computer.

You have the realisation that he expects you to walk back to your desk with his cum still dripping down your thighs. You imagine the stain on your skirt, on your chair, one that probably won't ever fully come out, the stain like the one currently staring at you from the wood of his desk, a constant reminder of this day.

It shouldn't make your pussy clench the way it does.

You swallow, pulling down your skirt, ignoring the slick already coating your thighs, and give him a defiant stare.

"Very well. Will that be all Mr Garcia?" You mock sarcastically. If he was going to go back to professional, then so were you.

He doesn't even glance at you as he answers, dismissing you as though nothing has happened.

"For now. But don't go far. I don't think it will be long before I need to see you again."

You suppress a smile as you leave.

"Still working hard?"

Looking up from the document you've barely typed a word on all afternoon, you meet the gentle gaze of your boyfriend.

His eyes crinkle as he smiles warmly at you.

"Yeah, I haven't really managed to get much done," you sigh, glancing back to the half written document, knowing it's a lost cause for now.

"You look tired, baby. Your boss working you too hard?"

"He's pretty unforgiving," you hum, rubbing your eyes, your body aching with exhaustion. "Three times he had me in his office today."

Your boyfriend lets out a low impressed whistle.

"Harsh. Well, how about you leave whatever you're doing for now? I'm sure your boss will be okay with it being finished tomorrow. I'll run you a bath, make some dinner, then we can relax in front of the TV? Your choice of movie."

"That actually sounds perfect," you smile, logging out of the pc and getting to your feet, stretching your cramped muscles.

He holds his hand out to you as you come around the desk, pulling you into his arms and giving you a sweet kiss.

"I told you having two home offices would be fun," Santiago grins, his eyes bright.

Giggling, you shake your head.

"Yes, but I don't think we got any work done!"

Santiago shrugs nonchalantly.

"Guess that's the perks of being with the boss. I'll let you get away with it and make it up tomorrow." He winks and you laugh, knowing you both have a huge amount of work to catch up on now.

When he'd suggested you work with him you'd been hesitant for this exact reason. But he'd promised to keep quiet about your relationship initially, while you settled into the job, and for the most part, Santiago was professional in the office, although your colleagues had started to notice his almost blatant eye fucks. If you were honest, you didn't help the situation, sending him filthy chat messages, knowing he couldn't have you until you made it home. It turned out professionalism when you wanted to fuck your boss, was hard work.

You squeeze his hand as he leads you to the bathroom.

"Santi, can I have my panties back?"

"Nope," he grins positively merrily. "I'm going to frame them and put them next to the stain on my desk."

You roll your eyes, unsure if he's joking or not, but judging by the look on his face, you think not.

—----

Additional warnings (ending spoilers):

*illusions to infidelity/cheating (it's not I promise)/ role playing

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Thank you for reading! Please if you enjoyed take the time to comment and reblog! As writers we always want to hear your thoughts!

#santiago garcia x f!reader #santiago garcia x reader #santiago garcia smut #santiago garcia x you #santiago garcia #tripple frontier fanfiction #santiago garcia x fem reader

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