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alltheirdamn · 2 months

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Rotten | cowboy!joel x f!reader

Summary: Sharing land with Joel Miller has always been infuriating, but when your bad attitude finally gets his attention...things get messy. Rating: 18+ Explicit MDNI Word Count: 5.2k Warnings: No-Outbreak AU, banter and arguing, explicit language, brat taming, semi dark!joel, dubcon elements, degrading, choking, rough spanking, hair pulling, face slapping, throat fucking, touch of dacryphilia, rope/bondage, rough unprotected piv sex, hint of a subspace moment, orgasm denial, squirting, creampie, no aftercare because joel is an old, grumpy asshole A/N: Y'all probably wouldn't believe me if I told you Apple by Charlie XCX inspired this random fic...but anyway, this one goes out to my sweet bb angel @lotusbxtch <3 thank you for always being my partner in crime in the late hours of the evening ilysm

Part II

Masterlist | Ko-Fi

The Texas sun beat down on your skin as you rode through the acres of land—your land— stretching out before you. Passed down from generation to generation, this entire pasture of fields and wild barley was yours. After both of your parents died during a freak accident, you inherited the land and dealt with upkeep and farm animals as if it were your life. And it was your life. Every inch of this farmland was yours, no matter what anyone said.

You pressed your heels into the side of your horse, Mac, and urged him further down through the tall grass. The summer hadn’t been kind to the fields, the grass yellowing in most places, but what would you do about it? Tell the sun to stop shining? All you could do was take care of the land and ensure nothing went wrong. The animals were taken care of, the wild wheat still grew strong in the outskirts past your tiny farm home, and you had enough money to put dinner on the table for yourself at the end of your night.

No trouble at all.

What was trouble, though, was Joel Miller riding his ass right down the edge of your land. The sun cast him in a dark silhouette as he rode closer, his broad body sitting tall on the back of his horse. You held back the reigns, shushing Mac gently as you slowed him to a trot, keeping a healthy distance from the insufferable man trespassing onto your fields.

“Think y’got yourself a bit lost out here, Miller,” you hollered.

Joel removed the black cowboy hat from his head; the grey hairs streaking through his curls shimmered in the sunlight as he swiped an arm over his sweaty forehead. Every inch of his skin was sunkissed and tan from hours under the sun, his greying beard patchy and well-kept despite his rugged exterior. If he weren’t such an asshole, maybe you’d even consider him attractive, but your irritation with him ran deeper than any other emotion.

Staring up at you under thick brows, Joel quirked an amused grin and shrugged.

“Ain’t lost at all, darlin’. S’my land out here.”

You steered Mac forward, keeping yourself parallel with Joel’s body. You weren’t intimidated by any man, let alone Joel Miller. He may have a few decades on you, but that didn’t matter. The Miller family had always been a problem. For generations, they feuded with your family over acres of land that stretched across the horizon, never agreeing on who owned what. Before Joel, his father had caused an uproar in your family, and now he just had to continue causing problems. Would you ever rid yourself of this man and his family?

“I suggest y’take your ass home ‘fore I make you leave,” you warned.

The wind kicked around you, fanning your hair down around your shoulders. Joel caught how your hair flared under your cowboy hat, and a hint of mischief sparkled inside his dark brown eyes. He was a fucking nuisance and still on your fucking land.

“Careful now, darlin’. Those are some mighty big fightin’ words.”

You straightened your spine, holding firm on the reigns to keep yourself anchored. Mac huffed impatiently as if he knew how sour your mood was turning. The longer you kept yourself around Joel, the quicker your anger grew. The sun would set soon, and you still had miles to cover before you made it home; you wouldn’t entertain an old cowboy all night, even if he were staring at you like you were a wild horse to be tamed.

“This is the last time I’m tellin’ you to stay off my land, Joel. I mean it.”

Joel chuckled lightly as if your words meant nothing. He placed his hat back over the matted curls on his head and began riding past you. You glared over your shoulder, watching his body travel further into the horizon and away from the rolling fields of your land.

The summer wasn’t getting any easier. The sun grew brighter each day, and the air thickened with humidity, making it nearly impossible to continue wearing anything restrictive. With no one else around to pester you, you paraded around the stables in a tight top, a pair of daisy dukes, and your usual worn leather boots. The fewer clothes, the better—even if that meant getting bit up by a few mosquitoes here and there.

You were deep into cleaning Mac’s stall when you heard the sound of hoofs pounding against the dirt ground outside the stables. Your body went rigid; you knew who it was without looking. Who else would it be out here? The horse in the distance bristled as its rider dropped to the ground, his heavy footfall nearing you as you exited the stall with a towel slung over your shoulder.

Joel stood tall in the entrance, his broad frame sucking in all of the light as he walked closer. He wore an old denim button-up, and the sleeves pushed up his tan forearms, exposing the thickly corded muscles that ran down to his hands. Without a cowboy hat resting over his eyes, you could see how rich and dark they were as they stared you down. Despite hating him, your body reacted on its own accord. You clenched your thighs, trying to quell the ache growing inside your core. Leaning against the stall, you narrowed your eyes, watching Joel stalking closer. His steps were confident—casually, even—as if he owned the damn place.

“Not sure why y’think it’s okay to come waltzin’ in here,” you scowled, folding your arms over your chest.

“Ain’t you just a ray of sunshine,” Joel smirked.

“Fuck off, old man,” you snapped, rolling your eyes.

“What was that, darlin?”

Joel stepped forward, and you mimicked his movements, drawing yourself closer to him. Even with his height towering over you, you were unphased. This man wouldn’t get the best of you.

“Oh, sorry. Should I be speakin’ louder? Ain’t sure if y’got your hearing aids in.”

“No, I heard y’just fine. Just wanna hear you say it again.”

The toe of your boot tapped against his as you glared up at him. With a smug grin stretching across your face, you repeated your retort.

“Fuck off. Old man.”

Joel’s body tensed, his eyes narrowed as he considered your words. You weren’t backing down; he was on your property and, quite frankly, pissing you off. He could bitch and moan all he wanted about how this land was his birthright, but he was wrong. Your parents settled the matter generations ago and never once faltered against the Millers. That wouldn’t change now. You’d uphold their wishes and continue fighting for what was yours.

“Y’gotta damn nasty mouth on such a tiny body. Ain’t your parents teach you some manners?” Joel questioned.

“They taught me enough, but it ain’t gonna stop me from tellin’ you off. So, get the hell off my property,” you demanded.

You glanced down, noticing Joel’s hands clenched into fists at his sides. It was amusing seeing him all riled up. Who knew he had that kind of spark in him? You wondered just how far you could push him until he snapped.

“Ain’t you just spoiled rotten. Is that what it is? Y’think everythin’ is yours ‘cause your mommy and daddy said so?”

His voice was taunting, a litany of rhetorical questions to which he didn’t care to know the answer. Whatever you said, it wouldn’t matter because his mind was made up. Stubborn old man.

“I don’t think everythin’ is mine. I know it is,” you objected. “So, move your old ass back to your side of the pasture and get out of my face.”

Joel crowded your body, walking you back towards the stall door until your body pressed into the wood. You lifted your chin defiantly, watching his eyes clouded with rage.

“Spoiled lil’ brat. Should teach you a lesson for the way you’re speakin’ to me,” Joel growled.

Let’s see how far we can take this, you thought.

“Whatcha gonna do? Spank me?” You laughed, gracing him with a rueful smile.

Placing his hands above you on the door, Joel caged you between his body. You had nowhere to run; truthfully, you didn’t want to run. The incessant ache between your legs was swelling, your underwear practically soaked with the burning anticipation coursing through your veins.

“Keep runnin’ your mouth, darlin’. S’only gonna make things worse for you.”

“I ain’t scared of you, Joel.”

“You damn well should be,” he warned.

Joel’s hand shot out to grab the base of your neck, yanking you a breath away from his lips. The rich scent of whiskey wafted off his lips as he held you close, his fingers tightening around your throat. You rolled your tongue across your bottom lip, an invitation for whatever threat he had. You could take it.

“Y’think it’s cute actin’ this way? Think you’re just tough shit, and no one will put you in your place, hmm?” Joel whispered.

“You gonna be the one to do it, Joel?” You challenged.

Joel used his grip on your throat to spin you toward the door, your cheek smashing into the wood as he pinned you against it. The instant sting of his palm radiated through the denim of your shorts, the heat of his hand melting into your skin. You yelped in pain, dragging your nails over the wood that strained against the press of your body. His hand smoothed over the curve of your ass before delivering another jarring smack.

“Fuck!” You cried, biting back tears.

“Spoiled.” Smack. “Fuckin’.” Smack. “Brat.” Smack. Smack.

“Joel, please!” You begged.

You weren’t sure if you were begging for more or begging for him to stop. Either way, he was unrelenting, his handprint leaving welts on your skin. Joel’s grip on your throat tightened, restricting your breathing as he dug his fingers into the supple skin of your ass. Prodding…smoothing…spanking. A continuous, viscous cycle you were weak against. Every bite of his hand on your body intensified the throbbing between your legs, your clit swelling with need. Repeating slaps against your other cheek forced tears down your face, their path leading down your neck and onto Joel’s warm hand.

“You cryin’, darlin’?” Joel taunted. “Gonna beg me to stop?”

“Please—” You choked out, your words garbled and strained.

Joel’s lips touched your ear, his breath fanning over your skin in waves.

“M’fraid I can’t. Not til’ y’learn your lesson.”

You twisted your head around, your tired eyes connecting with his. There wasn’t a hint of brown in his irises as his pupils swallowed them whole, an unsatisfied look washing over his features. He wasn’t done, and neither were you.

“Fuck you,” you snarled.

Joel tilted his head, his graying mustache twitching as his lips curved into a smile. An unmistakable hint of desire masked his expression, keeping you reeled in and wanting more. If he could keep going, then so could you.

“You just ain’t backin’ down, huh?” Joel questioned.

You wagged your head back and forth, his fingers squeezing against your windpipes. Joel’s hand coasted up your waist, tugging at the belt loop on your shorts until your body spun to face his. Even with tears streaming down your cheeks, you grinned at him, clearly unbothered by the onslaught of pain he had inflicted.

“That all y’got, old man?” You lipped off.

“Call me old man one more time, darlin’,” Joel warned his face inches from yours.

“Old. Man.” You punctuated each word through gritted teeth.

Joel cupped your sex through your jeans, no doubt feeling the arousal seeping through the denim fabric. A rouge whimper fell off your lips, and you bit back any more sounds to give away the desperation rolling through your veins.

“Fuckin’ brat,” he exhaled, but there was a lightness in his voice.

You were both giving into some carnal need, electrifying the humid air around you. You chased his mouth, wanting to lap up every threat on his whiskey-drenched tongue. Joel pulled back, your lips connecting with nothing as you arched forward. With a slight pout, you huffed in annoyance.

“Look who’s actin’ all desperate now. Just beggin’ for this old man to fuck you.”

“Betcha can’t even get it up in the first place,” you grumbled.

Joel’s hand connected with your cheek, a rough slap sending your face to the side. Dammit, if that wasn’t the hottest thing he’d done. The sting of his palm sent a wave of pleasure rolling through your stomach, a burning need just aching to come undone. Thick fingers gripped your jaw, wagging your face side to side.

“I’ve heard enough of that bratty mouth,” Joel said decisively.

His hands brushed over your collarbone, grasping your shoulders and shoving you to your knees. Your legs hit the straw-covered ground with a soft thud, your skin scraping against the dry hay. He wasted no time undoing his large belt buckle, working his cock out of the confines of his jeans, and your mouth went dry at the sight of him. Joel was hung like a fucking horse, his length thick and no short of any girth. Precum dribbled down off the tip, the sticky mess enticing you to move closer. Staring up at him through your lashes, you waited for his next move. He might have you on your knees, but you’d have his cock, and that was power in itself.

“Make use of that mouth and suck,” he commanded.

You lapped at the precum, his cock twitching against every flick of your tongue. You explored his length, dragging your tongue along the veins running down the underside of his cock. Joel gripped the hair at the crown of your head, guiding your mouth over the tip and down his length. Your nose brushed against the bushy hair at the base, his musky scent flooding your senses—it was intoxicating.

“There we go,” Joel hummed, his voice gravely and strained. “So fuckin’ full of me y’can’t talk back.”

His name came out muffled as you tried to speak, your tongue flatted against the base of his cock. He pushed his cock a centimeter further, the tip knocking against the back of your throat. You gagged around him, your hands slapping against his thick thighs.

“I don’t wanna hear y’say a damn word,” Joel growled. “You’re gonna take my fuckin’ cock down your throat and choke on it.”

You clawed at his thighs as tears sprung along your waterline, threatening to spill over the longer he kept himself inside your mouth. His fingers tightened around tiny strands of your hair, anchoring you to his cock as he thrusted himself deeper. You tried to protest and pull away, but his grip on you was unforgiving.

“Please,” you garbled, spit rolling down your chin.

“Still actin’ like a spoiled fuckin’ brat, ain’t you? Think y’can get whatever you want?”

He granted you an inch to breathe, pulling you halfway off his cock. You inhaled sharply through your nose, trying to latch onto any control. Joel used his grip on your hair to slide your mouth up and down his length, the sound of your lips around his the only noise aside from his labored breathing. You tapped on his thigh twice, hoping he’d relent and give you a reprieve.

“Real fuckin’ cute,” he laughed. “Struggle all y’want, darlin’. I ain’t stoppin’.”

The tears flowed freely now, mixing with the saliva pooling down your jaw as you worked him deeper down your throat. Every strained attempt to beg him to stop fell on deaf ears; his cock only pushed further down until you had no choice but to sit there completely disarmed and helpless. The scratches left on his thighs didn’t phase him at all, nor did your whimpers as you tried to swallow a breath around him.

“Keep cryin’, darlin’. Just makes you look prettier when I’m ruinin’ you,” Joel muttered.

As your nose pressed against the hair at his navel, Joel’s hand brushed over your cheek, collecting a rogue tear on his thumb. Through blurred eyes and running mascara, you blinked up at him right as he tasted the tear pooling on the pad of his fingertip.

“Delicious,” he hummed.

A dangerous grin split across his face, his hips jerking forward one last time before he wrenched you free from his cock. You coughed violently, the air wooshing back into your lungs with each heaving breath. You swiped the back of your hand across your mouth, wiping off the saliva coating your chin and jaw.

“You fuckin’ asshole,” you choked out.

Crouching down, Joel met you at eye level, his eyes soulless and dark. You shivered under his heavy gaze and flinched away from his face as he crowded you.

“How’s that attitude of yours now?” He questioned.

You reeled back, sending a glob of spit across the bridge of his nose. Joel scrunched his eyes together, jaw clenched as he wiped away your spit. You bared your teeth at him, still refusing to back down. Joel straightened to his full height, working at shoving his cock back in his jeans. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t a bit disappointed; you hated him but wanted more.

“Guess I ain’t been rough enough,” Joel grumbled, walking down the stable.

You watched as he picked a bundle of lead rope off the hook near Mac’s stall, weighing it between his hands. A jolt of panic ran through your veins as you saw his eyes light up in mischief. You were so fucked. You half-considered running, but where was the fun in that? Joel would only chase you down, and even that sounded delicious. There was no use in fighting it now; you were in it for the long haul.

“Now,” he started, his steps slow as he walked back toward your kneeling body. “I’m gonna give you two options. Y’either walk your ass outside like a good girl, or I drag you out by your hair. What’s it gonna be, darlin’?”

“I’ll walk,” you snapped, rising to your feet.

Your knees ached with each step as you walked into the blinding daylight outside the stables. Gnats swarmed around your face as you stood idle by the entrance, glancing over your shoulder at Joel stalking behind you. The rope swung beside his body as he carried it in his hand, the lingering threat lying within the coarse fibers that wound together. His head jerked over to the tie rack beside the barn, his eyes trained on the vacant stall before the expanse of your land.

“C’mon, brat.”

He waltzed in front of you, guiding you to the empty platform with a stern look gracing his features. Without a single word, Joel yanked your wrists together, his deft fingers working at knotting the rope around your skin. The fraying pieces bit into your skin, rubbing and burning the longer he twisted it in loops around your hands. He gave the rope a good tug, humming in satisfaction once the binding was tight enough. Guiding your arms upwards, he clipped the lead to the metal loop on one side of the tie rack, keeping your body suspended awkwardly as your wrists ached from the restraint. You refused to say a word, too frustrated even to protest his actions. If you thought you were helpless before, you were utterly powerless now. It was just you, Joel, and the empty stretch of land that went on for miles.

Joel pressed his body against your back, the warmth of his touch ignited heat within your core all over again. You squirmed as his hands roamed over your curves, his fingers tracing the outline of your breasts under your sweat-covered shirt. He pinched at your nipples, finding their pebbled indentation hidden within your bra. A desperate whine left your lips as you swayed against the pull of the rope, your feet slipping against the ground.

“See all that land out there,” Joel whispered, his teeth nipping at your earlobe. “That’s all mine, darlin’, and I’m gonna make sure you remember that by the time I’m through with you.”

“Tyin’ me up and fuckin’ me ain’t gonna change my mind,” you scoffed.

“Guess I’m just gonna have to fuck some sense into you.”

Joel’s hands worked down your body, making quick work of undoing your shorts and shoving them down to your boots. The hot, sticky summer air breezed over your bare skin, hardly helping to soothe the painful ache between your thighs. Thick, calloused fingers massaged the skin of your hips, kneading your supple curves as you writhed against his touch. You could beg him for more, and oh god, did you want to. You wanted to cave and relinquish everything just to quell the burning pleasure inside your body, but you wouldn’t beg. Not for Joel Miller or any other man.

Joel swiped a finger through your drenched folds, tutting at your pliancy. The brief touch alone was enough to spark stars behind your eyes, your breath growing shallow.

“Well, would ya’ look at that,” Joel tutted. “You’re soakin’ my fingers, darlin’.”

You refused to say a word, too afraid you’d succumb to your own devices. You wouldn’t ask him to fuck you, but Jesus Christ, you fucking needed it. Every fiber of your being cried for release, and if it meant you had to be tied up and fucked in front of the yellow fields in front of you, then that’s what you’d do.

“I’ll give you one last chance,” Joel offered. “Say this land is mine and I’ll let you go.”

You glanced over your shoulder at him, no doubt a mess after being on your knees before him. There was a cruelty in his eyes that alarmed you, but you were too focused on what you needed, even to feel afraid.

“This is my land,” you stated, your chin held high. “S’my family’s land and it’s gonna stay that way ‘til I’m in my grave.”

“Wrong fuckin’ answer.”

Joel knocked your legs apart, the denim of his jeans dragging against your slick arousal. There was a moment where there was absolutely nothing, a vacancy of sound or touch that deprived your senses. Maybe you were teetering on the edge of delirium, too far gone to know what he was doing behind you, but then you felt everything. The thick head of his cock brushed against your entrance, rubbing between your silken folds in tantalizing strokes. That was the only warning he gave before pushing himself deeper, splitting you open inch by inch. You cried out as your body worked to stretch around his length, and your vision blackened as the sharp pain of the sensation jolted through your veins.

“Fuck!” You screamed.

The adjustment to his size was agonizing despite how wet you were. Nothing could have prepared you for the way Joel broke you open, nor was there anything that could have prepared you for how brutal he would become. Thrust after thrust, he assaulted you, completely breaking you and molding you to his cock. The pull of the rope burnt the skin of your wrists as he took you harder, your body lurching against the restraints with each snap of his hips. Joel tugged your body backward, shifting your legs until you were forced to bend at the waist. Words wouldn’t form on your lips, and you dissolved into a heap of wailing cries as he plunged deeper into you.

“Where’s all that loudmouthin’ now?” Joel grunted, his fingers bruising your hips. “So fuckin’ cock drunk y’can’t even speak?”

Your silence only drove him crazier, his speed quickening mercilessly. The ache inside your core was all-consuming, a burning wildfire inside your stomach. You dropped your head between your shoulders and dug your nails into your palms, keeping yourself grounded.

“Joel,” you gasped. “Please.”

You failed in your attempts not to beg this man, throwing everything to the wayside as you succumbed to the pulsing ache between your legs.

“Shut up, brat,” he snapped.

“Joel!” You sobbed. “I’m gonna—fuck—please. I need to—to…”

The words turned to ash on your tongue as he snaked a hand around your body, his fingers drawing circles over your swollen clit. You yelped at the roughness of his fingers, the sensation alone nearly causing your legs to buckle beneath you. If it weren’t for the ropes holding you firmly in place, you would have fallen to the ground.

“Poor thing,” he crooned in your ear. “Y’wanna cum? Is that what you want?”

Another drive of his hips. Another draw of his fingers. Tormenting movements that kept you on the edge of ecstasy and suffering. Your arousal pooled down your inner thighs, mixing with the sticky sweat that clung to every inch of your skin.

“I need it, Joel,” you gasped. “Christ, please!”

“Y’gonna change your mind?”

“N—.”

Joel pinched your clit between his fingers, and your words drowned out under a helpless wail falling from your lips. He pulled you back by your hair, winding it around his fist as he drew his lips down your neck. The sweltering touch of his mouth on your skin and his rough fingers on your sensitive bud were enough to topple you closer to the edge. The furnace igniting inside your stomach wouldn’t stop any time soon, but you still wouldn’t give up. He was always going to be wrong, and you’d rather die than give him the satisfaction.

“Say it, darlin’. Say the words, and y’can cum all over my cock.”

“Never,” you panted. “Never gonna—.”

He pistoned into you, his cock spearing deeper and deeper, completely paralyzing you. Sobs wracked through your body as you took every thrust, and your mind began to float off into a blissed-out haze that drowned out the noise behind you.

“Gonna own all this fuckin’ land,” Joel gritted out. “Own it just like I own this fuckin’ pussy.”

Please. Please. You weren’t sure if you repeated the words inside your mind or aloud; either way, Joel only huffed a laugh and continued with his repetitive assaults on your body. Your orgasm began barreling toward you, your core fluttering around him as it sparked beneath your skin. Everything inside you tensed up, and your jaw went slack with an outward cry as you slipped under the rapid release coursing inside your body.

“Oh fuck!” You sobbed. “Fuck… fuck… fuck!”

Your sex clenched around Joel so hard he choked on a breath, his body rigid against yours as you spasmed beneath his hold. Hot, wet streams of your orgasm drenched his cock as he tore through your orgasm with shallow thrusts. Jole rammed into you over and over again until another wave of pleasure slammed into your body.

“Fuckin’ brat,” he hissed. “Never said y’could cum, did I?”

His hand vanished from your waist and returned to the welted skin of your ass with a resounding smack. There wasn’t enough air in your lungs to cry out, nor any more tears to shed. You hung against the ropes, limp and pliant, as he took you with abandon.

With another snap of his hips against yours, Joel spilled into you, his release filling you to the brim as he released a carnal groan. You could barely lift your head to look back at him as he untangled his fingers from your hair and pulled away.

Every atom inside your body was pulsing with overstimulation, your ass welted and bruised, and your throat raw from screaming. The constant thrum of your heartbeat in your ears smothered the sound of Joel’s belt buckle clanging together, the warmth of his body far removed from yours as you stood on tired legs. Moments passed without a single touch, and you wondered if Joel would leave you there tied to the rack and dripping with cum.

“Think y’learned your lesson now?” He asked, his voice sounding far away.

All you could do was wag your head in protest, your eyes pinned down to the floor, fixated on the pool of saliva that had fallen from your lips. Joel appeared beside you, his grey hair dissolved and face red from exertion. He worked at unclasping the rope from the hook, unbinding your wrists until your arms fell limp to your sides. Your body was weightless without the stability of the rope, and you fell forward, anticipating the impact against the cement. Joel was quicker, though, winding a strong arm around your front and holding you up.

“Easy now, darlin’,” he whispered softly. “Easy.”

Your fingers wrapped around his arm, clinging to anything to escape the impending collapse of your entire body. Your boots scruffed against the cement of the stall, kicking dust into the air around you. With his arm still braced around your chest, he used the other to guide your shorts back up your legs and onto your hips. You hissed as the denim rubbed against your ass, the swell of your skin still prickling with pain no matter how brief the touch was.

“Can y’stand on your own?” He asked.

“Mhmm,” you mumbled.

“Attagirl.”

Yet as he released your body, you staggered forward, grasping onto the tie rack for support. Joel waited until you found your balance and offered a hand. You were hesitant but relented silently. He took your wrists in one large hand and began massaging at the reddened skin, working out any tension left from the rope. You stared blankly at him, watching a crease burrow between his eyebrows. You still hated him, right? Right? Something so minimal shouldn’t make your heart pound against your chest, but there you were, speechless as you watched this rough man touch your skin with a tenderness he had yet shown.

“Suns goin’ down soon,” he muttered, nodding to the sky.

You peered over your shoulder, surprised to see the sun dipping over the horizon. You hadn’t noticed the pinky hue of the sunset while he fucked you, but now you stared at it in wonderment.

“Guess it is,” you sighed. “Y’should get your ass off my property ‘fore it gets too late.”

Joel snorted, glancing up at you through thick lashes. In the dwindling sunlight, his eyes had dissolved from onyx back into a glistening amber color, the flecks of rich brown dancing as he looked at you.

“Stubborn lil’ thing,” he huffed.

He dropped your hands and straightened to his full height. Perspiration coated his button-up, staining it in dark spots as excess beats of sweat still rolled down his muscular neck. You tamed the flyaways of your hair, trying to minimize the obscenity of your look the longer he stood before you. It was no use after what he had done.

“Y’ain’t changin’ your mind, huh?”

“Nope,” you shook your head.

Joel rolled his eyes and shoved a hand into his front pocket. Leaning close, he brought his other hand to your face, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, letting his fingers brush over your cheek before pulling away.

“Guess I’ll just come back tomorrow and try again.”

“Y’come back here tomorrow, and I’ll shoot you dead, Miller.”

He cracked a grin and began to retreat toward his horse beside the stable. You stood motionless as he mounted the brown mare, slipping the reigns between his hands. Joel gave you a farewell wave before taking off across the flowing fields, his broad figure dissolving into the sunset. You slumped against the wall of the stables, letting your body fall to the ground. A smile slid across your face, taking in the open land before you.

You didn’t give up. It was all still yours.

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boneblushed · 2 months

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Ignorance by infatuation

synopsis A detective behaves lewdly with you. Aaron Hotchner gets uncharacteristically jealous.

wc 1.7k

a/n omg my first Hotch fic ever hehe 🤭 feedback and love always appreciated, still trying to find my Crim Minds voice!

It’s 8 o’clock in the morning, the air sultry and verdant, rain soaked leaves underfoot.

Aaron Hotchner frowns. Petrichor and dew mean evidence awash. He pauses to squint up at the sky, muddy grey with isolated streaks of yellow dawn.

You’re acutely aware of Spencer’s eyes on you as you walk past Hotch, and give yourself a mild headache by focussing too hard on the commotion ahead. The rest of the team don’t seem to notice the tension between you and SSA Hotchner. Or perhaps they do, and the pair of you are just too stubborn to admit it.

It’s been lurking under the surface for a while now, this perplexing pull between you. Lingering glances, raised eyebrows, irises spooled with tendrils of static. A hand pressed against your back every time he scoots behind you, like an excuse. He doesn’t do that with Emily. None of the other agents. A frown that tends to yield when your gaze catches his.

Or hardens when someone acts a little lewder than is appropriate.

Like the other day, for example, when he’d overheard you on the phone with some deadbeat cop in the Dallas area. (He’s probably being unfair. He probably isn’t even a deadbeat. It’s just that anyone that flirts with the idea of your favour is going to be unworthy in comparison, even Agent Hotchner.)

The phone had rung in the middle of your exchange, and you’d answered it immediately, mouthing apologies in its place. Aaron Hotchner remembers the shine of gloss on your lips, the ways your fingers clasped the phone to your ear, gentle but firm. Remnants of peach coloured polish on your nails.

“Yes, this is she,” you’d answered, mouthing another apology to him. “How can I help you?”

You’d come into his office a few minutes prior to discuss something media strategy; Hotch didn’t have a mind for it, he much preferred giving you all the reins. He recognised how strange this was for a control freak as prolific as him. You were different though, he’d attest. It was a sentiment as dangerous, as non-platonic, as the feelings making home in his ribcage.

“Right,” you’d said, pulling your spiral-bound notebook out of your pocket. You’d wedged your phone between your ear and shoulder, slipping your pen out of your breast pocket and clicking it against it. Hotch felt unseasonably hot at such attention to your chest. He raised his eyebrows inquisitively, trying to catch your gaze.

“Ah, I see, yes that does sound like our area of expertise,” you’d continued, and then a pause, an awkward, unwieldy laugh. Still beautiful. “No, yes, our is correct — I am in fact part of the team.” Another pause; this time, you’d rolled your eyes when your laugh spooled out of your pretty mouth. He didn’t recognise it. “I don’t know about that. Should we get back to the case at hand? Great.”

Hotchner’s eyebrows had lowered then, furrowing into an expression of concern, flailing interest. Not jealousy. He was pretty certain he knew all your laughs, the cadence of them, the syrupy timbre. This one was new. You sounded uncomfortable, as though something said over the phone had abraded you somehow. As his eyebrows had, his heart had sunk into his stomach. He remembers the strain of his forearm muscles against his clenched knuckles.

“Sure. Yes. As soon as I have all the details I’ll be able to distribute them. Great, yes, we’ll see you soon, I’m sure. Thank you. Goodbye.”

And that had been that. Hotch hadn’t had the stomach to ask after the details, especially not when you’d seemed so eager to put it behind you.

After ending the call, you’d shaken your head and proclaimed, “Don’t ask,” launching back into your spiel about media strategy like it hadn’t happened. Hotch wasn’t in the business of disagreeing with you; pressing things. Saying no. It wasn’t lost on him that he used the word liberally with everyone else he knew.

Back at the scene, Hotch stays a few steps behind the team. He knows that Spencer’s assessing eyes will see right through his faux contemplation; Hotchner knows, from the many frowns Spencer’s eidetic memory has learned, that the expression on his face will be recognised as distraction.

He needs to focus. He needs you near. He needs to keep his eye on the ball. He needs deadbeat detective far away from here.

As you and the BAU team near the crime scene, a rugged looking cop pulls away from his colleagues. He has eyes like treacle tart and a grin that borders on a smirk. A toothpick hangs from his mouth like something out of a Western.

“Detective Landon?” You say, extending a hand in acknowledgement. “Hello, we spoke on the phone yesterday morning.”

Detective Landon spits the toothpick out of his mouth, maintaining eye contact as he does so. But it isn’t the depth of his gaze that drops yours. You can feel someone else’s eyes searing holes through your skull.

“Well I’ll be,” he drawls, taking your hand and pressing it to his mouth. “Your voice doesn’t do you justice, darling.”

You resist the urge to make a face. It’s awful, unfortunate, but you’re far too used to this. Behind you, Derek raises his eyebrows, sharing an amused look with Emily beside him. Rossi looks exasperated. Spencer’s expression remains unchanged, though he does steal a glance at Hotchner. You smile, the way you always do, refusing to be thrown off by his candour.

“That’s a shame,” you reply breezily, turning to introduce your team. “Detective, this is SSA Morgan, SSA Prentiss, Dr Spencer Reid, and —”

“I’m the unit chief, Supervisory Special Agent Hotchner,” Hotch interrupts, a menacing gravel to his timbre. He doesn’t shake the hand Detective Landon extends to him. The detective draws it back with a gauche bark of laughter, turning his attention to the rest of the BAU.

“My my,” he says, his drawl returning as his eyes meet Emily’s. “What do I gotta do to get in on this team of yours?”

“A formal education would be helpful,” Spencer supplies, squinting at him through his glasses.

Detective Landon turns to him then, raising his eyebrows. “Doctor Reid, was it?”

“It is, but no need to aim that high, buddy,” Morgan says then, stepping forward and patting him on the shoulder. Landon winces. “Now. You going to talk us through what you guys got so far or what?”

“Damn, y’all are a feisty bunch, huh?” He replies, pulling another toothpick out of his breast-pocket. He sends you a wink that makes Hotch’s insides turn, adding, “Don’t mind it on you, sweetheart, but maybe the rest of the BAU ‘oughta play nice.”

Aaron Hotchner would normally agree with his sentiment. He’s been a long time advocate of working alongside the local police in investigations; he recognises that collaboration is far more productive than condescension.

Unfortunately for him, this isn’t quite a normal situation.

Things to do with you and other men rarely are. An ugly green emotion eases his heart right into his throat.

“Or maybe,” Hotchner says crisply, his steely gaze pinning Landon to the spot, “I should have a chat with your Captain and take you off this case.”

Landon balks. “Sir —”

“You’re dismissed,” Hotchner interrupts, not wanting to hear it. He’s unaware of the amused look Emily and Morgan share behind him.

“You…” Landon trails off exasperatedly, shaking his head, “…you can’t dismiss me. This is my case.”

“Actually, it’s the BAU’s case now.” He turns to you expectantly. You think you catch his gaze soften as it falls over your face in paces. Trick of the light, you suppose. “Right?”

“Sure,” you say weakly.

“Right then. Rossi?” Hotch says then, turning to David Rossi autocratically. “Why don’t you and the team go ahead and assess the scene while I head to base and sort out a reassignment.”

“Not you, Reid,” he adds, keeping Spencer in place. “You can come to the station with me, get our replacement up to speed. Sound good?”

Morgan’s trying hard to hide his knowing grin, one side of his mouth upturned with mirth. Emily isn’t bothering to pretend she doesn’t know what’s going on, her pretty features lit up with amusement. Detective Landon looks mortified. Your cheeks feel on fire.

“Alright,” Rossi says after pause, glancing between you and Hotchner. He’s been in the FBI for long enough now that he’s learnt to pick his battles.

He turns around and begins walking toward the crime scene, the three of you trailing behind him with less purposeful strides.

“Huh,” Derek says, faux-thoughtful. You’re wedged between him and Emily, much to your chagrin. “Wonder what that was about. Any ideas, SSA Prentiss?”

“Well, SSA Morgan,” Emily replies, her smile audible. “I’m afraid that our dear old unit chief has a bit of a soft spot.”

“A soft spot?” Derek echoes, letting out a dramatic gasp. “That’s dangerous in our line of work, wouldn’t you say?”

“I would say,” Emily responds sagely.

“Oh shut up, you two,” you mutter, crossing your arms over your chest. “That wasn’t just about me. He made a pass on Emily too.”

Emily snorts, shaking her head exasperatedly. “Hey Rossi, you got a name for this phenomenon?”

“Oh yeah,” Rossi replies without hesitation, his gaze trained ahead of him. “Ignorance by infatuation.”

Out of earshot, Spencer and Hotchner are having a similarly painful conversation.

“Strange,” Spencer decides, breaking the silence with his candour.

Aaron knows what he’s insinuating. He resists the urge to turn around and steal another glance at your pretty silhouette. “He was behaving inappropriately. There’s nothing strange about it, Spencer. I was protecting my team.”

“The whole team?”

“Yes.”

“Including me?”

“Yes.”

“But I liked him.”

Hotchner sends him an incredulous look. “And what exactly was there to like?”

“He was entertaining, I think,” Spencer replies casually, shrugging. “In a cop way, you know? Plus, I love listening to Y/N reject men. It’s fascinating.”

Hotchner swallows. “Fascinating?”

“She always does it in this way where they don’t even realise what exactly’s happening,” Spencer explains matter-of-factly. He turns to Aaron Hotchner then. “Don’t worry, though, she’d never do that to you.”

Hotchner’s traitorous heart leaps, his mouth pulling into a paradoxical frown. “Spencer,” he warns.

“Just saying,” Spencer replies, raising his arms in surrender.

“Well,” Hotch says grumpily, “don’t.”

“Alright. Noted.”

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #hotchner x reader #Hotchner x you #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #criminal minds #aaron hotchner fluff

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kermitthesog · 10 months

Text

ok I don’t care about Percy having blonde hair, or Annabeth having dark hair, or any skin color at all. BUT IF THE SHOW DOESNT PUT GREY STREAKS IN THEIR HAIRS AFTER HOLDING UP THE SKY, I WILL RIOT. granted, I’ll still watch the show fully and giggle while kicking my feet, BUT I WILL RIOT!!!

you hear me, Disney+? When, NOT IF, when you get to Titan’s Curse, you need to do this or else.

#you hear me?#do it #i need the grey streak #give it to me now #percy jackon and the olympians #greek gods #pjo fandom #pjo series #percy jackson #rick riordan #percy jackson show #percy jackson disney+#leah is our annabeth #leah is my annabeth

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ginevrapng · 1 year

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I saw that you were accepting requests and I was wondering if you could write something about best friends’ dads!marauders x reader or something like that?

If not, I completely understand! <3

i've never written bestfriends!dads before so i hope you enjoy it! i didn't know if you wanted me to include peter but the majority of marauders fics leave out peter and i think this concept works better without him. <3

there was a lot of great things about being harry potter's best friend, one of those things happens to be getting to spend time with his hot dad james, completely off limits dad. that doesn't stop you from thinking about how charming he is though.

you've seen photos of james when he were younger and harry is a spitting image of him. now with age he's changed in all the best ways, his hair less messy, neater with slightly having the appearance of being slicked back and with thicker frame glasses. a distinction between him and harry, both younger and older is his build, james being more built with broader shoulders and more muscular.

he's kind and considerate and always calls you 'sweetheart' making you flush and every time leaves you wide eyed. you've never heard him call anyone else sweetheart so it's always leaving you feeling bashful.

james tells you that you can come and visit and stay whenever you want and you're always welcome so whenever you spend time at harry's you also end up seeing his two godfathers who also spend a lot of time there. whenever that happens you are rather reluctant to leave the house, not just enjoying all the company that they deliver but also how attractive they are, just like james.

remus somehow always memorising you. like when he rolls his sleeves up so you can see his arms or how you swear you sometimes see in the corner of your eye glimpses of him looking at your lips while you're talking. his jumpers and cardigans always looking so comfortable and soft, you wonder what they'd look like on you. you think about his sandy hair that covers his eyes and his beautiful hazel eyes that crinkle when he smiles and how he always looks tired and how you'd happily let him rest and sleep on you. he never talks about his work but it must be pretty rough for him to constantly look so tired.

sirius is ruggedly handsome always leaning against walls instead of sitting down, even when a seat is available. leaving you watching longer than you should as you watch his pose and see him stretching causing his tshirt to rise, exposing a bit of his torso. he has his long jet black hair which now has streaks of grey that he constantly runs his hands through.

you're going back into the living room, where everyone is, after you went to the kitchen to get a glass of cold water due to the heat and see sirius moving in a way that momentarily makes you freeze.

"you alright doll?" sirius smirks at you after spotting you. you nod but are unable to stop shifting side to side nervously after being caught, causing him to raise his eyebrow, looking amused as he chuckles at you.

this is the first time any of them has addressed your behaviour towards them but they have all noticed your longing looks and shy glances.

they've all been waiting for the moment to make a move and they're starting to lose their patience. you were none the wiser with their intentions, trying to get you alone, away from your friends and away from harry, asking you personal questions and give you special attention.

"you got a boyfriend or girlfriend doll? sirius asked you out of the blue one day, catching you completely off guard.

you splutter and try to answer while james starts speaking. "you're not dating my harry are you sweetheart?"

"what! of course i'm not! we're just friends." you say probably louder than you should, wanting to defend yourself.

you hear someone coming up behind you, "good." remus clasps your shoulders with his hands, slowly rubbing them and making patterns with his thumbs before he moves away and goes to help sirius with the washing up.

fiddling with your fingers you watch them all clear the table and sort out things that needed to be doing in the house with a small dreamy smile on your face.

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angelfic · 5 months

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— IT’S SO SWEET

pairing: jason todd x best friend!reader

summary: the 3 times jason takes care of you and the 1 time he lets you do the same. alternatively, jason thinks he's invincible, but his best friend needs to be protected at all costs.

warnings: unedited. again. pls don't kill me. swearing, kissing, mentions of blood/weapons/injuries, mentions of periods, reader is a nursing student, best friends to lovers!!! <3

author’s note: *shoves it at you* another one of these fics with the same format, this time with jason :) listen to 'sweet' by cigarettes after sex while reading this btw. and let me know what you think!! drop an ask or a message, don’t be shy!💌

1. when finals are going to kill you.

Sometimes you think being a vigilante like your best friend is worth the constant risk of dying if it means you never have to open another textbook again. When you voice this to Jason, he scowls like you've just threatened to kill a kitten in front of him.

"That's not funny. Don't even joke about that," he scolds, still frowning at you from the opposite end of your kitchen island. His Red Hood suit is sprawled out in front of him as he stitches up a loose hem, compliments of the last goon he most likely beat to a pulp. You make a face at the fact that his sleeve is covering your anatomy notes, ignoring the way he leans down in attempt to catch your eye. He resorts to snapping his fingers in your face. "Hey. Hey, I'm serious."

"Jason," you sigh, setting down your pen and resting your chin on your hand as you talk to him. "I'm studying for nursing school finals in my kitchen, because I didn't want to walk the five more steps it takes to get to my bedroom after making instant ramen. Do you really need me to tell you I'm not being serious about becoming a vigilante?"

His shoulders relax very slightly, but his expression stays annoyed. "You're going to give me an entire head of grey hair before I'm even thirty."

"Well, at least we know it'll suit you," you say through a yawn as you point to the white streak running through his hair. "So, if anything, you're welcome."

He gives you another withering glare, going back to his stitching. The tiny needle in his large hand distracts you for a minute until you realise that Jason has stopped sewing and you're actually staring into nothing now. He notices your eyes that have glossed over and immediately reaches over to slam your textbook shut, startling you back to attention. It isn't until he does this that you feel the exhaustion seeping into your bones, emphasised by the knot in your neck and the cramp in your writing hand.

Jason drags your textbook away from you, along with your notes. You take a second to appreciate how careful he is not to crease the pages, knowing you'd lose your mind. "Okay, you're done for today."

"Huh?" you mumble stupidly, his words registering in your mind too late and you realise he's just hijacked your study material. "Wh- Hey! Give it back, Jay, I have-"

"Finals, I know. Last I checked, you need to be alive to take finals and I don't see that happening unless you take a nap," he says, voice a little too calm for someone who you're about to pounce on and claw at until you get your textbook back. You sluggishly clamber off your stool and step in front of Jason, who immediately raises his arm to hold your textbook out of reach.

You look up at him and attempt an intimidating glare. "Hand over the textbook, Todd."

Jason raises his eyebrows, huffing out an exasperated laugh. "Lift one of your arms to get the book and its yours."

Your finger doesn't so much as twitch, but you sway a little until you reluctantly accept that maybe he's won this one. And maybe a nap does sound pretty good right now, you think with a groan, dropping your head so it rests on Jason's chest. Your arms hang floppily at your sides. "I'll kick your ass after my nap," you mumble into his shirt.

"I'm terrified," he deadpans, and you hear the thud of the textbook on the counter before his large hands come up to grip your waist so he can walk you backwards to your couch, knowing you well enough to anticipate your grumbles if he were to attempt to take you all the way to your bedroom. You smile into his chest.

"You've met your match, Red," you say as dramatically as you can for someone who's practically the equivalent to a sack of potatoes against Jason right now. When you feel the back of your legs hit the couch, you grip onto the bottom of Jason's shirt and tug at the fabric before he can let you go. "You're my human pillow, where do you think you're going?"

Before he can answer, you nudge him onto the couch and he obediently lies down so you can nestle in next to him and plop your head back onto his warm, muscled chest. You blame your exhaustion for your shameless behaviour.

Despite the tiredness, you can't help irritating Jason just a little bit more. "Hey, Jay. What would my vigilante name be?"

"Shut up," he says without any bite, resting his chin on top of your head. You snicker into his shirt, half delirious with fatigue but awake enough to feel his face moving as he smiles when he thinks you're not looking.

"Something cool. Like Nightwing," you mutter sleepily, poking the bear.

"What? Nightwing is not as cool as-" Jason starts incredulously, but cuts himself off. "Whatever. Go to sleep."

You hum, eyelids feeling heavy and you start drifting off, the last thing you register being Jason's fingertip tracing circles on your back.

When you wake up, Jason and his suit are gone, but you have a blanket tucked around you and a box of your favourite cookies on the coffee table.

2. when, apparently, you aren't immune to the streets of gotham.

Considering you live in the most corrupt city in the world, you probably should be a little more cautious about going out at night. It's not like you don't take precautions, though. Like every woman in Gotham, you're loaded with pepper spray every time you leave the house. Unlike every woman in Gotham, you also have multiple vigilantes in your phone with whom you share your location with.

Even then, you aren't stupid enough to step into any alleyways. You wish that were enough to stay out of trouble, but as soon as you realise the streets have completely emptied while you've been distracted with your thoughts, you start panicking a little.

You're fine, you reassure yourself as you slide your phone out your pocket to pull up your recent texts. You keep your screen open just for some reassurance, gripping the sides of your phone tightly when you hear some distant footsteps.

It's only ten more minutes to the convenience store, so you're more irritated than scared when you hear the footsteps quicken behind you, catching up. Your fingers fumble to text an SOS to Jason, but you accidentally tap send on your chat with Dick instead. With slightly shaky hands, you try and send one to Jason as well, hoping it's gone through when your phone is suddenly knocked out of your hand.

"Oh, for the love of-" you hiss, when you hear the cracking noise of your screen against the pavement and you don't risk reaching down to grab it. Instead, you turn around slowly to face a dark figure, clad in a cliche, all-black outfit and stood in a threatening stance. God, you hate Gotham.

"Hand over your-"

"Wallet, money, most prized possession," you cut the man off, probably very stupidly. "I know the drill, hang on."

He falters for a moment before anger clouds his expression and he pulls out a knife before you can get your wallet out. You try not to sigh in relief. For anyone else that might sound crazy, but knives you could manage. Being best friends with Jason Todd means of course you've been made to learn self-defence. Disarming someone with knives was doable enough to learn as a nursing student. Guns, on the other hand, are out of your league.

The fact that you know how to defend yourself doesn't make the knife look any less threatening and sharp, though.

"Hey, look, I'm not gonna be difficult," you say, dropping your voice to a low murmur as though you're trying to coax a cat out of a tree. "I'll give you my money."

"Yeah. Yeah, you do that," he rushes out, sounding confused. You kind of feel bad for him. Most people confronted with a mugger would probably be a lot more scared than you're acting and it's clearly throwing him off his game. You almost regret bothering to send your SOS and as you're thinking about how you're going to apologise to Dick for wasting his time, you go to grab your wallet to try and stall before the mugger becomes violent. "Stop! Put your hands up. I'll grab it myself."

You furrow your brows, about to argue that no, he fucking won't. But you see that the man's face suddenly becomes ten times paler than before and he's looking behind you instead. Your shoulders sag with relief as you spin around to see Nightwing in all his black and blue glory.

"Is there a problem, ma'am?" he lowers his voice an octave and you fight the urge to roll your eyes. He seems to be focusing hard on acting like strangers, because anyone with eyes would see the problem very clearly in the form of a man wielding a knife.

"Please, help me," you respond, drily. Dick raises a brow at your flippant attitude, so you clear your throat, kicking it up a notch. You glance at the man behind you and try to look more terrified than you feel. "Please help me, Mr Nightwing. This guy's got a knife, and he's going to stab me with it."

The man frantically shakes his head, dropping the knife immediately and backing up. "I wasn't! I swear, man, I was just trying to scare her. Look, I'll just-"

"Hey." You hear another familiar voice boom, this time through a modulator. You sigh, lifting your head to see Jason, all the more threatening as Red Hood. His guns are already in either hand by his side and you have to respect the mugger for not passing out where he stands. If you didn't know it was Jason behind that mask, you'd be terrified to death. He tilts his head, evaluating the man. "Where do you think you're going?"

"Nowhere, I-"

"Exactly," Jason's warped voice comes out tight, and you hear the cocking of his gun, making you whip around to send a panicked look to Dick. He runs closer to you and you drop your voice to a whisper.

"I've got Hood, you take care of the guy."

"Don't do anything stupid," he says, not unkindly and the two of you snap into action.

You run back over to the mugger and step in front of him, making Jason falter in his movements and lower his gun. His chest rises and falls with deep breaths like he's exercising real control. "Move."

You stay as still as possible, arms splayed out in an attempt to cover the man behind you, despite the fact that Jason definitely possesses the skill to take him out even with you in the way.

"Put your guns away," you hiss when Dick has successfully restrained the man out of earshot and is dragging him away with ease. Jason steps towards them, but you stay in his way, using both hands against his chest to stop him. It's more of a symbolic gesture than anything, since you know you wouldn't be able to budge him an inch even if you threw yourself at him with full force. He stops anyway, looking down at you with his hands gripping his firearms tightly. "He was practically harmless. Let Nightwing deal with him. Please."

You're talking him down, trying to waste time so Dick can leave before Jason is able to do anything. You know you've succeeded when he tucks away his weapons, albeit reluctantly. Dick is too far away with the man now, anyway.

"What the hell were you doing out at this time?" he says, raising his voice instead of the usual quiet, deadly anger he reserves for the people who deserve it. It's how you know he's worried, when he doesn't try and control his temper. "And without dropping me a text first, so I could check on you? You do understand where you live, right?"

"Don't yell at me!" Your voice cracks in the middle of your sentence and you feel your lower lip tremble slightly. Jason stills. You refuse to cry, cursing your damn hormones and the fact you're a woman and the fact that you're cramping again. You aren't in the mood to talk to Red Hood right now. You want Jason. "And turn off your stupid voice thing!"

He obliges quickly, stepping closer to you. You're angry at one less thing now that his voice is back to normal. "I'm sorry for yelling. Please don't be upset with me, I was just worried-"

"You were going to kill that guy."

"Damn straight," he fires back, defensive again.

You glare at him and he has enough sense not to speak further. Shaking your head, you let out a frustrated groan. "He was a lousy mugger. That hardly deserves a bullet through the head."

"Are you forgetting that he had a knife?" he exclaims, throwing his hands up. Suddenly, as though he's remembering something, Jason folds his arms across his chest. "Why'd you call D- Nightwing for help first?"

"Oh, I'm sorry. How about next time, I'll ask the guy with the a knife if he can hold off for a second while I select the right contact number!" you grit out, hit with another wave of cramps, extremely tired of this conversation. "It was an accident, you idiot. I meant to text you first."

You can't see Jason's expression beneath his Red Hood mask and you aren't going to ask him to remove it in the middle of the streets, but you imagine he's mollified with the way his shoulders relax a bit.

Huffing, you walk away to get your phone, gingerly picking it up to inspect the newly made cracks all over. You vaguely register Jason standing over your shoulder before you shove your phone in your pocket, a problem for tomorrow. You turn around to face him and clutch at your lower stomach, breathing turning shallow.

"I was on my way to the convenience store," you explain, gritting your teeth. "I assume you're coming with me now?"

"Why did you need to go so late?" he questions, typically not letting it go. Instead of responding, you screw your eyes shut and puff out a few pained breaths. He immediately grips your shoulders and begins inspecting you. "What? Are you hurt? What happened, did he get you?"

"I have cramps, you ass," you groan, shoving his hands away. He ceases looking for an injury, and you don't need to ask him to remove his mask to know that he's relieved. "I was going to the store so late because I'm out of my sanitary products."

"Oh," Jason says gruffly, a hint of embarrassment creeping into his voice due to his excessive worry. "Well, I kept a whole box of pads and stuff from the other month in my apartment. It's closer, come on."

You sag with relief, dragging your feet to follow him as the two of you walk to his place. You're in his apartment so often that you're not surprised it's stocked up with period products as well as your usual things for when you stay the night. You feel a funny little flip that has nothing to do with cramps when you consider how he kept everything.

"Do you need me to carry you?" Jason asks, completely serious, snapping you out of your thoughts. "I know how bad the cramps can get."

"I took some meds a couple hours ago, they're not the worst yet," you explain, shaking him off and trying not to think about him offering to carry you all the way to his apartment just because you have cramps.

You reach his complex quickly and he sends you up while he enters through the fire escape from a back alley as not to expose Red Hood's living quarters. By the time you've entered through his door, Jason is already there, judging by his helmet sitting on his kitchen counter.

"Be out in a second," he calls from his bedroom and so you flop down on his couch, face down in one of the cushions as you try to think about something other than the sharp needles stabbing your lower belly. He walks out while you're writhing in pain and sets down some pads, two painkillers and a glass of water on the coffee table. "Here, take them now and go sleep in the bed. There's some snacks in my nightstand if you get hungry. Do you need me to stay home?"

You reluctantly turn over onto your back and see that he's also holding your fluffy panda hot water bottle. You might combust, there and then. Pouting, you reach out for the panda, grabbing it to hold it close to your body and sighing at the slight pain relief. "I'm okay, you can go back to patrol. Thanks for looking after me, Jaybird."

"It's nothing," he shrugs, turning away to hide the pink flush appearing on his cheeks and grabbing his helmet. He shoves it on quickly and you try not to let out an unattractive snort of laughter. He turns on his voice modulator. "Text me if you need anything."

With that, he slips out of his window, making sure to shut it tightly behind him. You stay on the couch after knocking down a couple of painkillers and try to entertain yourself with some TV while you wait for Jason to come back.

You mournfully scroll through your phone, trying not to cut your fingers on the broken glass. The actual phone seems to be giving up on you as it takes forever to click on one thing to the next. Giving up, you toss it on the table and close your eyes. Making make a mental list in your head of things to do tomorrow, you add buying a new phone to it and prepare to say goodbye to a healthy chunk out of your bank account.

You don't remember dozing off, but your alarm startles you awake and you grab around for it on the nightstand next to you. Turning it off, you decide to brave the world outside the comfy sheets and realise you're in Jason's bed. He must have gotten back late and put you there, you think with a smile, suddenly happier than you were when first waking up. This happy attitude sours a bit when you nick ur finger on the broken glass of your phone screen trying to turn off the rest of your alarms.

Making your way out of his room and following the smell of toaster waffles, you see Jason plating up some breakfast for you. "Morning," you yawn, plopping down on a kitchen stool. "How was patrol?"

"Same old," he says, giving you the usual, non-descriptive answer. For all you know, he could have taken down an entire drug ring single-handedly and you'd be none the wiser. He sets down a plate in front of you, as well as a rectangular box. "Here."

You inspect the box, confused and wanting to focus more on the food before you process what it is and your jaw drops. "Jason Peter Todd. What the hell did you do!"

"Your phone broke," he says, gruffly, clearly trying to downplay the fact that he bought you a brand new smartphone, a later model than the one you already have. "Don't make a big deal out of it."

"Of course I'm going to make a big deal, Jay," you say, frowning. "I was going to get one myself today. Why did you waste your money on me? How much was it?"

"Don't worry about it," he says flippantly, plating up his own waffles. You should have known better than to ask. There's no way he's taking money from you.

You sigh, shoving your waffles and the phone out of the way to make your way over to him. "Jay," you say softly, grabbing his face in your hands. His eyes widen slightly and you fight the urge to smile. "I can't accept it."

"I said it was nothing," he replies, furrowing his brows and you release his face in favour of hugging him instead. "And it's not a waste if it's on you. You're taking the phone."

"It's everything," your voice comes out muffled by his hoodie. The cost of a phone really is nothing to Jason. It wouldn't have made even the slightest dent to his bank account, but that's not the point. "You need to let me take care of you for once. Oh, one more thing."

He hums in question, resting his chin on your head and wrapping his hands around you.

"If you buy anything for me again, I'm cutting a heart shaped hole in your suit."

Jason huffs out a laugh and you feel the vibration through his chest. "What about the coffee I get you after class every Friday?"

You stay silent.

He snorts, knowing he's got you. He drops a kiss on your head and grins when you look up to frown at him. "That's what I thought."

3. when this guy just won't take a hint.

Jason owes you big time. You've had the longest week of your life and yet here you are, in a floor length, dark red dress and heels, for crying out loud.

Realistically, this is the least you could do for him, showing up to a gala thrown by his father to keep him company. You're more than happy to do this as a favour to him, but that fact doesn't make the heels pinch at your toes any less.

"I haven't worn this dress since high school," you grumble, twisting it around your waist where it fits snugly. You're thankful for the fact that it falls loosely past your waist, or you'd have ripped it from your body by now. "If I eat one thing, it might actually tear."

"I'll give you my jacket when you spot the appetisers," Jason says, absentmindedly. You squeeze his bicep gently in thanks from where your arm is looped in his as he leads you into the venue. "Anyway, we'll be in and out, as always. Just making an appearance for Bruce."

"In and out," you repeat, lowering your voice as the two of you enter a more populated area. You know even though Jason moans about these events, he wouldn't be here if he really didn't want to be. He cares, even though he'd never admit it.

Groups of businessmen, celebrities, entrepreneurs; basically a bunch of rich people who are dressed in clothes that are definitely more expensive than your rent are milling about, every one of them with a drink in their hand. Their unwavering smiles and the constant trips to the bar are nothing new and you wrinkle your nose at the atmosphere of the place. "Do they even know what charity Bruce is throwing this for?"

Jason raises an eyebrow. "Bruce could be throwing this thing for homeless badgers and they'd be none the wiser," he mutters, a hint of bitterness creeping into his voice. Rolling his neck, he takes a deep breath. "I should go say 'hi' to him, while he's talking to a bunch of people. Prove that I actually showed up. You wanna come?"

You almost agree, not wanting to be left alone, but just before you reluctantly trudge over to a group of Bruce's boring business associates, you thankfully spot Jason's brothers by the bar. "I'll just go hang out with Dick and Tim, is that okay? I can come with though, if you want."

"Nah, go ahead," he says, detangling his arm from yours and giving you a reassuring smile. "Come grab me when they start getting annoying."

"Be nice," you warn, gently shoving him towards the group of men as you make your way to Dick and Tim.

"Hey," Tim greets you with a smile, glancing up quickly before returning to his phone. He does a little double take, eyes snagging on your dress and his smile turns devious. "Well, you look nice. You're wearing a very... nice colour..."

"Tim," you heave a deep sigh. Dick rolls his eyes, but he can't help the corners of his lips quirking up. "You can't keep doing this every time I wear red."

"I'm not doing anything, just making an observation," he shrugs, rocking back and forth on his heels in an attempt to look casual. Tim glances around to see make sure no one is in earshot before lowering his voice. "Hey, totally unrelated, but I heard Jaybird nearly shot a guy for almost mugging you."

"Tim."

"Leave her alone," Dick intervenes before Tim can needle you further. He definitely enjoys it too, but ever the golden boy, he seemingly wants to keep the peace. "How are you doing after that, anyway?"

"Fine," you nod reassuringly. "Thank you, again for showing up, Dick. I really appreciate it."

"Don't be silly, it's-"

"I heard he got you a brand new phone, too," Tim pipes up, cutting his brother off.

"Tim," you groan, thwacking him in the arm with your clutch. He barely flinches. "For the last time, Jason and I are just friends."

Tim opens his mouth to respond, but his eyes dart behind you and he thinks better of it, choosing to just smirk like the troublemaker he is.

"That's good news." You whip around to locate the source of the voice, finding yourself looking at a guy you've never met before. He seems to be around your age, dressed smart and very rich looking. You stand there stupidly.

"For who?" you ask, chuckling nervously.

He shrugs, giving you a charming smile. "Anyone who wants to buy you a drink. May I?"

Understanding dawns on you and you glance at Dick and Tim with wide eyes, feeling a little awkward that they're here for this interaction. Dick keeps his expression carefully neutral as he considers the man, whereas Tim frowns when he meets your eyes, jerking his head as subtly as possible in Jason's direction.

This has you glaring at him and just to prove a point, you plaster on a wide smile of your own and return your attentions to the stranger. "Yes. You may."

The two of you walk closer to the end of the bar and away from the others. You pointedly don't look at them. "What was your name?" you ask the stranger, mostly for the sake of being polite.

"George." A rich guy name, you think to yourself. If Jason were here, you know he'd have a million things to say.

He asks your name and you give it to him as he orders you a drink without actually asking what you want.

"Pretty name," George remarks, handing you a glass of something you've never had before. You pretend to take a sip, smiling in thanks. "So, what's your story?"

You try not to outwardly cringe at the question, sorely regretting tonight's decisions despite the fact you've been here less than half an hour. "I'm just here to keep my friend company." You keep the story short, not bothering to explain how you know the Wayne family.

"Ah, well. I dont blame you for looking so bored. I'm just here because I have to be as well," he mutters, swirling the contents of his glass. "Business connections and such."

"Oh." You find yourself being less and less interested in this conversation. "Do you know what the fundraiser tonight is for?"

"God, no," George laughs, taking a sip of his drink. You try your hardest not to grimace, mentally checked out of the conversation already. "It's always the same shit, anyway. Forget all that. Drink up and we can get out of here."

You nearly choke on your own saliva at his sheer confidence and set down your drink. "I really shouldn't. I'm, uh, I'm okay staying here."

"Aw, come on," he leans in a little closer than you'd like and you try to look as imperceptibly as you can for Dick or Tim, but it seems they've left you to face the consequences of your own actions. Traitors. "You don't look like you're enjoying yourself. What, you don't like me-?"

"Hey." You feel Jason's presence at the same time as hearing his voice. You almost laugh at how relieved you suddenly feel and you and relax into his hold when he places both hands on your waist. Jason drops his voice to a murmur that only you can hear. "Ready to go home?"

You nod, turning to leave. About to bid a quick goodbye to George as not to be rude, you open your mouth but get stopped in your tracks.

"She's fine right here, man," George says, voice as smooth as glass. If the glass is shattered into sharp, pointy spikes that are as uncomfortable as this conversation, that is.

Jason's previously polite smile hardens as his front is now practically plastered against your back. "She can talk for herself."

"She was actually just-"

"She's right here," you interrupt, squirming out of Jason's arms to step back. He drops his hands immediately, but doesn't look at you. Instead, he assesses George through a narrow eyed gaze. You can't decide if George is being brave, or stupid for not cracking under the weight of Jason's intense glare as he stands there, all six foot two of him posing a threatening picture. "Right, well. I'm just going to-"

"Hey, hold on," George says, averting his all-too arrogant gaze back to you and gripping your upper arm, jerking you slightly. You flinch a little when he moves into your personal space. "You aren't going to give me your number?"

His grip doesn't hurt, but it's a world away from gentle and you almost gape at the fact he doesn't seem to be aware of how uninterested you are.

Jason immediately clocks this, stepping forward. "Yeah, I don't fucking think so," he says darkly and then he shoves at George. Hard.

The people nearest to you gasp and titter when they see George careening into the stools at the bar and you slap a hand over your mouth, shocked. Shocked that Jason had actually gotten violent as Jason and not as Red Hood. All over a random creep, no less.

Before George even has the chance to recover from the surprise of Jason's brute force, you pull harshly on Jason's suit jacket, steering him out of the venue and into the hall. He follows you without protest, still breathing heavily.

"What the hell was that?" you hiss, trying to keep your voice quiet, despite being alone out in the entrance hall.

"He grabbed you," Jason says slowly, as if he's confused as to why you're upset. His expression is tight, like he's being careful to control his anger even now that you're away from George. "I would have done a lot fucking worse to him if you hadn't dragged me out of there."

"You cannot go all Red Hood when you're Jason! It's suspicious as hell. Not to mention how you were practically back-hugging me like some sort of reverse bulletproof vest."

"I always do that," Jason says, calmly. The fact that he isn't raising his voice just spurs you on to raise yours higher. The multitude of emotions swirling around in a confused whirl around your stomach makes you nauseous.

"You hate being touchy in public," you say, pinching the bridge of your nose in frustration. "Last month, you punched Tim in the stomach for putting his arm around your shoulder. Anyway, that's not the point! You're so occupied with trying to take care of everyone that you never consider yourself. Or let anyone else do so. Yeah, that guy was an asshole. But he was just an asshole trying to talk to a single girl. He wasn't some... some crime boss or villain or evil freaking mastermind for you to take down!"

"I don't need looking after. And he didn't know you were single," Jason scoffs, running a hand through his neatly combed hair, mussing it up. If you weren't so irritated, you'd take a moment to appreciate how much you prefer it when he looks like this. Real and raw, like the current expression on his face rather than closed off and emotionless. "You came here on my arm, wearing my colour, like Tim's always fucking going on about. You... you're my..."

"Your what, Jason?" you ask, hysterically. You're almost yelling now, finally ready to snap at Jason's inability to share his thoughts with you. He stays silent, face going blank again, an indication that he's closing himself off to you. Your shoulders sag from exhaustion. "Come talk to me when you can give me an answer. I'm going home, I'll get Dick to give me a ride."

You don't wait for a response as you walk back into the venue. Thankfully, Dick is near the entrance and you don't have to subject yourself to too many stares before he takes you home. You don't glance at Jason on your way out.

4. when he asks for your help.

You're moping. You don't bother trying to deny it, but you're definitely moping around your apartment since your fight with Jason. You wake early every day and get dressed and study, but your movements are almost robotic in nature.

Dick has tried texting you a few times, but you've decided to just avoid looking at your phone, because it's the one Jason bought and it just makes you feel even worse. You aren't sure if Jason's tried contacting you, but your phone stops going off around the same time as Dick's evening patrol and you don't let yourself dwell on it further.

The two of you have never gone this long without speaking and aside from the pit of unease in your stomach as well as the sadness hanging over you like a dark cloud, you're also just bored. You have acquaintances from your nursing course, but no one close enough to do anything with this late at night.

Oh, well, you think to yourself, Chinese food and Grey's Anatomy for the second night in a row it is.

You take a quick shower, standing under the hot water for longer than necessary to let the time pass. Getting out, you change into your second pyjama set of the day, opting for a hoodie when you feel a chill in your room that wasn't there before.

You go to shut your bedroom window with a frown, not remembering why you opened it. The handle is stiff and you internally curse your landlord for still not fixing it as you finally succeed in shutting the damn thing after a particularly hard tug.

It shouldn't have taken that much energy out of you, but you're panting when you walk out of your bedroom to enter the living room so you can sit in front of the TV and order the takeout that you probably shouldn't be eating.

Before you can even attempt to regulate your breathing, you look up in the direction of your couch to find Jason sitting there in his Red Hood suit and slap a hand over your mouth to smother your shriek.

"Oh my God," you gasp, your free hand flailing out frantically to grasp the door frame in an attempt to steady yourself. The minute it takes for you to catch your breath is enough time to take in the state of the vigilante sitting in the dark of your living room.

You switch the light on and Jason winces at the sudden brightness, but you take the opportunity to give him a thorough once over. His dark hair is disheveled and falling into his eyes from hours of confinement in his helmet and he has a fresh bruise blossoming across his cheekbone.

You hardly ever use the main light, usually opting for a warm-toned lamp instead, so when the main light casts the cuts and scrapes on Jason's body in a harsher light, you want to turn it off even more.

Jason's eyes flutter shut for a second and you immediately rush forward to assess him for any injuries causing major blood loss. "Did you get stabbed?" you ask clinically, your voice void of any emotion. "Are you bleeding under your suit? You need to stay awake-"

"I'm fine," Jason mutters, opening his eyes to peer up at you through tired eyes. "I'm not bleeding or anything. Just wiped out from patrol."

You relax slightly, taking a step back to create some distance between the two of you. "Oh. You snuck through my window to tell me that you're tired?"

"Anyone could have snuck through that damn window," he says, brows furrowing in disapproval. He's been hassling you about the security of your apartment since you can remember and you usually wave him off, but in this moment you bristle.

"You don't get to be annoyed at me right now," you say, crossing your arms and glaring at him through narrowed eyes. "Why are you here, Jason?"

He grimaces at the use of his government name coming from you and takes a deep breath. "I haven't slept."

"So, go home and take a nap," you say, exasperated, letting your hands fall to your side as you're about to turn around and walk back into your room. Before you leave, you hear your Nursing teachers' voices in your head, reprimanding you and you sigh. "And you want to clean those cuts before they get infected."

"Could you do it for me?" Jason asks quietly, barely audible. His jaw clenches with the effort of asking you the question. "Please?"

You blink at him. "But, I- You've never..." you trail off, not knowing what to say. Jason has always refused to let anyone else patch him up after patrol. Hell, he's even learned how to do stitches on himself when you're the one learning how to do them for a living.

"I want... to let you look after me," he whispers, looking at you imploringly like you're going to refuse. Your irritation immediately melts into something else that you don't want to analyse any time soon.

"Oh," you exhale softly, heart twisting unwillingly. You nod slowly, words escaping you again. "Okay."

Jason's head flops back onto the couch cushion and he sighs like all of the tension is leaving his body. His hair covers his eyes, but you don't miss the dark circles under them, contrasting starkly with his skin, pale from exhaustion.

You consider letting him stay there, but you know it'll be easier in the bathroom where you keep all of your first aid supplies and the lighting is better for when you're practicing your techniques. "Come on. Up," you say, gesturing to the bathroom with a jerk of your head and you walk away, allowing him to come in his own time.

While you're digging through your bathroom cabinet for all the supplies you've haphazardly thrown in after using them, Jason slips in and you glance over at him quickly. "Sit down," you mutter, reaching up for the disinfectant. It sits on one of the higher shelves and you have to get on your tiptoes to reach it. Jason instinctively moves to help you but you shoo him away, managing to grasp it yourself. "Sit down."

"Yes, nurse," he huffs out a quiet laugh and you bite back a smile, opting to roll your eyes at him instead. Setting your supplies down behind Jason, you focus your attentions on unzipping his suit. The way his arms are resting limp in his lap tells you that he's not wanting to move anytime soon. You bring the zipper down yourself and pull off each sleeve cautiously, not wanting to rip the suit further where the torn fabric is clinging to the bloody cuts in his skin.

Once the suit is hanging loosely around his waist, you see from the black tank he's wearing that the cuts are localised to his now bare arms from where he's been defensive, whereas the fabric on his chest and abdomen are intact.

Jason's eyes track your face as you assess the extent of his injuries and when you lift your face to look at him, he's unabashed, continuing to look directly into your eyes. Your cheeks warm and you stutter out a sentence "I-I'll be right back, one sec."

You rush out of the bathroom and into your kitchen to pull open the freezer and scramble around for a bag of frozen anything. Settling on a bag of peas that you have no intention of cooking anytime soon, you hurry straight back to the bathroom.

Jason eyes the peas warily and you raise a brow, daring him to challenge you. When he stays silent, you move forward to shove the peas onto his cheek where the bruise is a darker red mark than before. He hisses when the icy bag makes contact with his face, flinching away from it.

"Ouch," he mumbles belatedly, giving you a sheepish smile when your mouth sets in a line. You should probably be gentler with him considering it's the first time he's allowing someone to physically care for him and it's you he's choosing to cross that boundary with. It's not like you want to scare him off so he never asks you again, but you can't help still being annoyed with him after your fight.

You sigh, trying to relax your face into a non-threatening expression. "Sorry. Keep it on your face to stop the swelling."

Jason grasps the bag slowly as you let go, letting his fingers brush over your own. You clear your throat and focus your attentions on the cotton pads, dousing them with disinfectant. Jason looks at you through one open eye, the other obscured by the bag of peas. "You shouldn't be the one apologising," he says, after a beat.

You purse your lips, bringing a cotton pad up to Jason's shoulder. "I know," you say simply before you press the disinfectant into one of the larger cuts, harder than probably necessary. Jason screws his eyes shut and works his jaw, but stays quiet. "Did that hurt?"

Jason shakes his head immediately, letting out a short breath he was holding. "Nope. Felt good actually. Kinda like a cooling effe- Shit," he hisses, tensing his arm. You think that's enough torture for now, instead continuing to gently wipe away the blood and dirt.

"I won't apologise about that one," you say, shrugging. Jason cracks a smile and you find yourself hiding one of your own as you clean off the other, smaller cuts and scrapes that don't need bandaging. "Are you hurt anywhere else? Promise I'll be nicer about it this time."

Jason shakes his head again, so you dispose of the cotton pads and get the band-aids, the only noise in the bathroom being the sound of you rummaging through your supplies. When you spot the choice of band-aids, you grin. "Pick one."

Surveying the two that you hold in your hand, Jason's gaze lingers on the dinosaur patterned band-aid, before flicking his eyes up to yours and raising an eyebrow. He points to the other one. "I'll take the Hello Kitty."

Your grin widens, knowing he's only choosing the pink Hello Kitty band-aid to appease you. You're certainly not going to challenge him about it as you carefully peel off the backing to stick it over his shoulder. Stepping back, you tilt your head to evaluate him and nod. "You look very pretty."

Jason smirks, but the slight blush creeping across the cheek that isn't covered by the frozen peas doesn't fool you. "Pretty enough for you to forgive me for being such an ass?"

"That depends." You take a tentative step towards him, crossing your arms. "Are you going to stop being stupid?"

Jason lowers his arm holding the bag of peas and places it behind him. With both hands, he reaches over to your arms, uncrossing them to bring you forward until you're standing close. He's so impossibly tall in your tiny bathroom that even standing up, you're only eye level with him as he sits on the closed toilet seat.

"I can't promise that I'll never be stupid in front of you again. You kind of have that effect on me," he says, sighing like it's some curse inflicted on him. You thwack his rock-solid arm and he grins. "I can promise I'll let you take care of me from now on, though. And that I'm going to stop lying to you."

"What?" you ask, eyebrows furrowing. You're even more confused when Jason places his hands around your waist to guide you onto his lap, both your legs hanging off one side of him. You raise both eyebrows expectantly, waiting for his answer, but he merely stares at you, smiling. "Jason. When have you lied to- mmph-"

He cuts you off by pressing your lips together in a kiss, one hand still holding yours, intertwining your fingers while the other tilts your chin up so he can kiss you deeper. You're a little slow on the uptake, frozen from shock for a second, but it isn't long until you're kissing him back just as eagerly. You shift in his lap, lifting one of your legs to swing over to his other side until you're straddling him and Jason takes a sharp inhale, sitting up straighter and pulling your body closer to his.

He pulls away for a millisecond, before his lips reattach to your jaw, travelling down to pepper soft kisses down your neck and you let out a noise halfway between a sigh and an embarrassing whimper. Jason groans at the sound, nipping at your neck and you feel like you can't breathe enough air.

He pulls away again to catch his own breath and you take the opportunity to come to your senses and lean back, gently pushing at Jason's chest. You breathe hard, trying to lift your gaze from Jason's swollen lips and he seems to be having a hard time looking away from your own.

"Jason," you say, voice shaky and uneven.

"Mhm?" he hums distractedly, pressing a soft kiss on your jaw before looking at you again.

"You kissed me," you point out, stupidly. "You really, really kissed me."

"I did," Jason murmurs, both hands cupping your face. He swallows, expression going from dazed to nervous before he speaks. "You asked me what you are to me before you left the other night."

You nod slowly, head still reeling from the kiss. Truthfully, you were willing to pretend the conversation never happened if you could go back to being friends again. You missed Jason.

"You're everything to me." Jason's shoulders are relaxed, his face free of tension as he says this. You're so shocked by the fact that he doesn't seem to be in pain as he opens himself up to you, that it takes a minute to process the actual meaning of his words. Your lips part but he shakes his head, continuing to speak. "You're everything. And sometimes I can't even think about that too much, let alone speak it, because I'm scared it'll consume me. I'm scared you'll consume me. The idea of compromising your safety, the idea of you loving me back, all of it. I'm... I was scared."

You lift your hand to place it over Jason's, still resting on your cheek. "That's okay. I can think and speak enough for the both of us," you tease and Jason laughs quietly, his breath tickling the inside of your wrist and sending a shiver down your spine. "You're everything to me as well, by the way. And sometimes all I can think about is loving you. I was just waiting for you to say it first."

Jason smiles and you think the corners of his lips lifting up and his eyes lighting up is the most beautiful thing you've ever seen, each time blowing you away like it's the first time you've witnessed it. "Does that mean I lose? Kinda feels like I've won," he tilts his head, pretending to think about it.

"Oh, you've so lost," you furrow your brows in a mockingly serious frown. "And I'll be telling Tim as much."

Jason stills. "Please do not tell me that he bet you fifty dollars I'd confess first as well."

Your jaw drops. "That little bastard was playing both of us?"

You start laughing when Jason lets out an irritated groan, dropping his head onto your shoulder to bury his face in your shirt. You thread your hands in his hair and wrap an arm around his neck. He sighs, half content and half resigned. "I say we don't tell him for as long as we can get away with it. Live in peace for a while."

"We're talking about Tim here," you remind Jason, leaning back to lift his head and look at him. "I wouldn't be surprised if he already knew. And he'd literally never talk to you again if he knew we were hiding it after he finds out."

"I don't care," Jason says, lifting your hand to brush his lips over your knuckles. He leans back to run his eyes over your face, drinking you in like looking at you is a rare occurrence that he doesn't get the opportunity to do much. "You're all I need, anyway."

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd x y/n #jason todd scenarios #jason todd smut #jason todd imagine #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd fluff #jason todd fic #red hood imagine #jason todd imagines #red hood x reader #red hood x you

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pucksandpower · 8 months

Text

Rosso Corsa

Lewis Hamilton x Leclerc!Reader

Summary: Lewis Hamilton has been called the GOAT by many … after he becomes your brother’s new teammate, you learn firsthand that being the greatest of all time extends to quite a few other aspects of his life as well

Warnings: 18+ content

Special thanks to @struggling-with-drivers for being an amazing friend and source of feedback who experienced today’s crazy whirlwind of news with me

You stand on the balcony of Lewis’ penthouse overlooking the harbor in Monaco, watching the rain pour down. The raindrops beat a steady rhythm on the metal railing as you take a sip of your coffee.

“Good morning, beautiful,” Lewis says as he comes up behind you and wraps his arms around your waist. You relax into his embrace, still not used to how affectionate he is with you.

“Morning,” you reply with a small smile. “The rain woke me up early.”

“Hmm, I hope it didn’t disturb you too much,” Lewis murmurs as he nuzzles your neck. You bite your lip to hold back a pleasured sigh.

“I don’t mind it. I’ve always found the sound of rain soothing,” you say.

Lewis hums in response as you both stare out at the stormy sea. The rain is coming down hard now, large droplets splattering on the balcony floor.

“Shall we go inside where it’s warm and dry?” Lewis asks after a few moments.

You nod and let him guide you back into the open living room. The floor-to-ceiling windows provide a stunning view of Monaco even in the gloomy weather.

Lewis busies himself making a fresh cup of tea while you settle on the large sectional sofa, tucking your feet under you. Your mind wanders as you watch the rain streak down the windows.

You’ve been staying with Lewis for almost two weeks now, only a few months after he signed with Ferrari as your brother’s new teammate. You grew up in these very streets with Charles, the two of you extremely close in age and personality. He was your fiercest protector, shielding you from the realities of life in the spotlight.

But now you’re an adult, and Charles can no longer shelter you entirely. Especially not from someone as charming and persuasive as Lewis Hamilton.

You suppress a shiver as you remember the first time you met Lewis while joining your brother in Maranello. His warm brown eyes lingered on you as Charles introduced you. He took your hand and held it a beat too long, his thumb gently caressing your knuckles. A secretive smile played on his lips, sending your heart racing.

Over the next few days, Lewis went out of his way to talk to you, compliment you, make you laugh. Whenever Charles was preoccupied, Lewis found an excuse to steal you away, guiding you by the small of your back or brushing his fingers against yours.

You knew you should keep your distance. Lewis had a reputation, and Charles would be furious if he knew how Lewis was pursuing you. But you couldn’t resist his allure.

So when Lewis invited you to stay with him instead of in your empty apartment while Charles was away, you said yes despite your better judgment. And now here you are, growing more attached to Lewis each day.

You’re drawn out of your reminiscing when Lewis sits down next to you, switching out your rapidly cooling coffee for some earl grey with a splash of oat milk.

“What are you thinking about so seriously over here?” He asks, his tone playful yet gentle. He runs his fingers lightly up and down your arm, raising goosebumps on your skin.

You take a sip of coffee to buy yourself a moment. “Oh, just remembering when we first met,” you say, aiming for nonchalance.

Lewis smiles, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Ah yes, I remember it well. I took one look at you and was completely enthralled.”

You blush and avoid his gaze. “Lewis ...”

“What? It’s true,” he says earnestly. When you shyly meet his eyes, they shine with warmth and affection. “From that very first moment, I wanted to get to know you, protect you ...”

He trails off as he tucks a lock of hair behind your ear, his fingers grazing your cheek. Your breath hitches at his touch.

“Why me?” You whisper.

Lewis shakes his head in amusement. “How could I not be drawn to you? You’re beautiful, charming, intelligent … anyone would be lucky to capture your attention.”

You stare down into your coffee, overwhelmed. No one has ever spoken to you this way before. Looked at you the way Lewis does, like you’re the most captivating person in the world.

“Hey, look at me,” Lewis murmurs. He tips your chin up until your eyes lock with his. “I mean every word. From the moment we met, all I’ve wanted is to get closer to you.”

His thumb strokes your bottom lip as he speaks. You’re helpless to pull away from his intense gaze.

“I know your brother wants to keep you locked away from reality,” Lewis continues seriously. “But you’re an adult now. You can make your own choices.”

His eyes flick down to your lips. Your breath catches in anticipation. Slowly, giving you time to pull back, Lewis leans in.

When his lips meet yours, you let your eyes drift shut. The kiss is soft and undemanding at first, Lewis letting you set the pace. As you respond tentatively, he pulls you closer, one hand coming up to cradle the back of your head.

It’s like nothing you’ve ever felt before. Kissing Lewis surrounds you in warmth, makes you feel desired and cherished. You let him deepen the kiss, chasing the delicious sensation.

After long, blissful moments, Lewis gradually slows the kiss. He presses light, sweet pecks to your lips as he pulls back just enough to meet your dazed eyes.

“Wow,” you breathe, eliciting a delighted chuckle from him.

“I’d say so too,” Lewis says, smile crinkling his eyes. He brushes his thumb over your lower lip again. “I’ve wanted to do that for so long now.”

You bite your lip as you study his handsome face. Your heart is racing but you’ve never felt more secure than wrapped in his strong arms. Still, a niggling thought won’t leave you alone.

“Lewis … what about Charles?” You ask uncertainly. “If he finds out ...”

Lewis presses another soft kiss to your forehead. “I know, I know. We’ll have to be careful.” He strokes your hair soothingly. “This can be our secret for now. I don’t want you to worry, love. I’ll take care of you.”

His sincerity and confidence settles your nerves. You nod and cuddle into his broad chest. Lewis’ arms come around you as he drops a kiss to the top of your head.

“Why don’t I make us some breakfast?” He suggests. “We can spend the day inside, just the two of us.”

You smile up at him. “That sounds perfect.”

Lewis smiles and steals one more lingering kiss before heading to the kitchen. You settle back against the plush cushions, heart full.

The rain continues to fall steadily outside. But here, wrapped in Lewis’ affection, you’ve never felt warmer.

***

You pace back and forth in Lewis’ driver’s room, nerves making your heart flutter. The deafening roar of the crowds just outside echoes in your ears.

Lewis did it. He won his first race with Ferrari today. You watched with pride and excitement as he stood on the top step of the podium, rosso corsa vivid against the grey skies as the champagne poured down.

Now you wait for him to finish with the press and the team, bouncing anxiously on the balls of your feet. You smooth your hands down your dress for the tenth time, wondering if you’re making a mistake.

Finally the door opens and Lewis steps inside. His race suit is unzipped to the waist, his sculpted chest straining against his fireproofs underneath. He breaks into a huge grin when he sees you.

“Hello, gorgeous,” he says warmly, striding over to fold you into his arms. “What a lovely surprise.”

You hug him back tightly, relieved laughter bubbling out of you. “I’m so proud of you! Your first win for Ferrari.”

Lewis kisses your temple before holding you at arm’s length, hands gentle on your waist. “Today has been incredible. But coming back to find you here waiting … that’s the best victory of all.”

You blush under the sincerity of his gaze. Reaching up, you run your fingers over the stubble on his jaw. “I wanted to celebrate with you privately first, before the team party.”

Lewis’ eyes darken with desire and he pulls you flush against him. “I can think of a few private celebrations I’d like to have with you,” he murmurs suggestively.

Your breath catches but you place a hand on his chest. “Wait. I have something to tell you first.”

Taking his hand, you lead him over to the small sofa along the wall. Lewis sits and pulls you down next to him, studying you intently.

You take a deep, steadying breath. Your heart is racing for an entirely different reason now.

“Lewis, I … I’ve never felt about anyone the way I feel about you.” You keep your eyes locked on his, willing him to understand the depth of your emotions.

“I know we have to hide this from Charles and the team. But I’m tired of hiding how I feel.” You reach out to cradle his face in your hands. “I’m yours, Lew. In every way. If you want me.”

Lewis’ eyes flare with a mixture of desire and affection. He turns his head to press a fervent kiss to your palm.

“Are you certain, my love? We can wait until you’re ready,” he says seriously, though his body vibrates with pent up longing.

You smile tremulously and nod. “I’ve never been more ready for anything in my life.”

Needing no further encouragement, Lewis crushes his mouth to yours. He kisses you deeply, holding nothing back. You moan into his mouth, your hands twisting in his race suit.

When you finally break apart both gasping for air, Lewis rests his forehead against yours. His eyes blaze with arousal but his touch is gentle as he caresses your face.

Lewis lays you down gently on the bed, his body blanketing yours. His hand slips into your hair as he kisses you deeply, with restrained passion.

When he finally breaks the kiss, you’re both breathing hard. Lewis trails hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck, nipping lightly at your pulse point in a way that makes you gasp.

“Tell me if you want me to stop,” he rasps, his voice rough with need.

You shake your head, arching into his touch. Your hands grasp at his shoulders, feeling the strength coiled under his shirt.

With deft fingers, Lewis begins unbuttoning your dress, exposing more and more of your flushed skin. He pauses when he reaches your bra, meeting your eyes questioningly. At your tiny nod, he reaches around and unhooks it, sliding the straps down your arms.

You flush as he reveals your bare breasts for the first time. Lewis groans low in his throat, eyes raking over you hungrily. Slowly he lowers his head, watching your face for any hesitation. When you bite your lip and nod for him to continue, he closes his lips around one taut nipple.

You cry out at the sensation, back arching off the bed. Lewis lavishes attention on your breasts, licking, sucking, kissing every inch of the sensitive skin. You’re mindless with pleasure, grasping at him desperately.

After an eternity, Lewis begins trailing hot kisses back down your stomach, hands unzipping your dress the rest of the way. He slides it down your legs tantalizingly slowly, caressing each new bit of exposed skin.

When you’re left in just your panties, Lewis pauses to admire you. “So beautiful,” he murmurs reverently before capturing your lips again.

His hands explore your body with new urgency, stroking along your sides, grasping your hips. You tentatively slide your hands under his shirt, feeling his muscles flex. Lewis groans and sits back just long enough to rip the Nomex over his head.

The feel of his bare chest against yours makes you dizzy with need. You start fumbling with his briefs until Lewis gently stills your hands.

“Slow down, love. We have all night,” he rasps, though his eyes are dark with desire. He kisses you languidly until you relax again, melting into his touch.

Only then does Lewis trail his hand down between your legs. You gasp against his mouth at the intimate caress, even through the fabric of your panties. He rubs you in slow circles until you’re mindless, pleading for more.

With utmost care Lewis slides your panties down your legs. His fingers return to stroke you directly and you cry out, arching into his hand.

“That’s it darling, let go for me,” Lewis coaxes. He watches your face raptly as he brings you higher and higher until you shatter around his fingers with a sharp cry.

As you float back down, Lewis kisses you tenderly. “You are so perfect, my love,” he whispers.

When you’ve caught your breath, Lewis stands just long enough to shed the rest of his clothes. The sight of him bare above you makes you flush anew, but you boldly meet his heated gaze.

Lewis settles between your thighs once more, the evidence of his desire pressing insistently against your core. He braces himself above you on one arm while the other hand caresses your face.

“I’ll go slow, I promise,” he says thickly. You nod, heart pounding in anticipation.

Lewis reaches down to position himself at your entrance. He watches your face intently as he begins to press inside you. Despite his care, you gasp at the burning stretch. Immediately Lewis stills, face taut.

“Keep going,” you plead breathlessly.

Jaw clenched, Lewis pushes forward inexorably slowly until he’s fully seated inside you. He drops his head to your shoulder with a guttural groan.

“Oh god, you feel incredible,” he grits out.

You cling to him, overwhelmed at the new sensations. The fullness, the intimacy of being joined so completely.

Lewis is trembling with the effort to keep still above you. You trail kisses across his shoulder, silently telling him you’re ready.

Tenderly Lewis begins to move, rocking into you with gentle thrusts. The slight ache soon disappears, replaced by waves of pleasure. You wrap your legs around his hips, urging him deeper.

Lewis gradually increases his pace, unable to hold back any longer. His eyes burn into yours as he moves within you.

“I love you,” he gasps out. “Love you so much, Y/N.”

You cry out his name as the pleasure crests and breaks over you. Lewis follows seconds later with a low groan, burying his face in your neck.

You cling together as you float back to earth, hearts thundering in tandem. Lewis trails feather-light kisses over your face as you bask in the afterglow.

“Thank you for trusting me with this gift, my darling,” Lewis eventually murmurs.

You smile up at him radiantly. “I’ll love you forever for this night.”

Lewis’ eyes shine as he draws you impossibly closer. The crowds and thoughts of your brother seem lifetimes away. There is only you and Lewis and the sweet passion between you.

And as your bodies join in intimate unity, you know you made the right choice entrusting yourself completely to this man. For Lewis holds not just your body, but your heart.

***

The morning light filters into the bedroom, rousing you from sleep. You shift under the sheets, pleasantly sore, as memories from the night before come rushing back.

A smile steals over your face as you recall Lewis’ tender passion, the way he whispered his love to you again and again. You’ve never felt closer to another person.

Strong arms tighten around your waist from behind as Lewis nuzzles into your neck. “Good morning, my love,” he rumbles, voice still thick with sleep.

You roll over to face him, heart skipping at his rumpled hair and warm brown eyes. “Morning,” you whisper back, suddenly shy.

Lewis’ hand comes up to cup your face, his thumb stroking over your cheekbone. “How are you feeling?”

You lean into his touch. “Wonderful,” you say honestly. At his delighted grin, you add, “Last night was … incredible. I’ve never felt anything like that before.”

“Mmm, neither have I,” Lewis says seriously. “Making love to you was the greatest gift you could have given me.”

He kisses you sweetly, then trails his lips along your jaw. “I can’t wait to explore more with you,” he murmurs, making you shiver.

Over the next weeks and months, Lewis takes great joy in broadening your horizons in the bedroom. With endless patience he teaches you the intricacies of pleasure, guiding you through new experiences you once only dreamed of. Under his patient guidance, you blossom from an innocent novice to a confident lover.

He delights in watching you come undone under his skillful hands and mouth, praising you for being such an eager student. Your nights together are filled with ecstasy, whispered endearments, and an ever deepening bond.

“That’s it, darling. Just like that,” Lewis groans as you learn to use your mouth on him. He gently guides your rhythm, fingers tangled in your hair. His throaty praise urges you on until he finally spills over with a ragged moan.

Other nights, he focuses solely on you. Lewis maps every inch of your body with lips, tongue and fingers until you’re trembling and oversensitized. Only then does he finally sink into your eager body and take you apart completely.

“So perfect, so responsive,” he rasps in your ear as you claw at his back, his deep thrusts pushing you higher. “You were made for me, love.”

Your muffled cries ring out as ecstasy crashes through you. Lewis follows moments later with a guttural groan, his fingers leaving bruises on your hips.

The end of the British Grand Prix finds you waiting nervously in Lewis’ driver’s room, heart swelling with pride at his victory. When he strides in, sweaty and exhilarated, his entire face lights up to see you there.

He sweeps you into his arms, kissing you passionately. “Another win, my darling. Will you give me my prize now?”

You smile coyly up at him through your lashes. “Happily. I’ve missed you.”

Lewis groans and reclaims your lips. As your kisses grow heated, he murmurs, “You’re the best motivation any driver could ask for. My favorite part of winning has become knowing you’ll be here waiting for me.”

You make quick work of removing each other’s clothes, too impatient for slow seduction. Lewis lays you back on the couch, eyes blazing with desire.

“I love watching you experience new pleasures,” he says thickly. “Let me show you something exquisite today.”

You nod eagerly, ready for whatever he wants to teach you. Lewis trails hot kisses down your body until he’s kneeling before you. He looks up at you with dark eyes.

“Just relax and feel, my love.”

When his mouth descends on you, you cry out in shocked rapture. He wasn’t exaggerating about showing you something exquisite.

After, he gathers you close, pressing kisses to your temple. “Winning used to be my greatest joy,” he confesses softly. “Now, knowing you’ll be waiting to reward me is the only thing that matters.”

You smile and kiss him tenderly. In Lewis’ arms, you’ve discovered passion and intimacy beyond your wildest imaginings.

When asked about his dominance this season during interviews, Lewis just smiles secretively. “I’ve found powerful motivation,” is all he offers.

You watch from the shadows, heart swelling with love and pride for the man who’s brought you such fulfillment. You know that no matter what happens next, you'll never regret giving yourself so completely to Lewis.

***

You stand against a wall, watching Lewis take pictures with his side of the garage after a hard fought victory, unable to keep from smiling.

When he catches your eye, his lips quirk up. The heat in his gaze makes your cheeks flush.

You’re so distracted you don’t notice Charles until he’s right beside you. “Enjoying the celebrations?” He asks with a nudge to your shoulder.

You jump. “Oh! Yes, it’s quite exciting.”

Charles’ sharp eyes sweep between you and Lewis. “Hmm. Well I’m heading out for drinks with the team if you’d like to join.”

You grasp for an excuse. “Oh, um, I’m pretty tired actually …”

“She already has plans with me tonight.”

You freeze at Lewis’ voice over your shoulder. Dread pools in your stomach as you turn to see him watching Charles calmly.

Your brother goes rigid, eyes darting between you and Lewis. “Plans? What plans?” He asks, voice dangerously level.

You open your mouth but nothing comes out. Lewis steps closer, hand coming to rest on your lower back.

“I’m taking your sister out to dinner to celebrate properly,” he says smoothly. His thumb strokes your spine comfortingly.

Charles’ eyes zero in on the intimate touch, nostrils flaring. “Is that so,” he states flatly. His piercing gaze bores into you. “And does this happen often?”

Your mouth is dry as dust. You look helplessly up at Lewis.

He meets Charles’ glare steadily. “Your sister is an adult. Our relationship is no one’s business but our own.”

“Relationship?” Charles’ voice rises sharply. “How long has this-this thing been going on?”

You wince at his accusing tone. “For most of the season,” you whisper. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, I just-”

Charles holds up a hand, looking ill. “I don’t want to hear it. My own teammate, Y/N? Are you trying to ruin me?”

Indignation flares through you. “For once, this isn’t about you! I lov-” you break off, tears stinging your eyes.

Lewis wraps an arm around your shoulders, tucking you into his side. “That’s enough, Charles,” he says quietly but firmly. “I understand you’re upset, but don’t take it out on your sister.”

Charles’ mouth twists bitterly. “Oh so now you’re going to lecture me about my own family?” He takes a step closer, eyes blazing. “Stay away from my sister, Hamilton, or I swear-”

“Enough!” Your shout echoes through the suddenly silent motorhome. You pull away from Lewis to stand tall, glaring at your brother.

“You don’t get to make demands, Charles. Not about this.” Your voice doesn’t waver even as tears spill down your cheeks.

“I’m in love with Lewis. And he loves me. This is real.” Your tone softens. “I wanted to tell you. But I need you to understand that this is my choice.”

Charles looks stunned, anger fading into hurt. “Y/N …” he reaches for you but you step back, shaking your head.

“I just need some time. Please try to understand.” With that you turn and hurry away, ignoring the tears clouding your vision.

You don’t stop until firm, familiar arms come around you. Lewis tucks you into his chest, stroking your hair as you finally let the tears fall.

“Shh it’s alright, I’ve got you,” he murmurs. He continues holding you until the storm of emotion passes.

Finally you look up at him with red-rimmed eyes. “What do we do now?”

Lewis caresses your cheek gently. "We’ll figure it out together. I meant what I said, I’m not giving you up.”

You manage a watery smile. Whatever comes next, you know you and Lewis can weather it as long as you have each other. Leaning up on your toes, you silence anymore words with a soft, sweet kiss.

It takes a few weeks, but finally Charles seeks you out.

“I’m sorry for how I reacted, petite soeur. It was a shock, but that’s no excuse.” He takes your hands in his. “I just want you to be happy. And if Hamilton — if Lewis — is who you want, then … I can accept that.”

Relief crashes over you. You fling your arms around Charles, tears pricking your eyes again.

“Thank you,” you whisper into his shoulder. “That means everything to me.”

Charles holds you close for a long moment before pulling back to give you a rueful smile. “Just promise me I won’t have to see anything too lovey-dovey between you two.”

You laugh through your tears. “I promise.”

Charles has never been able to resist when you turn your puppy dog eyes on him. And deep down, he wants nothing more than your happiness — even if that’s with his teammate.

2K notes · View notes

novaursa · 23 days

Note

What about a Jace x sister

Where he fell in love with her and in the same time he is not ok with it. He might be the only Targaryen related who thinks that’s not okay to loved their related. But no matter how he can stopped loving her, she might have a look more “Targaryen” with white hair with some black in it (narcissia Malfoy style?)

He always do some weird shit to be closed to her without drow to much attention, And when they finally get really closed their mother call all the bastard to become dragon rider. And Ulf find them in the Pit and try to get something from them in exchange of his silence.

Jace wake up and choose violence 🫣 and just say no and fuxk her in front of him and say that if he say anything he make sure his dragon will eat him

Sins of the Blood

- Summary: Jacaerys always loved his sister, more than he should. It was wrong, he knew it, but the dragon in him claimed you as his long ago.

- Paring: sister!reader/Jacaerys Velaryon

- Note: For more of my works, visit my blog. The list is pinned to the top. Requests are closed!

- Rating: Explicit 18+

- Word count: 4 000+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff

- A/N: I've bonded the reader with Grey Ghost for the plot.

The sea breeze dances through the open halls of Dragonstone, carrying with it the scent of salt and the distant roar of the waves. You stand with Baela and Rhaena on the sun-warmed terrace overlooking the cliffs, the three of you bathed in the golden light of the setting sun. Your laughter rings out, clear and melodic, mingling with the cries of the gulls that circle above.

Jacaerys Velaryon watches from a distance, his heart heavy with conflicting emotions. He knows he should not be here, should not be watching you so closely, but he cannot help himself. You, his sister, the only daughter of Rhaenyra, have been a constant presence in his life, a source of both comfort and confusion. His eyes trace the silver streaks in your hair, a reminder of your Targaryen blood, mingling with the deep brown inherited from your true father, though only you, he, and his mother know the truth.

He remembers when you were children, how you would chase each other through the halls of the Red Keep, your laughter infectious, your bond inseparable. He had always been protective of you, even when you didn’t need it. You were fierce, a dragon through and through, and yet, as you stand now with Baela and Rhaena, there is a softness to you, a grace that makes his breath catch in his throat.

"Do you remember the first time we flew together?" Baela’s voice pulls him from his thoughts. She grins at you, her violet eyes bright with the memory.

"Of course," you reply, a smile tugging at your lips. "I thought Jace would never let me ride my own dragon, he was so worried."

Jace feels a pang at your words, both pride and regret mingling in his chest. He had always been overly cautious with you, more so than with Luke or Joffrey. Perhaps he had always known, even then, that his feelings for you were not entirely brotherly.

Rhaena giggles, leaning in closer to you. "He’s always been that way, hasn’t he? Always the protector, always looking after you."

You shrug, though the warmth in your eyes betrays your affection. "He cares. That’s just how he is."

Jace clenches his fists at his sides, torn between the pride that swells in him at your words and the guilt that gnaws at him for the thoughts he cannot seem to banish. He knows it is wrong—this desire that burns in him like dragonfire—but it is also undeniably a part of him, a flame that refuses to be extinguished.

Take what is yours. The words echo in his mind, a voice that is both his own and something darker, something ancient. The blood of the dragon runs hot in his veins, urging him to act, to claim what he believes is his by right. You are his sister, yes, but you are also so much more. You are the embodiment of everything he has ever wanted, ever desired.

You turn then, as if sensing his gaze, and your eyes meet his. For a moment, the world seems to stop. The laughter of Baela and Rhaena fades into the background, the sound of the waves dulls, and all he can hear is the pounding of his own heart.

"Jace," you call out, your voice breaking the spell. "Come join us!"

There is no hesitation in your invitation, no hint that you are aware of the storm raging inside him. You are just his sister, inviting him to share in the simple joy of the evening, oblivious to the battle he fights within.

He forces a smile, masking the turmoil beneath, and steps forward. "I was just enjoying the view," he says, his voice betraying nothing.

Rhaena giggles again, nudging Baela. "See, I told you he’s always watching over her."

Baela laughs, a sound like the tinkling of bells. "It’s because he’s a good brother."

The words cut deeper than they should, a cruel reminder of the line he cannot cross. He wants to be a good brother, he truly does. But the blood of the dragon does not care for such boundaries. The blood of the dragon demands more.

As he approaches, you smile up at him, that same smile that has always had the power to calm him, to soothe the fire within. But today, it only stokes the flames higher.

"Are you alright?" you ask softly, your eyes searching his face for something he cannot give.

He nods, the lie slipping easily from his lips. "Of course. Just… thinking."

You raise an eyebrow, a knowing look passing over your face. "You think too much, Jace. You always have."

He laughs, though it is a strained sound. "Someone has to, with you lot always running headlong into trouble."

Baela snorts. "As if you don’t love it."

He shrugs, unable to deny it. "Perhaps."

You laugh then, a sound so pure and unburdened that it twists something deep in his chest. How can you be so carefree, so unaware of the darkness that haunts him?

The conversation drifts to other things—plans for the next dragonride, the latest antics of your younger brothers—but Jace finds it hard to focus. His eyes keep returning to you, to the way the setting sun catches in your hair, to the way your eyes sparkle when you laugh. Every moment is a battle, every word a reminder of what he can never have.

Take what is yours. The voice whispers again, insistent, relentless.

He pushes it down, burying it beneath layers of duty, of honor, of love for his family. But it is there, always there, a part of him that he can never truly silence.

As the sun dips below the horizon, casting the world in shades of orange and gold, you turn to him once more, your expression soft, almost tender.

"Thank you, Jace," you say quietly.

He frowns, unsure of what you mean. "For what?"

You smile, and it is a smile that breaks him, because it is so full of warmth, of trust, of love. "For always being there. For always watching over me."

He swallows hard, forcing down the lump in his throat. "Always," he promises, and it is both a vow and a curse.

You reach out, your hand brushing against his arm, and the simple touch sends a shock through him, setting his nerves alight. For a moment, he forgets himself, forgets everything but you.

But then Baela speaks up, her voice pulling him back to reality. "We should head inside. It’s getting late."

You nod, but your eyes linger on his for a moment longer, as if searching for something, something you cannot name.

Jace watches as you turn away, following Baela and Rhaena back into the castle, your laughter fading into the evening air. He stays behind, his heart a tumult of emotion, his mind a battlefield.

He knows what he feels is wrong. He knows that he should push these thoughts away, should bury them deep where they can never see the light of day. But he also knows that the blood of the dragon is not so easily denied.

As the stars begin to twinkle in the darkening sky, Jace makes a silent vow to himself. He will protect you, he will care for you, as a brother should. But he will also fight this desire, this hunger that threatens to consume him. He will not let it destroy him, or you.

But deep down, he knows that it will be difficult.

And as he watches the last light of day fade into night, he wonders if it ever truly will be.

Months have passed since that evening on the terrace, and yet the fire within Jacaerys Velaryon has not dimmed. If anything, it has only grown stronger, a persistent heat that simmers beneath the surface, threatening to consume him at every turn. He has thrown himself into his duties, into training and studies, hoping that the rigor will burn away these unwanted desires. But nothing works. No matter how hard he tries, he cannot escape the pull you have on him.

Today, he finds himself wandering through the halls of Dragonstone, his mind restless, his heart unsettled. The castle is quiet, the stillness only amplifying his thoughts. His feet carry him to the library, a place he knows you often retreat to when you seek solace or simply a moment of peace. He tells himself it is a coincidence, that he has come here to study, to distract himself with books and knowledge. But deep down, he knows the truth.

As he enters the library, the scent of aged parchment and ink greets him, a familiar comfort. He pauses in the doorway, his eyes scanning the room until they find you, seated near the window, the light of the midday sun casting a soft glow around you. You are engrossed in a book, your silver-streaked hair falling over your face, your expression serene. The sight of you, so peaceful and unguarded, sends a wave of warmth through him, and before he can stop himself, he is walking towards you.

You look up as he approaches, a smile tugging at your lips. "Jace," you greet him, your voice soft and welcoming. "What brings you here?"

He hesitates, his mind racing for an excuse. "I thought I might find you here," he admits, the words tumbling out before he can catch them. "I wanted to see if you needed any help with your studies."

You raise an eyebrow, a playful glint in your eyes. "Since when do you offer to help with my studies?"

He shrugs, trying to appear nonchalant. "I just thought... we haven't spent much time together lately. I miss it."

Your expression softens at his words, and you close the book in your hands, setting it aside. "I’ve missed it too," you confess, your voice barely above a whisper.

He can feel the tension between you, a charged energy that crackles in the air. The pull is stronger now, a magnetic force that draws him closer, and before he knows it, he is sitting beside you, his body instinctively leaning towards yours.

"What are you reading?" he asks, his voice rougher than he intended.

You glance at the book, then back at him, a small smile playing on your lips. "A history of Old Valyria. I’ve always been fascinated by our ancestors, by the dragons and the blood magic they wielded."

"Of course," he murmurs, though he hardly registers the words. He is too focused on the way your hand rests so close to his, the way your eyes seem to shimmer in the light. "Our blood is strong, isn’t it? The blood of the dragon."

You nod, your gaze holding his. "It is. It’s what makes us who we are."

The words resonate deep within him, a reminder of the truth he has tried so hard to ignore. The blood of the dragon is what binds you together, but it is also what drives him to the brink of madness. The fire that burns in his veins is not just a curse, but a part of him, a part of you. And he is no longer sure if he can continue to fight it.

"I wanted to ask you something," you say suddenly, breaking the silence that has settled between you.

He blinks, trying to focus. "What is it?"

You hesitate for a moment, as if gathering your thoughts. "I was wondering if you could help me with my dragon training. Grey Ghost is so much more... spirited than he used to be, and I thought maybe you could help me understand him better."

Jace swallows hard, the thought of spending more time with you, alone and away from prying eyes, sending a thrill through him. But it is also dangerous, more dangerous than anything he has faced before. Still, he finds himself nodding. "Of course. I’d be glad to help."

You smile, a smile that warms him from the inside out, and he knows he is lost. He cannot deny you, cannot deny himself any longer. The pull is too strong, the fire too fierce. And as you rise to your feet, gesturing for him to follow, he feels that pull tighten, like a chain around his heart, binding him to you.

The two of you walk side by side through the corridors of Dragonstone, the silence between you comfortable, yet charged with an unspoken tension. Your presence is a balm to him, calming and yet igniting something deep within, something he can no longer ignore. Every brush of your arm against his, every glance in his direction, fans the flames higher, until he feels as though he might burst from the sheer force of it.

When you reach the courtyard where the dragons are kept, you turn to him, your eyes bright with excitement. "Let’s start with the basics," you say, your voice full of eagerness. "You’ve always been better at this than I am."

Jace shakes his head, forcing himself to focus on the task at hand. "It’s not about being better," he says, trying to keep his voice steady. "It’s about understanding them, forming a bond with them."

You nod, your attention fully on him now, and he feels a surge of pride at the trust you place in him. "I know," you say softly. "And I trust you to help me."

The words strike him like a blow, the weight of your trust almost too much to bear. He wants to be worthy of it, to be the brother you believe him to be. But he also wants more, so much more, and it terrifies him.

As you step closer to him, your arm brushing against his, he feels that pull again, stronger than ever. He knows he should move away, put some distance between you, but he cannot bring himself to do it. Instead, he finds himself leaning in, his body drawn to yours like a moth to flame.

"You know," you say, your voice barely above a whisper, "I’ve always felt safest when I’m with you."

The confession catches him off guard, and he looks down at you, his heart pounding in his chest. "Why?"

You smile up at him, a gentle, almost shy smile. "Because you’ve always been there for me, Jace. No matter what."

His breath catches in his throat, the intensity of the moment almost too much to bear. The pull between you is undeniable now, a force of nature that neither of you can resist. And as you stand there, so close that he can feel the warmth of your breath on his skin, he knows that he is about to cross a line that he can never return from.

But before he can act, before he can make the decision that will change everything, you reach out and take his hand in yours, your fingers curling around his. The simple touch sends a jolt of electricity through him, and he is lost, completely and utterly lost.

"Jace," you whisper, your voice trembling with something unspoken.

He looks down at you, his heart in his throat, and he knows that this is it. This is the moment he has been dreading, the moment he has been craving. The pull between you is too strong, the fire too fierce, and he knows that there is no going back.

But then, as if sensing the turmoil within him, you give his hand a gentle squeeze, your eyes full of warmth and understanding. "Thank you," you say, your voice soft and sincere. "For always being there."

And just like that, the moment passes. The tension between you eases, and you step back, releasing his hand. The pull is still there, still strong, but it is no longer overwhelming. For now, it is enough to simply be with you, to feel your presence beside him, to know that you trust him.

As you turn your attention back to the dragons, Jace takes a deep breath, steadying himself. The battle within him is far from over, but for now, he has won a small victory. He has resisted the pull, resisted the fire. But he knows it is only a matter of time before the dragon within him demands more.

And when that time comes, he is not sure if he will be able to resist.

The winds howl around the jagged peaks of Dragonmont, the volcanic heart of Dragonstone. The sky above is dark, thick clouds swirling in ominous patterns, but here, beneath the shelter of the mountain, you and Jacaerys find solace in the company of your dragons. Vermax and Grey Ghost, their massive forms partially obscured by the mist that clings to the rocky terrain, rest quietly nearby, their watchful eyes ever alert.

The air between you and Jace is charged, as it has been for days now. Since the arrival of the Dragonseeds and the beginning of the Red Sowing, there has been an unspoken tension, a shared anxiety that neither of you has fully voiced. Today, it seems, that silence is about to be broken.

Jace paces before you, his brow furrowed, his steps uneven. "I can’t help but worry," he finally says, his voice low, almost a growl. "Mother’s decision to let these Dragonseeds try to claim the dragons… it could destroy everything. The only thing that sets us apart, that makes us legitimate in the eyes of the realm, is our bond with the dragons. What happens if anyone can do it? What happens if they succeed?"

You watch him, feeling the weight of his concern settle over you like a heavy cloak. You understand his fear; it echoes within you as well. "They are Targaryen bastards, Jace," you say softly, trying to find the right words. "The blood of the dragon runs in their veins, even if the world doesn’t see them as we are seen. But you are right to be cautious. We cannot control what might happen if they succeed. But we can control how we respond."

He stops pacing, turning to face you fully. His dark eyes are intense, filled with worry and something deeper, something you’ve seen growing there in recent days. "What if it shatters everything? What if the realm no longer sees us as the rightful heirs? If they can claim dragons, what does that mean for us?"

You rise from your seat on a smooth outcropping of rock, moving closer to him, your steps slow and deliberate. You can feel the warmth of the dragons nearby, the heat from the mountain beneath your feet, but most of all, you feel the heat radiating from Jace, a fire that matches your own.

"We are more than our dragons," you say, your voice steady. "We are the blood of the dragon, yes, but we are also our mother’s children, the heirs of House Targaryen. That will not change, no matter what happens with the Dragonseeds."

Jace’s gaze softens as he looks at you, the storm in his eyes momentarily easing. "You always know what to say," he murmurs, his voice barely more than a whisper. "But I’m still afraid. Afraid of what this means for us, for our family."

You reach out, your hand finding his, and the contact sends a spark through you both. "Then we face it together," you say firmly, your fingers tightening around his. "Whatever comes, we face it together, as we always have."

For a moment, there is only silence between you, the kind of silence that speaks louder than words. The dragons are quiet too, their presence a comforting weight in the background. Jace’s thumb brushes over your knuckles, and the simple touch sends a shiver down your spine, the connection between you deepening with each passing second.

Without thinking, you step closer, and suddenly the space between you is gone. You can feel his breath on your skin, warm and unsteady, and the intensity in his eyes is almost too much to bear. The pull between you is stronger than ever, an undeniable force that you can no longer resist.

"Jace," you whisper, your voice trembling with something unspoken, something that has been building for so long.

He doesn’t reply, at least not with words. Instead, he leans in, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that is both hesitant and eager, as if he is afraid you might pull away. But you don’t. Instead, you kiss him back, your hands moving to cup his face, pulling him closer.

The kiss deepens, all the pent-up emotions of the past weeks, months, perhaps even years, pouring out in that single moment. It is as if the fire that has always burned between you has finally found release, and there is no stopping it now.Jace’s hands find their way to your waist, pulling you flush against him, and you can feel the desperation in his touch, the need that mirrors your own. "I’ve wanted this for so long," he murmurs against your lips, his voice rough with desire.

"So have I," you admit, the words coming out in a breathless rush. "Jace, I—"

He silences you with another kiss, more urgent this time, and you can feel his hands moving to the fastenings of your attire. There is a moment of hesitation, a final chance to turn back, but neither of you takes it. Instead, you help him, your fingers trembling as they work to undo his clothing as well.

The air is cool against your skin as your garments fall away, but you hardly notice. All you can focus on is Jace, on the way his hands move over your body, on the way he looks at you as if you are the only thing that matters in the world. And perhaps, in this moment, you are.

He guides you down onto the warm rock, his movements careful, almost reverent. The heat from the mountain seeps into your skin, mixing with the heat of his touch, and you feel yourself trembling, not from fear, but from anticipation.When he finally joins with you, the pain is brief, a sharp sting that quickly fades, leaving only the overwhelming sensation of being completely and utterly connected to him. Jace pauses, his eyes searching yours, as if waiting for your permission to continue.

You nod, your voice caught in your throat, but the look in your eyes says everything. "Please," you whisper, and that is all it takes.

He begins to move, slow at first, almost tentative, but as the moments pass, the hesitation fades, replaced by a growing urgency, a passion that neither of you can control. You cling to him, your fingers digging into his shoulders, urging him on, meeting his every movement with your own.

The world around you fades, the sounds of the dragons, the wind, the distant roar of the sea, all becoming nothing more than a distant echo. There is only Jace, only the fire that burns between you, the flames that consume you both, driving you higher and higher until you feel as though you might burst from the sheer intensity of it.

Just as you reach the peak of your union, lost in the sensation of him, you hear a sound, the soft crunch of footsteps on the volcanic rock. Your eyes snap open, and you see him—Ulf the White, one of the Dragonseeds, standing a short distance away, his expression one of surprise and amusement.

Jace’s movements slow as he becomes aware of the intruder, but he doesn’t stop, his body still pressed intimately against yours. His eyes narrow, and you can feel the tension in him, the protective instinct that flares up at the sight of another man watching you in such a vulnerable moment.

Ulf’s smirk widens as he recognizes both of you, his voice carrying an easy confidence as he speaks. "Well, well, what do we have here? Prince Jacaerys and his fair sister, indulging in some… private time, I see."

Jace doesn’t respond immediately, his gaze locked on Ulf, his body shielding yours from view. When he finally speaks, his voice is low, dangerous. "You will leave now, Ulf. And you will speak of this to no one."

Ulf’s amusement doesn’t fade. "And if I don’t? I imagine this little secret could be worth quite a bit."

Jace’s expression hardens, the dragon within him rising to the surface. "I have another proposition for you. Leave now and never speak of this, or tell someone… and Vermax will feast on your bones."

The threat hangs in the air, thick with the promise of violence. Ulf’s smile falters, the realization of Jace’s seriousness sinking in. He glances at the dragons, both Vermax and Grey Ghost now fully alert, their eyes locked on him, and he takes an involuntary step back.

"Fine," Ulf mutters, the bravado gone from his voice. "Your secret’s safe with me, Prince Jacaerys. I was never here." With that, he turns and hurries away, casting one last nervous glance at the dragons before disappearing into the mist.

Jace watches him go, his body still tense, but as the danger passes, his attention shifts back to you, his focus returning to the moment you had both been lost in. The fire that had momentarily cooled begins to burn again, his hands finding yours, his gaze intense.

"I will marry you," he says, his voice rough with emotion. "In the traditions of our ancestors, in the ways of Old Valyria. You are mine, and I am yours, for now and forever."

The words send a shiver through you, the weight of them, the promise in them, filling you with a sense of certainty, of belonging. You nod, your voice trembling as you respond. "Yes, Jace. Yes."

And as he moves within you once more, the world around you falls away, leaving only the two of you, bound together by the fire of your blood.

#house of the dragon #hotd reader insert #hotd x reader #hotd x y/n #hotd x female reader #hotd x you #jacerys velaryon #jace x y/n #jace x you #jace x reader #jacerys x reader #jacaerys x y/n #jacaerys x you #jacaerys x reader

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lazyneonrabbitt · 22 days

Text

Old dog

Daryl Dixon x reader | SMUT🔞

Daryl is never been watched with such interest before, and it grabs his attention. But he feels like he got his order of actions wrong..

The Kingdom was a strange place.

First there was the King, with his pet tiger.

The King spoke in a strange manner, and his ever so friendly right hand too.

The Queen was a kind woman, she had shown you around and given you a roof over your head after you wandered into her lands.

The Kingdom had guards on horseback, and all its residents referred to their leader as the King.

Like a true old age Kingdom.

It was near summer when you arrived and took some time to get settled, now having your routine all worked out and were a happy new addition to the bakery.

While it meant crazy early mornings, it brought many people a good start of their day. You made your delivery rounds as the first people got up to tend to the gardens before the sun got too hot, passing then with a kind smile and a good morning wish on your way to the school building where you'd make your last delivery of the day.

You continued your daily tasks back at the bakery when a returning resident came by.

Each day he'd come by to pick up the same order, so by now it was standard to have it ready by a certain time.

Like clockwork he showed up, the gorgeous older man with his grey streaked hair that framed his bearded face oh so perfect.

You always wondered about the scar that sat around one of his sea blue eyes, but you never found the courage to ask.

You only knew his first name because the baker mentioned it once.

Daryl.

With rough, scarred hands he accepted the packaged food but remained in his spot.

"M'sorry, ya don't happen ta have sun leftovers, do ya? 'M headin' out fer a couple days 'n could use some extras." A little stunned by the sudden change in routine had you stammer a response neither of you could make out before you disappeared further into the back.

To your luck a fresh batch was just taken out of the oven, so you quickly grabbed a few buns and put them in a tea towel before moving back to the front.

"Here you go, fresh out of the oven." You smiled nervously as you held out the makeshift pouch, almost freezing as the calloused pads of his fingers brushed your skin while taking the bread from you.

With a charming as ever thanks he made his way out the door.

After the third time preparing the order for Daryl, who wasn't in town to come pick it up you were told to go take a day or two off, relax and go try and catch him come back home later during the day.

On your delivery routes and walks around the community you had caught wind of some kind of guard dog. You'd pick it up from time to time but today had been much more frequent.

You wondered what they meant. Maybe you'd ask Carol about it later.

The Kingdom was a nice place.

Each day there would be someone in the community's centre, playing some kind of instruments. Alone or in a group, it varied, but it was always nice to enjoy when you could.

You were enjoying it for so long you barely noticed the sun starting to set and Carol finding you. "Couldn't catch you at the bakery today, was told you were given the day off."

She came to sit beside you, enjoying the music and sharing a small snack she brought with you.

After a short while she got up, turning to you and offering a hand. "Come, we're gonna see something. If I have to believe the baker's words you're gonna love it."

Carol's words confused you, the thought of the baker casually talking about you with her wasn't really a happy one. Yet you followed her every step as she made her way to the front gates of the Kingdom.

"We're heading out? Without weapons or gear?" There was nothing around for you to see, confusion rising even more and edging on annoyance. Why wouldn't she just way where you were going?

You stood and watched as as she bounced on her heels with her arms behind her back. She was being all giddy about something and your mind could not come up with what on earth it could be.

Option after option ran through your mind until the guards spoke and the gates started to open.

Carol passed you a smile and raised her brows as she nudged her head towards the gate before turning back to watch.

You took a step closer to see what she was on about, and within the reach of your first step a figure came into view between the large gate doors.

"Holy shit." You stood frozen, much like those few days ago when Daryl suddenly asked for additions to his bakery order.

Despite the distance between the two of you and the low volume of your words, it looked like he heard you and gave you a smile and a small wave.

The scene before you became crazier by the second, on his shoulders a large deer that he carried without any visible strain but that wasn't all. Tied to his waist with a thick belt he lugged a tarp stacked with different hunted animals.

But something else felt off, beside the show of inhuman strength he seemed to possess.

Out from underneath his hair poked an ear, like it did sometimes before as well, although they seemed.. pointed?

His smile as well. You had seen the stubby pointed canines he had, but there were loads of people who had those slightly longer than average. Why did they look bigger now, accompanied with a similar set on his bottom teeth that surely weren't there before.

Also, was he fuzzier than normal? It was all hard to see in the dim light. It could just have been dirt stuck on his skin from being out in the woods so long. Surely he didn't bother cleaning up out there.

All the while Daryl dragged his game inside and stopped to report to Carol, glancing your way every so often as he could feel the energy radiating off you. He was enjoying the way you stared at him with confusion that slowly morphed into something he almost wanted to categorize as adoration.

It wasn't often Daryl got that look from anyone, so to say he was suddenly more intrigued by the baker woman was an understatement.

"Hey," Daryl's voice pulled you from your thoughts, staring at him without a single word running through your mind. "Wanna help unload all'a this at the butcher?"

A silent nod was all you managed as you followed him, hearing Carol say something but not entirely registering her words.

It was the next day when you saw him outside of his usual routine yet again, before the time of his usual pickup. The early summer sun was up when you made your rounds, and so was Daryl.

Across the street from the butcher’s place was a small area that used to be a children’s playground where you caught him doing pull-ups, flannel hanging open over his torso that you secretly expected to be way more toned, but instead you saw lightly furred soft flesh.

He hadn’t noticed you as you moved past to the butcher’s doorstep where you’d leave her order, quietly mumbling to yourself as you stared at Daryl again. “Lords, I want that man to fold me like a lawn chair..” You were so lost in the view of him pulling up his full weight with just one arm, his legs crossed under him, that you didn’t hear the butcher arrive until she pat you on the shoulder. “I may not be into men, but even I can see the appeal of that old dog bending me over the nearest surface.”

The sudden contact made you squeak and jump away, only to be laughed at as you stumbled over your words before running along on your delivery route.

It was only a couple of seconds after you were out of earshot that Daryl appeared on the butcher's steps, shoulders shaking as he softly laughed at the interaction he heard all too well just a moment ago. "Yer horrible, ya know tha'?" He bumped her shoulder aa he walked past her, into the shop to start working on all the kills he brought back the day before.

The butcher let out a breath through her nose. "And you love me for it, mutt." Behind her she closed the door and flipped off the hunter, sticking out her tongue behind his back. "'Course I love ya, ya crazy knife wieldin' hag."

The rest of the day after running off at the butcher went fairly normal, Daryl picked up his order and you cleaned the place alone with the baker having to leave early for a meeting.

It was only when you closed up shop for the day that it got weird. Daryl stood outside, seemingly waiting with his arms crossed under short sleeves so tight you wondered how they hadn't cut off circulation yet.

Without missing a beat he pushed himself off the wall and stepped beside you. "C'mon. Wanna show ya som'n." His gruff voice could tell you to eat dirt and you'd do it so naturally you followed suit, walking around the community until you reached the homes placed at the far end, right at the forest wall.

You took in the beat up old truck with the hood popped and one wheel missing, and next to it inside the garage with the missing door a bike that looked like it was made over years of collecting parts. Was this his home?

You followed him inside the garage, the door in the back opening and leading into a small kitchen littered with tools and materials. The tea towel you gave him the bread in laid neatly folded on the corner of the messy table, not a single grease or oil covered item near it.

In the moment of distraction Daryl's hand landed on your hip as he scooted past you in the narrow space between the counter and the table, his crotch brushing your ass in the process.

He felt you become rigid at his touch and apologized. "Sorry, doll. Place ain't made fer two."

His hand remained in its place, squeezing as he apoligized making you want to just give in to your haunting daydreams and let him take you right then and there.

"So, what did you wanna show me again?" You were fidgeting, trying to calm your nerves with Daryl so close.

"S' upstairs. Sum ol' items ya can dig through. See if ya wan' sum." With a hand placed on your hip he led you upstairs, steering you around the corner and through one of the doors, ending with your knees pressed against a bed.

Before you had a chance to ask anything one of Daryl's hands came around your front, resting on your lower belly as the other one snuck around your chest. "How 'bout ya be a good girl fer me an' lemme fold ya like a lawn chair." His beard drug across your skin as he came to bite your earlobe. "Tha's what ya want, righ'? Got all hot 'n bothered when the butcher mentioned me bendin 'er over the counter.." with one hand sneaking under your waistband and the other softly squeezing your breast he had you whimpering.

"S'fine, righ'?" His hands stilled at your silence. "Words, doll. Ain' gon do anythin' unless ya give me an okay." His hands moved to cafefully turn you around to look you in the eye, but you quickly buried your face in his chest, hands against him as well and all your body wanted was to squeeze.

Squeeze your fingers into his plump, soft chest. Squeeze your thighs together for some desparately needed friction.

You softly nodded, murmuring something Daryl couldn't make out.

"Need ta hear ya." Daryl softly caressed your shoulder, moving to tilt your head up so you'd look at him.

Your eyes scanned his face, soft and gentle. Eyes glistening a bright blue between the thick, red scarred line that cut right through an eyebrow. Your eyes wandered to his lips, partially hidden by the grey scruff that occupied the lower half of his face as you breathed. "I want this."

With your eyes on his lips you saw his concerned look change into a wicked grin that showed his pointed canines.

In a split second after that you were thrown onto the bed and caged between Daryl's limbs, his face buried in your neck as he nipped and sucked at your skin.

"Go on." He whispered. "Take 'em off. I know ya wan' it." Daryl was on his way to the hem of your shirt already as you slowly worked your hands towards the buttons of of his flannel, undoing them with trembling fingers, focus drifting away with every drag of his teeth across your flesh.

With some assistance your top halves were soon bare. Daryl's hands on your soft chest, tongue all over them as he sucked bruises to the underside.

Your fingers found his hair, pulling at the strands in pleasure as the others traced every scar on Daryl's body. From the small puncture wounds to the large gashes on his back, you caressed each one of them.

Letting out short, panted breaths your body burned wherever Daryl's fingers trailed, the rough pads leaving a path of tingling flesh from your chest down to your side, his tongue following down your body between where his hands had gone.

With the descent of his body his scarred frame moved out of reach, placing both hands in his hair and tugging as his teeth dug into your skin, earning a growl that sounded from deep in his chest.

With newfound interest you pulled again, your nails scratching his scalp in the process as your hips rolled up against his torso.

The low, scratchy moan that left him rumbled against your hip and had him quickly slide his hands down your hips. With no effort you felt your hips rise as two strong hands grabbed your ass and fabric slide off your body. Both your loose trousers and panties were shoved down the rounds of your hips as they lifted off the bed, the fabric pulled off your legs before your knees ended on both sides of your chest and Daryl's teeth were back just below your bellybutton where the meat of your folded torso met in perfect, bite-sized rolls.

You watched him litter your stomach in marks, clamping his jaw onto your thighs to color your skin in where only he could admire them.

"Daryl, please.."

Your voice had him lock eyes with you from where he sat between your legs and watched your pleading gaze with a soft nod before leaning back down and licking a broad stripe over the back of your thigh, moving to delve his tongue right into your centre.

Your moans of his name added fuel to the already raging fire, parting your lips with his tongue and drinking up all of your sweetness. With each stroke against your clit your walls clenched around nothing, muscles tensing but your body laying unmoved under Daryl's strong grip.

You squirm, hands finding his on your thighs as you whine and mewl, signaling you being close to finishing.

"Such pretty sounds, all fer me.." Daryl speaks against your clit before wrapping his lips around it once more and teasing you, making you hold back your own thigh so his fingers could join his mouth, stuffing two down your entrance with ease as he kept licking and sucking in tandem with the curls of his digits.

Your sounds increase in volume with Daryl's ministrations, crying out at your peak, clenching your walls tightly around his fingers as you finished.

"'Ere, lemme stretch those legs fer ya." With gentle hands he laid your legs flat against the bed on either side of him, allowing the blood flow to return while you came down from your high.

You watched him with hazy eyes, on his knees between your legs tugging at the button and zipper of his black jeans. Beneath the oh so inviting trail of dark hair he lowered the layers still on him to reveal his thick, hard cock.

Your view was close to perfection, a gorgeous old man between your spread legs. The lines of his body like rings on a tree, showing signs of age and survival. From the scar at his collarbone, at the edge of the soft dusting of chest hair down to his thick strong legs he was removing his clothes from he was like a piece of art for you to admire as you desired.

And gods, you desired him.

"Ya look like ya wanna eat me alive." He looked down at you, one hand running through his hair while the other slowly stroked his cock.

You licking your lips as you stared at his impressive length was all he needed to ler himself fall forward and catch himself right before he'd make contact with you, calmly catching your lips in a deep kiss. With your tongue against his lips you asked for more and he obliged almost immediately, parting his lips and swiping his tongue against yours, lips moulding together in percect harmony until you desperately needed air.

Your hand lingered on the side of his head, thumb caressing the scar around his eye.

"What's the story on this one?" Daryl couldn't get enough of that look on your face. The one filled with curiosity, not a speck of fear or disgust on you.

"Old girlfrien' decided she didn' like me no more." He averted your gaze as he remembered the fight in the cabin back then, and the serrated edge of the knife catching the skin of his face. He deliberately left out the terms his then lover called him as she chased him out the door with a shotgun. That was a tale for another time.

Right now all he wanted was to ravish the woman underneath him.

The setting sun caught his eyes and for a fraction of a second they seemed to glow, icy blue in a sea of black. When they looked back at you it was gone, a pair of normal blue eyes looking at you.

He shook off the memories and brought his focus back to the now, to you underneath him, the scent of your arousal, and his painfully hard cock.

Daryl adjusted his position, his length rubbing your folds in the process earning a soft moan from you.

"Gonna make more o'them pretty noises fer me, doll?" His hand reached for his member and rubbed the tip between your folds, spreading your wetness around, listening to your soft mutters of "yes" and "please".

Daryl needed no more convincing, nuzzling your noses together before kissing you deeply as he slowly inches himself inside of you. The initial stretch hurt and you couldn't help but groan into the kiss at how big he was. His cock was way girthier than just two fingers, and it had been years since your last time before this.

Daryl's hand moved down your body, slowly rubbing your clit to distract from the stretch. His kisses deepened, your tongue sliding past his teeth, feeling around his fangs with fascination.

A soft whimper sounded from you as he bottomed out, making him halt a moment to let you adjust. "Ya tell me when yer good, 'kay?"

You nodded and answered a soft "uhuh." and a bit later, after a few experimental squeezes you told him you were good.

With his hand still on your hip Daryl carefully pulled back and slid inside at a slow and steady pace, letting you get used to him for a few thrusts until your heels came up to dig in his rear.

"Hmhm, eager are we?" Daryl grinned against your neck, taking the hint and quickening his pace. His hands had your hips in a bruising grasp, his hips snapping against yours earning soft gasps on each impact.

"H.. hah.. ah Daryl fuck--" you were a beautiful piece beneath him, with your head thrown to the side, arm covering your eyes and chest heaving and shaking with each thrust.

"So good, doll. So pretty for me." Daryl was huffing out a laugh, moving his hands off your hips to grab at your lower legs. Deep, short thrusts continued as he moved your legs from around him back to up beside your torso, knees pressed against your shoulders as he fucked into you with your ass up off the matress.

He was so deep all of a sudden it had you see stars, crying out his name aa your orgasm crashed down on you.

You were sweating all over, breaths deep to get enough air and body heavy. With your eyes closed you laid still, getting the air back into your lungs as Daryl teased you by softly rutting into your overly sensitive cunt.

"Don' tell me yer tired already, I haven't even finished yet.." His thrusts changed angles and now brushed your clit, having you mewl out pleas he chose to ignore. "Tha's more like it, music, those sounds o' yers." His thrusts continued, as did your pleas. You didn't even know what you were begging for but the knot in your belly was quickly returning in time with his thrusts getting sloppier, not long after crying out again as you came a few thrusts before je did too.

There were tears rolling down your face, laying limp on the bed. Daryl's hands had let go of your legs again, letting you stretch them for thr short moment before he was fully hard again.

Unexpectedly Daryl flipped you onto your stomach and moving your hips around to his preference.

"Time fer round two?" He wached you nod wit your face in the pillows, moving to slowly press inside you once more and bending down to press soft kisses to your back. Your mind went back to being hazy a few thrusts in with how good his cock felt at this new angle fist gripping at the pillows beneath you that muffled your moans.

His hands were all over your backside, kneading every soft surface he could reach as he continued his steady pace.

Your sounds were like music to his ears, wishing to hear them every night, over and over again until your throat was so soar he had to bring you medicine and nurse you back to health. Your curiosity was already enough to make him want you, never having anyone radiate such a type of energy towards him and it has him hooked. But having you here like this now had him almost addicted, wanting to keep you, claim you but he knew he didn't have the right to do so. He didn't deserve it, for he was sort of still lying to you about large aspects of his life.

But if he could make you feel this good now in this moment, that was all he cared about.

He fucked you from behind until you came once, twice and then moved you onto your side, holding onto one of your legs against his chest as je continued rutting into you, earning two more orgasms from you right before finishing himself for the second time.

As he came down from his high he stared at you, passed out and asleep beneath him. Ever so carefully he moved you so he could lay down as well, pulling you against his chest as he settled to drift off too.

It was morning by the time you woke up, groaning in pain as your legs resisted being moved off the bed. You blinked the sleep from your eyes and shot up off the bed. "Ah, god damn oww.." Your ass hit the matress again, the crunchy layer of dried fluids scratching your thighs.

"Oh for fuck's sake I'm gonna be late!" You stumbled around the place searching for the shower to scrub yourself clean, picking up your shirt off the floor and sniffing it. "Nope, can't wear that. Shit!" You found the bathroom and were vigorously scrubbing your legs and quickly back to digging through all of Daryl's drawers in a panic, trying to find something decent to wear.

"Ya know ya can just ask, right?" You didn't even register what he said and grumbled back at him. "I don't have time, okay? I'm already gonna be late for work and I got nothing to wear because my own clothes stink so I'm gonna have to run home first and be even later."

Face down in a drawer your attention was pulled by a short whistle, and the second you were up and turned towards the noise an entire outfit found your face.

Underwear, socks, simple sweats and a flanel.

"Why do you have a stash of women's clothes?" You were genuinely curious but that didn't stop you from struggling to put on the clothes with your entire body aching. "I don't even know how I'm gonna walk my rounds. Everything hurts.."

You were already dreading today and it had barely even started.

"Need me ta make yer rounds? Got time so I don' mind." Daryl was following you down the stairs now, hands ready to catch you as you stumbled, not wanting you to fall.down the stairs on your wobbly legs.

"No way I'm letting you do my rounds. I don't want the whole community on my neck tomorrow about why I sent you." You were halfway out the door already, walking as fast as possible and waving Daryl off on your not so fast way to work.

You arrived late and got told off for it, but the baker quickly changed his demeanor once he saw you limp. He gave you a quick rundown of what he had planned to do at the bakery and let you stay in as he took over your rounds, which you were very thankful for.

The front door bell rang and Carol appeared, a while after Daryl had dropped by for his usual, and bringing in a bag with your clothes.

"Hey, didn't see you this morning." Carol was as cheery as ever, her hair braided and her smile kind and motherly.

"Yeah," you leaned against the counter, wincing as you moved your weight. "Hurt my leg yesterday, so I'm in here thr whole day now." You tried to shrug it off, not feeling like coming up with a decent enough lie. Not that you needed one anyways.

"Which clearly has nothing to do with you spending the night at Daryl's place?" A knowing smile spread on her face as she looked you up and down, arms crossed over her chest, laughing as she watched your eyes about to pop out of your head in response. "You're wearing my emergency clothes. Looks like we have about the same size."

You felt blessed with today being a quiet day and could clean while you chatted with Carol and closed up shop after, with the baker off again while you ran the bakery.

"There's something wrong with that man." You sighed as you bent down to lock up the garage door, groaning as you came back up. "He's like, what? Almost sixty? And he still held out longer than me. I swear I passed out once before he was done."

Carol was giggling all the way with your bags in her hand. "He's fifty-four, but alright."

"Yeah, okay. That fifty-four year old would have kept going if I hadn't clocked out after lord knows how ma--"

"Five, doll." Daryl's voice suddenly behind you had you jump up and almost fall if it wasn't for his quick response to steady you.

"How the hell are you fine?" Your question was directed at Daryl, but your eyes were on Carol who was having the time of her life seeing you be so confused about her best friend's energy levels.

"There's a lot about Daryl you don't know yet, dear." She winked at her friend, who only grunted in response.

"Oh really? When are you planning on telling me all about yourself? Do I need to cook you a romantic dinner?" Your words came out with way too much excitement, letting out how eager you were to learn about Daryl.

"Ya'll learn eventually. No need ta rush things, righ'?" His voice kept cool, but Carol read his body language like a book and quickly saw he needed help to cross that line. Him scratching the side of his fingers, and obsessively wiping the hair out of his face, eyes looking everywhere but at you. They were all tells, and Carol felt bad for him.

"Why don't you two stay over for dinner? Ezekiel won't make it home in time so I'd be all alone otherwise." Carol quickly set up a plan, making it all seem like coincidence but in her mind she had all the steps figured out already.

"I'd love to stay over, but only if it's not too much effort." Peeking past Daryl you saw her wave your assumption off and assure it was fine.

And thus you three ended up around Carol's nice dinner table in the King's home.

Somehow you expected it to be fancy and pristine, but that would never happen with how selfless the King was.

The food was nice and Carol had gifted you some stronger painkillers she had laying around to ease your body, you all just chatted about your day, and you thought your subtle questions about him were going okay, until Daryl excused himself to go smoke what seemed in a hurry.

"It's okay honey, Daryl has a hard time opening up to people. He needs to find the right moments to talk." Carol gave you a loving shoulder squeeze and pointed you towards the back door where Daryl had just left through.

"He loves the forest, he feels safe there." With a wink she sent you off.

You carefully approached him and settled in the doorframe. "Hey," Your voice was soft as to not startle him. "Wanna go for a walk? Outside the walls."

With a nod he got up and offered you his hand to take, and with a sigh he let a smile come through. "Carol really set us up, didn't she?"

You laughed along with him and decided then you wouldn't push him, and let him talk at his pace.

With your gear gathered the two of you found yourselves walking along the tree line in silence.

"M' sorry." Daryl kept his eyes on the ground where he walked, but with his pinkie he touched yours and hooked them together.

"When Carol brought ya to welcome me back after the huntin' I was confused. But when I felt yer curious stares instead of gettin' negative 'n scared I got.." He fell quiet, his hand pulling away from yours but you quickly grabbed it fully, rubbing your thumb across his knuckles.

But you stayed quiet, and just walked with his hand in yours.

After a long stretch of only hearing the ground crunch under your shoes Daryl stopped.

"S'where I stay when I go out each month." You stood a few feet away from a rock wall, overgrown with green and a small clearing in it. Looking around you there was no way of being seen here from any angle.

You also saw trees with torn off branches and what looked like deep claw marks. "Should'a shown ya 'fore last night."

You looked over at him and made sure he saw you smile. "You really think anything would have changed my mind?" Your hands came up to his face to hold his gaze on you, hoping he'd see the truth in your eyes.

"I know yer not lyin'. Ya haven't lied since we started talkin'." His hand moved to touch the small of your back, the other one gesturing at the overgrown wall. "C'mon."

Daryl had his knife ready as he moved past some hanging vines with your hand in his to keep you close.

The area was void of any dead, except for the picked clean bones covering the ground.

And the seemingly random pile of fabrics and signs of humans staying here.

He let go of your hand and let you wander around, staring at every little thing.

You kneeled down off to the side, getting up to move some vines to let in more light before walking back.

"You stay here?" Your fingers traced the print in the sand, glancing over at Daryl who was slowly stepping closer with calculated steps, like a true huntsman would to not startle an animal.

Quietly he leaned down next to you, and without saying a word moved his hand to the print in the loose sand.

The world went blurry around Daryl's hand as you watched it change. Muscles under the skin warping to reshape as flesh darkened and nails grew, and then fit perfectly into the indentation.

Daryl was hyper aware of everything around him, senses almost overwhelming him as he felt the worms crawl under the earth and heard the birds fly over outside. But even with his senses running on overdrive he couldn't find a single negative feeling coming off you.

You stared at his hand, now more a claw and it felt like everything suddenly made sense.

His strength, the way he heard things from so far off, his way of using terms that didn't make sense and that strange glow in his eyes.

Daryl's mind kept showing you running away, crying as he got closer each time.

Instead, there in the small cave like structure he called home once a month, you reached out your hand and placed it on top of his changed one.

"I don't regret being curious." Your shoulder rested against his, slowly easing into more contact. "And I'm still happy I went home with you, and came here to see this. To see you." Your weight was now entirely resting against his side, and for the first time since he sat down he dared to look at you.

You, who laid comfortably against his side.

"I'm honestly kinda glad you showed me this." You watched Daryl raise his brows at your words. "Suddenly your strange but interesting things make sense. Kinda obvious for someone to be so strong, or have glowy eyes when they're not human."

Your hand gave his a comfortable squeeze. "I hope you'll show me all of this you one day." With a finger pressed to his knuckles you moved your head to kiss his cheek.

"Close yer eyes fer a minute." Daryl moved to stand after he kissed your head, moving behind you.

Noises filled the air. Clothes being undone and landing on the floor.

And then cracking. Tearing and groaning. Coughing and growling, a thud that acompanied a shove against your backside that almost made you turn around, but je asked not to, and you were going to respect his wish.

Once the noises died down and all you heard was deep breathing you opened your eyes again, staring straight forward as you waited. Waited for something to signal it was okay to turn.

That something was a press against your shoulder, a press and a huff of air against your exposed neck.

From the edge of your vision a nose peeked, making you turn and stare right into his scarred eye.

"Wow." It caught you off guard and you stubled backwards just a small bit, staring and laughing at yourself for falling on your ass. "Okay. Big guy. That's ..wow."

You followed his movements as he walked into your view. And you recognised him. All ofrhe features that made Daryl look like himself changed along with him, from the dark, shaggy mane to the scar and beard. Even his tattoos were spots of darker fur, especially clear on the lighter areas.

But, still..

"Wait. So Carol knows about," you wildly gestured at his entire self. "you know, this. She's seen you? And what about the butcher? That comment of hers, she knew."

You gasped in realisation. "You were testing me! You could hear us, you were there on purpose oh my god."

Daryl only sat and listened to your rambling. If anyone had asked him how he envisioned this scene to go, he would have never guessed this to be the way. Not that he was complaining or anything, he liked this.

He liked you, and you liked him too, even in this shape.

With a tap to your hand and his paw covering his eyes he asked you to look away once more, changing back to his human self and getting dressed before coming to press a kiss to your temple. "So, ya sure this's all fine?"

You stood up to join him at eye level. "You're either the most dense man ever, or are still convinced you don't deserve love just because you're different." Your deadpan look spoke more than needed.

"Yeah, alrigh'. Sorry." He shook his head in apology.

"You literally just turned into a goddamn werewolf." You paused. "Wait. That is correct, right? You're a werewolf? I mean, I don't wanna assume and be wrong, or offensive.."

He kept his head low but nodded, telling you were correct in your observations.

You stepped into his space and peppered his face with kisses, grabbing his hands to fake a sense of chaining him to you and it worked. He let himself melt into you and accept your affection.

Your love.

"Let's go home?"

With a nod he stepped back go retrieve your items. "Yeah. Home's good."

The walk home was silent, only sporadic and very random questions with short and simple answers.

Only when he dropped you off at home he spoke full sentences again. "I wan' ya t'move in with me."

You shrugged and nodded. "Yeah, okay. But we gotta clean the place first."

With a nod he agreed and let you go for the day. Only a week later moving the last of your items into his home after strategically cleaning and rearranging his home to accomodate two people.

That night, in bed all cuddled up together after a shower, Daryl pressed his lips against your jaw and uttered three simple words.

"I love ya."

A/N: Okay yeah damn that became way longer than I originally planned. But it wad fun! Hope you enjoyed it~

#sometimes i write #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon #daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl smut #daryl x reader #twd #twd daryl #twd x reader #the walking dead #twd smut #twd au #werewolves #werewolf

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ace-turned-confused · 2 months

Text

spin me around | joel miller x f!reader

joel masterlist | read on ao3

summary: you find a vintage record store full of rare finds, the man behind the counter the rarest of them all word count: 2,4k warnings: 18+ only, reader is able-bodied & wears a dress, way too much music talk, food & alcohol consumption, pet names, touching in public, dirty talk a/n: written for @secretelephanttattoo's Secret Springs challenge! i saw record store on your wheel and ran away with it - this is highly self-indulgent with the music references (like woah) but what better place for it than secret springs :) not beta'd, keep slaying

The stair treads creak as you head up to the second floor, blank CDs are fastened to the risers and old warped vinyl hangs from the ceiling. A faint melody floats down the stairwell that you don’t recognise, the instrumentals rising in a crescendo as you climb, the varnished railing worn and knotted.

You’d found this place online on your quest for a bargain, the secondhand vintage vinyl shop is situated on a fashionable street at the top of town with picturesque mountain views. After stalking their social media pages, you decided you’d just come and see it for yourself. Having mentally prepared yourself for parallel parking, it was unusually stress-free for a Saturday morning, the sun just beginning to warm the air.

Reaching the landing and glancing around, the room is essentially wallpapered with band posters, crates and crates of records are alphabetically organised, and a gallery of LPs sits on shelves behind the counter. A few customers are rifling through the various collections, one man perched on a barstool with headphones wired into a cassette player. The space is light and vibrant, it feels like a sacred haven.

What really catches your eye is the man behind the counter — unruly silver-streaked hair, trimmed moustache and greying beard, unreasonably broad shoulders that fill out his faded thin t-shirt.

“Mornin’!” He looks up as you round the bannister and flashes you a winning smile, his brown eyes sparkling in the light filtering through the windows. “Anythin’ in particular you lookin’ for?”

You greet him shyly as you enter the room, “Just came to look around, thanks.”

“No problem.” He turns back to his newspaper and you can’t help but stare, stuck in place as you think you’ve found far more than you could’ve imagined.

The sheer number of records fitted into the quaint shop is amazing, with some dividers spilling over into two or three boxes. Flipping through the S category, you find Sade, Stealers Wheel, Steppenwolf, Stevie Nicks, and countless others — a never-ending supply of artists and albums, some popular and some obscure.

Your eyes go wide at seeing Pretzel Logic, a favourite album by a favourite band. You’ve considered for weeks whether or not to just buy the damn thing online at full price, but you never did. Now you see why, some sort of divine intervention leading you here to snatch it up at a fraction of the cost — or it led you here for that man.

You’ve been peering over to him every time you move to the next crate — crinkles around his eyes, plush lips, deft hands. It’s almost unfair how beautiful he is, hidden away up here from the rest of the world. Admittedly you tried looking if he had a wedding band on, but you scolded yourself before you could complete the task, not wanting to get caught.

Time slips away from you as you switch between scouring through everything and stealing glances at the mystery music man, your fingers cramping from holding onto far more records than you’d planned to take. You scan over the tables and check for anything you may have missed, slinking through the room and placing your selection on the counter. You rummage in your bag to find your wallet.

“Fan of Steely Dan, huh? Gaucho, Pretzel Logic, Countdown to Ecstasy… You’re cleaning me out here, darlin’.” You lift your head at his words, losing yourself at the endearment.

“Yeah, uh… couldn't help myself,” you huff a laugh, feeling heat under your skin as he keeps his attention on you, a half smile on his face. “I did pick out some others, too. For some variation, you know?”

He fans the records out on the table to see each one.

“Yeah, thought you might be a Fleetwood Mac girl, Eagles is a bit of a surprise, but a pleasant one… Steely Dan, though? Wouldn't have pinned a girl like you as a fan of ‘em.”

“A girl like me…?”

“Far too pretty.” He winks at you with a tilt of his head, that half smile now spread fully across his face before he moves to add up the total. Your mind races as you try not to stand and gawk like an idiot.

“I saw online you had Dark Side of the Moon… do you uh, still have it, by any chance?”

“Full of surprises… I’m afraid we sold that one already, noticed it’s a bit of an elusive find ‘round here.” He drums his fingers against the wooden top and looks at you briefly, his eyes warm.

Shuffling papers around, he picks up a notepad, big hands and thick fingers dwarfing the pages. “I can keep an eye out for you, if you’re okay giving me your number? Won’t bother you, just business.”

“Yeah, sure.” His fingers graze across your skin as you take a pen from him and write down your information. Tearing the page off, you slide it across the counter and tease him, “Wouldn’t mind if you bothered me.”

“Well then, maybe I will. I’d love to know what else you got in your carefully curated collection.” He doesn’t take his eyes off you as you pay for the records, and he slips them into a brown paper bag, folding and unfolding the top like he doesn’t want you to leave.

“There’s actually this nice restaurant—” he turns to look behind him, grabbing a small carton and repositioning it on the counter, stalling as he tries to find the words, “—they have uh, live music on Friday nights… if you’d be interested.”

“Sounds fun…” You mull it over, impressed by his boldness but still wary. “Can I let you know?”

“‘Course, no pressure, here,” he writes his own number on a new page and tears it off, holding on as you reach for it and brush your fingers over his hand.

“And you are?”

“Joel Miller.”

Joel Miller. You quite like that.

You’d stared at Joel’s number for days, a constant back and forth on whether or not you should go. On the one hand, you knew nothing about this man except his name and where he worked; on the other, you’ve seen just enough of him to be well intrigued…

You caved and said yes, which brings you to the present day — it’s Friday afternoon and you’re pacing in front of your wardrobe, worried about what to wear. To avoid losing your mind over this, you text Joel for some insight.

You: So, what am I supposed to wear tonight?Joel: Place is smart casual, I guess

Smart casual — arguably the worst fucking dress code description in existence.

You: That doesn’t help meJoel: Just wear a dress or something nice? I’m sure whatever you choose will be perfect

Perfect? Well, that certainly raises the bar. You suspect that Joel isn’t impressed by material things, and isn’t phased by flashy appearances, but you still want to make an effort. He called you pretty once already and you’re hoping he’ll repeat it tonight.

Approaching the restaurant, the brick wall facade is lined with fairy lights, the stars just beginning to twinkle in the darkening sky, and muffled music sounds through the windows and glass doors.

Joel waits out on the pavement like a gift from God himself — black dress pants, a hint of chest peeking out from behind his button-up, a blazer hooked on one finger over his shoulder. You can’t help the way your gaze runs over him, noticing how his tummy just pokes out past the waistband of his pants, and just how well fitting those pants really are. You swallow to steady yourself.

“Hey.”

“Hi…”

You fall into silence as you take each other in — a low heat settles at the base of your spine and you drop your eyes to the floor, holding back a giggle like an enamoured schoolgirl.

“Shall we?” He pulls the door open and gestures for you to lead the way, eyes sparkling and a crooked but warm smile on his face, a guiding hand on the small of your back as you step inside.

Black-framed minimalist posters line the walls, the floors are polished dark wood and exposed brass light fixtures hang at varying heights from the ceiling. You pass a long, elegant bar lining one side of the room as you’re led towards the back of the restaurant — this place oozes sophistication, even the waitstaff are in fancy uniforms. Not smart casual.

Joel pulls a chair out for you as you reach your table, a small reserved card rests against a floating candle and two red roses bloom in a slender vase.

“Do you mind if I take the wall?” you ask timidly, pointing towards the opposite bench.

“Not at all.” His gaze is soft as he shakes his head, eyes trained on you as you both take your seats.

“I just— I like being able to see, it’s uh…”

You smooth your hands over the tablecloth as your voice fades off, resisting the urge to make a game of blowing the candle out. You flit your eyes up to look at Joel, finding he’s already staring at you, candlelight flickering in his eyes. You drop your gaze to the table again, failing dismally at suppressing the grin that spreads across your face.

“You look gorgeous, by the way — if you don’t mind me sayin’. Knew you would, of course, but…”

It seems your outfit choice has paid off — gorgeous?

After hours of flinging clothes off hangers, you’d finally settled on a black, mid-length dress — a sweetheart neckline with white piping, the same white mirrored on the hem, a daring slit up one side of the skirt. There’s nothing casual about it, but seeing Joel dressed up and the finely decorated restaurant has calmed your nerves.

You don’t dare look at him again as the waiter returns and places two menus on the table. The night’s barely begun, and you hope it doesn’t end any time soon.

There hasn’t been a lull in the conversation once during dinner, a sharing dessert now in the centre of the table as Joel swirls what’s left of his whiskey around the glass. He held back all evening, fingers twitching and curling into a loose fist alongside yours on the table until he finally allowed himself to dance them across the back of your hand.

“How’d you get into all this record business?”

“Started workin’ there on weekends as a kid, wanted to earn some pocket money. The old man who owned it was like a mentor, he taught me all about the world. He left it all in my hands when he retired, and I’ve never looked back.”

A fond smile on his face as he retells his memories, you saw the first day you met how happy and comfortable he was in his charming shop, and it seems that charm bleeds over into him, too.

“And you get to meet all kinds of people — loud, friendly, aloof… pretty ones, too.” He gives you the same wink and devilish grin as before, continuing his stories as if you aren’t burning across the table.

Sometime during the night, he’d moved to sit next to you, claiming he ‘wanted to see the band’ — the arm draped on the bench behind you and fingers trailing across your shoulder says otherwise.

He mentioned at the shop that there was live music here on Friday nights — the one thing he didn’t mention? That tonight’s particular band was a jazz quartet — the slow, smooth, romantic kind of jazz, the kind that acts as the perfect backdrop for a night of cheeky flirting, lingering glances and desperate touches.

“Joel, can I ask something?”

“Shoot.”

You roll the edge of the tablecloth between your fingers. “Is this a date?”

“It can be, if you want.” You drop your hands and eye him, unimpressed by his response.

“Alright, I’ll admit, I was hopin’ for a date. I wasn’t really sure how to ask, didn’t wanna come on too strong.”

You’re silent for a beat, considering how to respond. “I mean, you could’ve just asked.”

“Well then, you wanna go on a date?” He tilts his head, eyebrows raised.

“I thought we were already on one.”

He chuckles at your remark, downing the last of his whiskey and momentarily tracing a finger along the rim of the glass. You focus on his movements, imagining his fingers tracing patterns into your skin instead.

As if he can read your mind, he twists himself towards you and plants that same hand just above your knee, fingers curled towards the inside of your leg as he scrapes his nails against you.

“And?” His voice is almost a whisper in your ear, “Has it been a good one?”

He glides his hand up your leg and into the slit of your dress as you nod, higher, higher, higher until his fingers brush against lace. You wonder if he can feel the fabric dampening.

“Y’know the Pink Floyd you asked about? It wasn’t sold, I kept it for myself. I’ll play it for you sometime.”

“You’re gonna talk about music? Right now?”

“What should I talk about instead? The delicate panties you got on? How wet they’re getting?”

Your breath hitches as he shifts his fingers, tucking them just under the edge of your panties and caressing your skin. Glancing around, the band are still playing low and slow, most tables having cleared out by now.

“Would love to see ‘em, if you’ll let me. I’d really love to see what’s underneath though. Pretty girl like you’s bound to have a real pretty pussy, too. Certainly feels like it, Jesus.”

He presses his fingers into you with more force this time and you turn your head to him. His eyes are dark, pupils blown wide and not from the dim lighting. He glances down to your lips and back up to your eyes again and you close the distance between you. He repositions the arm around your shoulders, hand holding the back of your neck as you lock your legs together and grind yourself against him.

His lips are soft, beard and moustache tickling your skin as he swipes his tongue against the seam of your mouth. You moan into him as you part your lips, letting him lick into you and you can taste his whiskey. He pulls back and you whine, teasing you with just enough to leave you reeling for more.

“What’s wrong, baby?”

“Take me home, Joel. Please, I need you.”

“Sure thing, sweetheart. Wanna hear the music you can make.”

comments & reblogs are hugely appreciated, forehead kisses to all 💜

dividers by @saradika-graphics

#joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #secretsprings

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harryslittlefreakk · 8 months

Text

my policeman

Summary: Harry is the police officer assigned to your case, though you are inexplicably drawn to one another 🤭 this will be the first instalment of a new series (if you guys like it lol)

Warnings: age gap romance, Harry is approx mid 40s and MC is early-mid 20s 🥰 smut!!

A/n: I hope you enjoy!! I really like this idea & the storyline so far for these two

You can join my taglist here! And my masterlist is here!! Happy reading 🫶🏼

“I need to speak to someone please, I’ve been mugged.”

You were panting, having run the ten minute journey to the police station from the bus stop. Someone had snatched the bulky work bag from your shoulder as you walked, then fled down a side street before you’d even had time to comprehend what had happened. Your natural instincts were to just run, and that’s exactly what you did. You ran until you stumbled through the police station doors, your heart still pounding with adrenaline.

“Styles!” the man behind the desk called out, an outstretched arm directing you to a closed door. You shuffled over, legs jelly after your spontaneous sprint. You weren’t sure whether to go through the doors or wait there, and the officer behind the desk had his back to you. But as you shifted awkwardly, the doors swung open, revealing possibly the hottest police officer you’d ever seen. He was old, older than you’d usually be interested in, but there was something about him. He was stocky and toned, grey streaks peppered through his deep brown curls. He smiled at you and extended his hand. "Officer Styles, but you can call me Harry.” Officer Harry Styles, the world’s sexiest police officer. You followed him down the corridor, into a tiny room with only a desk, a chair and a small sofa. It was cold and clinical, four grey walls lit by the same sort of lights you’d find in hospitals. It made you uneasy, but Harry’s eyes were laced with warmth as he looked over at you. "First of all, are you okay?" he asked, his voice gentle.

You whispered a quiet “yes”, your response barely audible, but Harry caught it. You felt vulnerable now, having been too close to danger and not realising it at the time. You’d lived in London for years, heard so many tales of rape and mugging but never experienced it yourself, or had it happen to someone close to you. You were lucky to only have your work bag taken and be left otherwise untouched, but you couldn’t help feeling shaken by the encounter. “I was mugged,” you told Harry.

“Did they hurt you?”

“No. Just took my bag.”

“M’sorry that happened to you,” he said. There was a slight northern twang to his voice, the kind that suggested he’d been in London long enough to start losing it, but been in the North long enough for the accent to be stubborn. “Did you get a look at them?” he asked, tapping his pen against the sheet of paper in front of him.

“No, they were already running before I turned around.”

“Where did it happen?”

“The bus stop near Florence Gardens, going towards the station.”

“What did they take? Any valuables?”

“My work laptop. And my lunchbox,” you told him, corners of your mouth turning up slightly at the thought of the thief finding your leftover pasta. “They were in my rucksack, I had my phone and keys in my pocket.”

“What does the bag look like?”

“Black, it’s leather. I can show you?”

You pulled up a picture on your phone and handed it to Harry, watching as he wrote down the details.

“Alright, give me 10 minutes to file this, okay? You’ll be okay waiting here?” He handed the phone back to you and stood up as you nodded, then strode toward the door, the glinting badge on his chest catching the light. You’d never had to deal with the police before, and always been a little bit scared of authority figures. But Harry was warm, he made you feel safe despite the circumstances that had brought you to the police station.

It wasn’t long before Harry was back, a thick puffer jacket now covering his torso and a huge tote bag slung over his shoulder. He reached out and gently placed a comforting hand on the back of your seat. “Come on, my shifts over so I’ll walk you home.” You smiled as you followed him out of the room, grateful beyond words for his company.

“Do you not have worse crimes to solve than my stolen lunchbox?” you asked him as you walked, somehow comfortable in his presence. “Not anymore,” he told you. “Been in the police for 25 years now. Did a lot of that but wanted to settle down the last few years, s’better for me like this.”

“Guess it’s nicer for your wife that you’re not out chasing murderers,” you quipped, earning a chuckle from Harry. "Yeah, m’sure she’d appreciate it if she hadn’t divorced me already," he said with a small smile. “I’m sorry,” you told him, glancing over to try to read his face. Truthfully, you were excited by the idea of him being divorced. It didn’t mean he was single, and it definitely didn’t mean he’d be into you, but it was one less hurdle in your mind. "It's alright," he said. "Sometimes things jus’ don't work out, you know?”

“Mm, I know. My flat’s just down here,” you pointed the way to Harry. He walked you all the way to the doorstep, staring up at the building. “It’s not the best area,” he told you. "Be safe, okay? If you need anything, or remember anything, don't hesitate to call," Harry told you, a touch of protectiveness in his tone as he took out his phone. He sent a text to your number so you could save his, then watched as you opened the front door. “Thank you Harry, for everything,” you smiled. “I’m only a call away,” he said, rubbing a hand on your forearm.

Jesus Christ. You collapsed against your front door as you got inside, heart racing from just a gentle touch. You’d get mugged every day if it gave you the chance to be around Harry more. The thought of seeing him again made your head pound, the fear and violation you felt earlier in the evening long forgotten.

Maybe it was a reaction to the weirdness of your evening, maybe it was a way to work through all the emotions you were feeling, but you found yourself reaching for your vibrator as you stepped out of your work clothes. Harry was all you could think about, his hands trailing down your body, his fingers pinching at your nipple, his mouth pressing hot kisses across your abdomen. You could almost feel him hovering over you, so close and yet not close at all. He would be authoritative, demanding you press the vibrator to your clit, his fingers beginning to pump inside of you as you writhed on the bed.

You were moaning into the ghost of his mouth, his nose brushing against yours as your core tightened, a rush of emotions filling you to the brim. It was too much, your toy working at your clit with the idea of Harry’s ringed fingers pounding at your pussy, your free hand gripping onto his loose curls. You were coming faster than you ever had, hips bucking as you screamed out his name.

It was borderline insane. Coming so fast and so heavily for a man you barely knew, crying out his name as if he were here, riding you through your high. You felt almost dirty as you chucked your vibrator to the side, too mentally preoccupied to even shower or eat before climbing into bed. You just wanted to dream of Harry, try to work through your delusions before you had to see him again.

—

Your thoughts of Harry came and went over the next few days. Your manager had suggested you work from home for a few days, your only route home from the office marred by your mugging. The four walls of your apartment felt too small, too closed in even before you had an imaginary Harry following you around. You’d tried to push him out of your mind, desperate to avoid a crush on a man you hardly knew. You did this all the time, it was a symptom of being chronically single. As soon as a man showed kindness towards you, you fell in love. Harbouring a crush on the police officer working on your case was bad news, and yet as you thought about him, his name flashed up on your phone.

“Hey, y/n. How are you?”

“I’m okay, you?”

“Better for hearing your voice.” You could almost hear the smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth. “Listen, do you have time to swing by? Wanted to update you on a few things.”

“I can come now?” you offered. Working from home was slow, and you’d already completed your tasks for the day. So how could you wait any longer to see Harry again?

You looked over yourself in the mirror as you put the phone down, tightening your ponytail and smoothing a hand down the front of your top.

Harry was waiting in the reception area when you arrived at the police station, a big beaming grin sitting pretty between his dimpled cheeks when he saw you. Truthfully, he could have spoken to you over the phone, but he wanted an excuse to see you again. It was silly, childlike even, the way he’d racked his brain for reasons to call or message since he’d dropped you off at home a few days ago. He felt ridiculous, far too giddy over a girl far too young for him, but he couldn’t get you off his mind.

“We think we’ve located your bag,” Harry told you as he ushered you into the same room as before. “Really?” you squeaked. “It’s not 100% yet, but we have had a few more reports of thefts in the area. We’ve tracked down an address, and we’ll be going in this week.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” you grinned, throwing your arms around him before your brain could stop you. Harry chuckled, wrapping a strong arm around your shoulders. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, before freezing. You’d both suddenly remembered where you were, who you were, and yet neither of you wanted to step away.

Harry gently squeezed you before saying, "It's all part of the job,” a small smile on his lips. There was something unspoken in the air as you stepped back, your gaze meeting his. “Sorry,” you muttered. His eyes were soft as he looked at you, reaching out to gently tuck a loose strand of your hair behind your ear.

“You don’t have to apologise,” Harry told you, his lingering touch burning against your skin. You stared at each other wordlessly for a moment, tension heavy in the air, until a familiar call of Harry’s name broke the spell. You stepped further away from him, glancing down at the floor as the professional mask settled back into place on Harry’s face. “Thank you, Harry. I’ll see you later,” you smiled, turning your back on him.

—

You needed to distract yourself, arranging a last minute girls night to take your mind off of Harry. And yet, it was as if the universe was playing a cruel joke on you. The man you were specifically going out to forget was standing on the doorstep of your apartment building, hand poised to buzz your intercom as you opened the door. “Harry-” you started, unable to find any other, better words.

“Come to dinner with me,” he said, gaze trailing up and down your body. You were wearing your ‘good’ jeans, the ones that sucked you in in all the right places yet showcased your curves in all the best ones. You had more makeup on than he’d seen you in before, though your freckles and beauty spots still peeked through. The oversized leather jacket slung over your shoulders obscured the top half of your body, but Harry didn’t need to see any more to know just how good you looked. “Please,” he added, holding up a single red rose.

“Dinner with you,” you repeated, a little stunned by his offer. “Dinner.. with me. Should we say it once more for good luck?” Harry laughed. “Maybe once more,” you smiled, pulling your phone from your back pocket. need to cancel, something came up x you sent quickly to your best friends. “Where are we going?” you asked Harry, eyes locking back onto him as he walked back down the path. “In first, questions later,” he told you, unlocking his car and opening the passenger side door for you.

“You’re acting very murdery for a man of the law,” you laughed, sliding onto the seat. “It was a test, and you failed. Should never get in a strange man’s car,” he joked.

The drive was mostly silent, except for the rhythm of Harry’s fingers tapping against the steering wheel. You were suddenly nervous, mouth dry and heart pounding as you watched the city become a blur. The sun was starting to set overhead as you drove further from home, street lamps and homes beginning to light up around you. Harry glanced over at you, brows furrowed as he tried to read the emotion etched onto your face. “You okay?” he asked, resting a strong hand on your knee.

“Shy,” you smiled weakly. It had only just hit you that you didn’t know Harry at all, couldn’t even think of anything to say to cut through the silence. You wanted the evening to go well, wanted to explore the connection you felt with him. But if you stammered and stuttered all night long, you’d have to go into hiding before a future with Harry even became a possibility.

You watched him as he drove, brows knitted in concentration as he navigated the busy streets. You hadn’t even paid attention to what he was wearing before, and as your eyes wandered over his body, your jaw went slack.

Harry wore a loose white dress shirt that although slightly oversized, seemed to fit him perfectly. He’d left the top few buttons open, allowing glimpses of his toned physique. As he moved his hands around the steering wheel, the material of the shirt shifted, revealing intricate tattoos that adorned his arms and chest. You’d seen a couple on his arms, but the amount that littered the tanned skin of his torso made your heart race. With each tiny movement, his tattoos peeked through the fabric, muscles flexing underneath the inked skin. He was handsome in a way that was new to you, rugged and yet soft.

There was something about his age that drew you to him, his years on you more a challenge than anything. He clearly knew how to act and had no problems going after what he wanted, a world away from the men you knew who were all still stuck in their fratboy mindsets.

“We’re here,” Harry said, resting a gentle hand over yours to pull you from your daydream. He’d pulled up in front of a quaint pub. The bold blue exterior was littered with bright flowers in hanging baskets and window boxes. A crowd of merry customers had spilled out onto the pavement outside, the warm glow from the pub washing over them. “This is so cute,” you told Harry, following him through the open door. “Officer Styles!” a man called out from across the bar. Harry greeted him with a firm handshake, turning his ear to the man’s mouth to hear him over the music. It wasn’t long before he turned back to you, grabbing a hold of your hand to lead you up the stairs. “I did some work for the owner,” he told you, pulling open another door. “Don’t live far from here so I come often now. Good food and good views,” he smirked, stepping out of the way to reveal the scene set up for you.

The balcony was slim, only just wide enough to fit two small tables. One was set up for dining, a bottle of red perched among ice in the middle. The other was covered in candles, wax dripping around a beautiful bouquet in the centre. It was secluded and romantic, the dream setting for your first date with what could be your dream man.

You talked and laughed for what felt like forever, voice hoarse from giggling at Harry’s jokes. The sharing plates he’d ordered sat cold and forgotten in front of you both, almost empty glasses stained pink from the wine.

A hint of a smirk played on Harry's lips as his eyes trailed over yours. “Quickfire round, since I have a feeling you won’t let me kiss you until we know each other better. Family?”

“My brother’s younger, he’s in uni. Parents live by the coast,” you told him, heat rising through your core at the very idea of kissing him.

“My mum lives up north, got an older sister too. Hobbies?”

“I like painting. Don’t do it as much anymore but..” you let your voice trail off.

“But you’re going to paint me?” Harry grinned, turning his back to you and peering seductively over his shoulder. “Draw me like one of your French girls,” he drawled, a mocking glint in his eyes.

“Nuh uh. Got to answer or you’ll never get that kiss.”

“I don’t have hobbies. I like working out and like puzzles,” Harry shrugged.

“Typical old man hobby,” you laughed. Harry chuckled and shook his head. "Well, maybe I am an old soul trapped in a sexy young body," he replied with a playful grin. "Can't complain about that, right?"

You nodded, still amused by his choice of hobbies. "You’re right, I can’t.”

As your conversation continued, you and Harry discovered more and more about each other. Your dreams, fears, and your favourite childhood memories. You laughed and shared stories, the connection between you growing stronger with each passing moment.

“M’not ready to let you go yet,” Harry smiled, looking out over the river. It was almost totally dark now, the last rays of evening sunshine nearly vanished behind the horizon. You smiled back at Harry. “"I'm not ready to go either," you admitted, rolling your bottom lip into your mouth as you looked over him, taking in the beauty of the scene. He was the definition of a silver fox. You’d noticed heads turning as you left the pub, young (and older) women captivated by just a glance of Harry. Being the girl on his arm felt good, even if it was just for the evening.

“Let’s walk,” Harry told you, his fingers intertwining with yours. You strolled down the riverside hand in hand, chatting mindlessly. Harry shared stories of his childhood, his years working for a local bakery before he moved to London and joined the Met.

You felt so much comfort and warmth as you listened to Harry. His stories painted vivid pictures in your mind, a glimpse into his past giving you some understanding of the person he was. As the two of you continued walking, the sound of the flowing river created a soothing backdrop to your conversation. The setting sun was casting a golden glow over your surroundings, and you couldn't help but feel a growing connection with Harry. It was as if time stood still, and the world around you faded away, leaving only the two of you in that moment.

You found yourself opening up to Harry, sharing your own stories. He listened attentively, his eyes filled with genuine interest and understanding. It was refreshing to be with someone who truly cared about getting to know you on a deeper level.

As the evening progressed, the conversation shifted towards more lighthearted topics. Laughter filled the air as Harry recounted some of the funnier people he’d encountered during his career. His animated gestures and contagious laughter made it impossible for you not to join in. There was a boyish charm behind his manly facade, and the more time you spent with Harry, the more you realized how effortlessly he made you feel at ease. There was a natural chemistry between you, a connection that went beyond words. It was a feeling of familiarity, as if you had known each other for years.

As darkness began to envelop you, Harry gently squeezed your hand, bringing your attention back to the present moment. You both paused, eyes trailing over the other’s features under the moonlight. Harry tugged on your arm quickly, pulling you towards the wall. Your heart quickened as his gaze fell to your parted lips, his body gently pressing your back into the brick. The light cast a soft glow on his face, lust etched into every line on his face.

You felt as if you were floating somewhere outside your body as Harry leaned in, his warm breath mingling with yours. His lips brushed against your own, gentle yet filled with an insatiable longing.

You responded eagerly, your hands instinctively finding their way to his waist. The kiss deepened, becoming a dance of lust and unspoken desires. Harry's lips moved against yours with a hunger that matched your own, his hands roaming your body. It had been a long time since a kiss had ignited a fire within your core, and yet you were burning brighter with every touch.

The taste of him was intoxicating, warm wine, sweetness and desire on his tongue leaving you breathless. He pressed you further into the wall, your bodies molding together perfectly as if they were made to be intertwined.

It had started to rain at some point, though you were too consumed by the raw passion that existed between you to notice the soft raindrops running down your skin. All you could focus on was Harry’s tongue licking into your mouth, a silent promise of the yearning and desire that he felt for you.

He pulled your bottom lip into his mouth before you both pulled away, breathless and panting. The world slowly came back into focus, but the sight of Harry before you nearly made your heart stop. The rain had soaked through his shirt, the thin material now translucent and dipping and weaving over his toned abdomen. His curls were slick against his forehead, raindrops lingering on the end of his eyelashes. His jaw was tense as he looked over your face, one hand gently grazing your waist. He was mesmerising, powerful and yet vulnerable as he stood soaked through in front of you.

You reached out with a gentle hand, pushing the wet curls from his face. But just as your swollen lips parted to speak, the heavens opened above you. It was as if someone had thrown a bucket of water over you and Harry, raindrops pelting you from every angle. You looked at each other in shock, a laugh tumbling past your lips.

Harry grabbed a hold of your hand and ran, the sound of your footsteps slapping against puddles breaking the silence of the now empty streets. You were barely able to hold yourself upright from laughter, falling into Harry’s body as your legs carried you closer to the car. His grip tightened on your wrist, guiding you through the dark paths.

As you reached the car, Harry fumbled with the keys, his hands shaking from the sudden cold. You stood beside him, shivers of adrenaline running through you. The rain smacked against the roof of the car as Harry unlocked it, pulling open the door for you. Even in the pouring rain, he was still a gentleman. You slid in quickly, the sudden warmth fogging up the windows.

You sat in silence for a moment, eyes trailing over each other as you caught your breath. A smile played on Harry’s lips as he looked at you, his hand coming up to brush your sodden hair from your face.

—

There was no way you could sleep. You’d been tossing and turning for at least an hour, the ache in your core too much to sleep on. All you could do was replay the evening in your mind, wondering exactly how you ended up alone in Harry’s bed.

“Here,” Harry handed you one of his T-shirts and some pyjama bottoms. “Shower’s through there, get yourself warmed up.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead as you headed into the bathroom, a tiny sigh of disappointment slipping past your lips. You were desperate for him to join you in the shower, craving more of his touch. A night of stolen glances and gentle touches had you burning up even before the kiss, but after seeing what Harry’s mouth was capable of, you were dying for more of him.

As the water washed over you, all you could think about was Harry’s lips on yours. The hunger in his eyes before he kissed you, the taste of red wine on his tongue.

—

“Would you not get in trouble for this?” you asked Harry, hands wrapped tightly around the hot chocolate he’d handed you. “Maybe. But once we have your stuff back, the case is over. They can’t say anything then,” he shrugged, turning to lean against the kitchen counter. He got more handsome every time you looked at him, as if that were even possible. Now, standing there with his old man plaid pyjama pants and a T-shirt tight against his muscular frame, you were left pressing your thighs together to keep the heat in. The anticipation was almost too much to bear, adrenaline coursing through your veins.

“Can’t sleep either, huh?” Harry smiled from the sofa. You almost jumped out of your skin at his voice, having tried your hardest to creep silently into the kitchen. He looked adorable, tucked under a thick blanket with his long legs squashed up at the end of the sofa. “Just needed water,” you told him, grabbing an empty cup from the counter.

“Why don’t you want to share a bed with me?” you suddenly burst out, turning on your heel to face him. You weren’t going to beg, didn’t want to whine, but the words came out before you could stop yourself. Harry chuckled, padding over to join you by the sink. He pushed a strand of hair out of your face, cupping your cheek with his free hand. Pressing a gentle kiss to your lips, he whispered, “come on,” his voice low and husky.

You followed Harry out of the kitchen and back up the stairs, watching as he sat down on the edge of the bed. He patted his legs, signalling for you to join him. You straddled his thick thighs, eyes fixed on his as he looked over your body. In only his t-shirt and your tiny panties, you’d never looked more delicious to him. “I didn’t share a bed with you because I try not to sleep with women on the first date,” he told you, slipping a hand under your t-shirt before holding your waist with a firm grip. “And I wouldn’t be able to resist if I were in bed with you.” His eyes came to rest on yours, his pupils blown under thick eyelashes. “You don’t have to resist, Harry,” you replied, your voice small, barely slipping out past your heart pounding in your throat. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, one hand toying with the curls at the nape of his neck. His hand moved further up your body, thumb running over your nipple.

“Y’so beautiful,” Harry cooed, pulling your t-shirt off in one quick movement. He sat back for a second, an arrogant smirk pulling at the corners of his lips as he gazed over you. Hunger was written all over his face, the intensity of his gaze sending a shiver down your spine.

He leaned in, his lips soft as they brushed against yours. Gentle, yet fuelled by desire. His tongue moved around yours, a delicate dance that left you breathless against his mouth.

Harry’s hands roamed your exposed skin, tracing patterns of heat and need. His touch was electric, insatiable as he gripped and groped at every bit of skin he could reach. He moved with purpose, tracing the curves and contours of your upper body. Every touch, every stroke, sent waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

His lips left yours, trailing a path of fire down your throat, a trail of goosebumps left in their wake. His breath was hot against your skin, his lips smooth as he suckled and nibbled at the sensitive flesh.

You shifted slightly on his lap, his hard cock nudging at your folds through his pyjama pants. The room was filled with a symphony of whispered moans and ragged breaths as you rubbed yourself on him, the soft scratch of Harry’s pyjamas between your thighs only adding to your desire. You needed him in a way that transcended reality, a hunger that went beyond the physical. Your yearning was deep in your soul as Harry’s hands continued to explore you, his touch more than just a physical sensation. It was a language of its own, speaking unbridled passion.

He wrapped an arm under your hips, lifting you up just enough to slip his pyjamas down his thighs. His cock sprang up between the two of you, grazing your entrance. You whimpered as his tip touched you, your head falling onto Harry’s shoulder. He stroked a hand down his shaft, hissing as his thumb brushed over the angry tip. He started to move you, not expecting you to want to ride him, but you wrapped a firm hand around his neck and shook your head softly, pulling your face from his shoulder to meet his eyes. “Like this, Harry,” you whispered, shifting in his grip until his head lined up with your folds. You pulled your panties to the side, your juices warm against his head.

“You’re on birth control?” he asked, voice strangled as he resisted the urge to push into you. You nodded, sinking down slowly until his thick cock was deep inside of you, splitting your walls wide open. A deep cry fell from your lips as you stilled, his shaft throbbing as it settled into you.

“So fuckin’ tight, kitten,” he drawled, lips planting hungry kisses along your jawline. His eyes were fixed on the mirror behind you, watching his hand grip onto the curve of your ass. His free hand slid under you, easing you up ever so slightly. You could feel him everywhere, in your stomach and in your throat as he pushed deeper into you. Your walls were threatening to burst around his shaft, the size of his cock scratching an itch you never knew you’d had. It was pure ecstasy.

“Harry,” you whined, gripping him tighter as you pushed your hips upwards, starting to find your rhythm. The burn was white-hot in your core, tingles of pleasure spreading through your body as you bounced up and down on his lap. Your nails raked down his back as he fucked into you, deep whines and moans being pulled from your mouth every time Harry’s cock hit your sweet spot. His strong arm was guiding your hips up and down, his free hand still exploring your body as he pressed kisses along your throat. You still wanted more of each other, still searching each other’s bodies as if you had been starved of touch for years.

You were as close as you could be to him, your bodies melding together with every push of his hips. Your clit was rubbing against the fabric of your panties with every movement, every slap of your cheeks against his groin sending you further into your spiral.

“You’re mine, all mine, huh?” Harry mewled against your skin, his lips moving down to find your nipple. He sucked and licked around the bud, his lips swollen and hot. “All yours,” you whined, your orgasm creeping up on you after Harry’s dominant ownership. He held you tightly, your trembling legs heavy on his arm despite how light you felt. You were sure you could take flight in that moment, pleasure coursing through you with every buck of his hips. You threw your head onto his shoulder as you came, a strangled cry pushing past your dry lips.

Your walls tightened around his cock, his lips pressing a tiny moan into your skin. He flipped you over once your breathing slowed, the new angle pushing his cock deeper into you. Harry splayed a hand across your stomach, feeling where he was fucking into you. His eyes were dark as he looked down at you, watching the way your tits bounced with every rock of his hips. His thrusts started to get sloppier, his hips knocking into you harder as he came close to his high. You could feel him throbbing inside of you as he panted, jaw slack as he pulled out of you quickly. One hand stroked the length of his cock as he came, his come splashing violently all over your chest. You released the hand gripping his shoulder to swipe a finger through the puddle, licking it from your fingertip hungrily. “So fuckin’ perfect,” he drawled, chest heaving as he watched you.

You were more content in that moment than you’d ever been, silently thanking whoever had decided to steal your bag. If it was all an insane plan to get you here, covered in Harry’s come, you’d thank them every day for the rest of your life.

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