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dilf-docs · 2 months ago

Text

I Can Fix Her (No Really I Can)

jackson!joel miller x younger fem!reader

summary: jackson's loud mouthed spoiled princess has suddenly gone quiet. what or who could be behind such miracle?

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap (20s/50s), pwp, p. in v., oral (m. and f. receiving), brat taming, dacryphilia, pussy spanking, fingering, humiliation kink, dom!joel, sub!joel if u squint, soft!joel (look at that switch sandwhich fr), brat!reader (she's annoying and v mean, you've been warned), denial is a river so take this before the world mourns joel miller again

word count: 5,391 words

side note: new layout my citizens! will eventually update all of the blog but as for now, enjoy this one and the masterlist. quick thing, i just wanted to say that i had a very shitty week and for the life of me, can't find a way to make ttdik pt. 4 not oversaturated with angst bc i wish all men a very pleasant die or how to connect what i've written so far. note that this was kinda rushed; i feel confident of some parts and not the whole thing. just hoping it works for y'all! (based on this request)

Joel Miller isn't who he used to be before.

Life in Jackson has made him... soft. This version of him, tired of a life of killing and running, tainted with blood and regret. But he's now an uncle and a father. Well, used to be. Ever since Ellie had found out the truth and wanted nothing to do with him, he had somewhat become downright pathetic. Joel could be both Jackson's most useful man, even at his age, while also being their biggest wretch. Ah, yes: Joel Miller, the man who lived in the house down the street, alone and certainly worth the townsfolk's pity.

Maybe that's why you couldn't bother to be nice to him. In your eyes, a man like Joel just didn't deserve your time or respect.

But it wasn't personal, really. He happened to, unfortunately, be in charge of your patrol. That, in your eyes, made him your enemy: a person to be defied and picked apart. And the worst part is, in his current position, Joel just didn't have the energy to fight you back.

"You want me to cross that wearing this?" your protest comes in the form of a whiny pitch. "Ew, no. I'd rather be dead"

At least dead, you wouldn't be a bother. He rolls his eyes, rubbing his face tiredly. The rest of the group watches the interaction in silence, expressions pretty much the same.

"I promise 'cha, princess. Ya' wouldn't want that"

The nickname should irk you, but you let it pass. It is no news to anyone that you are indeed a princess: Jackson's resident little spoiled brat.

Sheltered from early starts of civilization's downfall, maybe your parents had done more bad than good trying to protect you and settling early on in Jackson. You had grown to be a pampered bitch who made Joel's patience wear thin. Of course, to keep him busy and distracted, Tommy had assigned you to Joel. And while he'd rather not spend his days on a house too big for a person, he too wasn't exactly excited about having to deal with you on your patrol shifts.

(If you could call them that. You did anything but patroling)

You cross your arms, petty. "I'm not moving unless you carry me"

Maybe your need to defy him also came, partly, because of this: the way he's looking at you right now, a quiet rage simmering in those big round brown eyes that remind you of a kicked puppy, but when they burn, they seem like a forest fire, old remnants of the hunter that had been tamed by domestic life and a broken relationship resurfacing.

It excites you.

All your life, people seemed to bend to your will-- a force of nature: to your cruel harsh icy wind. You kept Jackson down at their knees, but it wasn't kindness, rather your shoe up their throats what put them to your feet.

Yet, Joel... he could be a loser to you, but he was probably the only one you'd met to be insane enough to defy you. The only man who didn't succumb to your fluttering eyelashes, pink lips and princess manners. No, he ignored the way you looked at him and your constant begging for attention, leaving the job to those men who seemed to follow your every step, ready to be themselves a carpet for you to step in. He'd roll his eyes and walk past you like you were the most bland, boring and uninteresting thing in the world: not worth a second of his attention. Joel simply wouldn't entertain your spoiled attitude past replying to a few snarky comments.

And that revolted and aroused you in equal parts.

It's not like you could escape your obligation, but perhaps, the bigger reason you chose to not skip patrol like you used to before his arrival, is to see Joel Miller's sinking ships for eyes try to wash over your rebel flame.

"Be free to stay then" he replies, but you don't miss the way his grip on his rifle turns white. "I ain't carryin' no one"

"I can carry you" one of the guys from your group offers.

(You can't remember his name)

"Sure" you chuckle, victory smile dancing on your lips at the sight of him looking above his shoulder in a barely stolen glance, thinking you won't notice.

But you do.

Joel Miller fucking hates you.

After five decades alive, he simply can't stand the idea of breathing the same air as a spoiled little brat like you.

Joel's seen destruction, loss, hopelessness and blood up close, and the thought of you walking around like the world owes you a favor fills him with vitriol.

He's been alive for fifty-six years so he's simply just tired. Too tired to give a damn about your attitude, despite how you manage to press all his buttons every time you open your mouth.

He still remembers the first time he met you, how you laughed like people did before all civilization was destroyed. You walked with a confident strut, boots clicking against Jackson's streets, every step made with determination. Like you knew just where you were going.

He envied you, in a way. After Salt Lake City, he seemed to have lost his path, all in the name of love. Then, that warm feeling had turned cold and cruel like all things in this world ravaged by pain, and he felt even at more loss than the first time he experienced grief.

But you? You lived everyday with a dismissal so cold it seemed like nothing could hurt you.

He missed that part of him who just survived: hardened by the world around him.

But Jackson tamed him. Ellie made him soft.

And then you brought up that old dark part of him: the putrid black liquid that spewed through the cracks of his new character that made him loved by Jackson. The same one that made people fear one of Boston QZ's most brutal smugglers. It was that vicious anger, red on his vision like the ichor that would splatter on his clothes or cover his bruised knuckles.

He hated you for it.

But that was in the past, and Joel Miller simply didn't care.

Yet, you made him care. Outright forced him to.

In a way, it seemed like you enjoyed this: the banter of contained rage and practiced patience, dripping as a leak until it overflew. You'd shot your bratty remarks and petty complains until he'd turn around and see you. Then, you'd smile, like that's all you needed to feel better. Far superior. And he hated it. Knew your little game, and fed into it, even as he told himself he wouldn't. Like a drug: a destroying addiction.

Joel didn't understand why you took the time to enrage him, having even heard once when he was late for patrol (he overslept), how you talked bad about the, in your words, Lonely Pathetic Man From The House On The End Of The Road.

Joel Miller has been patient. God knows he has. But he isn't religious, and was never the type to let things pass by.

No. Joel Miller was born with impel, and no matter how many love he had to give, the world around him constantly reminded him of the power hidden behind the exertion over others, how alive he'd felt with the gift he'd been given by heaven.

He isn't patient. He isn't a fool. He isn't pathetic: and Joel Miller will take matters between his rugged hands.

Tommy had arched an eyebrow first, looking at just his and your name on the patrol schedule.

"What's going on?" he narrowed his eyes suspiciously at his brother.

"Found a cabin deep on the forest" curt, "I'ont need lot'a people to scavenge the place"

In the end, he agreed. Who didn't? You, obviously, the reason so many before him had gotten rid of their obligation of you. To flirt with you at the Tipsy Bison? Hell yeah. To have you in their patrol team? God, no.

"Where is everyone else?" you cross your arms above your chest, bracing yourself because of the weather. "Also, isn't this climate not patrol appropiate?"

Joel's not dumb, of course he knows that-- he can feel his aching joints shiver and bones creak because of the temperature. But he also knows he's sick of your shit.

"Ain't you little Ms. Know it all" he mocks, brushing past you, shoulders clashing with the same harsh force the icy breeze does to your face.

"And you're an asshole" you're quick to counter, "bringing us out here in the cold. If you wanted to kill me, you could've made it easier for both of us and done it way back in Jackson"

He rolls his eyes at your incessant bickering.

"Watch y'er mouth" is all he says, the brat hanging dangerously close to the tip of his tongue.

"I'd rather watch my step, thank you very much" you purse your plush pink lips, annoyed. "Have you seen the size of this roots? I will trip and break myself"

He chuckles at your hyperboles and the way you jump in a rather exaggerated manner, more in amusement than irritation.

"Don't think ya' can handle all'at?" Joel taunts. "Gon' break like a doll?"

Doll. It hangs in the air, like the snowflakes that fall into your hair and his eyebrows, the white fusing with his own.

"I'm strong" but it comes out weak.

"Don't seem like it" he's laughing at you again, a sharp annoyed edge to it. "With all that complainin' ya' do"

You huff, your incredulity condescing in the air.

"What's wrong with that?"

"With bein' annoyin'?" Joel quips.

"With voicing out my concerns"

He's walking ahead of you, yet you see his shoulders slump, like he does when he disagrees.

"Those ain't concerns, jus' moanin' and bitchin'"

It's still inside the fun banter you're carrying, harmless, but for some reason, it strikes you in the face.

"If you can't stand me so much, why don't you quit on me, like the others?"

You may seem cold, but there's that cut that always bleeds. Or it may be the need for something that blurs the line between you and those survivors out there who've outlived the worst a man can endure.

Like Joel.

You just can't help wanting it all.

Joel stops on his tracks at your words, response barely above a whisper:

"'Cause I ain't a quitter"

As if that could bring any sense into what had started the moment he layed eyes on you.

You finally reach your destiny in silence, the old cabin hanging by a thread.

"This looks like shit" you comment out loud.

Joel lets out a laugh, a deep rumbling sound coming out of his chest. For a reason, red dust makes it's way into your warm cheeks.

"No, doll. In this world, this ain't shit. It's decent"

You don't miss the way your breath hitches and heart skips a beat at the petname. He doesn't miss the way his tongue burns and his jeans squeeze at the sight of you: powerless.

God, Joel could go to hell for this. (But he'd probably be fine)

"Decent? You're one to talk" it spills out, your fear attacking the only way you know how when you're nervous.

Bite.

You hate feeling weak. You hate how your own game has turned on you.

It seems, Joel Miller isn't just a pathetic man but one who knows how to play.

(You knew this. But now, it's real, not the image you touch yourself to during nighttime, and it's equally both exciting and scary)

The red desire for hunger is there on his eyes. "What's that s'pposed to mean?"

You tilt your head, tone feigning innocence. "I think you know what I mean"

He paces around the room, like your floral scent is too suffocating and the cold isn't enough to shake the fire that burns inside him.

"Spit it" he dares, stopping midtrack. You remain silent, so he walks over to you, face so close, some spit lands in your face. "I said, spit it"

"I think you're pathetic, Joel Miller" yet, for some reason, your heart wavers. What were you even doing? Never had you doubted yourself once, sometimes even finding pleasure in the wicked cutthroat words you'd spew, but today, as his face stands dangerously close to you, his breath ghosting over your lips as his eyes roam over them and you count his wrinkles, it feels wrong.

"'S that what 'cha think, doll?" he chuckles, leaning forward. His lips barely brush against yours by mistake, yet it's enough to send shivers all over your body. "Wanna know what I think? I think you're da' real pathetic burden here. Fucken annoyin' and unuseful. All you know how ta' do is complain' and be a bitch"

"A bitch?" your voice is loud as your roar back, probably because it's coming into your face with the force of a train. But that's how truth feels, and it hurts like hell. "Did you just call me a bitch?"

He laughs, bitterly so, equally irritated as fascinated by how easy it's to see you crumble.

Joel made you out to be this unbreakable force, but at the end of the day, you're human, just like him.

"And y'called me pathetic, s' I guess we're even"

You look crazy: hair disheveled by the wind, chest going up and down and that same craze look on your eyes.

"Fuck you, Joel Miller" you seethe.

It's a simple comeback. No witty retort, no elaborated plot. Just four words, yet it's the way you said it, venomous, with such hostility, like his presence alone made you sick. Your skin crawl. Like the thought alone of being equals couldn't pass through your thick skull, and you had to get rid of just the concept; an ofense.

You pull back, realizing how truly close you were. You then march to the bedroom, slamming the door behind you.

With Joel, there's always a first when it comes to you.

(The first man to catch your attention. The first man to show lack of interest or amusement to your well-known tactics that worked every time. The first man to make your skin crawl like seeing yourself in the mirror. Like you would stare until your image would imprint on your brain, and you'd pick apart every small detail you don't like about you. That was Joel fucking Miller, rolling like thunder, ready to strike over your walls, like he knows where to hit to make you crumble, as if the façade you've built is as much in vain as the hate you carry even with the easy life that's been given to you)

He may be the first man to make you cry.

"Come here!" he shouts, roaring voice reverberating against the walls of the cabin. He swings the door of the bedroom open, finding your satisfied expression as you sit over the old worn out mattress, wiping your tears quickly with a harsh tug of your sweater, coat lying on the dirty floor.

"What?" you ask, as if you hadn't started the fight five seconds ago.

"Ya' think y' can shout and then leave like that?" he spits, "you fucken brat!"

A weird wild spark settles in the pit of your stomach.

"I can do whatever I want"

(The fire. It burns)

He scoffs at your childish response. "Not when y'er under my watch. Like it or not, y'r ma' damn responsability, kid"

Now it's your turn to sneer. "Don't call me that. I'm not a kid"

Of course you fucking weren't: he's got eyes. But goddamn, didn't you act like one all the time?

"Good" his voice adquires a weird tone to it, dropping. "Then strip"

It's like the air's been knocked out of your lungs.

You scoff. "Excuse me?"

"I know you ain't deaf" tone stern, "nor stupid. Are you?"

"Did you just call me stupid?" you raise your voice. Was he going to pull out every single insult from the book? Fair, you think, after you had told him to fuck off in the way you did.

(You were aware your words shoot to kill when you were mad. You had a lot of regrets about that)

"I asked 'cha if ya' were. If there's no answer, I s'ppose that's it"

"I'm not stupid" you counter.

"What?" he's asking you to say it again, like he hasn't heard you.

"You aren't deaf" you repeat his earlier words, eliciting a chuckle out of him.

The windows of the cabin rattle, the cold winter slipping inside the cracks. You shiver yet stand still, not wanting him to misinterpret your body language.

As if you'd ever surrender to him. As if.

"I'm sick of your bullshit" he seethes, "thinkin' ya' can make a clown outta me infront of everyone else, and then look at me like I'm sum piece of meat. Now it's your turn"

"My turn to what?" but this time, your voice wavers. You walk closer, eyelids fluttering.

His uneven breath condensces in the air with a shaky gelid exhale.

"Y'e don't know what you're gettin' into" he warns.

You smile at his barely contained temper. "I think I do"

Joel's body is completely surrounding yours in the bedroom. Before you register, he pulls you by your jaw with his hand.

"Still thinkin' that?" he mocks, thumb pulling your bottom lip down, forcing your mouth open. "Answer me"

But he's pressing his finger on your tongue. You feel yourself starting to drool.

"Ya' really want 'tis, don't 'cha?" his eyes darken, "droolin' like a fucken cockstarved slut. Now strip" his grip tightens, "I won't ask again"

Your body shivers, but no longer because of the temperature drop. A treacherous jolt runs in between your legs at the very first instance of someone putting you in your place. It feels too good to backtrack, but the last remaining drops of sanity plead you to quit.

"Joel" you say his name like a prayer, and he thinks he'd like to see you beg. "I was fucking around-"

"Don't make me repeat myself"

You sit on the edge of the bed, getting rid of your clothes. It's like your mind has stopped working and your body belongs to someone else.

But you want this. Fuck, you had begged for this: sharpening your knife to make your words cut deeper with him until the bleeding was too big to ignore.

You wanted this. Craved it. Needed to satisfy whatever foreign feeling you'd now attribute to your rebellious and spoiled nature.

(You had never been denied anything, and even now, Joel knows this, but can't help and too give in)

"Not so loud now, are we?" he jests, "but 's worth the view, lettin' 'cha run your spoiled tongue off"

He hums with approval at the sight of your body, your pliant energy making his hard cock twitch in his pants.

"You like what you see, Joel?" you ask softly, despite your resistence.

He groans at that, calloused digits grazing the soft skin of your virgin collarbones.

"I do, princess" he answers, lifiting your chin up. "I'll show ya'"

He takes your hand into his bigger one, moving it right onto the spot between his legs.

"You've been bad, little spoiled brat" Joel's voice rasps as your thighs rub together. Y'er lucky I like that"

He pats your cheek. "Wanna make it up to me?" you eagerly nod, desperate for Joel's approval. You hate not having the upper hand, and a part of you thinks you'd get it back if you behave well. "Good girl. Now sit"

He sits next to you, patting his thick thighs. You salivate just at the thought, moving your body over his denim clad lap. "Right'ere"

"Look at 'cha" he parts your legs, a hoarse tks falling from his lips. Joel chuckles at the wet mess that's created. "So fucken wet and I ain't even touched yet"

You feel his rough digits ghost over your dripping cunt, just as his lips had done minutes ago. The teasing sets you on edge, thrill coarsing through your veins. Without warning, his big palm slaps against your cunt, and you feel yourself soaking your folds like you had never ever before.

"Fucken dirty whore. You ain't no princess, gettin' wet to 'tis" he mocks, "what would daddy say"

"Shut up" you sneer, but your body is full of hormones and treason.

"Not when I'm above 'cha, darlin'. Wouldn't wanna piss me off when I'm the one who decides if 'tis pretty pussy comes or not"

"What makes you think I'll take shit from you?" but it comes out as a whimper. Smack. A jolt runs straight from your pussy, stinging from the contact. "Didn't take it when we where in patrol, why should I do now?"

He laughs, darkly. It's haunting.

"'Cause you want 'tis. And I know you'll be a good girl for me to get it"

You feel yourself dizzy, head spinning as you land on the floor.

"Let's see if I get 'cha to shut up if that dirty bratty mouth of y'rs is stuffed full of ma' cock"

He pulls down his worn-out jeans, getting rid of his belt on a harsh pull. The clinking sound makes you rub your thighs together in a new found anticipation, instead of taking the time to run away from this, whatever the hell this is.

No. He's right.

You want this as much as he does.

(Isn't that the scariest part?)

"Ya' like what 'cha see, y/n?" he's smart to use your same words back, but it's the way he's said your name, like he was always meant to say it, or the angry throbb of his cock, what makes you drool at the red furious tip, dripping with rage and need.

"I think it's your dick who's more excited than me" you taunt, tracing the inner soft skin of his thick thighs. "Practically begging for me to lick it"

His adam's apple bobs.

"Tell me, Joel, when was the last time someone made this pretty big cock feel good?"

"Enough" his fingers grab your hair, pulling you harshly until he drags your mouth onto his cock. "I'm tired of y'er bullshit"

You aren't a stranger, he thinks, with the way you kiss his tip, tongue making a wet circle through the head of his cock. You take him into your mouth, pulling out in a second.

"W-what you do that for?" he asks, breathing rapidly. Strained voice.

You smirk.

"To watch you"

To watch how his eyes had closed as soon as your breath ghosted over his leaking cock, how he threw his head back and gripped the sheets viciously at just your shameless lazy circling. Joel Miller could be in charge, but God, wasn't he touch-starved?

(And for a reason, that was so fucking hot. And, in a way, adorable)

"J-just 'cause I'm-" he cuts himself off, probably out of need or out of embarrassment. "You're not in charge, so don't fuck around with your chances, slut. Imma show you y'r place real quick"

His grip tightens in your hair, forcing himself back into your mouth. Joel was punishing, with the way he's pushing your head down until it was at the base of his cock. You gagged for a moment, eyes closing at the weight of his thick girth on your tongue.

"Takin' it like a champ, princess. Usin' that mouth of y'rs for good" and then, with a softer tone he adds, "like ya're made for me"

You moan around him as he starts fucking into your mouth, pulling you off quickly, saliva slipping out of your mouth as you gasp for air.

"Joel" you whine his name, legs pressing together in order to get any friction.

"Now you beggin'? 'S gonna take more than jus' that, doll" he taunts, but there's a certain wicked softness to the way he traces your cheek as you scramble an attempt. "Try harder, princess"

"I'm sorry, Joel-"

He moves his head, clearly dissatisfied.

"Not Joel. Ya' call me sir when I fuck you"

A mewl escapes your lips.

"Sir" comes out like a faithless prayer, begging to be heard. "I'll do anything, sir, please, touch me"

"Al'ight, but still, it ain't 'nough"

Oh.

The hot tears in the corner of your eyes shouldn't arouse him this much, but the watery promise makes his cock twitch.

"I-I'll do anything, I swear" you beg, the salty tears stream down your cheeks in cascades. "It hurts, Jo-" you whine, "sir, please. Just fuck me goddamit!"

Your once poised voice, now reduced to a whimpering begging mess. Your red rimmed eyes, beginning to puff. It's the way a gloss seems to coat over them, making you look like a doe-eyed deer and not the brat who challenged his every decision and word.

Fuck, isn't he aroused.

"Lookin' so pretty when you cry" he smiles, but instead of wiping the tears, it's his tongue that licks them off your face. "You beggin' that bad to take my cock"

You nod, eagerly so.

"Please, Jo- Just, please. D-don't make me beg" your face feels hot and wet again, "I-I can't take it anymore. Just fucking give it to me!"

"Easy, baby. Can't understand a thing you sayin'" Joel teases. "Where your manners at, besides?"

"Please, sir" he gently pulls you up, humming in satisfaction.

"Goin' crazy over my cock, baby? Y'sure have a nerve to call one pathetic if you gon' act like this, you little brat"

But he is the one moaning when his lips cature your mouth with a fierce impulse, like he wants to devour you whole and swallow your vocals, as to never speak up again.

(But then, he wouldn't hear his name on your sweet albeit snotty voice, and that's a privilege he can't forbid himself from, no matter how annoying you can get sometimes)

"Please" you whisper one last time. He wipes a stray tear with his rough thumb. "I'm yours"

"See, baby? It ain't that hard to shut that mouth of y'rs"

He guides you to the old bed while renewing the kiss, tongues now engaged on a battle for dominance, like even without using your words you'd still need to assert your power over the other. You moan into his mouth when your body slams against the mattress and Joel lands on top, his weight sinking you in the old bed, that creaks.

"I just want to be a good girl for you" you whimper.

"You sure of that? Not gon' be a brat?" and despite his harsh tone that seems to humiliate you, his wandering fingers are gentle with each touch, like if he were to put any more force, you'd break. Joel thinks it's not necessary with you: just with you begging for his cock, he's broken you.

"No, sir" and then you whimper as his mouth dives to the collarbones you had taunted him with before. Joel takes his time, inhaling the musk and savoring the sweet of your skin. Needy whines leave your lips, and he's having the time of his life seeing you surrender so easily, like you had no idea what limits to push, where they'd take you and how you'd pay for that.

"C-Can I touch you?" you whisper, hands itching to tangle on his grey parted hair. He chuckles at the eagerness and tenderness you don't seem aware of.

"S' you can be sweet if ya' want to, huh?" he leaves a fluttering kiss to your chin. "Needy and desperate too. Do ya' want to touch, princess? Remember to use y'r words"

"Yes, sir. I-I want to touch you"

"Thought I disgusted you, hmm? I take you've learnt y'r lesson now?"

"Yes, I've learned. Please, sir, won't do it again" you plead.

"I'll allow ya' to touch, doll" he gives you a smirk, "but 'ts all you get for now"

He lets your hands cling to his coat, taking it off. Then, you proceed to his buttoned shirt, fingers flidding with buttons until you grown annoyed and desperate, pulling the fabric over his head with need.

"Look at 'cha" but there's only adoration, proven so when he starts to kiss the trail of soft skin that goes from your neck to your stomach, making you squirm. "Easy, baby. 'M gettin' down there"

He finally reaches your core, kissing the inner side of your thighs with wet and sloppy lips. His hot breath tingles over your clit, and a beat later, his mouth presses into your cunt, your back arching at the cold contact of his chapped lips against the humid hot of your folds.

You muffle a moan, embarrassed at the whole situation.

"Ain't need to worry 'bout nothin', doll. Nobody can hear us" he grins, tongue flicking your clit. "Wanna listen to your pretty whimpers as I make 'cha feel good"

You cry out of pleasure, the sound escaping past your lips. Joel has a laugh.

"Good girl"

Joel rewards you with another series of minstrations on your bud, licks made with determination only the expert man knows of. He then slides one finger into you, slowly moving it in and out of your soaked trembling heat.

"M-more" you beg, eager to get more fingers inside you. "Please, more, sir"

You buck your hips to try to get closer to him, meeting his thrusts.

Joel tuts, "What're you doin', spoiled brat? Did I tell ya' to move? You were doing such'a great job... guess I gotta punish you-"

"No!" you shout. "Do anything you want, but touch me, please- touch me!"

He introduces a second finger, raising his brow at the immediate way you clench around him. Joel curls them, robbing another moan out of you.

"Feels good?" you can't answer, as a hard thrust robs another moan from you. "But I'ont want 'cha to think we done, princess. Think I'd let you come, jus' like that? After all's happened?"

"Need you" you tug him closer with your arms holding onto his. "Joel, sir- please"

"Oh, princess" he smirks, "I think you don't know what you askin' for"

Joel grabs his hand around his length, coating the tip in your slicky juices, and then, he presses his length into you in one thrust.

"You're big-" you pant as he gives you time to adjust to his size. Joel then picks up an unrelenting pace that makes moans spill out of you like a fountain, the pace of his thrusts sending you closer and closer to the edge.

"N-need to-"

"Don't" he seethes. "Ya' won't 'till I tell ya' can"

All you could do is moan, helplessly pinned between his body and the bed. Your whole body shakes in an effort to contain as his hips loose their rhythm, his groans louder as he gets closer and closer to the edge.

"Al'ight. 'Cause you've been good" his cock drives through your walls with rhythmic melodies. "Cum, princess, but when ya' do, look at me"

You're seeing stars the moment your toes curl and his head falls to clash against your forehead.

(The beads of sweat roll down out of him like trails to follow, and his scarred rugged skin doesn't compare to your soft one, painted with the maroon of his bites and kissing at the skin of your collarbone. The dried up trails of tears. Your begging and desperate voice. His name on your lips)

It only takes a few more thrusts before he spills in you, cock twitching until every last drop of thick hot white cum is pumped into you.

Joel then pulls out gently, pressing a kiss to your forehead before flopping onto you, the mattress dipping even further. With his hand, he removes a stray strand of damp hair, putting it behind you ear with such tender kindness, your heart strings pull.

"In fact, I want ya' to look at me next time y'even think 'bout defying me. See if that mouth of y'ers can talk after 'tis"

A week later, you're back at patrolling.

"Anyone got anythin' to say?"

The group looks at you. You're about to open your mouth, but Joel cocks an eyebrow.

Just like that, and you're gone. Great job, y/n.

"Whatever" you sound meek as you push past him, yet he catches a glimpse of your warm cheeks. "Let's go"

The rest are too stunned to speak, the silence only cut off by Miller's laugh.

"Would 'cha look at that?" he whistles. "Ain't nobody tell ya' miracles don't happen anymore on this goddamn world!"

credits: divider @kodaswrld / gif @chappellsroans

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karlachismylife · 6 months ago

Text

Writing Russian-speaking characters

So I have once again been chuckling at some adorable clumsy Russian in Nikolai and Nikto fics, and thus I decided to make a little list that might be helpful for fellow COD writers here. And yes, please, feel free to reach out to me if you need any proofreading of your Russian phrases, I would be glad to assist since google translator can butcher it in ways non-speakers won't be able to notice.

I would really appreciate if you guys shared this post and helped it reach people that might need it, I put way more effort into it than I expected myself <3 Also, I might make a followup with some more words and/or phrases that can be useful, so please feel free to request some, since here I am mostly focusing on terms of endearment.

I will write down Russian words, their (approximate and wonky, sorry for that) transcription/transliteration and what part of speech they are (keep in mind that adjectives can be used as nouns when used to address someone) and provide according translation and use.

Keep in mind that in Russian the gender of the word is important!!! I'll write down them in following order: he/him (он/его) version/ she/her (она/её) version/ they/them (они/их) version. However! They/them is NOT traditionally used as gender-neutral pronouns, it's plural only. Some queer and younger folks do use they/them (myself included), but it does sound wonky as it's direct copy from English. Unfortunately, Russian is not very suitable for gender-neutral writing, but there are ways to go about it (I'll try to note some of that too).

*however, since Nikto is sometimes using plural they/them to describe himself, that would be okay with him since it's plural. I hope that makes sense, lol.

So if you're putting an adjective with a noun (example: милый котик) you have to use an adjective in the correct gender form FOR THE WORD! If the noun (котик here) is masculine, you use masculine adjective form EVEN if you're referring to a person with she/her pronouns.

What is love?

The main thing I noticed is that y'all use a direct translation of the word "love" - "любовь" [l'ubov'] (n) to refer to a person. As in "how are you doing, love?". However, that's wrong. "Любовь" is either a word to describe the feeling, or a name (short version would be Люба [Lyuba]). If you wanna use an affectionate pet name, consider one of the following!

дорогой/дорогая/дорогие [dorogoy/dorogaya/dorogiye] (adj) - means "darling". Often used between spouses. Mostly used to refer to person directly, sounds a little quirky if you use it to refer to them in third person (as in "my darling went out to buy some strawberries").

любимый/любимая/любимые [l'ubimiy/l'ubimaya/l'ubimiye] (adj) - means "beloved/loved/loved one" and is probably the closest to "love". You can use it to refer to person directly or to talk about them in third person (as in "can't wait to see любимую". Also yes, the endings are changing depending on the case and I'm not entirely sure how to explain this concisely without going deep into grammar lol).

милый/милая/милые [miliy/milaya/miliye] (adj) - the word means "cute/cutie", but is also used as a general terms of endearment, like "sweetheart". Mainly to refer to someone directly, using it in third person is a little old-fashioned I'd say. Also commonly used by people outside romantic partnership, a kind old lady can definitely call you over with this one asking to help her read expiration date on a milk bottle or something.

любовь моя [l'ubov' moya] (n + adj/pronoun) - okay, I kinda tricked you saying you can't use the word "love" to refer to a person. If you say this (means "my love"), you can! It's pretty romantic and I am actually the one person that uses this daily, otherwise it's either very romance-novel/old-fashioned sounding, but there are moments when it's perfectly suitable. Have that fairytale moment! Also please note, that while "моя любовь" [moya l'ubov'] (adj/pronoun + n) is grammatically correct, it sounds kinda weird if you use it to address the person directly (like in a phrase "my love, you shine brighter than the stars"). While Russian doesn't have particularly strict rules about word order, it does matter to some extent, and this is a prime example: people just use one order way more often that the other.

Pocket-sized

I've already told somewhere here my favourite Nikto fic moment: the sweetest, romantic moment, interrupted by him calling reader "детёныш", which means "cub" as in baby animal. And while my parents do use this word affectionately, I can assure you, most people don't, and it was clear that this was a result of a clumsy translation of "baby" or something like that. So here are some variants for words like baby, little one and such!

малыш/малышка [malysh/malyshka] (n) - I'd say this feels more "little one" than "baby" to me, it's a tad less sexually charged if you get what I mean. Also, you call "малыш" a person of any gender/pronouns, while "малышка" is strictly for she/her. Obviously can be used for kids too.

детка [d'etka] (n) - this one is definitely "baby" or "babe" as a term of endearment, calling a real kid this would be WEIRD if you're not a really old granny. I would also say that it's more commonly used to refer to female partners, but that might be just my perception and experience. It's still okay to use both ways. Also this word can be very much used if you need a little bit of sleazy/catcalling/bad pickup line energy, like someone shouting after a girl passing by on the street. Yuck.

маленький/маленькая [mal'en'kiy/mal'en'kaya] (adj) - this just means "little" or "small", I'd say it's used less commonly and usually in this form "маленький мой/маленькая моя" [mal'en'kiy moy/mal'en'kaya moya] (adj + adj/pronoun). I will expand on this a little later here! Can be used to refer to kids too.

All kinds of fauna

While poor детёныш is reserved for furry freaks like yours truly, there are some animal nicknames that are very widely spread! Here are some that I think would be most useful for y'all. Granted, some people think that these are a lil' bit cringey, but I think it really just depends on what you're used to hear around you. So if I think calling someone a cub is cute, and bunny is cringe, that probably says more about me :D

котик [kot'ik] (n) - this is a term of endearment for a cat. NOT same as kitten, mind you! Mostly used to refer to men (since the word is of masculine gender) - in my experience.

котёнок [kot'onok] (second o here is like ö in German) (n) - now THIS is "kitten". I would say this is more gender-neutral than the previous one, but the word is still masculine gender.

зайка [zayka] (n) - I believe this would be an equivalent to "bunny", although it's actually a cute word for a hare, not a rabbit. Definitely used for all genders (also the word can be both masculine and feminine gender), also is okay to use referring to kids (even teachers that are into endearing nicknames can call pupils this and it's not weird. well, in elementary school). You can also say "зайчонок" [zaych'onok] (n) which is a word for baby hare, even cuter.

рыбка [ribka] (n) - a term of endearment for a fish. I think it's viewed as a bit old-fashioned and thus only used jokingly nowadays, but you know what? Nikolai could pull this off 100%. Bonus points if it's "рыбка моя" [ribka moya] (n + adj/pronoun). Only used for women and the word itself is of feminine gender.

медвежонок [medv'ezhonok] (n) - now, I actually have never met someone who would call their partner this, but I myself would (and I definitely saw it in some media, but that's obv not too reliable). It's a word for a bear cub, so I think it's cute to call a huge ass bear of a military man this word. It's of masculine gender, but I would say it's okay to call a she/her person this too. ALTHOUGH there is a grammatically incorrect (but this only adds to cuteness as it often happens) word "медвежонка" [medv'ezhonka] (n) - this would be a female bear cub. My family uses this word, I use it, no, it won't be in a dictionary, but everyone will understand what you mean. Is okay to use for kids too.

щенок [sh'enok] (if it helps, щ is like German "schtsch", like in Borschtsch, like sh but soft) (n) - now, this actually is not used as a term of endearment, it's "puppy" and it's suitable for degradation. The word is of masculine gender, but you can call anyone this to be honest. You can tell Nikto he's "глупый щенок" [glupiy sh'enok] (adj + n) (silly puppy) and that man will either bark for you or gut you. If you say "тупой" [tupoy] (adj) (dumb) instead of "глупый" [glupiy] (adj) (silly), it will be downright offensive. You can say "щеночек" [sh'enochek] (n), which is an endearing term for a puppy, so it's a little bit sweete. OR you can use my personal favourite - "щен" [sh'en] (n), which is actually also incorrect, but if you've ever heard of a great poet and poetry innovator Mayakovskiy, he was called this word by Lilya Brik. I do NOT have the time to unpack that wild relationship (there was a throuple involved. Russian poetry scene of early XX century was WILD and it's my favourite poetry period hands down), but it's pretty famous. The word "щен" consists of the word "puppy" but with the end diminutive suffix cut off. The trick is, that while some words return to their non-diminutive form with such procedure, this one does not - so you're basically inventing a new word that now sounds quite degrading and harsh, but also sexy as hell (personal opinion). I would definitely call Nikto this word.

птичка [ptich'ka] (n) - that's just "birdie", but I actually wouldn't say many people use it to refer to each other. HOWEVER, Nikolai 100% calls his steel bird this. The word is of feminine gender and if you are calling a person this, it's probably more suitable for a woman.

цыпа [tsipa??] (n) or even цыпочка [tsipoch'ka] (n) - that's a chick, like a baby hen, used only to refer to women (feminine gender word). Honestly I only heard this in foreign films dubbed in Russian or like in jokes/sarcastic phrases. It's kinda rude/indecent/vulgar and the only man that can say that and stay attractive is Captain Jack Sparrow (he used this word in Russian dubbed Pirates like once maybe, talking to Elisabeth, and that was funny cuz he be crazy like that). But maybe you want this, idk.

And everything sweet

Unfortunately, I haven't seen anyone translate the word "honey" as "мёд" directly, that would be another brilliant laugh (cuz it's wrong to refer to a person like that), but there are some "sweet" words to use!

сладкий/сладкая [sladk'iy/sladkaya] (adj) - this just means "sweet", like the taste, and it can be sexy or sleazy or just cute. You can call a kid this word too, BUT for a child would be better сладенький/сладенькая [slad'en'kiy/slad'en'kaya], which is like one step further into diminutive-endearing department.

конфетка [konf'etka] (n) - this is a diminutive word for a candy, a sweet, like a caramel or chocolate or whatever. Not very common, but is cute. Also a way to describe a sexy/good-looking person (more likely a woman, the word is of feminine gender) or just something really good (a bit jokingly). The latter is usually used in a phrase build like "не ..., а просто конфетка", which is roughly translated "that's not ... that's just plain candy". Might have an actual English equivalent that I can't think of right now. Maybe "a total snack"? Probably that one, yeah. Can be said about anything, a car for example.

Shiny

I wanna stick in a few more words of endearment and they all are kinda shiny, lol, so here you go!

солнце [solntse] (n) - this means "sun", like that big glowing thingy in the sky, but it's very welcome as a term of endearment. This word is NEUTER gender (explained in the next section). Viktor Tsoy (a famous rock musician with an unfortunate fate and immortal cultural heritage) had a song ("Cuckoo" - "Кукушка") with the words "солнце моё, взгляни на меня" [solntse moyo, vzgl'yan'i na m'en'ya] (my sun, look at me), so "солнце моё" (n + adj/n) is a good one. You can also use "солнышко" [solnyshko] (n) which is an endearing version of "sun", so it's like "sunshine". Also of neuter gender! Can and should be used to address kids too.

золотце [zolottse] (n) - this literally means like... a little gold? A little golden piece? I don't think there's a proper equivalent in English. It's a word of neuter gender and it's very much used for kids too. Another version would be "золотой мой/золотая моя/золотые мои" [zolotoy moy/zolotaya moya/zolotiye moyi] (adj + adj/pronoun) - this is "my golden", it's a little less common and I feel like it's often used to be condescending, but it's not inherenrly bad, so you can use it for a loved one.

сокровище [sokrov'ish'e] (once again it's щ, look previously) (n) - this is a word of neuter gender and it means "treasure". I personally adore this one and it's pretty common. Can be used for any gender and for kids!

звёздочка [zv'yozdoch'ka] (n) - this is like a little star/starshine. Wouldn't say it's that common, but I use it a lot. The word itself is of feminine gender, but you can call anyone that! Or you can say "звезда моя" [zv'ezda moya] (n + adj/pronoun), which means "my star". Also feminine gender word, but can be used for anyone.

This dog belongs to...

I am not going to go too deep into sexy/sex-related words in this part, because I'll just get overwhelmed with the amount, but I want to go over some words of ownership quickly.

мой/моя/мои/моё [moy/moya/moyi/moyo] (adj/pronoun) - this means my/mine. It goes really well with many words in this list, especially the adjectives, like "мой дорогой" [moy dorogoy] (my darling) or "солнышко моё" [solnyshko moyo] (my sun/sunshine). The last version, "моё" [moyo] is neuter gender, it's NOT gender-neutral! It's the "it/its" I guess (not exactly, but let's just stick with this simplyfied explanation). Previously there were some words of that gender, so here you go. BTW I would say that in speech it's more common to put this word before adjectives and after nouns (like in my examples), just sounds better, but it's not wrong to do otherwsise. You can also just say "ты мой" [ti moy] (you're mine). Also can be used to refer in third person, like when you're discussing your man with your gossip girls, you can just go "а мой вчера..." [a moy vch'era] (and mine yesterday...) and everyone will understand that you mean your man. Unless you wee discussing pets, then they'll probably assume it's your cat.

хозяин/хозяйка [khoz'yain/khoz'yayka] (n) - saw this one too btw. This means "owner" or kiiiinda "master/mistress", and they are gendered, so it's actually wrong to call a woman "хозяин" unless there's some kinky genderfuckery going on (which I'm all for, but like. you get what I mean).

господин/госпожа [gospod'in/gospozha] (n) - okay, THAT is definitely master/mistress, also gendered. Standard BDSM terminology and yada yada.

And that's where I'd like to wrap up for today! However, if needed, I can write more - perhaps with curse words or with sex-related words, or some phrases? I dunno, you tell me! Once again, I kindly ask you to share since I think this will help people (and while I understand the struggle of writing in another language and especially using words from language you don't speak at all, I can't help but be a little thrown off every time I see a wrong use of words in text).

Also remember: while Siberia is bigger than USA or even Canada, there are still other regions in Russia that deserve to be mentioned <3 a lot of places with mindblowing nature, cultural heritage etc.

#cod #call of duty #cod writer #nikto cod #nikolai cod #russian #nikto #nikolai #writers on tumblr #nikto x reader #nikolai x reader #nikprice #nikolai x price #price x nikolai #nikto x krueger #krueger x nikto

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mrsbarnesblog · 10 months ago

Note

Hi girlie! Can you write something about baby daddy Rafe? Set in a FWB universe and reader ends up pregnant because he loves c*ming inside her? Love your works they keep me up at night in the best way 🤭🤍

masterlist

requests are open

word count: 0.9k

warnings: smut at the beginning, unprotected sex, fwb (kinda?)

a/n: hey, love❤️ i wasn't sure whether you wanted them to end up together or not, so i made something in between. i got inspired and wrote another part for this one which i may post later, but i'm open to changing/adding something if y'all have any ideas.

“Rafe… we shouldn’t do this— ah, fuck, please!” You cried out, your back arching from the bed, seeking more attention from his lips to your sensitive nipples.

“I can’t stop. It’s gonna be okay, just one time, baby.” He grumbled, sucking in your skin. Rafe was pounding into your poor body without any mercy; he was too excited to be bare inside of you for the first time.

When you came to his place, you two quickly found out that you ran out of condoms that were usually stacked on his bedside table, but you were too far gone to stop it. You were naked, your pussy was leaking with arousal, his dick was so painfully hard and it was hard to think straight. You didn’t want to stop and Rafe managed to convince you to let him fuck you raw.

You knew how fucking stupid you were and that he might easily get you pregnant, but at that exact moment, the only thing on your mind was the feeling of his bare cock.

“I’m gonna cum, baby. I wanna cum inside of your pretty pussy. Shit—you're squeezing me so hard, you like this idea, hm?” He kept slapping his hips against yours harder and harder, causing you to moan in despair and grip his shoulders. You tried to say no, but, in all honesty, you didn’t want to. The stretch was so delicious, and the feeling of his cock filling you completely made you feel dizzy. And having him cum inside? You could have an orgasm just thinking about it.

No more than thirty seconds later, when you finally reached your height, his cock twitched inside and Rafe let out the sexiest moan you’ve ever heard. You felt liquid warmth covering your inside and moaned, squeezing and milking everything he could have you.

You were playing with fire and it was just a matter of time before everything would go wrong. No matter how stupid and reckless it was, you didn’t stop. Rafe was now obsessed with the feeling of being inside of you without a barrier; he could not help himself when he had you spread out in front of him, ready to be filled.

It was the best feeling that both of you experienced, but for some reason, you didn’t even try to find another form of contraception. You should have known better. You should have insisted on protection, but there was something intoxicating about the way he took you—the way he groaned your name as he filled you up. It was reckless, dangerous, and oh-so-addictive.

So it was not that big of a surprise when, just two months later, you saw two lines on the test.

You weren’t dating, even if it has always felt like much more than just sex, so you never expected Rafe to be happy about the possibility of having a baby. You thought he would end everything immediately and simply run away. Yet he was the complete opposite.

During your pregnancy, Rafe never left your side and made sure to attend every medical appointment, buy every single vitamin and satisfy all of your cravings.

You wanted to eat some weird shit from the store at 2am? He brought it to you in less than twenty minutes. Your body was aching and you didn’t want to do anything? He organised a spa day for you. You had terrible mood swings and cried every ten minutes? He was patient and he did everything he could to make you feel better.

You quickly fell into that kind of domestic routine. It was comfortable, and it felt right to have him beside you all the time. While your baby was growing inside of you, you both realised more with every passing day that the feelings that you two had were serious. Because you were on each other’s mind’s 24/7, you stayed in yours or his place all the time, and you couldn’t just keep your hands away.

When Rafe first felt your baby kick, he was over the moon and he had the biggest smile on his face. He repeatedly kissed your belly before falling asleep with his head on your thighs and his hand on your bump.

As soon as your little girl arrived in the world, Rafe completely fell into daddy mode. He was fussing over her, insisting on spending as much time with her as possible. He never complained when he had to change her diapers or wake up in the middle of the night because of her cries.

He is such a girl dad, and the moment she looked at him with her blue eyes, he was wrapped around her tiny finger.

Rafe loves being a dad; he loves taking care of his girls, even if you are still not officially his. He makes sure to do everything to make you feel comfortable and give you enough rest.

He may not be perfect in it, but he’s trying his best and he hasn’t regretted ever getting into this with you.

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe x reader #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron imagine #baby daddy!rafe #outerbanks rafe #rafe cameron #rafe x you #rafe fanfiction #rafe imagine #rafe fic

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xdjville · 2 months ago

Text

what p1harmony calls you

pairing: p1harmony x gn!reader

cw: none

author's note: first post after 10 months, and the first time for p1h! i honestly lost motivation for a long time but i saw piwon live back in january and i'm lowkey (highkey) obsessed so...

#keeho

keeho's a babe kinda guy, through and through. and i mean explicitly, with no exceptions, to the point where your name starts to sound a bit foreign coming from his mouth. he also overuses it (he knows it and refuses to stop), almost every sentence that he says in your direction has to start or end with the petname or else he'd genuinely be sick. your contact name in his phone is 'ma babe 🫶' and he only occasionally changes the emoji.

#theo

your full name, full government name. honestly, with theo i feel like people who don't know he's in a relationship wouldn't realize that from the way he's referring to you, and you will not catch him using a petname, ever. also, if y'all remember that one interview where keeho said that theo has a lot of 'natural aegyo' and keeps talking in that whiny voice, he'd use that tone for you all of the time, purposefully making it more dramatic than what it's worth. it's all out of love though.

#jiung

jiung gets very creative with petnames for you, poetic even, and he's loud and proud about it. no amount of gagging sounds from intak can stop him from calling you his cupcake or angel, and he pays lots of attention to how you're reacting to each one, making sure you're comfortable and trying to find the one you seem to like the most. when you're not around, he'd refer to you as his partner or his baby, the words sliding from his tongue like it's your actual name.

#intak

intak's favorites are babe or baby as well, mixed with an occasional short version of your name here and there. he'd only use your full name when he's upset about something, not necessarily because of you, but it'd be the first sign that something's wrong. when talking about you he definitely calls you his partner, because damn, you are his partner. he just can't stop himself from boasting a little, and honestly, how can you blame him?

#soul

soul would definitely go with either a weird variation of your name that he finds oddly endearing or an inside joke, one that may sound confusing to other people without context. generally, i feel like he'd like something that's really yours, that only the two of you understand or that no one else uses for you except him, like some kind of secret language. he'd use the same words to refer to you while talking to other people, and he honestly couldn't care less if they even understand who he's talking about. and no, he will not explain.

#jongseob

like theo, i honestly don't see jongseob as a petname kind of person, he'd probably just call you by your name, usually your full name (unless you don't like it). a little baby or love might slip from his mouth every now and then, usually when he's in a good mood, but it would usually still come next to your name. when it's in writing though? you're his sunshine, his biggest inspiration, the light of his life, and his one and only (see what i did here). whether it's notes he leaves in your bag or lyrics he writes with you in his mind, new adjectives keep coming to his mind like it's the only thing he can think about.

#taglist ➼♡ @0-hoony @suzayaaa (pls lmk if you'd like to be tagged for piwon as well!)

©xdjville

#p1h reactions #p1h scenarios #p1harmony reactions #p1harmony scenarios #p1harmony x reader #p1harmony #keeho #intak #jongseob #theo #soul #jiung #keeho x reader #intak x reader #jongseob x reader #theo x reader #soul x reader #jiung x reader

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storywriter007 · 9 months ago

Note

hi hi hi!! i loved your preferences with the HoO boys! i was wondering if you could do another one, with literally any plot (ex- cuddling hcs, first kiss, or anything you feel like writing) with the same boys (+maybe nico if you write for him?) thank u!!

First Kiss - HoO Boys x Fem!Reader

author's note: hey i'm so glad you liked my work!! y'all have no idea how much it means to me omg :) i didn't include nico bc in the comments a valid point was brought up

warnings: kissing, cursing, whiskey is mentioned as a scent (tbh i've never smelled it, it's just vibes)

genre: fluff

word count: 3.2k (all bullet points)

-> heroes of olympus masterlist

✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒

send me requests here! (these are my guidelines)

✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒

percy jackson

you and him would've started off as best friends

and as both of you get older, you start liking each-other

percy would 100% be aware of his crush on you

he knows he has it, but he just avoids acting on it

he kinda just does his best to ignore his feelings

bc even though he's charismatic and charming

he's shy and anxious

he doesn't want to make you uncomfortable

and make you never want to talk to him again

he doesn't want to ruin everything you guys have and lose your trust in him

so he undoubtedly tries to pursue someone else

he'll talk about this other girl to you

not to make you jealous

but instead as a weak attempt to make himself feel like he doesn't like you

not a good idea

he makes you unintentionally jealous

you distance yourself from him bc you like him but can't stand hearing abt another girl all the time

but, you don't want to ruin things for him (bc you are convinced he is crazily crushing on her)

so you decide that you've just gotta let him go

percy wonders why his best friend is being so distant

you guys go weeks barely communicating

percy is still trying to convince himself he doesn't like you

but distance makes the heart grow fonder

he realizes and accepts the fact that he is madly in love w/ you (who wouldn't be?)

and that he can't stand this weird distance between you guys anymore

he decides he needs to talk to you

so one day you're just sitting on the deck by the lake with your feet in the water

you're just contemplating your love affair with him

and you see him coming your way

you're trying to avoid him so you get up and start to leave

he literally sprints to you and grabs your arm

you turn to look at him and he asks you why you've been avoiding him

you snatch your arm out of his grip and tell him it's nothing and that you're busy

he doesn't let you leave and keeps asking

so you slide a passive aggressive comment, something like "i bet your girlfriend's thinking about you"

and he realizes that you're jealous

and that he didn't convince himself that he liked this other girl

but he convinced you

he tells you everything

he tells you how much he likes you and that he never even liked this other girl

he was just trying to convince himself he did bc he didn't want to ruin things between the two of you

you confess to liking him too

both of you kind of laugh off your stupid choices

after you're done laughing, you kinda just look into each-other's eyes

both of you are leaning in

until you hear someone coming, and percy just grabs you and jumps underwater

and you guys have your first kiss underwater

your arms are around his neck and his are on your waist

you're like pressed up against one-another

the kiss is kinda steamy bc let's be honest: you've wanted to kiss each-other for five years

but it's a sweet kiss

percy smells like vanilla

you can hear the person saying "i swear they were here a minute ago" and then walking off

you both come up to the surface undeniably blushing/hot and laughing

jason grace

listen, i love jason

that man is STIFF

like you could literally leave him a note that says "i want to kiss you"

and he'd find you and go "that was a pretty good song you suggested. i like this one-direction band"

LMAO

ok but anyways, you guys are frenemies

you guys started off as rivals

you thought being the son of jupiter would make him arrogant

and you thought he was, but he was really just reserved and serious

he didn't know how to be anything different

he didn't like you because you argued with him about everything

you challenged him constantly

and you weren't as nice to him as you were everyone else

but

throughout the years, you get to know each-other better

but that doesn't mean you get along

you guys occasionally unite and get along (and typically when you do, it's the best hours of your life)

but otherwise, you two have it out for each other

constant disagreements and fights

you just loose all of your patience when it comes to each other

so you have a love-hate relationship with him

yeah you'd kill for him but you would never lend him an extra pen on tests

yeah he'd die for you but he would never let you look at his notes

you get along when you need to and this exact mentality is what lands both of you together, as praetors

but let's be real: there is so much unspoken tension between the two of you

like yeah you hate each other but you lowkey wanna make out

and you can't lie and say you didn't trust him or didn't like him

he'd proved you wrong on hundreds of occasions

he was capable, kind, caring, smart, loyal

and he couldn't lie and say he hated you either

you were fun, kind, ambitious, intelligent, and loyal too

over the years, both of you projected an "i hate you."

when in reality, you'd grown quite fond of one-another

you've shown your worst selves to each-other, you've lied for each-other, you've told secrets to each-other, and you've just been each-other's constant

y'both know you like each other: that's what makes the hate even stronger

like jason has other feelings for you but he doesn't know what to call them

attraction? a small crush? love? sexual tension? is it getting hot in here?

first kiss happens before you guys head into a huge battle

yes. the possibility of never seeing you again is what makes the man realize he's in love with you

like you guys are standing on a hill, watching the army of monsters slowly march towards camp jupiter

you guys turn to look at each other

you two are thinking the same thing: if i die, it's an honor to have served with you

"you ready?" you'd ask

"always." he'd say (typical roman)

you'd turn to look at him, but he's already looking at you

he grabs you by your arm and pulls you in for a kiss

it's a long kiss

it's passionate, and it's needy, but it's sweet at the same time

he basically lifts you off your feet and you're holding onto neck and his hair

you're pulling him closer into and he's holding you so tightly

you want to remember this

jason smells like fresh clean sheets mixed w/ whiskey

when you guys finally pull away bc you know you have to lead an army, you rest your foreheads against one-anothers

"good luck y/n"

"i'm gonna see you when this is over jason."

"i know you will."

one of the rare times you guys use first names

and yes, you do see each other again :)

leo valdez

you and leo happens when you first get to camp

and instantly his mind short-circuits and he's like DAM

he knows you're probs gonna reject him

but hey you miss 100% of the chances you don't take

so he starts off, as always, making some bold flirty comment

and to his surprise, you return the banter

he has to pause for a second

he stutters and thinks of a witty response

you laugh at how flustered he is

and that's the start of a beautiful friendship

from that day on, you two are partners in crime

your guys' days consist of: making stupid things, playing stupid pranks, sneaking out to get fast food, and making vlogs of all of the stupid things you do (on an old vhs recorder leo rigged)

you guys are a two in one; if you went somewhere, he did too

soon, your friendship evolves into things that aren't just fun hangouts

you often catch him under cabin 9 and talk to him

you guys open up to each other in his little workshop, a lot

he tells you things he's never told anyone and you do the same

what's different about your relationship w/ leo is that you don't make fun of him

you barely argue with him, you respect him, you don't call him scrawny, you don't point out his insecurities, and you never make a joke at his expense

this makes him feel a lot more comfortable around you

and he puts down whatever he's doing if you come to him in an emotionally distressful state

you guys listen to each other, cry in front of each other, and help each other feel better

leo becomes the only person in your life you can rely on

and you're the same for him

so his thoughts evolve from DAM to i think i'm in love with you

and everyday he's around you, he finds himself falling more and more in love with you

and every late night you're with him under cabin 9, you start to like him more too

he's nervous to confess to you bc he doesn't want you to not feel the same way and you end up pushing him away or something

but he can't ignore how deeply he feels for you

he can't stand it when other guys try to hit on you bc all that's going through his head is that's my girl

so after a lot of contemplating, he decides he needs to tell you how he feels

he invites you to his workshop at a really specific time (which is weird bc he just says come whenever)

but you go and this man has cleaned the place up and dimmed the lights

he has a robot that he programmed

it sees you and starts playing some really corny love song

and he confesses that he really really likes you and that it kills him seeing other guys trying to flirt with you

he says the sweetest things ever about why he likes you and he just sounds like a fangirl tbh

he starts rambling abt how much he likes and how it's totally okay if you don't feel the same way and that he doesn't want this to affect your friendship if you don't and etc

you just go up to him and kiss him

the robot starts cheering and saying "da lady loves leo!!!!" (he would totally program that change my mind)

he short circuits (like the day you met him)

but he kisses you back, hands around your waist as yours are around his neck

leo smells like burning firewood mixed with cinammon

it's a long and sweet kiss, but you guys have to pull away bc you're laughing too much

why? bc the robot won't stop cheering and saying "da lady loves leo!!!!" so he has to take a minute to make it play your favorite song

"sorry." he'd chuckle. "where were we?"

and then you guys would kiss again

frank zhang

you and frank are best friends

you first met each other cleaning the weapons room

you were looking at archery equipment and you just kinda mindlessly said "i wish i knew how to use this"

and frank's ears shot up so fast

he offered to help you learn, and you guys came to a deal

you'd help him become a better swordsman and he would help you become a better archer

during your guys' training sessions, you'd talk a lot

frank finally felt like he had a real friend

you guys would share stories about your pasts and your interests

maybe a little bit of gossip too

frank was kinda surprised you hung out with him so much bc in his eyes, he was a loser

you reassured him that having different strengths didn't make him weak

you often traded shifts with other campers so you could spend more time with him

as time went on, frank became more confident in his ability as a swordsman

and you became more confident in your skills as an archer

so during the next war game

you two teamed up and actually led your group to victory

no one expected two kids from the fifth cohort to steal a victory like that but you guys did

you were diligent, effective, and cooperative

you guys were over the moon that night and frank thanked you for helping him become a better soldier

and you did the same

it was after that night you guys both realized you had a serious crush on one-another

after countless hours training, cleaning, and working

after having hundreds of deep conversations

after helping each-other reach their goals

you guys realize that you really liked one-another

so one day, some kid at camp makes fun of frank for being better at archery than sword fighting

he shakes it off now, ever since you told him the people who make fun of him probably miss the entire target during archery

but he got really pissed off when the kid said "i guess that's why you and y/n are friends. you exchange weaknesses"

it made him upset bc you aren't weak

you acknowledged you faltered in one spot and wanted to do better

that's brave, that's strong

so frank might've "accidentally" hit the kid with his arrow

it was nothing serious, but he was pinned up against the wall by an arrow

it was rlly funny

unfortunately, reyna didn't think so, and frank got sentenced with a bunch of chores

you didn't know this, so you switched your shift and visited him in the weapons room

you asked him what he'd done to miss all the camp activites

he wouldn't say at first, but then he'd admit he kinda shot an arrow and a kid ended up pinned against a wall

you'd ask why he did that bc you knew frank wasn't violent in the least

and it just comes out right there

he admits he went a little crazy bc he didn't like how this kid was talking about you

he talks about how incredible you are and it made him angry that some kid tried to minimize you to a weakness you were working on improving

"and i don't know, i guess i get heated when it comes to people i love" he'd say, before pausing and realizing what just came out of his mouth

obviously you're smiling bc you love him too

you tell him that you love him too, and that you didn't say anything bc you were scared of ruining your friendship

so yes, your first kiss is in the weapons room

you just kinda jump on him and kiss him

he bumps into the wall behind him and he wraps his arms around your mid-section

and yours are around his neck

it's a cute, sweet kiss

it lasts a few seconds more than it should

frank smells like sugar mixed with the irony-smell of the weaponry

but afterwards, you help frank with his chores so you guys can go train

974 notes · View notes

bunny-1111 · 7 months ago

Text

Did I stutter? TN x fem!reader Part 2.

Pairing: Theodore Nott x Fem!Reader

Word count: 4.3k

Genre: Smut, Angst, Fluff

WARNING: SMUTTTT, Reader discretion (18+) NO MINORSSSSSSS PLS

Authors note: first smut kinda nervous... this is a long one, I hope y'all enjoy <3

Part one here

reblogs, likes and comments appreciated my loves <3

...

What the fuck now, you think, making your way to the common room.

You shake your head, trying to clear the confusion, but it’s useless. Theo’s always been hard to read, kept his cards too close to his chest, but this feels different—like he’s dropped the mask just enough for you to glimpse something darker lurking beneath. Something you’re not sure how to deal with, what the fuck is next, this sudden dominance is not hard to accept but hard to understand.

When you finally return to the common room, Pansy lounges on one of the sofas, flipping through a magazine. She barely looks up when you enter.

“Well? Did he say anything?” she asks, her voice dripping with casual curiosity, but you know her well enough to recognise the gleam of mischief in her eyes.

"How did you even see us having a conversation?" you enquire, brows furrowing

"I saw you walk past, then I saw Theo walk back The opposite way with a tiny but telling smile on his face", she smiles "So tell me, what did he say? Did he ask you to the dance?" she continues.

You toss your bag onto the floor, sinking into the chair opposite her. “No, not exactly,” you mutter, more confused than ever. Your mind still replaying the look Theo gave you, the way he practically claimed you without saying a word.

Pansy arches an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed with your lack of gossip. “Not exactly? That doesn’t sound like nothing. Come on, spill.”

You bite your lip, hesitating. “He asked if anyone had asked me, and when I said no, he said… ‘Good. Keep it that way.’” The words feel strange in your mouth as if they don’t belong to a casual conversation but something heavier and more serious.

Pansy stares at you for a moment, then her lips curl into a knowing smirk. “Oh, that’s rich. Typical Theo.”

You frown. “What do you mean?”

Pansy tosses the magazine aside, leaning forward like she’s about to reveal some grand secret. “He’s marking his territory, babe. Telling you not to go with anyone else, without actually having the guts to ask you himself.”

Your heart skips a beat at her words. Could she be right? Was Theo staking some kind of silent claim over you? The thought sends a shiver down your spine, and not entirely out of fear. There’s a part of you—a part you’re not sure you’re ready to admit to—that likes the idea of being claimed by him.

But that doesn’t mean you’re okay with the way he’s going about it.

“So what?” you say, exasperation creeping into your voice. “He’s just going to tell me to wait around for him while he ignores me at the ball?”

Pansy shrugs, unbothered. “Pretty much. That’s how these boys work. They want you, but they’re too proud to ask. So they’ll just… hover.”

You roll your eyes, sinking further into the chair. “I’m not going to just sit here and wait for him to make up his mind.”

Pansy grins, eyes twinkling with something dangerous. “Then don’t. Go with someone else. Let him squirm.”

The idea sounds thrilling, but you know it’s not that simple. Theo’s not the kind of guy you can make squirm. He’s the kind that would shut down any attempt to get under his skin, the kind who would lash out rather than admit any kind of weakness. And yet, the thought of pushing him—of seeing just how far he’ll go to keep you—lights a fire in your chest.

That's what you will do. Push him until he can't hold off any longer.

Toying with Theo was a dangerous game to play, even if you knew that, but if he's just going to sit there and not make anything happen, then, fuck, you need to take matters into your own hands.

Yes, you could just do the normal thing and pull him aside for a conversation, but now, where's the fun in that?

The next day, arriving at charms class, you don't take your usual seat with Theo and your friends. Instead, you skip over and find a place next to Anthony Goldstein, a cute Ravenclaw boy, who you knew would piss Theo off.

"Morning", you smile at Anthony. He looks at you, confused but excited.

"Good morning," he returns, starting what would become a cheerful conversation. As you laugh and talk throughout the class, you quickly glance over at a visibly upset Theodore and a very wide-smiling pansy. She knew what you were doing, and Theodore was catching on, too.

Theo’s eyes are burning holes into the back of your head, and you can feel it. Every time you lean in a little closer to Anthony, let out a laugh that’s just a touch too loud; you know Theo’s watching. It’s exactly what you wanted—his attention, focus, and jealousy. But now that you have it, it’s making your skin prickle in anticipation in a way you hadn’t fully prepared for.

Anthony’s sweet, too sweet. He’s charming, and he’s kind, but he’s not Theo. There’s no edge to him, no danger. And while the conversation flows easily enough, your mind keeps drifting back to the boy brooding in the corner, whose eyes haven’t left you since the class began. You know he’s seething. Good. He should be. He warned you to keep away from any guy who could want something off you, but you weren’t getting enough out of Theo, so he pushed this out of you, you determine.

As the class drags on, you notice the shift in the air. Theo’s presence feels suffocating, almost predatory like he’s just waiting for the right moment to pounce. You can’t help but glance over again, meeting his gaze for just a second—long enough to see the storm brewing behind his eyes. His jaw is clenched, his hands gripping the edge of the desk, and for a second, you think he might snap right there in the middle of class, but he doesn’t. He’s controlled, as always. And that only frustrates you more.

You knew you were aggravating him. You have no idea what the consequences are; you have a feeling brewing in your chest that you would find out sooner than later.

When your professor dismisses the class, you gather your things slowly, lingering by Anthony’s side, pretending not to notice the way Theo’s already standing by the door, waiting for you. Anthony smiles, oblivious, and asks if you’d like to walk to the Great Hall with him. You almost say yes, just to push Theo a little further, but before the words leave your mouth, you feel a hand wrap firmly around your wrist.

You turn to see Theo, his eyes dark and dangerous, staring down at you with a look that makes your heart race.

“We need to talk,” he says, his voice low and commanding.

You don’t even have a chance to respond before he’s tugging you out of the classroom, pulling you through the corridors, a man on a mission. You stumble to keep up, your mind racing to catch up with him, but there’s no mistaking the tension in the air now. He’s pissed. And maybe, just maybe, that’s exactly what you wanted.

When he drags you into a broom closet and slams the door behind you, your pulse is pounding in your ears. Theo’s still gripping your wrist, his fingers tight around your skin, and when he finally lets go, your breathe was still held tight, like he was the one who could allow you to exhale

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he snaps, his voice cold, but his eyes—God, his eyes are on fire.

You straighten up, refusing to back down. “What do you mean?”

Theo takes a step closer, his chest brushing against yours as he looms over you. “You know exactly what I mean,” he growls. “Sitting with Goldstein. Laughing with him. What was that, huh? Trying to make me jealous?”

You raise an eyebrow, refusing to show how much his proximity affects you. “Is it working?”

His jaw ticks, and for a moment, you think he might lose control. But then he surprises you—he leans in even closer, his breath hot against your ear as he whispers, “You want to play games, fine. But you’re playing with fire, sweetheart. And I don’t think you’re ready for what happens next.”

Your breath catches in your throat as he pulls back just enough to meet your eyes again. The tension between you is electric, and you can feel the heat radiating off of him, the way his body is coiled, ready to snap. You know you’ve pushed him to the edge, but you’re not backing down now. Not when you’ve come this far.

“I think I can handle it,” you challenge, your voice barely above a whisper, but it’s enough. It’s enough to break whatever restraint Theo’s been holding onto.

“Are you sure?” he stalks even closer, leaning down to you, his fingers forcing your face up to his all you can do it nod as an unexpected wave of shyness hits you. Your heart drops when you hear a gentle but quick knock on the door, please, you think no one interrupts what might just finally happen. You both look at the twisting door knob, silence falls.

“Hey, it everything ok in here? It’s Anthony” your heart drops, Theo might spiral.

His hands loop around you, pushing you behind him, opening the door, “Everything's just fine. You don’t go following girls into broom closets all the time, do you? Shes with me. Now fuck far off,” Theo replied, slamming the door in his face.

You hear his footsteps quickly rush off

He flicks the lock of the door so quickly, so quick to kiss you that anything you feel melts away, in an instant, his hands are on you, gripping your waist, pulling you against him with a force that knocks the air out of your lungs. His lips crash against yours, rough and demanding, like he’s finally letting go of everything he’s been holding back. You don’t even have time to think before you kiss him back, your fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer, harder, deeper.

It’s all heat and intensity, a wild storm brewing for far too long. Theo’s hands roam over your body, possessive and hungry, like he’s claiming every inch of you as his, his lips never leaving yours as his hands work quickly, almost frantically, to tug at the hem of your shirt. You gasp as his fingers brush against your skin, the sensation sending a shiver down your spine. Theo pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark and hooded with desire.

“You’re mine,” he growls, his voice thick with possessiveness.

You nod, breathless, your heart pounding in your chest. “I’m yours.”

That’s all he needs to hear. In one swift motion, he lifts you onto a surface, everything happening so fast you dont even know what he’s sat you on; all you can focus on is his hands sliding up your thighs, pushing your skirt higher as he moves between your legs. His lips are on your neck now, kissing, biting, leaving marks that you know will be there tomorrow.

Your hands fumble with his shirt, desperate to feel his skin against yours. When you finally get it off, you run your hands over the hard planes of his chest, savouring the way his muscles tense under your touch. Theo groans against your neck, his hands gripping your hips so tightly you’re sure they’ll leave bruises. But you don’t care. You want more. You need more.

“Theo,” you gasp, arching your back as his lips trail lower, his hands working quickly to undo the buttons of your blouse. He doesn’t waste any time, pulling it off and tossing it aside before his mouth finds your skin again.

He’s everywhere—his hands, lips, teeth—and it’s all too much, not enough. You’re dizzy with it, consumed by him, by the way, he touches you like he’s been starving for it. For you.

He only stops for a second, his lips not far from yours but far enough to speak, “I can’t take you in a broom closet, alright? Let’s go to my dorm; you’ll be more comfortable” he quickly says, almost out of breath.

“Theo” you mutter “You can take me anywhere. Here’s just fine, please, I can’t wait anymore, please, I don’t want to waste another second” you whine, quickly joining your lips together again.

He doesn’t protest; when he finally pulls back, his breathing is ragged, his eyes dark and heavy with desire. “You’re mine,” he repeats, his voice low and dangerous. “Fuck, no one else gets to touch you. Understand?”

You nod, your heart racing as you reach for him again, pulling him back to you. “Only you.”

And then his lips are on yours again, and there’s no going back this time.

Theo’s mouth crashes against yours with even more intensity, his hands gripping your hips as though he can’t stand the thought of being apart from you for even a second. It’s not just a kiss anymore—it’s a declaration of something raw and primal that neither of you have the strength to fight off any longer.

Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him closer, desperate to feel every inch of him against you. You can feel the hard press of his body against yours, and it sends a wave of heat through you so intense it makes your head spin. His hands slide up your thighs, slipping under your skirt, and your breath hitches as his fingers brush over the thin fabric of your underwear. You can feel the smirk on his lips as he pulls back just enough to look at you.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, his voice rough, eyes dark with desire as they roam over your flushed face. “All worked up for me, and I’ve barely even touched you.”

You want to come up with some smart reply, something to challenge him, but all that comes out is a soft whimper as his fingers tease the edge of your underwear, barely grazing where you need him most. Your body arches and pulses into his touch, silently begging for more, and Theo’s smirk deepens.

“Patience,” he whispers, his breath hot against your ear. “I’ll give you what you want, but you must tell me what you want.”

Your pride screams at you not to give in, not to let him have that satisfaction, but the ache between your legs is too much. You need him, now. So, you swallow your pride, your voice coming out in a shaky whisper.

“Please, Theo. Please”

“Tsk tsk tsk, please, what? Come on, words, sweet thing,”

“I need you to touch me Teddy, need to feel you” You practically whimper

Your pleading seems to flip a switch in him, and suddenly his teasing stops. His fingers slip under the fabric, brushing against your soaked core, and you gasp, your head falling back as the sensation sends sparks shooting through your body

“Good girl,” he growls, his lips ghosting over the sensitive skin of your neck as his fingers begin to move in slow, deliberate circles. “So fucking perfect for me.”

Your hands grip his back exposed, your body trembling as his fingers work you over with an expert precision that makes it clear he’s been thinking about this for a long time. You can barely breathe, your mind going fuzzy from the overwhelming pleasure as Theo’s thumb presses against your clit, drawing out a moan that you can’t hold back.

“Look at you,” he mutters, his voice dripping with satisfaction as he watches the way your body reacts to his touch. “Falling apart for me already. You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this.”

His words, combined with the relentless pressure of his fingers, send you spiralling closer and closer to the edge, your body tightening with the mounting tension. You can feel it building, coiling in your stomach like a spring ready to snap, and you know it’s only a matter of time before you fall over the edge.

Theo must sense it too, because his pace quickens, his fingers moving faster, harder, and his lips find yours again, swallowing your moans as you cling to him. Your entire body is on fire, the pleasure so intense it feels like you might break apart at any second, and then, finally, you do.

The it hits you like a wave, crashing over you with a force that steals the breath from your lungs. You cry out, your nails digging into Theo’s shoulders as your body trembles beneath him, completely lost in the sensation. Theo doesn’t let up, his fingers continuing their steady rhythm as he helps you ride out every last shudder of pleasure. You can’t help but sink your teeth into his shoulder.

By the time it finally fades, you’re left panting, your body limp and spent as you rest against the desk, your forehead pressed against Theo’s shoulder. He’s breathing hard too, his chest rising and falling in time with yours, but there’s a satisfied gleam in his eyes as he looks down at you.

“You’re mine,” he repeats, his voice a low growl as he brushes a strand of hair away from your flushed face. “No one else. Ever.”

You nod, still catching your breath, your heart racing in your chest. “Only yours,” you whisper, and you mean it.

Theo leans down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your lips, and for a moment, the intensity between you softens. His hands, once rough and demanding, now hold you gently, tenderly, like he’s afraid of breaking you. And in this moment, you realise just how deep his feelings for you run, how much he’s been holding back.

“You don’t have to make me jealous to get my attention,” he murmurs against your lips, his fingers trailing lightly over your skin. “You’ve had it from the start.”

You smile against his mouth, your hands sliding up to cup his face, pulling him into a deeper kiss. It’s softer now, slower, but no less intense. Because even though Theo might be possessive and a little rough around the edges, you know that this, you, means more to him than he’s ever let on.

“Let's go to my dorm, alright? Get you cleaned up,” he smiles, leading you out of the now very messy broom cupboard. To your surprise, Anthony is waiting for you a few metres up; Theo moves your body to the other side of him so that it is Theo that is closest to him. When you both walk straight past him he casually says, “Don’t worry about that piece of shit, Ravenclaw, I’ll fix him up tomorrow.” You wondered if that should worry you, not a problem for right now though, your mind still racing with lust and love.

The next morning, you wake up with a warm, almost surreal feeling in your chest. Everything feels different, like the air’s lighter, the world softer, and it’s all because of him. Theo. Yesterday's intensity, the way his hands gripped you like he’d never let go, still lingers on your skin like a secret that only the two of you share. You stretch out on your bed, staring at the ceiling, letting the memories replay in your head. You can’t help but smile as your body remembers the feeling.

But then, of course, reality hits you in the form of Pansy bloody Parkinson.

She barges into the dorm room with all the subtlety of a troll, her arms full of bags from her morning Hogsmeade run. Merlin, that girl has a shopping addiction. "Good morning, sunshine," she says, her voice dripping with sarcasm as she drops the bags onto her bed. "You’re glowing. What did you do? Save a baby unicorn?"

You roll your eyes, pulling the covers up to your chin, trying to hide the ridiculous grin that’s threatening to spill across your face. But Pansy, being Pansy, is like a bloodhound when it comes to sniffing out drama, and she narrows her eyes at you.

"Hold on," she says, pausing mid-unpacking, one perfectly manicured hand on her hip. "What is that look? That is not a ‘just got a full night’s sleep’ look. That is a someone rocked my world last night look."

You burst into laughter, but it’s the nerves that I’m hiding something kind of laugh, and Pansy’s eyes widen like she’s hit the jackpot.

"No fucking way." She abandons her bags completely, climbing onto your bed and sitting cross-legged before you. "Spill. Now."

You bite your lip, wondering how in Merlin's name you’re going to explain this without sounding completely insane. But then again, it’s Pansy. There’s no hiding anything from her, and part of you wants to tell her, to relive every second of it by saying it out loud. So, you do.

"It was Theo," you admit quietly, your heart racing as the words leave your mouth. "Yesterday. We… we hooked up."

Pansy’s jaw drops so hard you’re pretty sure you hear it hit the floor. "Theo? As in Theo Nott? The same Theo who’s been brooding over you for months and never made a move?"

You nod, feeling your face heat up under her gaze. "Yeah, that Theo."

For a moment, Pansy is entirely silent, just staring at you like she’s processing this monumental piece of information. Then, suddenly, she lets out a shriek so loud it probably wakes up half the castle.

"Holy shit!" she squeals, grabbing your hands and bouncing on the bed like an excited child. "I knew it! I fucking knew he had it bad for you! So? Was it amazing? Was he, like, all dominating and rough like I always imagined? Tell me everything!"

You laugh, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks as you think about last night—the way Theo touched you, the way he claimed you, like he’d been holding back for so long and finally couldn’t anymore.

"It was…" You pause, searching for the right word. "Intense. And, yeah, he was definitely possessive. He kept saying I was his."

Pansy squeals again, throwing herself back onto the bed dramatically. "I knew it! I knew that brooding, quiet thing was just a front. Ok, you’re my best friend you owe me the whole story, Don’t miss a detail." as you explain step by step you watch her eyes widen and her smile grow

Before you can say anything else, there’s a knock on the door. Matteo and Blaise stroll in without waiting for an invitation, looking far too smug for your liking. Blaise immediately heads for Pansy’s bed, flopping down like he owns the place, while Matteo leans against the dresser, arms crossed, a knowing smirk playing on his lips.

"What’s with the giddy shrieks?" Blaise asks, raising an eyebrow. "You two plotting something evil this early in the morning? We haven’t even had breakfast yet"

Pansy rolls her eyes dramatically. "Oh, please. We don’t need to plot evil. It just comes naturally."

Matteo snickers, but his eyes flick to you, narrowing slightly. "Wait a minute… what’s going on? Why does she look all… flustered?"

Before you can even think of a response, Pansy, being the absolute traitor that she is, jumps in with, "Oh, didn’t you hear? Our girl here finally got some action. With Theo."

Matteo and Blaise both freeze, staring at you in shock. For a split second, there’s dead silence, and then, like a synchronised team, they both throw their heads back and shout, "Finally!"

Your eyes widen as Blaise shakes his head in disbelief. "I was starting to think you two would just brood at each other for the rest of eternity."

Matteo crosses the room, sitting on the edge of your bed and giving you a playful shove. "Took you long enough."

You groan, burying your face in your hands. "Can everyone just stop? This is mortifying."

"Mortifying?" Matteo laughs. "No, what’s mortifying is how long you two have been dancing around each other. Honestly, I’m just relieved one of you finally made a move."

Blaise leans back against Pansy’s bed, smirking. "Yeah, we’ve been placing bets on when it would happen. Matteo won, by the way."

You look up, horrified. "You’ve been betting on us?"

"Of course we have," Pansy says, grinning. "It’s been, like, the slowest burn of the century."

You sigh, but you can’t help the small smile that tugs at your lips. As much as they’re embarrassing you right now, there’s something comforting in the way your friends are reacting—like they’ve all been rooting for this to happen as much as you have.

Blaise stands, giving you a teasing salute. "Well, I’ll leave you to bask in your post-Theo high. Just… try not to kill each other, yeah?"

Matteo follows him out the door, tossing one last look over his shoulder. "Finally."

Once they’re gone, you collapse back onto the bed, shaking your head. "I can’t believe them."

Pansy grins, lying next to you, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "I can. We’ve been watching this unfold for ages. I’m so happy for you."

“Thank you Pans”, you smile, turning as you lay closer next to her

“Oh! I heard the most unusual thing this morning. Draco told me,” she starts

“Go on” you giggle

“That Anthony Goldstein practically crawled to the hospital wing this morning, black eye, bloody shirt, it seemed pretty ruff” she continued “wait, weren't you sitting by him just yesterday?” you remembered.

Oh, Theo, he did indeed ‘take care of it’.

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goldfades · 1 year ago

Text

𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃 ─ PB⁵

౨ৎ ─ summary | paigey being your girlfriend - a list of relationship "headcanons"

─ warnings | in a bullet-point formatting, i hope you guys like it! fluff (lmk if yall want nsfw ones bc i can provide), paige being DOWN BAD, social media tingz, maybe alluding to being outed but not really, some angst but you can skip over it, paigey being protective (duh), nothing else?

─ taglist | @xocherishxo @iienstein @yazmunson and here's a link to my taglist if anyone would like to join!!

─ ev's notes | THIS IS SUCH LONG MESS BECAUSE I'M HAVING PAIGE BRAINROT RN, but i hope y'all enjoy nonetheless LOL being in my paige era i've read so many of these and i'm sure you guys have as well, so i'm making this as unique (or descriptive) as i possibly can to make it because it's more fun to read (and write cus im a sucker for details)

PRE-RELATIONSHIP STUFF

when you guys first started dating, i feel like paige would be kind of secretive about it

maybe secretive isn't the right word but very... private but not secret type of vibe (at least irl)

not because she doesn't want to show you off, because believe me, she wants to (she's a bragger what can i say)

but just because she wants to keep you all to herself for a while

she knows that as soon as people find out about it, everyone will be talking about it and making assumptions and she just wants to keep you to herself

at least for a couple months

she doesn't care about the public's opinions but she wants to make sure that y'all are LOCKED IN before she makes it public on social media

but it's clear to paige that y'all are very much locked in after the first couple weeks

she's not new to relationships and she's had her fair share but she can tell that it's different now

so the whole "not sure if i wanna hard/soft launch her cus what if we're not a long term" sentiment turns into "i wanna keep this special thing to myself ONLY for at least a couple months"

and of course the entire team knows paige is down bad for you, they've never ever seen her this WHIPPED

because paige seems like she'd be nonchalant and SHE IS... for people she doesn't give a fuck about

so when she likes someone, she LIKES someone

she is extra what can i say

they tease her about it and in any other situation, she would be annoyed but she loooooooves it because it's like "yeah i'm in the best most awesome relationship with the cutest sweetest and kindest girl in the PLANET"

you and paige would've definitely known of each other since freshman year but like... she's kinda intimidating so you sorta tried to steer clear of her

you were really close with some of the girls on the team, specifically azzi so you saw paige kind of a lot

but sophomore year, azzi kind of pushed you guys to be close and since she knows you guys so well, IT WORKED!

you guys clicked so quick and that doesn't happen a lot with paige, it takes a lot to earn her friendship

but you practically ripped down all her walls within like an hour of talking to her

definitely the first one to catch feelings

at least... to her ;)

very much friends to lovers trope with lots of sexual tension cus who doesn't love that?

i feel like after 3 months of being really close friends, you guys would spend like a shit ton of time together

you guys were ALWAYS together

she even tried to convince you to come to practice with her but you said no cus... what the heck

everyone knows... EVERYONE knows that paige likes you

and it kind of becomes like cemented (for paige at least) after she realized you were her literal COMFORT PERSON

like after every terrible, long practice or after losing games all she wants to do is be AROUND YOU so she could forget about everything

especially when she gets injured, she's such a wreck and the only person who made her feel better was you

it wasn't even what you said or what you did, it was simply just you

and after going through such a bad time with you, she realized that she liked you and she can't keep pretending

and she asked you (yaya!) and you said yes cus you liked her back (yaya!) and everything is just YAYA

so it's safe to say she knows she's found her soulmate within a month of knowing you

but she doesn't wanna seem like she's love-bombing you or whatever so she pretended to be nonchalant

which of course FAILS because she's down bad

so she tells you she loves you within like a month of dating

i KNOW it seems bad but you guys both felt it because of the whole injury and spending every moment together

when you know, you know vibes

she told you she loved you after you were there for her through some of the worst times of her life and you said it back of course and it's all cutesy

paige's love language is TOTALLY quality time and touch

even before you were dating, she just liked having her hands on you whether it was like holding your hand while walking through a crowd, or braiding your hair, or putting her head on top of yours or something as simple as just HUGGING you

but she kept it cordial of course cus y'all weren't dating

yeah that was all thrown out the window as soon you became her girlfriend

hands on you at ALL times, it becomes so subconscious neither of you even know you're doing it anymore

so remember that whole secret relationship thing?

well... everyone kind of figures it out online after like 3 months of dating

it was because of paige, poor girl couldn't keep her hands and lips off of you after a particularly hard game and somehow 🤨🤨someone gets a picture and it was all over twitter and tiktok the next day

literally "paige bueckers girlfriend" trending after an hour of getting posted

but neither of you cared too much about it because A. it was totally worth it cus the kiss was 😫😫😫 and B. she finally doesn't have to turn off her girlfriend mode when she's with you at games

cus she has the prettiest and best gf in the world and she wants everyone to know that

the only reason she was slightly annoyed was because she couldn't hard launch you on instagram :( poor girl had potential captions in her notes :( cus she's our little drama queen:(

but that doesn't stop her cus she ends up doing it! (shameless plug right there hehehe)

now that she can freely touch you and just be herself finally, she literally doesn't GAFFF

of course nothing like over the top because sure she loves PDA to a certain extent and she's an athlete so she needs to keep it civil

RELATIONSHIP STUFF

we've already covered how paige is a physical touch and quality time girly

and paige loves spending literally all her free time with you because you just recharge her

but it isn't in like an overwhelming way

paige understand that sometimes you need quiet time (or vice versa) but the thing is she doesn't even need you to talk just being around you is enough

so idk if it's necessarily QUALITY time but just being around you and spending every free second she has with you tells you that she is in love with you

paige is the most protective person IN THE WORLD, not just with you like in general

it doesn't even have to be someone she knows, if she sees someone giving someone else a hard time SHE WILL STEP IN!

and with her friends, y'all have seen her... she does not back down and will literally murder anyone who comes for the people she cares about

so if that's with people she doesn't know, and her friends, you guys can imagine how crazy she gets over you

if somebody says something even slightly consendecing or mean, slap. someone looks at you the wrong way? slap. somebody breaths wrong around you, slap.

obviously she won't lay a hand on them first but likeeee would she back down, nope

she is actually your guardian angel

like at parties, her hand is always on you and she never ever leaves your side

you need to get a drink, she's coming to

if you need to pee? she'll wait in the bathroom for you

yeah don't expect her to leave your side

because even when she IS by your side, there is always a weirdo in your guys' ear trying to get with one (or both!) of you

but yeah she's not afraid to defend you when it comes to literally anything

and this doesn't only apply to strangers, if there is someone that you know (your friend, her friend, etc) she WILL stand by you and defend you

like she doesn't shy away from confrontation, she will say something but only if you want her to

and GOD HELP THEM if you shed a single tear, cus the next morning you bet she's saying something

like i said, paige is a confrontational person and that means she's the biggest communicator

if she has a problem, she will tell you so that you guys can fix it

but sometimes she can come off a little argumentative and like she's just attacking you

she uses a lot of "you" statements so it seems like she's pushing the blame all on to you

so that can be the root of a lot of your guys' arguments when paige is only trying to solve the issues

but of course paige doesn't back down so she will be arguing with you even if she doesn't even know why, she just hates being wrong

but she doesn't let you leave or go to sleep unless the problem is fixed (or at least on the road to being fixed)

she'll give you space, she'll go another room to take a breather but she will not let you leave until it is fixed

usually after the breather you guys can come to an agreement and then paige usually hugs all the anger outta you

cus who could resist her?

if the argument lasts a couple days (it usually doesn't unless it's something serious) paige will talk it out with her mom or her friends

and you'll usually do the same

and paige will force you to sit down and talk about it until it is FIXED because she hates not being able to talk to you

and when you guys do eventually talk about it, especially if it's a serious topic, it will end with tears with both parties

but you guys always make up and everything will be better

okay okay no more angst ... for now hehehe

i feel like paige's nervous tic would be braiding the ends of her hair so i feel like that would transfer to YOU somehow

she just likes braiding your hair!!!!!! or just running her hands through your hair, it would help her relax

and if you're like me, it will help you relax as well

if you're black/have braids, she would only touch your hair if you let her!

paigey takes pictures OF EVERYTHING so obviously that includes you

her camera roll consists of ONLY you atp, like... 20% pics of literally anything else, and the rest would just be pictures of you or something to do with you

and oh my gosh don't get me started on the damn .5's of you, some of them are HORRENDOUSSSS and paige uses them as reaction pictures sometimes

and you found out from azzi that she does indeed use them in the girls groupchat

but she argues that you just look adorable which you respectfully disagree

oh and don't get me started on her tiktok drafts, she has at least 1,000 (rip her storage)

and when y'all started dating she just makes cute relationship tiktoks but she never posts them

EXPECT the "you're spinning me around, my feet are off the ground one" cus she wants to prove to the world that she has muscles

and the tiktok girlies will cry but WHO CARES!

oh and if you're on the basketball team, they will started to fan-girl over you as well

HELLA TIKTOK EDITS

and paige will favorite, repost and comment on them

like the most down-bad, insane comments you can think of

"GET THE STRAP GET THE STRAP!" is one of many ✨✨

if you aren't on the team, trust the tiktok girlies will find a way and they will make edits of you

and paige will do the same

obviously you do the same for her, your favorites are just paige edits atp (mine too)

ESPECIALLY THE GET IT SEXY ONE OMLL

and everyone will make ship edits and cutesy things like

"omg the way paige looks at her" and like a slideshow of paige being like all 😍😍😍

after paige gets more comfortable with like the media knowing about you two, she posts you every five seconds

usually like stories and stuff and especially if you’re also a basketball player, she reposts ALL your stuff

she is a proud gf !!!

she also has a highlight FOR SURE, she loves

also she def has like 10 diff wallpapers of you and her, some are really cute and some are really… 🫣

also paige strikes me as the type to like be texting you ALL DAY

and girl doesn’t care if you reply, she will send you 8 consecutive messages of different things

“omg look at the group chat 😂 *insert screeshot*” “baby they ran out of fucking caramel at dunkin, how does that happen ?” “i ended up going to a local cafe why did this shit cost me 9$” “baby you’re coming to my game on saturday right?” “HAHA look at this meme 😂” “why haven’t you responded to my tiktok’s in 2 days?”

yes she 100% uses the laughing with tears emoji argue with the WALL

or skull emoji

she also sends you 20 minute snapchat vlogs and they’re so chaotic, especially when she’s at practice or something

kk will steal her phone and say hi then you’ll hear them play fighting for like 80% of the vlog

also she does grwm’s on snapchat too when she’s at away games and her morning voice is SOOOO SEXY CUTE

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

#paige bueckers x reader #paige bueckers fic #paige bueckers fanfiction #paige bueckers smut #paige bueckers #uconn headcannons #uconn wbb #uconn huskies #uconn women’s basketball #ncaa women’s basketball #women's college basketball #wcbb fic #wcbb x reader #wcbb

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communicationthroughlyrics · 9 months ago

Text

Watch The World Explode, From Underneath Your Glow

It was supposed to be a relaxing night with your wife. People forget things, that happens. But the way people look at your wife? Well, that drives you insane.

A/N: Hello friends, thank you all for your continued support and kind words. I appreciate it! As a thank you, a ONE-SHOT, smutty lil' thing with an Intersex Reader. Much love y'all!

TW: Intersex!Reader, P in V sex, jealous/kinda anxious reader, and just some sex that I desperately need to dish to someone 😅

Word Count: 5.1K

I Wanna Take You Home

There was a faint smell of perfume as you crossed the threshold to your shared loft. Tossing your backpack off to the side, you shrug the blazer off your shoulders, hanging it up behind the front door. The space was eerily quiet, which was unusual for a weekday evening. You could've sworn that Lizzie said she would be home tonight when you got off, but it doesn't seem like she is.

"Lizzie?" you call out, waiting for a response as you stand in the middle of your living room. The only reply is the soft ticking of the clock on the wall, echoing through the open-plan space. The loft's high ceilings and large windows normally filled the apartment with a comforting warmth, but tonight they only emphasized the emptiness. You glance down at your phone, seeing it's already 6:42 PM. You start to walk to your bedroom, recalling the conversations over the past week that would tell you where she may be.

Perhaps she got held up at work again or went to meet friends without mentioning it. You decide to call her, quickly pressing her contact photo, a photo that makes you smile at the memory. You had gone to a pumpkin patch to pick out some of the orange orbs for Halloween decorations. Her laughter had been infectious as you both tried to find the perfect one. She had walked ahead of you, oblivious to you fishing out the device from your pocket, and snapping pictures of her as she twirled and skipped through the field. The autumn leaves were a perfect backdrop as her blonde hair swirled around, a bright smile on her face as her eyes finally landed on you.

The line rings, and just when you think it's going to voicemail, she finally picks up. You can tell she is laughing, her voice having familiar breathiness, before hearing her speak through the line.

"Hi baby," she began. "Did you just get home?"

You nodded even though she couldn't see you, the question echoing in your mind. "Yeah, I was expecting you to be here," you laughed a little, walking around the living room, and rubbing the back of your neck. "Did something come up?"

Her laughter trickled through the speaker, and you felt a pang of annoyance. "Oh babe, I'm so sorry. I completely forgot to text you. I'm at that restaurant on the corner of 12th and 47th. We had some last-minute changes to the project we've been working on, but since we got them all worked out, we are officially done and celebrating."

You leaned against the wall, feeling a mix of relief and disappointment. "It's okay," you lied, trying to keep the edge out of your voice. "What time do you think you'll be back?"

"Well, we're just about to order some food," she said, her voice filled with excitement. "But I'm not sure, there's a bunch of people here. You should come, I want to introduce you to everyone."

Your eyes scanned the empty kitchen, the fridge barely holding a few takeout containers. "Okay," you respond, typing the restaurant name into your phone to get the GPS directions there. "I'll be there in 20. I love you, babe."

"Love you too," she says, and before you can ask anything else, the line goes dead. You let out a sigh, tuck the phone into your pocket, and head to the bedroom to change into something more dinner casual. You opt for a shirt you know Lizzie loves- a coppery, silk button-up that shows your tanned skin underneath. After slipping on a pair of loose-fit tan linen pants and some black loafers, you grab your keys and head out the door.

You muss your hair, ruffling it slightly and making sure it looks how you want it to, before pushing the brake pedal to the floorboard and starting the car. The engine purrs to life and you pull out of the garage, navigating the familiar streets to the restaurant. The evening air is cool and crisp, hinting at the coming winter, and the streetlights cast a warm glow that makes the city feel alive. You park and head inside, the buzz of conversation and clinking of glasses growing louder as you approach the large group in the private room in the rear of the restaurant.

As you enter, Lizzie spots you and waves, her eyes lighting up. She stands, and you take in her effortless beauty. The black blouse she chose was tucked into a heathered, almost canvas-like skirt that hugged her hips tight. The black heels she wore clicked through the restaurant as she began weaving through her colleagues with a grace that was as mesmerizing as it was frustrating. She's surrounded by a sea of faces you don't know, all of them looking at you with curiosity. She kisses you on the cheek, and you catch a whiff of wine and something else - a scent that isn't quite her perfume. "Everyone, this is my wife," she says, her arm around your waist, pulling you closer. "This is Y/N, the one I've been telling you all about."

You force a smile, feeling a bit like an intruder in her professional world. The introductions are a blur of names and job titles, none of which you can remember. They all seem friendly enough, though you notice a few lingering glances from one of her colleagues, a man with piercing blue eyes and a cocky smile. You try to ignore the knot in your stomach and focus on the conversation, sipping the wine someone hands you. The room is a whirlwind of chatter and laughter, but it feels forced as if everyone's playing a role in a play you don't know the script to.

As the dinner progresses, the stories get louder and the drinks flow more freely. You sit next to Lizzie, trying to engage in the conversation, but she seems more absorbed in the banter across the table. You can't help but feel a twinge of jealousy at the ease with which she interacts with her work friends. You've never felt particularly welcome in this part of her life, always the plus-one at work functions and the one left out of inside jokes. The blue-eyed colleague keeps looking over, his gaze lingering just a beat too long.

The server brings out plates of food, the aroma of garlic and butter filling the air. You take a bite of the pasta, hoping the carbs will help soothe the discomfort in your stomach. The conversation turns to the latest office drama, and Lizzie leans in, recounting a story with animated gestures. Her hand lands on your thigh, and you give it a gentle squeeze, hoping to remind her that you're there. But she doesn't seem to notice, her attention fully on her colleagues. You begin to feel a familiar pit of jealousy and anger in your stomach, you don't like to be ignored. Especially when there is someone who is practically eye-fucking your wife from across the table.

The blue-eyed colleague, whose name you've already forgotten, tells a joke that has the whole table in stitches, except for you. You've heard it before. It's not funny, it's just a play on words that only people who don't know any better find amusing. You manage a polite chuckle, trying not to let your annoyance show. But as the laughter dies down, you catch his eye, and he winks at you. It's subtle, but it's there. The wink sends a cold shiver down your spine, and you take a sip of your wine, trying to wash the feeling away.

"Lizzie, dear?" You lean in, trying to get her attention. She turns to you, her face slightly flushed as she is now onto at least her 4th glass of wine.

"Yes, my love?" She purrs, her eyes a bit glazed over as she leans into your chest.

You swallow hard, willing the anger to stay at bay. "Could I talk to you for a second?" You ask, your voice calm but firm. Her face drops slightly, but she nods at you.

"Of course," she says, before she follows you out of the room, her stumble slightly exaggerated as she stands. You lead her to the quieter bar area, where the music isn't as loud and the lights aren't as bright. You lean against the polished wooden counter, the coolness of the marble seeping through your shirt.

"Is everything okay?" she asks, her eyes searching your face.

You take a deep breath, trying to calm your nerves. "Well, yes, I would say 'OK' is an adequate way to describe everything," you start, keeping your voice steady. "But I just wanted to talk to you about something."

Lizzie's expression shifts from tipsy cheer to concern. "What is it?" she asks, reaching for your hand. You pull your hand away from her, rubbing the back of your neck.

"Actually, it’s a couple of things," you begin, your voice a tad shakier than you intended. "One, why didn't you tell me about this dinner? I would have liked to be included from the start."

Her eyes widen, the concern deepening. "Oh, baby, I'm sorry. It just came up, I didn't think it would turn into this," she gestures vaguely to the noisy room behind her. "But I'm so happy you're here now."

You nod, acknowledging her apology but not letting it dissolve your feelings entirely. "And two, while you say that you wanted me here, and you're happy that I came, I cannot help but feel like you wouldn't have invited me had I not called, and you haven't been the most attentive since I got here." You let the words hang in the air, watching as the color drains from her cheeks. She goes to speak, but you stop her. "And lastly," you begin, glancing over to the room where her colleagues were all seated, laughing and clinking glasses as thier banter grew louder. "Flirty Mc Blue Eyes has been practically eye-fucking you all night. Is there something I need to know about, Elizabeth?"

Her hand flies to her mouth, a gasp escaping her lips. "What? No, no, it's nothing like that. I swear, he's just a flirty guy, it's his thing." She tries to laugh it off, but her eyes dart back to the table where the blue-eyed colleague is watching the exchange with a smug look. "Baby," she steps towards you, her arms wrapping around your neck as her fingers work through your short hair. You look into those green seas that you find so much comfort in, seeing nothing but genuine honesty within them.

"You have nothing to worry about, darling." She purrs into your ear, standing on her tiptoes to reach. Her breath was warm, tickling the shell of your ear and sending shivers down your spine. "He's just a colleague. You know I only have eyes for you. Do you want me to prove that to you?"

You feel your anger and jealousy shift to desire and arousal at your wife's words. You feel a growl echo through your chest at her words. Leaning down to her ear, you whisper, "Those better not be empty words, baby girl." She shivers in your arms, and you can feel her breath hitch as you pull her closer. You kiss her neck, feeling her pulse quicken under your lips.

Lizzie pulls away, a mischievous smirk playing on her lips. "Now, let’s go be social, shall we?" she says, taking your hand and leading you back to the table. As you sit down, you notice the blue-eyed colleague's gaze lingering on the two of you, his smug look replaced with something resembling annoyance. You decide to make it your mission to show him that she's yours and you're not just some forgotten plus-one.

The conversation turns to the upcoming office retreat, and you listen intently as Lizzie's voice becomes more animated. You lean in, whispering sweet nothings in her ear that make her giggle and blush. You make a point to touch her frequently, your hand resting possessively on her thigh, your fingers tracing patterns that only she can feel. The tension between you two is palpable, and the blue-eyed colleague's glances become less frequent, his smirk fading.

Deciding to test the waters, you lean over, resting your lips against Lizzie’s ear. "You look stunning tonight, doll," you murmur, your voice thick with desire. She giggles again, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she nods. You nuzzle your nose under her ear, right by that sweet spot you know she loves. "Makes me want to take you home and rip that skirt right off of you." She shifts in her seat, her hand flying to your upper thigh, squeezing it tightly. You press a lingering kiss to her pulse point before pulling away slightly. "If you’re that beautiful in those clothes, you must be beautiful out of them, right?"

The room is a blur of conversation around you, but the only voice you’re tuned into is hers. Her hand slides up your thigh, sending a bolt of heat straight to your core. "Oh, baby," she whispers, her breath hot against your neck. "You have no idea." Her eyes dart to her colleagues, who are still deep in conversation before she leans in closer. "But then again, you only think you know what’s underneath this outfit."

The tease sends your mind racing, and you squeeze her thigh in response. The night wears on, and the alcohol loosens everyone's inhibitions. You watch as Lizzie laughs at every joke, her hand sliding higher up your leg with every touch. It's a silent battle of wills with the blue-eyed colleague, but you're winning. He tries to rejoin the conversation, but she's focused solely on you now.

The teasing touches and remarks continue throughout the dinner, she has finally made her way up to the apex of your thighs, rubbing your member through the loose fabric of your pants. "Someone is liking this," she whispered, placing a kiss on the shell of your ear. "But don't get too excited, I'm not sure if we're going to be able to leave just yet." You bite your bottom lip, trying to compose yourself as the heat builds between the two of you.

You continue to think when you finally get an idea. You scoot back as subtly as possible, excusing yourself to the restroom. You walk down the darkened hallway towards the lavatory, thankful that the majority of the dinner rush has left. You look back over your shoulder, ensuring no one has followed you. The bathroom is empty, the soft lighting casting a warm glow on the tiles. You enter a stall, lock the door behind you, and pull out your phone, typing out a quick message to Lizzie. You feel like you're back in high school.

-Meet me in the restroom. 2 minutes. -

You smile as the text goes from delivered to read, indicating she knows what to do next. Not even 30 seconds later, you hear the door creak open, and her heels click on the tile floor. She locks the door behind her and you can feel the anticipation thick in the air. She opens the stall, and you take in her flushed cheeks and smoky eyes. Without saying a word, she straddles you, her skirt hiking up around her waist. You groan as she grinds herself against you, the fabric of your pants the only barrier between you two.

"Oh, baby, no panties?" you groan into her ear, nipping at the side of her neck as she whimpered and rocked on your lap. She smirks, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Thought you might like that," she whispers, her hand reaching down to unbuckle your belt. You tutt, swatting her hand away. Her eyes dart to yours, a mixture of lust and confusion.

"Home," you growl, standing with her legs still wrapped around your hips. She whined at the thought of having to wait, her eyes misty with passion. You give her a quick, hard kiss before setting her down and exiting the stall. You wash your hands, fix your shirt, and glance at her in the mirror. She straightens her skirt, fluffs her hair, and fixes her lipstick. The sight of her doing this in such a public place sends a thrill through you.

"Good thing you chose loose pants," she giggled, leaning into you and stealing a kiss, grasping firmly on your throbbing length. The sudden stimulation causes you to gasp, allowing her to push her tongue into your mouth, quickly overtaking and dominating a very sloppy, passionate kiss. She pulls away, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Come on baby, let's go."

You nod, leading her out of the bathroom, and glance at the table. "Should we say goodbye?" you ask, a wry smile on your features.

"No," she smirks back, quietly working through the main dining room of the restaurant. "I just want you."

Her words are music to your ears as you both sneak out of the bathroom. You can feel the tension between your legs, a stark contrast to the casual air you're trying to maintain as you make your way to the exit. The cool evening air hits you as you step outside, and you immediately feel a sense of urgency. You lead Lizzie to the car, the engine purring to life as you drive off, the city lights blurring past the windows. The drive home is a battle of wills, both of you fighting the urge to rip each other's clothes off.

As you pull into the garage, the tension is palpable. You can't even wait to get to the bedroom. You press her against the car, kissing her hard, your hands roaming her body. She gasps as you pinch her nipples through her blouse, her hips bucking against yours. You can feel her wetness through your pants, and the thought of her being this turned on because of you is intoxicating.

"Oh darling," you growl in her ear as your body presses her against the passenger door of the car. "I am going to destroy you for tonight." She gasps, her breaths coming out in short pants as she nods, eagerly anticipating what is to come. Your hand reaches down to lift her skirt, sliding your hand between her legs to feel her heat. She is soaking wet, and you can't resist sliding a finger into her, watching her eyes roll back in pleasure.

"More," she whispers, her voice needy. You comply, adding another finger, curling them just right to hit her g-spot. Her legs quiver around your hips, and you can feel her beginning to lose control. You pull away, suddenly turning and walking to the elevator doors. She stumbles after you, her heels clicking against the concrete floor.

Once inside the elevator, you push her against the wall, your mouth claiming hers in a fiery kiss. Your hands roam over her body, tugging at her clothes, desperate to feel her bare skin. The elevator dings, announcing your arrival at your floor, and you break away, smirking as you pull her out into the hallway. She stumbles slightly, her eyes glazed with lust.

You unlock the door and push her inside, the loft bathed in the soft glow of the living room lights. The quiet starkly contrasts the restaurant's buzz, and it feels like the perfect playground for your desires. You slam the door shut, spinning her around to face you. Your hands trace the curves of her body, the fabric of her blouse feeling like sandpaper against your fingertips. You rip it open, buttons flying everywhere, and she giggles, her cheeks flushed with excitement as her eyes darken to forest-green seas of lust.

Her skirt follows suit, landing in a pool around her ankles. Your kisses become more frantic, more possessive as you devour her neck and collarbone. She arches her back, pushing her breasts against your chest, her nipples pebbling with need. You reach behind her, unclipping her bra and letting it fall to the floor, revealing her perfect, perky breasts. You take one in your mouth, sucking and biting the sensitive skin as she moans your name.

Her hands are equally busy, unbuttoning your shirt and sliding it off your shoulders. Her nails trace the lines of your abs, sending sparks of pleasure through your body. You lift her, her legs wrapping around your waist as you carry her to the bedroom. The room is dimly lit by the moon shining through the windows, casting shadows across the bed. You lay her down, taking a moment to drink in the sight of her, sprawled out before you, bare and beautiful.

You kiss down her chest, your teeth grazing the sensitive skin of her breasts before moving down to her stomach. You can feel her tense with every touch, her breath hitching as you reach her bare waist, nipping and licking above where she needs you the most. She's begging for you, her hands tangled in your hair, guiding you where she wants you. You look up at her, her eyes hooded with desire, and smirk as the smell of her arousal slowly invades your senses.

"What do you want, baby?" you husk at her, not quite willing to give in until she tells you.

Her eyes flash with something primal and she growls, "You know what I want."

You kiss down her body, your tongue tracing the path of your fingers, until you reach the juncture of her thighs. You hover there for a moment, feeling her pulse against your mouth. "Tell me," you demand, your voice low and commanding. Her legs we shaking as they tried you close around your head, but you were forcing them to stay open.

"I want you," she whispers, her voice trembling with need. "I want you to taste me, to make me cum."

With a growl of your own, you give in to her demand, pressing your mouth to her pussy. Your tongue flicks out, tasting her sweetness, and she arches off the bed, her hands gripping the sheets. You lick and suck, exploring her with an intensity that makes her toes curl. Her legs tighten around your neck, and you can feel her getting closer, her moans filling the room. You love the way she tastes, the way she feels against your tongue. It's intoxicating, and you know you could spend hours doing this. You take the opportunity with her back off the bed to push yourself upwards, effectively lifting all but her head and arms off the bed, wrapping an arm around her hips while one supported her ass.

You pushed your tongue into her wet walls, slurping and licking at all of her arousal as she writhed and mewled in your grasp. Her moans were urging you on as you explored every crevice of her pussy. You could feel her getting closer, her juices becoming even sweeter as she neared her peak. You sucked hard on her clit, flicking it with your tongue in a rhythm that had her breathless and shaking. Her legs tightened around your neck, her heels digging into your back as she begged for release.

"Please, baby..." she moaned, as you leaned back, pulling her with you as her back came into contact with your front. You could feel her shiver as you continued to probe her entrance with your tongue. You took her clit into your mouth, sucking and biting gently, while you slid two fingers into her, curling them in that magical way you knew she liked. She bucked her hips against your mouth, her cries of pleasure echoing off the walls. You could feel her getting closer, her muscles tightening around your fingers. She was wiggling and moving you both around, desperate for her release.

Her orgasm hit her like a wave, crashing over the shoreline of your senses as she screamed out your name. Her entire body tightened, her pussy pulsing around your tongue as she came hard. You didn't stop, keeping the rhythm steady as she rode out her climax, her heels digging into your shoulders. It was a sight to behold, one that you never tired of. Her eyes were squeezed shut, her mouth open in a silent scream as her body trembled in your arms. You pulled away, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand as you let her back down on the bed. You crawled up, resting between her legs as you kissed her passionately.

She moaned as she tasted herself on you. Her hands were everywhere, clawing at your back, pulling you closer as she kissed you with the same desperation she had felt moments ago. "I need you inside me," she gasped, her hips rocking against yours. You could feel the tip of your throbbing member poking at her wetness, and as she kept rocking against you, she began to tease herself with your length.

With a groan, you pulled away from her kiss, sliding down to position yourself at her entrance. You looked into her eyes, watching as she bit her bottom lip, her pupils blown wide with desire. You pushed in, inch by inch, her walls clenching around you like a tight fist. She was so wet and ready, and you felt yourself get lost in the feeling of her heat surrounding you. "Fuck," you breathed, as you reached the hilt, her pussy stretching to accommodate your girth.

She arched back in a silent scream, her hands blindly searching for you as they came to rest on your breast, thumbing your nipples as she lay back down. "More," she begged her voice a breathy whisper that sent chills down your spine. You didn't need any more encouragement. You began to thrust into her, your movements slow and deliberate at first, feeling every inch of her tightness. She was so wet, so warm, and so incredibly tight around you. It was like sliding into heaven.

Her legs wrapped around your waist, pulling you deeper into her with every stroke. You could feel her nails digging into your back as she moaned your name, urging you to go faster. You obliged, your hips moving faster, the slap of your skin against hers filling the quiet loft. Her walls were tightening around you, contracting as she neared another orgasm. You leaned down, your teeth grazing her neck as you whispered dirty words into her ear.

"You're mine, Lizzie," you said, your voice gruff with desire. "Say it." You nipped and sucked at the column of her throat, leaving a trail of marks that would need to be covered if she goes to the office. But you didn't care. It was childish, but you wanted everyone to see your marks.

"I'm yours," she breathed, her voice was a sweet surrender that was music to your ears. You thrust into her harder, feeling the tension in your balls tighten. She was so wet, so hot, and she felt so good around you. You could feel yourself getting closer, your rhythm becoming erratic.

Her nails raked down your back, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. "Again," she begged her voice a whimper that sent a shiver down your spine. You didn't need to be told twice. You picked up the pace, hammering into her with a fierce passion that left her panting and whimpering your name. Her walls tightened around you, squeezing you in a vice-like grip that was both painful and pleasurable.

"I'm going to cum," she screamed, her legs tightening around your waist. You could feel her pussy spasm around you, and it was all the encouragement you needed. You thrust into her one last time, feeling the warmth of her orgasm as it washed over you. You followed her over the edge, your release filling her up. You collapsed on top of her, both of you panting and trying to catch your breath.

You lay there, your heart pounding against her chest, your cock still twitching inside her. You kiss her neck, feeling her pulse race beneath your lips. "Fuck, Lizzie," you murmur, your voice still thick with lust.

She giggles, the sound is music to your ears. "That was... intense," she says, her voice filled with awe. "Maybe I need to get you jealous more often..." she teased, tracing her fingers over the red, angry welts from her nails on your back. You can't help but smile, feeling a swell of pride at her admission.

"Don't push it, darling," you murmur, kissing her forehead. "Or I might just have to take you in public." You both laugh, the tension of the evening dissipating as you lay in each other's arms, basking in the afterglow of your passion.

You roll over, looking into her eyes. "I love you," you say, your voice earnest. She smiles, her eyes sparkling. "I love you too," she whispers, her voice thick with emotion. You can see the truth in her gaze, and it fills you with warmth.

The room is quiet except for the sound of your mingled breaths and the distant sirens of the city outside. You kiss her softly, savoring the taste of her lips. Your hand finds hers, your fingers interlocking as you both lay there. "I'm sorry for being such a jealous prick," you admit, feeling the weight of the evening's tension lift from your shoulders.

She giggles, stroking your cheek with her thumb. "It's okay," she says, her voice soothing. "It's kind of hot, actually."

You can't help but chuckle at her response. "If you say so." You lean in for another kiss, feeling the love between you stronger than ever. The sound of her laughter, the feel of her skin against yours, it's all intoxicating. But you know you can't stay here forever. You roll off her, pulling her into your arms. "We should get cleaner up, get some rest," you murmur, your voice lazy with satisfaction. She nods, snuggling closer.

You both get up, a little wobbly on your legs, and make your way to the bathroom. The cold water from the faucet is a shock to your system, but it helps to bring you back to reality. You clean up, and she watches you with a smile on her face, her eyes roaming over your body. You look back at her, the love and lust warring in your gaze. "Ready for round two?" you ask, a wicked smile playing on your lips. She nods, her cheeks flushing with excitement. She grasped your semi-erect member, slowly pumping it as her eyes darkened.

It was going to be a long night.

#communicatethrulyrics #wlw fanfic #lesbian nsft #elizabeth olsen x you #elizabeth olsen x fem!reader #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen x female reader #lizzie olsen #wanda fanfic #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda maximoff x reader

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lotusloong · 2 months ago

Text

Love of a Flower

Relationship: Sun Wukong X Female LoongDragon!Reader

AN: Alrighty, I've been working on this for a bit now, hope y'all like it! I originally got the idea when playing Black Myth and reading the OG books and it kinda spiraled from there. I have mentioned Loong!Reader in another fic I have, this is the birth place of her! It just so happened that she could seamlessly fit into the world of New Gods as well so I used her there. See y'all at the end!

Seriously tho, heed the gore and body mod tag. I tried to make it descriptive while not going too crazy with it, but it can still intense to some.

Tags: Fluff, Romance, Soulmates, Fast Burn, I mean - really fast burn, its real sappy too, Fairytale Elements, Mythology Elements, Listen if mythology can get weird and freaky with it then so can I, speaking of, Slight Freak4Freak, Wukong does some weird ass stuff to help Reader who is into it, Slight Gore, Blood, Body Modification, No Smut, References to Smut, this thing is nearly 10k words I do not have the strength to add smut right now, Casual Nudity, for just a moment tho, LoongDragon!Reader, I don't care if Reader is a dragon - she has tits when smaller, if I missed any tags let me know

Summary: You have never left your pond. It's safe, protected, tranquil.

A bit lonely…

A group passing by changes all that.

Tag List: @mythicallystupid

Read it on AO3!

It was the promise of a safe place to rest for the night that drew him to your home.

Your spot was a humble one, some would say too humble for a mighty dragon, but most days you didn't feel ‘mighty’. You just felt like yourself. It wasn't anything grand, but a gentle waterfall flowed into your pound, where the water swirled and settled before leaving you in the form of a modest creek. Animals, yaoguai, and even the occasional human could find peace at your pond. Your presence would prevent any fights or attacks, and in return the travelers left small offerings at the water's edge and cleaned up after themselves.

So long as they didn't try to pluck the closed budding lotus in the center of your lake, you were happy to see others pass through.

One morning you woke up and pulled yourself from the water to see a thin trail of smoke creeping above the treeline. With a gentle push you lifted yourself into the air and glided with the wind, glancing over your shoulder briefly at the lotus flower in the center of your pond, petals still closed where it floated across the surface of the crystal clear water. Satisfied it would be safe without your dutiful eye for a moment, you made your way to the smoke stack. A quick glance down showed a campsite in the morning light and you sighed to yourself as relief settled your mind.

You would rather have new visitors near your home than a wildfire. You hide yourself among the clouds, shivering at the chill as water immediately buds along your scales from the cloud. Your pond is so temperate compared to this, and you already miss its depths.

You shake yourself, time to focus. You peer down at the campsite to make out the different figures still sleeping away. A brilliant white horse that was surrounded by magic had a monk leaning against its side as they slept, a bedroll with some kind of pig yaoguai curled up, and an ogre sleeping against a tree, bags of luggage surrounding him. An odd group to be certain, but if they were traveling with a monk you were certain they would be friendly enough.

Satisfied, you were just about to fly back to your pond when a flash of brilliant red shone from the trees. Your own eyes narrow at the sight, twisting your long coils in the air to keep yourself afloat. The details of what you were looking at came to you, and you realized you were looking at the face of a monkey. Glowing red eyes surrounded by soft fur, a gold fillet sitting above their brow. The rest of them was hidden in the tree but you didn't need to see more to know that you were looking at some type of monkey yaoguai. You could sense the power of those eyes.

Under your gaze, the eyes lost their glow, turning to a brilliant gold, and you were left staring at each other. You gave a respectful nod, and were pleased to have it returned. Satisfied with what you had seen, you flew back home.

~~~~~~~

They came by your pond the next day.

You had heard them walking, the sound of the horse’s hooves on the dirt, the pig shuffling and jumping, the ogre’s steady thumping. You didn't hear the monkey's footsteps, not without straining your ears to catch the soft pitter-patter of his steps. You shifted into your human form where you sat by your waterfall, the wind carrying their conversation to you.

“I would not lie about such things. What could I possibly gain by claiming to see a dragon?”

“I don't know! You always have some kind of trick for me monkey! How do we know you aren't trying to trick Bai Long Ma!”

“Because unlike you, pig, Bai Long Ma is reliable and helpful. I wouldn't want to drive him away.” You could hear indignant screeching in response.

“Whaa-! Master! Master, you see how he bullies me-!”

“What colors did this dragon have?” A deep baritone interrupted the sputtering, and the layered voice was the familiar sound of your own kind. A fellow dragon was traveling with this group.

“White with a black belly. I didn't see much detail, they were too high up.”

“Hmmm, I am not familiar with them personally. Must be a young river guardian.”

“Aha! You see! A dragon prince doesn't recognize them, how do you know it was even a dragon? Could have been a shapeshifter.” As the words were spoken the magnificent white horse from the camp stepped out of the treeline, power coursing underneath the layers of muscle. Deep sea green eyes immediately locked with yours, kin recognizing kin despite your transformed states. Your fellow dragon stopped in his tracks, much to the concern of the being sitting on his back. The monk you had seen the day before followed the gaze of his mount, eyebrows raising in surprise to see you sitting in the water.

“I know because of my truth seeing eyes you idiot-” Another figure stepped out, the one you saw hiding in the trees. A monkey yaoguai like you had thought, his frame sleek but muscular under the rags he wore. The pig walking next to him snarled.

“So what then!? If it was a dragon we should expect heavy rain? Flooding?” His tusks peaked from his lips, and the monkey snarled in turn. His massive canines were far more impressive and intimidating. The sight of them made your heart race. You hardly noticed the ogre silently stopping behind them.

“If there is to be a flood I welcome it, if only for the chance that you'll be washed away! Taken far, far from here and never to be seen again!” The pig yaoguai practically screeched his anger, and you couldn't help the giggle that escaped you at the monkey's sharp tongue.

The sound had the last three party members snapping their gaze to you, the feud put on hold. You brought the sleeves of your hanfu up to cover your embarrassed grin from their sudden attention.

“I don't plan to flood this forest anytime soon, but I'll be sure to give you a warning if I change my mind.” You spoke.

“For that, we would be grateful.” The monk smiled at you, giving a polite bow you returned. You stood from your mossy rock and stepped closer to the group.

“This is my home, but you are welcome to camp here as long as you wish. All I ask in return is for my pond to be respected, and for you to not touch my lotus flowers. They’re precious to me, I hate to see them plucked.” While not a total lie - you did love the plants growing in your home - it was the same excuse you gave to all travelers who passed by. You couldn’t take the chance of someone plucking your heart. “You are free to take from any of the plants and herbs along the shoreline though! Just let me know which ones you pluck so I can tend to them after.”

The dragon acting as a horse bowed his head low.

“We are grateful, sister. Your generosity knows no bounds.” He rumbled. You waved him off.

“Oh please, consider it payment for keeping me company while you rest. Most stay away once they realize a dragon lives here.” You look away with a wistful sigh. It was nice living in your pond, but it did get rather lonely…

The dragon horse turned to the other members of the party with a sharp glare, sea green eyes intense. “You two will behave yourselves while we are camped here, understand? I won’t allow rudeness to one of my own who opens her home up so kindly.”

The pig yaoguai looked surprised at the stern tone, but nodded eagerly.

The monkey’s eyes darted your way before he gave an over exaggerated bow to the horse, his tail going high in the air to keep his balance as he bent so far forward.

“I vow to you, Bai Long Ma, Third Son of the Dragon King of the West Sea, as the Handsome King of the Monkeys, the Great Sage Equaling Heaven, the Famed Stone Monkey, Lord of Gold and Metal-”

“Enough with the titles, get on with it.” The dragon interrupted with a roll of his eyes and a nicker of annoyance.

“...I would never dream of causing trouble.” The smirk on his lips said otherwise. You couldn’t resist giggling at his words, or the way the others around him looked unconvinced. What a cheeky monkey.

~~~~~~~

It was that same afternoon you saw the pig demon, Bajie they called him, running into your pond with a fearful scream. The monkey floated above him on a cloud, grin smug. You were back in your true form just under the surface of the water, peaking only your head out to see what all the commotion was. Bajie jumped and nearly screamed again at the sight of you, but stopped himself with a hand over his pounding heart.

“What happened?” You asked, looking between the two of them.

“He-!” Bajie pointed an accusing finger at the monkey above you both, “transformed into a giant scorpion in my bedroll and chased me here!” You raised a questioning eyebrow at the other demon who merely shrugged in response. You covered your snout with your claws. It wasn’t polite to laugh at your guests. Bajie didn’t seem to notice your amusement, moving closer to you in the water.

“He torments me! Day in and day out!”

“He sounds rather cruel.” You snicker, the monkey grinning back at you utterly shameless.

“He is! But something that always helps is a kiss from a beautiful maiden! Good lady would you mind-” Shock rips through you at Bajie’s sudden words, and the sudden close proximity he had to you in the water. One of his hands reached up to your muzzle, about to touch a long whisker, one of the most sensitive parts of your body, and you froze. Your mind scrambled to get you to swim away from the stranger taking up your personal space but your muscles remained locked stiff.

A sudden dull ‘thunk’ sounded through the clearing and the pig fell back from you and into the water, unconscious as he floated in the current. A staff with intricate gold patterns was extended in the air right where Bajie’s head had been moments ago. Your eyes follow the staff up to the monkey demon, who was scowling at the unconscious form of his companion.

“Talking like that is what made me chase him in the first place. He never learns.” He ‘tsked’ and shook his head before looking back at you. His golden eyes had an unusual sense of seriousness to them. “Pay no mind to him. He talks too much and may push boundaries, but he’d never try anything.”

You nod your head, tension leaving your frame as you relaxed back into the cool water of your pond.

“Th-thank you. I wasn’t expecting him to…to…” You wave a claw at the pig’s snoring form which was currently making a lazy circle as the water swirled around him. The monkey snorted and lowered his cloud closer to you.

“Yeah, he’s an idiot but he’s harmless. Mostly. Sometimes he can be useful in a scuffle.” The monkey shrugged and you snorted at his words. There was a gleam of pride in his golden eyes at the sound of your laughter.

“I don’t believe I caught your name earlier.” You said after finding your composure. “You claimed to be the king of monkeys this morning, don’t tell me you are the same Monkey King, Sun Wukong?” The smile you received in response was answer enough.

“I am! Heard of me and my greatness have you? What’s your favorite story?” Wukong’s tail had a pleased curl to it, rising up behind him as he preened under your gaze. The late afternoon sun gave his russet fur a golden glow and you couldn’t help but think he looked rather pretty.

“Would it be biased to say when you came to visit the Dragon King of the East? I wasn’t there, but I wish I had been just so I could have seen the antics you started!” The Monkey King is delighted by your response, and he stays hovering over the water of your pond to chat with you more.

The conversation flows like the stream leading away from your pond, gentle but consistent. Tales about his past, mixed in with gossip about the many gods and demons he met and small details about fights and pranks that aren’t included in the common versions of the stories, then discussions about the journey he’s on now, then your river and the small shrine resting at the shore. As much as he boasts about himself, he asks for details about you just as eagerly.

“So, you tend to the plants that grow around here?” The Great Sage asks, his head cocked in curiosity as he watches you. His cloud has lowered significantly during your talk, the white puff resting gently on the surface of the water to meld into a light fog before dissipating. It’s a convenient distraction to focus on so you don’t get lost in the golden depths of his eyes.

“Yes! It’s not the same as a proper garden but…I work with what I have. I learned everything about plant care from my grandfather…” You gave a wistful sigh, remembering your time as a hatchling. Things had been so simple…

“Someday, maybe, I’ll get a proper set up to care for them and grow other types of plants too. I would love to grow fruit trees and berry bushes-”

“Peach trees!?” Wukong interrupts you, leaning in very close to your personal space. He almost looks like he’s about to fall off his nimbus cloud, he’s so far forward. Unlike with the pig demon, you don’t feel the same uncomfortable urge to run. Your heart beats a little faster in your ribs and you feel heat climb to your cheeks, but you don’t move away.

“Of course! I’d love a whole orchard of different fruits, peaches would have to be there as well.” The Monkey King’s smile is as bright as the sun at your words, his grin eager as he speaks.

“Would you save some for me? I’ll come back and visit every day if it means I get free peaches.”

“Only the best for the Great Sage.” Your cheeks ache from how long you’ve been smiling. Suddenly, Wukong pulls away from you, eyes lighting up.

“Oh! What if you came to live on my mountain!? Mount Huaguo used to have so many different plants and fruits growing all over the place! If we could have an actual garden set up to take care of them, it would be so much easier! Then you could pick all the best peaches for me and my monkeys, and we’d sit and talk with you all day!”

The offer shocked you. Your mouth hung open for a few moments as you gathered your thoughts, staring at the wild, beautiful demon before you.

Floating in the still water behind you, the budding lotus flower unfurled ever so slowly, the delicate center still hidden by soft white and pink petals. The outer petals cupped themselves towards the sky, tips a vivid pink as if to entice someone to pluck the bloom despite its half opened state.

“Wh-...that would be-”

“I am happy to see you two getting along. My worry was misplaced.” A soothing voice interrupts your words. You look up, startled, to see the monk step out from the treeline, fidgeting with a ring of prayer beads. As you greet him, Sun Wukong tenses up where he sits on his cloud. His tail goes stiff, hovering in a curved position behind your head. This does not go unnoticed by you, or the monk.

“Apologies, I was speaking in jest.” Tang Sanzang murmurs, his smile soft but strained. Wukong doesn't meet his eyes, looking off to the distant horizon.

“Of course Master. Excuse me, I need to patrol.” You stare after the monkey with wide eyes as he jumps into the trees, the emotional whiplash of the situation startling you to silence. Just a moment before he looked so happy and eager…

The monk comes close to you.

“Do you mind?” He looks pointedly at a spot of soft grass next to the shore you lounge on, and you gesture for him to settle down. He sits with his back straight, eyes slipping closed as he gathers his thoughts. You idle away by making small bubbles in the water, popping the biggest ones with a claw.

“...I apologize for ruining your talk. It was not my intention.” He eventually speaks. You look at him, your whiskers settling and curling idly in the air around his still form.

“It's alright monk, it's a pleasure to speak with any of you.” You tried to reassure him. His face remained unchanged.

“...He no longer trusts me.” You straighten, a pitying frown forming on your muzzle. Your ear flicks at the sound of a tree rustling. Wukong is there, hiding and listening. You don't bring attention to him.

“I'm sorry to hear that. May I ask what happened?” While you're curious to know, this is also an opportunity for Wukong. If he didn't want you to hear about the issues between him and his Master, now would be the time to interrupt. The only sound you hear is Bajie’s distant snoring as he washes up on the opposite shore of the pond.

Tang Sanzang opens his eyes.

“There was…a yaoguai. She was a trickster, and managed to deceive myself and my disciples. The only one to see through her tricks was Sun Wukong. He tried to kill her multiple times, and each time I…I punished him for it. I had thought he was killing innocents. I don't like when he kills at all, truthfully.”

You cocked your head to the side, resting your chin on one clawed hand as you leaned your elbow onto the shoreline. Your ear flicks again at the rustling of leaves.

“I had banished him from our party, after Zhu Bajie convinced me Sun Wukong was playing another trick to avoid consequences. Not only was I wrong, but my disciple had to travel all the way to Mount Huaguo to convince our protector to come back. We apologized and he…he said he forgave us but he's been…different ever since.”

You hummed, a pain in your heart at the thought of Wukong being discarded so easily. Why did it bother you so much? You had only known the monkey for such a short time…

“Well,” you started, “he most likely needs time. You broke his trust.” The monk looked to you with wide eyes, surprised but not angry. You swallowed, uncertain if you should be weighing in on such a situation when you were nothing but an outsider. Wukong did not move from his hiding place.

“He worked hard to protect you, and instead of trusting his instincts, trusting him, you punished him. That's not an easy thing to overcome, even if he has forgiven you.” A lotus flower, small and budding, grew in the water next to your elbow. You scooped a claw under it, lifting it as far into the air as its stem would allow.

“Trust needs to be nurtured and cared for. When broken, it can grow back, under the right circumstances. With time and effort put into its care.” With a small burst of magic, you made the flower bloom in your palm. Sanzang looked between you and the lotus, a small smile forming on his soft face.

“You speak wise words.” A smile twitched at the corners of your muzzle. You weren't finished yet.

“However monk,” you snapped the lotus off of its stem, holding it close to your chest. “When the land has been salted, the soil can no longer bear seeds. Even just once is enough that an entire plot can no longer grow anything. Be grateful then, if you manage to see progress. Even if it's a small, pitiful bulb.”

The smile fell from his face once more.

“Again, you speak true. I will take your words to heart, lotus dragon.” You gave him a bow of your mighty head, careful not to poke him with your antlers.

“He is with you now, and clearly cares for your wellbeing. That means more than you might realize.” The monk returns your head bow with one of his own, a thoughtful look on his face at your words. The silence between you lasts for only a few moments.

“You know a great deal about plants, it seems.”

“My grandfather taught me about them from the very beginning. He adores them, and I like to think I inherited that love. His teachings taught me about more than just how to care for plants.”

“He sounds very wise indeed.”

The monk sat with you for a few moments more, before rising to his feet, excusing himself to meditate in peace. You are not surprised when Wukong silently lands on the pond bank, his smell of wood, stone, and fruit surrounding you.

“Thank you.” He says.

You smile and nod.

~~~~~~~

Days pass and the group continues to rest near your water.

After another long night of conversation between you and the Monkey King, you get only a few hours of sleep before rising.

You fly away from your pond to hunt for something suitable to eat. Before the dawn truly breaks over the horizon you glide away, focusing your senses on the trees below you for any sign of prey. A padded down spot of grass is proof a deer slept there during the night, and when you land you follow the scent and tracks through the thick underbrush. The kill itself is quick and easy, and you soon find yourself gliding across the sky back to your water with breakfast in your mighty jaws.

There is an odd fluttering in your chest as you move, like your heart is fluttering where it rests in your pond. It’s slightly different from the fluttering feeling you’ve been feeling when talking with Sun Wukong, but it’s not a bad one. You’ll be sure to check on the bloom when you get back.

When the sight of your pond comes into view, a shiver of excitement jolts down your spine. In the center of the water, Ruyi Jingu Bang sits perfectly straight like a pillar from the surface, the water not even disturbed enough by the pole to ripple around its base. Sun Wukong sits on its top, his feet gripping the pole and his impeccable balance keeping him upright. You land in the water with a gentle ripple, setting your kill down on the shoreline. The excitement you feel at seeing Wukong awake and waiting for you has you feeling giddy, and you open your bloodied mouth to ask if he’d like to join you for breakfast-

When the blood in your veins turns into ice.

In his hands, sits your lotus flower.

Your breath catches in your throat, whiskers quivering in the air around you. Your scales lift from your body in a fear response, claws digging deep into the wet soil beneath you. Wukong turns and flips the flower, exceedingly gentle wherever he touches it. Not one petal is plucked, not one leaf is bent out of shape. He meets your eyes with a curious glance before going back to his examination.

“It’s this one right? Something about it is tied to you, but I can’t figure out what. It must be important though, I can sense the magic coming off of it.” Over the days you’ve been talking with the monkey it bloomed further, nearly entirely open to reveal the yellow and pink center.

You think you’re going to vomit where you stand.

“P-pl…please…” You whisper. Wukong looks back at you, an eyebrow raised in concern at your apparent fear. His shoulders straighten, senses on high alert for what could have you so upset. “Please…put it back…” Your voice sounds wispy and faint to your own ears, but the sound of your blood pumping through your veins isn’t helping. Wukong hears you anyways, looking down at the innocent flower in his hands to your frozen form. With a nod he slinks down the length of Ruyi Jingu Bang and gracefully puts the flower back on top of the water’s surface, like it never left.

He flips himself up and out of the water, landing on the shore where you put your food. You don’t feel like eating any more.

You stare at the flower as it floats along the surface, terrified that if you look away it’ll be picked up again and taken far, far away from you. It glides unbothered across the water.

Wukong coughs into his fist beside you.

“I didn’t realize it was that important to you. I’m sorry.” The words pull your attention back to him, but you can’t help the double take to make sure the flower still rests on the water.

“I…it’s alright. You didn’t know.” You shudder and take a deep breath, shaking yourself before shifting into a smaller dragon form. Your tail curls around your legs protectively as you sit on the shoreline. Wukong looks uncertain for once, as if he would like to sit with you but doesn’t know if he would be welcome. You have mercy on the poor monkey, patting the ground next you as you drag the deer carcass closer.

“You enjoy your meat raw, yes? I do too, as a special treat every once in a while.” As the tension in the air dissipates, you see his shoulders relax, his tail drooping to a pleased curl knowing that you’re not upset with him. You use your claws to tear off slivers of meat, cutting away fur and handing pieces over to your monkey friend. He thanks you before taking a bite, blood dripping into the fur of his wrists and down his chin as he eats.

You follow suit, slicing a piece of venison and swallowing it whole with your large maw. A single rivulet of blood leaks out the corner of your jaw and follows the trail of your scales, beading at the tip of a small bony protrusion along your jawline and falling to the ground below. When you lower your head back down, intending to tear off another piece, you feel Wukong’s eyes on you.

You look to him, his eyes wide where they stare at you, following the single trail of blood. His eyes move lower, over the long winding curve of your neck to your shoulders, where your modest robes wrap tight around your shoulders and chest. His breathing is heavy, and you catch the faint smell of something spicy coming from him. The smell is musky and reminds you of smoke, of metal burning red in fire, of heat.

A blush burns your cheeks.

“Is…everything okay?” Your voice comes out meek.

His golden eyes look back to yours, the red sclera looks like it's burning, like his eyes are glowing, while his pupils contract and dilate at the sight of you.

“Of course…” He mutters. When he says nothing else you try to smile, feeling self-conscious under his gaze but…enjoying the way his eyes seem to burn into you. It makes your chest feel tight, like your flower heart was being squeezed in a way you didn’t want to stop. He eventually turns back to his own slivers of meat before speaking again.

“I really would like you to come live on my mountain. It’s not the same after the 500 years I’ve been gone, but I can’t stay and rebuild until my mission to the west is complete. I think…I think you would be very helpful…my monkeys would love you, I know. And…and I want you there.” If your cheeks felt warm before, they feel scorching now. Your tail gives a pleased ‘thump’ against the ground.

“I…I really think I would love that…” Wukong’s chest swells at your words, a pleased grin stretching across his muzzle as he bites into another piece of meat. You pause.

“...But I sadly can’t.” The look Wukong gives you is so pained you feel like you just slapped him.

“W-...why not?” You fidgeted with the carcass in front of you, biting your tongue. Did you dare risk telling him? He already held your flower in his hands and put it back when asked…you felt safe around him, you enjoyed his company. You take a deep breath, steeling yourself.

“The flower…it’s my heart.” His brow furrows at your words, his confusion clear. “It’s my actual heart, taken from me by a curse. My grandfather did what he could to save me, but to do so he had to remove my heart from my chest and he turned it into a flower. The curse keeps me from…putting it back.”

The Monkey King sat up straighter, looking from you to the flower he had been holding, to his own hands in shock and back at you again. You gave him a small, unsure smile.

“Flowers need to be cared for. I can’t just leave it…what if a traveler plucked it? If I try to leave with it, how will I keep it alive? It needs water and loose, wet soil to stay strong, or at least some sort of magical artifact to keep it alive. What if while travelling it gets crushed and I…and I die?” The more you spoke, the higher Wukong’s eyebrows rose, a dawning realization on his face.

“That’s why you’ve never left…” He muttered. You nodded, curling in on yourself.

“Grandfather comes to visit me often, when he’s not busy with his duties at least. But this pond is peaceful and safe, and hardly anyone has ever tried to start trouble here, so I’ve never really…asked him to help me move somewhere else.” Sun Wukong jumped to his feet, pacing around where you still sat. You followed his movements, your long neck twisting and turning to keep up with his agitated pace. His tail flicked and twitched behind him, bloody claws flexing and fidgeting.

“I could carry your flower to Mount Huaguo. I fly fast, I know where all the deepest and calmest rivers and ponds are. I could place your heart right outside Water Curtain Cave! And if for whatever reason you don’t like it, I can change it! I can make you an entire new river on the mountain if you wanted!” He cried, looking to you as he spoke. You shook your head, flattered at his want to help you but knowing it wasn’t meant to be.

“And what of your quest? You can’t stay with me on your mountain while I adjust and learn the rivers. You have responsibilities with your Master. Maybe…maybe after your quest I could move. If you still remember me…” The sadness you felt at the idea of being forgotten by him nearly choked you, and you took another deep breath to center yourself.

Wukong’s arms dropped to his sides like dead weight, his tail falling and curling sadly against the ground. He knew you were right.

“I could never forget you…” He muttered. His eyes found yours again, and a fluttering erupted in your stomach at the sincerity in his gaze. “Something about you…I know I’m supposed to have you in my life.”

“H-how can you be so certain-?” You gasped. The weight of his words, the way he spoke so certainly…it stole your breath.

“When I came into the world my people were there and waiting for me already. When we frolicked and played our great Water Curtain Cave was waiting for us. Inside was my palace, empty but fully furnished and filled to the brim with wonderful wine and foods and clothes. It had been made and left there for me. For my people to call home. I was always meant to be their king, and I was always meant to leave to become the Great Sage. You are meant to stay with me. I feel it. I know it.”

As he spoke the Monkey King grew more confident, more assured about the words he spoke. He stood before you, back straight and shoulders squared, his gaze fierce and burning with his resolve. Behind you in the water, your heart fully bloomed.

“You really…feel that way for me?” Wukong gave you a firm nod.

“Yes.”

Tears pricked the corners of your eyes, and you brought a bloody claw up to your muzzle as if it would help stifle the sound that escaped your throat. Wukong, concerned, stepped closer to you, his own bloody claws cupping your scaled cheeks. Your eyes fluttered closed as he held you.

“I was…I feel the same, that…that tugging inside me to be with you. I keep dreading the day you have to leave, I know it’s coming soon, I know you have to keep moving for the scriptures and yet-!” You shuddered, “I don’t want you to go. I want to stay with you…”

Wukong tilted your head up to him, and without hesitation, his lips were suddenly on yours. You squeaked into the kiss, eyes wide and body frozen. It was only for a moment before you all but melted into his hold again, kissing him back as best you could. Your fangs clicked against each other’s, his fingers were so close to the sensitive whiskers on your snout, his smell filling your mind and wiping away every thought except for him.

Wukong pulled back, and a soft sound of protest left you. A new fiery determination was in his eyes, and his voice was firm and husky as he spoke.

“I promise you, I will find a way. I won’t leave you here, not forever.” His claws traced over your scales and the bony spines on your jaw with a gentleness that made your heart ache. You wanted to hold him and be held back for eternity by him. You nuzzled into his neck and breathed his smell, grounding yourself. Everything felt like a dream.

Wukong held you for a moment longer before letting go, stepping back and summoning his cloud. You watched with confusion as he stepped on it, and he gave you a reassuring look.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can, a few days at most. Watch over my Master, would you? Tell him I’ll be back.”

“Where are you going?” You asked. Your tail curled anxiously around your feet,

“I have an idea of what to do but I need to confirm it. If it works…then you can come with us. If it doesn't, I’ll find something else.” You nodded, uncertain but trusting Wukong.

“O-okay…See you soon, my love…” You stepped back from his cloud, clasping your clawed hands tight to stop yourself from reaching out and pulling him back into your arms. The Monkey King smiled at you, sharp canines on display.

“Goodbye my flower.”

And then he was gone.

~~~~~~~

You’re surprised by how accepting the pilgrims are when you tell them Sun Wukong left. Bajie shrugs and goes back to eating his lunch, a pile of dried meats and vegetables, uncaring. Wujing stares at you long and hard for a few moments, his narrowed eyes suspicious. You meet his gaze with an unwavering one of your own and after a few moments he nods, satisfied. He turns and settles down next to the campfire to sharpen his bident.

Your fellow dragon, still transformed as a horse, simply blinks at your words before laying down his head and resuming his early morning nap. The only one with questions for you is the monk.

“Is everything alright?” He asks.

“I hope so.” You respond. “He wanted to help me and said he might know a way. He’s supposed to be back soon…” The worry you feel must be obvious because the monk doesn’t hesitate to put his hand on your shoulder in a show of comfort.

“He will be back. He always comes back.” His words soothe you, even if only a little bit.

The days continue to pass and you continue to watch the sky for any sign of your monkey. Any cloudy speck, any glints of gold, just…something to reassure you he’s on his way back. Your days are spent meditating with the monk and his disciples, watching the horizon for Wukong, and your nights are spent curled in the water of your pond, wondering if he’s safe.

Relief comes just a few days after, like he promised.

The full moon hangs high in the sky and reflects on the clear surface of your water. You’re lying along the shore, tracing a claw over the ripples in the surface and watching the stars twinkle in the distorted reflection to distract yourself from the listless feeling in your gut. One particular star catches your eye, its glint shining brighter, closer, than the other stars. You lift yourself up to stare at the water, and realize that yes, the star is growing bigger in size.

Your head snaps up to look at the heavens, looking frantically for the golden glint you were watching in the water. There, you see it! A speck of light shooting across the sky, coming closer and closer to your pond. You shift from your true form to your smaller one, standing on the tips of your clawed feet to watch the light, hoping with every part of your being its Wukong on his way back to you.

As it grows closer, you see him.

The Monkey King stands crouched on his cloud, a fierce and determined look on his face as he moves closer. Your tail lifts behind you as you wave a clawed hand in the air, a smile stretching wide across your muzzle at the sight of him. He sees you, and a smile stretches across his own face at the sight of you happy and healthy to greet him. His cloud lowers closer to the treetops, rustling leaves and low hanging clouds with the force of his own wind.

When he lowers closer to your pond he doesn’t even bother landing properly, jumping from his cloud and straight into your waiting arms with a wild screech of joy. You catch him happily, staggering from his weight and falling over into a pile as you laugh together.

His fur feels so soft under your claws, his musky smell of wood and stone more pungent than ever from his days of travel. Your tails entwine as you pull each other closer and nuzzle your faces together. You press soft kisses to his lips, delighted that they still taste the same after that first one you had too many days ago. His weight settles on top of you, his smaller form cushioned by yours as his hands and feet grip every part of your scaly body he can cling to. Your long neck lets you wind yourself around him as you sit back up from the cool grass, midnight dew coating your scales, his fur, and both your clothes.

“I missed you.” He chirps, little squeaks of delight leaving his throat in a way you think might not be conscious.

“I missed you too…so much…” You’re purring in response to his touches, your scales feeling warm everywhere his claws graze you. “Your Master is safe, they all are. We were all waiting for you.”

Wukong pulls away from you just enough to meet your gaze with his own, sitting back comfortably on your lap. The smile he gives you is radiant.

“Thank you, my love. I…I’m hoping it was worth it. I think it will be.” He fully climbs off your lap, kneeling next to you in the soft grass. “I found a spell, a ritual really. We can do it now, but it's uhm…it’s intense.”

“What do you mean? Is it safe?” You ask. You watch with curiosity as Wukong starts to disrobe, pulling his arms from his sleeves and letting his tiger sash hold his clothing tight around his waist. You swallow, eyes drawn to the muscle and fur making up his chest. Your claws itch to reach out and touch.

“It’s safe, it's just…there’s blood. It’s a ritual to…well, to place your heart in a new vessel.” Your brow furrowed in confusion, not fully understanding his meaning. Wukong leaned forward, pressing a kiss to your cheek and trailing down along your jawline to your ear. You shiver in response.

“Just bear with me, love.” He cooed in your ear, pulling back from your arms. “It'll look painful, but it's worth it if it's for you.”

Before you could ask what he meant, his sharp claws were tracing lines over the rippling muscle of his left pectoral. With a sharp, deep inhale his claws sunk into his own flesh and pulled. Your own claws came up to cover your mouth in shock, eyes wide as you watched your lover dig into the meat of his chest. His golden eyes were narrowed in focus, sharp canine sticking out over his bottom lip as he bit it. A single bead of red grew and spilled over his lip and down his chin to his throat, soaking the fur and skin and joining the growing red spot of his chest. Speckles of blood sprayed onto your robes, but you didn't even register it as you watched Sun Wukong.

The slick sound of muscle being cut into jolted you back to the present, and you whimpered in shock and concern.

“Wh-what are you doing!? Wukong, stop-!” You cried, your hands reaching for his own, still tearing into himself and bleeding red, so much red everywhere, it was going to kill him-!

He grunted, his claws not leaving his chest no matter how hard you pulled at him. His eyes met yours, and the fierce determination staring back at you made you freeze again.

“Its-Its already started-...Let me finish-” You choked, letting your claws fall away from his as a vague sense of horror settled into you. You didn't want this. You didn't want to see your mate so in pain, it didn't matter that your bond was so fresh and new. It hurt you to see him like this.

The pain didn't stop him however, Sun Wukong’s fingers digging deeper and deeper into himself. Just when you thought you couldn't stand it any longer, the urge to beg and plead for him to stop almost overflowing out of you like a tidal wave, you heard a sickening ‘shthrack!’ as his shoulders jerked hard. The force of the motion had the Monkey King folding over on himself, hands still buried in his chest. Your hands raised once more to touch him, grab him, do something, but ended up hovering uselessly over his trembling shoulders.

“W-Wukong? My love, please, I can't stand this any longer-” He took a deep breath, his whole body going lax as he straightened before you again.

In his hands, still trembling with aftershocks, was a stone.

Your eyes move to his chest where a cavernous opening now sits, hollow and still bleeding profusely. Sinews and nerves curve in a tangled mesh that used to hold the object he cups in his hands.

Your gaze goes further up to see his golden eyes, filled with pain but overshadowed by love and devotion that makes heat rise to your own cheeks.

“If you carry it with you,” he begins, voice only holding a slight tremble, “then I can carry yours with me.” He turns his gaze to the surface of your pond, eyes watching your lotus flower heart as it sits serene on the still surface. Your eyes widen in realization, looking back at the object he currently holds.

Slick with blood, you could barely make out the deep stone grey color of the object itself. In shock and not thinking properly, you let him place it into your waiting hands. The weight of it surprises you, heavy and hard, it has the rough texture of stone itself. Hard jagged edges dig into your palms while deep grooves sit under your fingertips. Sun Wukong’s own bloody hands cup yours and help you hold its weight. You could drop it, but knowing what it is, the significance of this act, you think you would rather spend eternity in Laozi’s furnace than drop the bloody organ currently beating in your palms.

Sun Wukong - the Monkey King, the Great Sage Equal to Heaven, the Stone Monkey, the love of your life, has just made room in his very own chest to house and hold your own heart where it would be safe from everything.

Has just placed his own literal heart in your hands.

It's the most beautiful thing you've ever seen.

Tears gather in the corner of your eyes, slipping down your scaled cheeks.

“Y-you…” Your voice fails you. Sun Wukong smiles, his cheeky grin that always makes your tummy flutter, but you can see in his eyes as doubt and self-consciousness creeps into his thoughts.

“It's an option. I understand if it's too big of a decision right now, I shouldn't have-” He moves his hands back to his heart, about to pick it up, to take it away from you-

Your claws close around the beating stone and pull it close to your own chest before he can take it. You're panting, looking between his surprised expression and the precious gift you now hold.

“I…I want it. I want it so bad Wukong.” You whisper. “I'll take good care of it. So good. It's so beautiful~” You bring it up to your muzzle, your long whiskers rising and gently stroking along his heart’s details, helping you memorize every crack and crevice and sharp edge. Uncaring of the blood still on it you press your lips to a smooth patch. It beats faster.

You press more gentle kisses to it, your eyes locking with those of your king. His gaze burns into you, liquid golden fire watching your every move, every press of your soft lips to the most vulnerable part of him. His breathing quickens, his throat bobs as he swallows, his cheeks turn warm and pink. You feel his tail circle around your waist and trail down to tangle with your own.

“I…I know you will.” He rumbles, voice thick and raspy. His hands cup yours again, and you let them push your own hands towards your chest. Blood stains your hanfu, but you simply push the fabric out of the way, unravelling it from your torso to reveal your chest. Your breasts rise and fall at a rapid pace with your breathing, the smell of blood and your mate filling your nose and overwhelming your senses. Wukong’s eyes widen at the sight of your bare chest, and that sharp smell from days before comes back.

The smell of musk, burning metal and wood, sharp and addicting.

You blush at his obvious attraction to your body, shyly meeting his eyes as you hold his heart close to your own empty chest. You give him a single nod, sharp and confident, and he nods back. He begins muttering phrases in a language you’re not familiar with, and the heart in your claws begins to glow. You watch as it presses against the scales of your body, leaving your hands and slowly…merging with you.

Within moments it’s gone, and a sudden weight you haven’t felt since you were a hatchling settles inside you. You gasp, claws gripping your chest with shock as you feel the ‘thum-thump’ of a heart inside you once more.

Wukong’s heart.

It’s so warm…so solid and real where it beats frantically behind your breast. You shudder, eyes fluttering closed as you bask in the feeling.

When you open them again, Wukong is staring at you, his shoulders rising and falling with the force of his breaths. The opening in his own chest doesn’t seem to phase him, his pupils are dilating and contracting as he watches you with heated focus. You want to kiss him again, but the hole in his chest bothers you, despite his lack of concern.

You stand, wobbling slightly at the added weight to your top. Your lover moves as if to catch you, but you wave him off. The heavy weight of his heart feels incredible as you step into your pond. With a delicate claw motion, you pull your heart from the center of the pond to you, the petals wide and welcoming, blooming with love for the demon behind you. When it comes to your feet, you bend and scoop it up, carefully snapping the long stem, uncaring of the twinge you feel in response. The cutting will reroot in its new home.

You turn and settle back down next to Wukong, holding the flower out for him to take. The monkey’s hands cradle the bloom just as reverently as you did his heart, and your hands move to cup the backs of his as he brings it to his chest. As he moves he recites the same mantra from before, and your heart starts to glow the same way his did. A tingling shoots down your spine at the sensation, and you feel hyper aware of everything around you.

You both place the bloom into his chest cavity, blood soaking your claws but not the glowing flower. The cut stem immediately grows and lengthens into a root system and you watch as those roots connect with the sinews and nerves lining Wukong’s chest cavity. His body tenses, eyes wide as it settles inside him. The petals fold and bend into place as his body heals rapidly, roots twisting and winding through the muscle surrounding it. The last thing you see is the petals collectively beating before his chest fully heals and swallows your heart whole.

You can still feel it.

It’s warm and healthy and safe, tying itself to Wukong permanently. You are suddenly aware of more than just yourself. You can feel your lover, the immense strength at rest in his smaller form, the vitality and determination that make up his spirit. You can feel the beat of his heart, his sturdy breath, the boundless energy inside him ready to be unleashed. Looking at him, you know he feels the same for you as well. The quiet sturdiness of your resolve, the calming and gentle care that makes up your spirit.

Your claws let the other’s go, moving to wrap around each other in a desperate embrace. Kisses are shared and taken, your whiskers wrapping tight around different parts of his form and his teeth nipping at your lips and jawline.

“Thank you, thank you, I love you-” Is a mantra you can’t stop repeating, desperate to thank him for the freedom he’s granted you on this night. It’s not even just freedom to finally leave, it’s everything else he’s given you. Sun Wukong is your mate now, officially and for eternity. You have no plans to let him go.

“I love you too, so much. Thank you for accepting it, for accepting me-” Is his response to your words, his claws clutching at you just as desperately. You can feel it inside you, his fiery, steadfast resolve to stay by your side, to not ever let you go.

Neither of you gets much sleep that night.

~~~~~~~

When dawn breaks, the creeping sunlight is shielded from you by the dense thicket of trees you and your mate hid away in. Your long, serpentine form is coiled tightly around the monkey, his head hidden in the cushion of your breasts and tummy. Bite marks litter you both, standing out more starkly on your white scales, most of the ones you left on him covered by thick russet fur.

When your eyes peak open, the first instinct you have is to reach to your chest where Wukong’s head lay, feeling under your scales for the steady beat of his heart against your ribs. It soothes you, and you relax back into the grass surrounding your bodies. Wukong twitches in your hold, tiny snores leaving him as he nuzzles further into your warmth. You shift, ever so slightly, to get a better look at him.

One clawed hand cups his soft cheek, rubbing the spot under his eye as you watch him. Said eye peaks open in response, gold glinting in the shade of the early morning.

“Good morning…” You whisper. Wukong shifts, stretching his arms around your coils and yawing wide. The sight of his sharp teeth has excitement stirring in your belly once more. You know very intimately how sharp those teeth are, how gentle they can be…

“Hmm…morning…” He mumbles in return, rolling his neck until a satisfying ‘crack’ could be heard. You giggle as he stands and does a full body stretch, his fur matted and flat in some areas from sleep. Your eyes roam down the length of his body, on full nude display in the light.

“Something you like my flower?” He purrs at you over his shoulder, completely confident.

“Oh yes,” you start, “It’s a lovely sunrise. If only there wasn’t a monkey blocking the view.” you tease. He gives you a playful growl in response, turning to face you with a dramatic swish of his tail. Your bravado leaves you quickly at that, the sight of his soft cock surrounded by fur stained from the night before too much for you. He laughs at your rising blush.

“Cheeky dragon, losing your nerve, hmm?” He kneels back down next to you and presses a quick, casual kiss to your lips. You give a pleased hum, your embarrassment fading at his touch. When he pulls back, you sigh.

“We should probably get ready.” He groans in response to your words, but does help you stand on your own feet.

“Yes, yes, you’re right. We’ve spent too much time camped here.” He lets you lead the way to your pond for the two of you to clean up, but you suspect his reasoning is so he can watch your knees tremble with every step you take. The smug grin on his face confirms your thoughts.

By the time the two of you are cleaned and ready for the day, the others of your group have woken up. They greet Wukong with smiles and teasing remarks, everyone but the monk able to smell the evidence of your night together. Despite your blushing, Wujing helps you gather from the different herbs growing around your pond as Bajie collects water in gourds for the journey ahead. Wukong helps Sanzang load some of the camp supplies onto Bai Long Ma’s back and pack everything else up for Wujing to carry.

“I am glad you have found someone who makes you happy, my student.” The monk says. Wukong freezes, uncertain.

“...Thank you Master.” He says. The monk reaches a hand out, but hesitates. Wukong stares, before finally caving in. He leans forward, letting Snazang’s hand rest on his fluffy head and ruffle his fur. The monk smiles, patting him gently before pulling away.

Feeling oddly vulnerable, Wukong turns and walks towards the pond, where you’re finishing up wrapping all the herbs and berries Wujing helped you harvest.

“Everything ready over here?” Wujing nods, standing and adding the refilled bags of supplies to the stuff he normally carries on his back. The others gather in the treeline, ready and waiting to go.

Wukong steps up behind your still form, his arms wrapping tight around your waist.

“Are you ready?” He asks.

You stare out over the still water, taking in the view. This has been your home for decades now, centuries even. It’s safe water is all you’ve known for your adult life. The flowers and plants along the shoreline, the small stone shrine at the edge of the shore shaded by a growing tree. The waterfall you would play and dance under, the many many memories attached to each spot.

You look to the surface of the pond, and the sight of your flower missing still feels alien and strange. You can feel it beating in Wukong’s chest. You take a deep breath, filling your lungs with the familiar smells and releasing them with a sigh.

“Yes.”

You turn and walk away, hand in hand with your love.

~~~~~~~

And that's that! I do have ideas that I’d like to add to this story in the future, but I’m still figuring them out and the details around them, so for now this is a one off. I do have an idea for an alternative storyline that's more angsty and ties into the lore of Black Myth Wukong, and I'd like to get that out eventually too! Hope y’all enjoyed ♥♥♥

#Sun Wukong X Reader #Monkey King X Reader #Sun Wukong #Monkey King #LoongDragon!Reader #Tang Sanzang #Zhu Bajie #Sha Wujing #Bai Long Ma #Journey to the West #I hope yall like it this one feels pretty personal to me #its the idea that got me writing Wukong fanfic in the first place

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flippinpancakes64 · 9 months ago

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Can I Request All Of The Cullen Family With A Reader Who Tosses And Turns In Their Sleep?

Btw I Love Your Fanfics So Much!

The Cullens with a Restless Sleeper

Sometimes I think you guys are inside of my house the way you guys send me the most specific asks

Also my requests are currently closed! You guys are so sweet, every time I open them back up I feel like I have to shut them again because I get so many!

And thank you for the kind words! I hope you enjoy!

Edward:

He doesn't mind

I mean, he's the one who wants to be freaky and watch you sleep

The very least he could do is not judge your sleeping habits

He does his best to work around you

You decided to turn onto your side with one arm wedged underneath you and the other one flopped over his face?

Okay he'll stop breathing so that you don't get disturbed by his breath on your hand

You smack him every once in a while but it's not like it hurts him so he's okay

He'll ask you every morning if you slept well, and if you say yes and he can see that you're rested, then he doesn't press

But if you keep waking up super exhausted then he suggests asking Carlisle if maybe there's a medical reason as to why you move so much

Alice:

I've mentioned before that the only way she'd be able to stay with you the whole night would be if she had a tv on or a book or something

Again, she's not really one to be bothered

It's not like you can control it

You're literally asleep

She thinks it's funny more than anything

Whenever you sling your arm onto her and knock her book out of her hands, she can't help but giggle

She just sort of lets you do your own thing

She tends to just stay in her spot

If you move away, you move away

If you cuddle up next to her, then she'll cuddle back

Unbothered queen

Jasper:

He gets in his own head a bit in the beginning

He thinks that he's the one making you uncomfortable

That you're tossing and turning so much because he's too cold, too hard, etc

You have to tell him that you're just a restless sleeper and that it's not his fault

After that he relaxes a bit

But he still tries his best to make you comfortable

He moves with you the whole night

And he will nudge you a bit if he thinks that your new position looks a bit uncomfortable

Rosalie:

She doesn't like to lay down for hours at end

So chances are she wouldn't even notice that you're so restless

I think it would have to be one night where you asked her to cuddle (and of course she says yes) where she finally notices

She wakes you up instantly

She thinks you're having a nightmare

After you explain she apologizes

She gets a little frustrated

Vampires have no need to be comfortable, but they can still feel comfort

The whole night, she feels like she finds a nice position and then you move

But she doesn't leave

You asked her to stay for the whole night so she stays

Emmett:

He's squirmy too

Two bugs who are very snug in your rug, only both of you move way too much

So y'all balance each other out

It works out kinda well for him

If you were a really light sleeper who never moved, then he would be waking you up all night

But since you already move so much, his tossing and turning doesn't really affect you

A perfect pair of rotisserie chickens

Esme:

She gets a little worried

She thinks you're having chronic nightmares at first

And then she's even more concerned when you wake up and she asks you about them but you say you don't remember having any nightmares

She asks Carlisle to check you out

Obv there's nothing wrong

So she just keeps an eye on you

She really enjoys cuddling, so it's a bit annoying when you squirm away and turn onto your back

And then again when you launch your leg over her stomach and turn yourself until your head's off the bed

She just resets you to a normal position and the cycle continues

Carlisle:

He doesn't mind

Again, the only time he would really care would be if it seems to be affecting your sleep health

But if you wake up energized and refreshed, then he can't complain

He's another cuddler

But since you're so active, he also has a book

He cuddles when you're in the position to do so, and then he reads whenever you squirm onto the other side of the bed

He has no need to be comfortable, so he just moves wherever you need him to

You're trying to roll onto his side of the bed?

Okay yeah just let him get up real quick and go to your side

He's a king sorry my bias is showing

Vampire! Bella:

She's another nighttime cuddler

It helps her feel a little human again

So she does get a little frustrated when you keep interrupting her zen with your movements

Like she wants to cuddle damnit why are you halfway across the bed with your leg dangling off?

She is not afraid to drag you back

Or to hold you in place with her iron grip

Sorry you're trapped

Good luck moving now ;)

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dilf-docs · 4 months ago

Text

You're a Daydream, Stay A While

jackson!joel miller x younger!reader

summary: you're jackson's designated bartender. well, your dad is, but after the arrival of a new face in town, maybe the inspiration to finally step up to your obligations kicks in.

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap, smut, p. in v., oral (f. receiving), fingering, foreplay (mostly breasts), creampie, breeding kink (kinda), angst/comfort, insecure!joel (love touch etcetc starved), needy!joel, pov switch mostly joel (he's down bad as well), collected shitty puns from across the internet like thanos collected the infinity stones

word count: 6,136 words

side note: yk what's worst than simping for old men? simping for old men who don't exist. since y'all know, tlou II trailer dropped, which got me searching for joel's ***** to brace/prepare myself. umm so, why did no one tell me jackson!joel is the hottest thing ever? can´t wait to see pedro being senior citizen level of hot and dying (again) on his bday month! 😍 anyway, this is based on this request and well, yes! i too would flirt with an old ass if he looked like that™ hope u like it bc for some reason I'm not sure of it JSJDLKDFK also 400 followers GUYS STOP (pls don't)

The truth is simple: you hate working.

An apocalypse later, you figure there are more important things. But on Jackson, it feels like the world before fungus and violence, and everyone's got a role to play. As the daughter of Tipsy Bison's owner, yours is to help around the bar, something no matter how much your dad scolds you, you don't seem to care enough to even do a decent job.

Of course, it could be worse: patroling, keeping the cattle or crops, but not even then you're moved enough to give a shit about it.

Enter Joel Miller.

He, who made sure his arrival in Jackson didn't go unnoticed, making heads turn at it, not only because of his emotional reunion with Tommy, the little girl with him, or the fact that he left yet still returned. But also (mainly to you) because he was hot. Very hot.

Joel was the type of handsome that was rough in the edges, his closed-off demeanor and overall mystery adding to the thrill. His face seemed to be in a perpetual state of grief and darkness, sprinkled with grey and wrinkles, that in your opinion, didn't mean about age but just something that made his features all the more attractive.

It was a lie to say there weren't any boys your age in Jackson, good-looking too, yet you felt yourself gravitate towards Joel's musky presence. Yes, he could be your dad, but again, it's the apocalypse, and there are plenty of things to worry about than some age gap.

That doesn't stop the talking, anyway. It may be the end of the world, but gossip is just like cockroaches: it never dies.

The Tipsy Bison owner's daughter is in love with Tommy's older, much older, brother.

It didn't bother you, thought. You were pretty open about it, giving Jackson more to talk. Whenever Joel arrived at the bar, all heads would turn in your direction, ready for the shameless flirting and compliments you showered the oldest Miller in.

Maria had warned you, of course. She was the closest you had to a friend―sometimes being like a big sister, and she seemed to know what he was up to before, at the QZ in Boston, thanks to Tommy. Safe to say, you didn't care, despite listening to every word she had said.

Joel could break your heart, yet in a dying world, you weren't afraid to live.

Which is why now, as he enters the bar, you offer your dad to take his place.

"Go rest, I'll take this client" you offer with kindness, but he knows better. You're his daughter: in the end of the day, he's aware Joel is here, your shift in attitude warning him about Miller's incoming presence.

"If you will take this client, take the rest too" and before your dad can throw a speech about everyone being equal in Jackson, you're accepting to do the job properly, despite your grumbling and lack of interest to anyone who isn't Joel.

"Joel" you greet as soon as he sits, one of the many flirty smiles you have for him only adorning your face. He nods, avoiding your eyes that look at him like he could give you the world. He can't, so he keeps focused on the glass you're pouring in front of him.

"See? Didn't even need to ask. I already know" you seem proud of it, and the ghost of a smile brushes his lips.

"Well" he raises the glass, "it's an easy drink"

You feign hurt, "is that how you treat your bartender? I could poison your drink" Joel now truly smiles, knowing you could never, "or I could just strip you of your my favorite customer rights"

Now he feigns hurt, playing along for the first time in ever.

"Copied" he raises his arms in surrender, not before taking a gulp. You watch hypnotized the way his adam's apple bobs, the liquid sliding down his throat until it looses itself in the peak his two buttons undone give, of what looks to be a broad soft upper body, blessed with a patch of greying messy hair.

"Have they ever complimented you before, Joel?"

You. He refrains from answering, scared as to where little encouraging had led you and your shameless mouth to. He can feel the rest of the people behind him whispering, holes burning his neck. He can't let you win again: make him seem a pathetic excuse of a man who can't say no to a sweet doe-eyed delusional girl.

But you don't stop, despite his silence and the growing pit on your stomach.

"I'll take that as a no. Wanna know why?" he takes a much needed sip, "because all the good pick-up lines are taken"

This he can handle, Joel thinks. It's silly, proper of your age-

"But you aren't"

Ah, of course. Hasn't he learned?

You have the nerve to laugh, free as a wind chime softly carresed by the wind. His face burns, and even thought he's heard plenty of worse from you ("No pen, no paper but you still draw my attention", "Well, here I am. What are your other two wishes?" "You must be a dog person because you look fetching"), nothing had affected him this much.

Which is why he tries to pull the mask that had accompanied him since he first knew what grief was, so no feeling would ever made him weak again in a world hardened with pain. He's so good at it, wearing it like a second skin that doesn't scrub off no matter how much he wastes Jackson's water supply away, he sometimes sees the way your face is crestfallen at his indifference.

But you're young and stubborn, as so was he, before all the suffering and broken dreams.

So you won't listen to the past or doubts: the moment he stepped a foot into the community, you knew it was over, beating so loud you could barely hear your own breathing or him, when Maria introduced you and he shook your hand with his much bigger one.

"Joel" he'd said, with the sexiest voice you'd ever heard. His hands were covered in gloves, but despite that and the cold winter, the warmth that pooled from his palms had spread across your cheeks and chest. It had taken you a while to realize you hadn't said anything.

"Y/n" you hate the way your voice sounded small.

He nods, a way of saying Nice to meet you in his withdrawn nature. Then walks away, with Tommy and the girl, who looks curiously at you, Joel completely oblivious of how he's just turned your world upside down.

"Welcome to the museum!" you had said.

He tilted his head in confusion, Ellie's stare intense. "I thought this' Jackson?"

"This is a museum, because you're a work of art"

The tip of his ears instantly reddened, and the laugh Ellie was containing bursted like a bottle of champagne.

"Look at you, old man!" she laughed at him, making you wonder their relationship and how closer they seemed to be, despite initial assumptions. "Can't believe a girl gets the big, grumpy, scary Miller to blush like a boy"

You think that's the reason behind his apathy towards you, barely reacting to your pick-up lines or "subtle" flirting. It's probably not a reason as childish as that, but you'd rather be wrong than accept he may never feel the same way you do.

Because for a moment, despite the times you lived in, life made sense.

So no matter the stares, Joel's guarded posture and lack of reciprocation, you'll always be there, waiting: riding the roller coaster, enjoying the high.

The speed brings you closer, even if that means you'll crash.

Unfortunately for Joel, he knows who you are.

He's not even ten patrolling jobs closer to owning a bottle of whiskey of his own (he thinks earning it is bullshit, hasn't he done already enough?), so he's forced to go to the only place where he can get it.

And of course, there's you: a name and face he couldn't place upon his arrival, even if you had introduced yourself with your shitty line (which made him blush and Ellie laugh, so maybe it was a grudge what made him bent on removing you from his head) yet now is ingraned into his mind.

He doesn't know what's worst: your flirting or the fact that you seemed genuine about it. Or maybe it's the fact that he can tell you apart from the rest now, with a face full of life, always ready to give him your best smile and serve his glass the way he likes.

He needs to be the bigger person in this mess and stop it, Joel thinks. He isn't one to care about the talking, years of being brutal hiding any possible feeling that isn't rage. But then Ellie smuggled her way in his life, he found Tommy again, and Jackson was a reminder of old days when he would allow himself to feel anything else. So, in a way, he's become a bit susceptible to the talking behind his back.

How could he entertain a girl that could be his daughter? hushed, behind his stool. But then your fingers brush "accidentally", and his dick twitches between his legs when you bite your lip, pronouncing a Sorry like no one has said before: a tone so low and sultry, he's convinced wasn't even possible. Then you bat your eyelashes, and laugh (a sound both as delightful as addictive) before you're saying: "Don't mind them. They're just jealous you've got all my attention" and for a brief second, Joel let's himself believe he's special and worth of your time.

It's now a while since he's been there in Jackson, slowly settling into a life that doesn't involve running and fear.

If he thought your little crush was a phase, he's wrong.

You're still giving him time.

He's not supposed to get attached to you, Ellie, Tommy and Maria (future nephew in the way) more than enough. But then, when he's alone in a house too big for two people, Joel misses the way your loud voice fills the eerie silence that's followed him since death has been tracking his every step. Or how your interest on his life doesn't seem an act, listening to every word he says with tender eyes and soft smile, sometimes even making the effort of bringing things he's said before into new conversations; remembering. His heart flutter at your compliments, no matter how dumb they are, probably because he's not used to that stuff. As he lays awake at night, brain clogged with wounds too deep to bear, he finds comfort in things he has a feeling he's too old to get worked up about.

"Joel" you had said one day. God, he loved his name on your lips. The way you say it so sure, as if you'd follow him wherever he'd go.

He coughs. "Yeah?" and you smile, because at least he's looking in your direction.

"The chance of meeting a person like you is the only reason I talk to strangers"

The way your tone was straight, not flinching or faltering scared him. How something akin to sincerity dancing in the sparkles of your eyes, that now seemed to waver not out of whimsy but out of vulnerability, perfectly hidden in what could pass as another one of your attempts to woo him, but Joel's lived and seen enough to know it means much more.

So now, whenever there's darkness, he finds light on replaying those small moments on his head.

Dear God. What's he become? Ellie can't find out or he'll never hear the end of it.

But this things you don't know. All you see is a wall, and you're getting tired of hitting it.

The few words he spares your way are now a punishment you endure, cruel reminder that it's all you'll ever get.

Could you be in love forever? Could you even love?

It was a new feeling. Foreign, in fields of inexperience, but familiars in others. You may have never felt it, but the way your beat was steady when he showed up, worn out boots against the wood creaking under his weight, makes you believe when you know, you know.

"Hello, Joel" your father greets before you speak. Today, no matter how much you tried to shoo him away, he stayed.

You send a small smile his way, but he doesn't return it. You feel small, like a kid, undeserving of his attention. There's a bit of relief knowing your dad's there, so you let him take Joel for you.

There's always a first, and when both your dad and Joel notice, the latter feels a little sting on his chest.

But he's caused this, he thinks. It's what he wanted, after all: for you to stop chasing a man with scars in and out, bearing sins and blood where you had innocence and love.

"We're having a party tonight" he comments, making Joel quirk an eyebrow as he sips.

He gives you a brief glimpse, lost in the curve of your ass in those tight jeans, you giving him your back. He dryly scoffs on instinct at your deliberate choice to ignore him.

"Why's that?"

"My daughter's birthday"

He sees your body tense in the corner of his eye, wiping the glass in your hand with a bit too much force.

"Happy birthday" Joel speaks up, and you mutter a weak Thanks.

That's all he gets? No smile, no looking his way. Just a dry thank you that sounds more like something he would say.

Oh.

Was this how you felt?

"Time sure flies by" your dad sighs nostalgic, completely oblivious to the whole thing. "I feel if it was yesterday we came home from the hospital with you"

You smile, but it doesn't reach your eyes, despite the obvious adoration for your dad.

"Don't get sappy on me" you sound embarrassed.

"I don't care. Twenty-one years later and an apocalypse in the mix, you're still my baby"

"Dad!" your cheeks heat up, and Joel almost forgets he's there, his body back to life when your face goes back to its normal color and happiness.

"Which means" your dad goes back to Joel, "you're invited"

Your laughter dies and Joel's chest tightens.

"You need to stop saying that. All Jackson is invited" you respond, making him flinch. The bite is obvious.

You're not special, is what you try to say in between lines.

"I'll be there" tone daring, and your father feels something has shifted in the air.

You don't answer after that. What are you supposed to say? Don't come? I hate you for making me feel small? He doesn't owe you anything, but it still hurts.

"It's at seven" there's a sharp edge to your tone when looking at him.

"I'll be there" he repeats, still, but it sounds more like who he really is trying to convince is himself.

Joel is there, as promised. You don't know why, but after what happened earlier, for the first time ever, seeing him brings you dread.

He catches you in a corner, sipping on some drink.

"Hi" it's soft, the tone new, and it doesn't help the pit in your stomach.

"Hey"

"Why are you here?" he's curious., "ain't this supposed to be your party?"

It's funny, really. The way everyone else mingles around you, laugh and talk, yet here you are, bitter inside the shadows of your corner.

You raise your glass and chuckle dryly. "Well, cheers to that"

"You shouldn't be here" he insists, and you roll your eyes. Then, his voice goes soft. "Is... Is this because of me?"

You scoff, venom falling out of your bitter laugh. "Wow, big ego you got there. Newsflash: the world doesn't revolve around you"

He's so used to your pinning, it's hard to bear the change.

"I wasn't saying that, I just-"

"Please don't" you cut him off. "Don't ruin my birthday more than you already have, thanks"

You decide to walk away, but Joel won't let you.

"I don't want that" he insists, blocking your steps. "I want you to be happy"

"Don't bullshit me" your tone is icy, cutting like daggers. "Please, leave me alone"

"Not until you're fine"

You scoff at his incomprehensible behavior.

"Oh, now you care? Drop the act; you're just angry I'm not stroking your ego anymore like a lovesick puppy. Truth is, you don't owe me anything, Joel"

He looks like you've slapped him across his face.

"I know" his voice darkens, filled with tension. "But-"

You get tired at Joel's sudden insistence, overwhelming you with confusion. This is the same guy that has uttered less than fifty words your way, indifferent to your flirting and special treatment. Of course, it may have been a little silly of you to expect so much from a guy older even than your dad, but his apathy was borderline rude, and that you can't excuse. Or understand. Or let go.

So yes, you're being petty. And yes, it also feels good to have him begging to have your attention, the roles reversed.

"But what, Joel? Is there anything you can say, really? It's not that serious" you empty the glass in a chug, feeling dizzy. "Live a little and stop being so obssesed with me"

He shoots you a look hard to decipher. There is hurt: from all the emotions available, he chose the one thing you didn't think he'd be capable of feeling. Hell, he looked rather more like the cause than the affected on the other end. But then auburn fires flash behind his eyes, and the circle repeats itself, the danger and rage Maria warned you about.

"Obssesed with you?" his eyes carry a wild light in them. "If anyone is obssesed, well, it ain't me"

"I need air" you push past him, done with his shit.

"I'm sorry-"

The cold wind hits your face as you storm outside the bar. Is this a lesson to be learnt? Was this how heartbreak felt? The only thing you know is you need to get the farthest you can, even if your footsteps feel heavy with the weight of the snowed streets and frigidness of your heart.

"Y/n, wait!"

You turn around. Unbelievable: Joel Miller is running after you.

"What the fuck is wrong with you, Joel?!" you shout, "why can't you just leave me alone?!"

"Because I-"

"There's nothing for you to say" you counter, pinching the bridge of your nose in frustration. "If this is some sort of guilt thing, I need you to let it go. What I did- I mean, you should probably forget about the whole thing. It's my fault, and I'm sorry my reaction is immature and what not, but I should've known to read the signs. You're simply not interested in a girl who hasn't truly lived or known what pain is"

After you confession, you hear a laugh. You raise your eyes, anger and hurt flashing in tears.

"And you have the nerve to fucking laugh?! Fuck you, Joel" you want to walk away to save yourself from further embarrasment yet your feet seem to be stuck.

"Oh, sweetheart. I'm not interested?" you roll your eyes, but he pins you by your shoulders, as if knowing you'd walk away. "Listen, I need you to know somethin': I'm not who you think I am"

"I don't care" you interrupt, defiant. "You're right, I don't know who you are. But I want to. Who you where outside this walls... It doesn't matter, not to me. You did what you had to do to survive, and that brought you here. Jackson... think of it as a second chance. You can still be happy, you know?"

With me, dies in your throat, not wanting to give more of yourself away.

"It's better this way" Joel insists, "hell, you'll even thank me one day. There's plenty of young boys here who'd love to be with you, trust me"

"I don't want them, Joel. What's so hard to understand?" what makes you get closer to him, you don't know, but in a sudden rush of force, you find the courage to look at him, body standing still as you exhale, fears condense in the air. "I only want you"

"You don't" you should roll your eyes again at his stubborn character, but his voice comes out so small, almost as if resignated, that it tugs your chest.

"I do" you reply firmly, cupping his cheek with tender care. He leans in your touch, despite it revealing his true desires when it comes to you.

"Why me?" Joel whispers, bigger hand covering yours, as to prove it's real and the warmth isn't a joke. "Why not a younger, charmin', happy boy your age? Why a broken violent older man?"

His voice breaks after the admission, quietly seeping into heavy silence that falls like the snowflakes in his hair.

"Joel" you call his name softly, making those sad brown eyes look at you. You gulp, nervous at the storm of emotions inside them, "is it so hard to believe you can be loved?"

Your words make him falter, his grip loosing strength as he tumbles back.

"Love?" he repeats with disbelief, as if you'd just say some kind of tale. "There isn't love in this world left for me. Men like me don't deserve good things, especially if they comin' from a pretty girl as yourself"

You shouldn't be blushing at times like this, but the maroon splash on your cheeks betrays you, warm as the drink from before and red as the dim lights casted by Jackson's Christmas tree in the middle of the town.

"Joel" you call again, and he's surprised you're still there. That you hadn't turn your back on him, or looked into his eyes and saw the monster in him, running away to never come back.

"If you let me" you hold his hands to steady him even as they tremble, "I could"

I could love you.

The promise hangs unspoken in the air, the wind now barely above a humming.

"You'd take me" his voice falters, "with all I've done, knowing I've hurted people?" Killed people, but he can't bring himself to say it when you look at him like that: like he could learn to love you.

"Yes" your voice doesn't waver a bit, "every part of you"

"And you'd take me knowin' that I'm years ahead in hurt, age and life?"

"Yes, Joel" you giggle. "Are you making me do an exam on your life? Because that's not fair, you've barely spoken to me, or anyone else for the matter!"

He chuckles, shaking his head.

"I s'ppose life ain't fair, sometimes"

"But it could be" the moonlight of the now clear sky shines over your eyes, and Joel is sure that the stars would be jealous.

"It could" he repeats, as to believe it himself.

Silence settles again, but it doesn't feel suffocating anymore.

"You know, we should probably get inside"

You dissmiss his words. "Nobody has even noticed we're gone"

"What about the cake?"

Your chest feels warm at his concern. He may not believe it, but the old-world Joel, the one who was a contractor in Texas and had a daughter, is still there, somewhere.

"Jackson is real, but miracles not" you laugh, "we don't have those. The party really is just an excuse for dad to drink with his friends during labor hours"

"And yours?" Joel inquires, "where your friends at?"

"Left early" then you lean to his ear, hot where skin meets cold. "I told them to"

He tries, but all words die on his throat.

"Wanna know why I did it?" your fingers wander to his tense jawline, tracing your sharp nails until they descent to his neck, sprinkled with loose hairs from his beard.

"Why?" voice barely above a whisper, his cock painfully hard between his legs. That you don't know: just the glint of dark on his hazel eyes.

"Why don't we find out?" and your hand takes his to lead the way. When he doesn't move, you try other way.

"I'm the birthday girl" you tease softly, but your orbs sparkle with something akin to dangerous. "You better make it up to me"

You've walked this road so many times, yet it's never felt longer.

The house is alone, you'd say, and Joel followed you because well, he'd follow you anywhere. He notices you said 'house', an indicator you still live with your parents. He wonders if you're embarrased, but by the way you smile, inviting him inside, to a part of you intimate and unknown until today, he knows he's chosen right.

When you open the door, cold creeps in through the cracks of warmth. You lead the way to your room, and once you're inside, he thinks it's very you.

"Very me?" you giggle, taking a seat in the bed. Joel watches from the doorframe, his bulky arms crossed. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"It's cute" and you think it's not a frequent word in his vocabulary, thanks to the pink dusting his cheeks.

"I'm cute?" you repeat delighted, and the shade of pink turns darker.

He just nods, avoiding your gaze.

"Joel" you call, then pat the spot next to you "why are you so far away? Are you scared?"

He grumbles something under his breath before walking over to where you showed. The bed creaks under his weight, and now that he's closer, you hear the wavering beat of his heart and ragged breaths.

"You are scared" you repeat, a statement now. He thinks you're mocking him, until your sure hand grabs his. "It's okay"

Before he can add on that, your face is too close, your breath tickling over his nose. He feels the moist of your lips press over the brigde of it, with a tenderness that brings ghosts of tears he has since long shade to his eyes.

Then they smoothly move to catch him in a kiss. He lets out a shaky gasp against your mouth, letting himself loose on the whiskey drops inside, an intoxicating mix against his own. His hands find your waist, gripping the soft skin with calloused fingers, refusing to leave it. He squeezes your curves while infiltrating your mouth with his tongue, until he pulls to breath, making you whine.

"Fuck, sweetheart" he nips your lower lip, "ain't you the sweetest thin' to ever exist?"

The kiss gets more heated, his hands now traveling to your face as they hold onto you for support, rough digits meeting peachy skin. Just the mere act of kissing makes him groan against you, too old to be shameful about the needy sounds coming out of his mouth.

"Joel" you whimper his name. He stops and takes the time to bore his gaze over your flushed face, your own dazed eyes mirroring his.

His fingers find their way to your hips again, pulling you closer. The moment caughts you and the bed off guard, the furniture creaking while your eyes move to the hardness visible on his worn-out jeans. You move your head to free your mouth to talk, but that doesn't stop Joel, who hungrily kisses the trace of your jaw and the road starting in your neck and finishing on your collarbones.

"Is that because of me?" Joel whines against your lips, yet you can't stop staring at the very big silhouette. "Oh, happy birthday to me"

Joel whines when you tear way from him, his hands loosing grasp on your body. You move up against the headboard, spreading your legs for him to put himself in between them.

You take off your clothes, and his eyes don't leave your body as if it's a show for him. He can drool at the sight of your breasts, rosy skin waiting for his tongue and teeth to sink on it. He leans closer, eyes looming at moles he could beg to kiss.

Now you, your expectant eyes plea. Joel's posture adquires a guarded air, as he grows self-conscious.

"Stop staring at me like that" he nervously chuckles.

"Is there something wrong?" your sweet voice inquires, laced with concern. He gulps, kind of afraid and embarrased of what you would say.

"I'm..." his voice comes out strained, "I just-"

His mind briefly wanders to Tess, how she never said anything, rather busy seeking the warmth of his body without commenting about it. The act mattered over the feelings, which where in her eyes but not his heart. But now, his heart beats in a different sound, one where he wishes you won't judge a body crossed with the roughness of scars yet the softness of extra weight.

"M' just warnin' you, doll" the nickname brings butterflies in your stomach, "this body's seen better days"

He removes the layers of clothing: flannel first, and then tight white long sleeved shirt. He's left in his jeans, unbuckling his belt that falls to the floor with a thud. His breathing turns to panting, afraid to meet you in the eye.

"Joel" you repeat his name, bringing him back to reality. "Look at me"

He's killed people, faced raiders as much as infected, and other countless things, so he dares himself to look up, breath hitching when he finds you eating him with your eyes.

"Fuck, Joel. I didn't know you were so pretty under those dirty ass flannels"

You knew he'd be handsome; that's literally the reason why you chose to flirt with him. But now that he's completely stripped off his layers of warm clothing, it's even better. You can't stop your hungry eyes from roaming his body, lingering on the soft swell of his stomach, hanging over the waistband of his underwear. A scar that looks deep is near his belly button, and you wonder if he'll ever tell you why. There's a patch of hair over his soft chest your tongue wants to lick. And of course, his strong arms packed with broad shoulders that make you want to scream.

"Stop lying" he chastises, but there's a smile adorning his features. A true smile on Joel fucking Miller's face. What a rare sight; you need to see it more.

"W-where your condoms?" he asks, nervous.

That catches you off guard, too busy cooing over how a man so big and sturdy could fold that easily, looking and sounding small.

"I'm not sure. I mean, maybe on my parents room but I-"

You cut yourself. Joel's concerned gaze finds you. "Yes?"

"I want you, Joel" the intensity of your stare terrifies him. "All of you"

He falls closer to you, forehead against your own. He can't bring himself to look at you, so he closes his eyes and dares to ask:

"Are you sure you want this?"

Are you sure you want me?

"Don't you trust me?" you're all smiles, even if your voice is soft. "I want you. I truly do"

He's hiding his face into your shoulder until you feel his lips pressing against your now bare skin, making you shiver.

"Where you want me, birthday girl?" he says between kisses. "Tell me, sweetheart. I'm all ears"

"Please, Joel" you unhook your bra, letting your breasts free. His lips begin to kiss his way to your breasts, tongue teasing the skin before nipping it. Joel's teeth catch the hardened nipple, grazing it lightly.

"S'pretty" he sounds drunk, and you love the way he looses himself in the pleasure haze.

He continues kissing your breasts before positioning himself right so he can hover above you. The kisses turn wet and sloppier, as if all his energy was to be spent into the rosy skin.

"Can I taste you, sweetheart?" he lowers his head to your entrance, already soaking wet with your arousal. "Fuck me, if this ain't a meal"

"The best in all Jackson" you joke, but the laugh dies in your throat when Joel's nose ghosts over your throbbing pussy.

"I- fuck, Joel" you moan when he licks your folds, his tongue an expert. For a brief moment, you think of who came before you, and if this is what they got or you're getting the best version. His saliva mixes with your dripping juices, making you whine as his tongue licks your swollen folds. His fingers then slowly inserted themselves inside at the same time, moving in and out of your puffy walls. His groans mix with the sound of your whines and the furniture creaking, the sounds obscene and feeling so far from the outside world.

"You're so good at this, baby" his sweat mixes with the blush on his face because of the nickname, nose pressed against your clit as he keeps up the ministrations. "D-don't stop"

"This pussy's so pretty" he says, "and s'only for me, yeah?"

"Yes, Joel. Only yours" you whine, your orgasm approaching. All of your body feels on fire, every touch inching the burn in your stomach closer as his head remains between your legs, tongue insatiable. You come all over his face, your hands digging into his damp locks as you scream his name to the air.

Joel raises his head to capture your lips on a wet kiss, the taste of you inside your mouth and dripping from his coated beard.

"Ain't you sweet" you open your legs further. "You're such a tease, sweetheart. Gon'be the death of me"

"I just like seeing you like this" you admit.

"Means?"

"So fucking needy"

A borderline primal grumble births from his throat. "You've a filthy mouth on you, sweetheart" he chuckles while wrapping your legs around his waist and lining himself up. Joel's tip runs up and down your folds, grazing your clit long enough to make you gasp.

"And you're s'fuckin' tight" he mumbles under his breath. You gasp for air as you try to adjust yourself to the huge size of his girth, afraid you bit more than what you can chew. His pace starts slow but gradually picks up a rougher and quicker pace. Joel grunts between thrusts, yet takes his time to make sure his lips kiss every mole sprinkled across your face and chest, his favorite just above your left eyebrow.

"I want ya' to come first, like a present" blush crosses through his face again. He leaves teasing kisses against your face, as you wail, finally hitting you.

"I'll wait for you" you whisper, your hips aiding you to sustain his sloppy thrusts, "want you to come too. Inside"

You feel his softening dick twitch, suddenly rock hard again. Oh, so he was into that.

"Don't worry, I have a pill" you explain. "So go ahead, pretty boy. Show me if the size matches the talk"

"Bet" his voice acquires a darkness to it. "Gonna fill you with all of it, until you milk my cock dry. Gonna fill this pretty pussy until it's full of my seed and it leaks for days"

He follows right after, groaning into your shoulder, where he bits the skin. His tongue wets the area, to relief the pain, yet you like it. Thick ropes of cum paint your puffy heat creamy, Joel panting as he stares down at you.

"What?" you chuckle.

Maybe Jackson was a safe haven. Heaven incarnate. Maybe second chances were real, and for the first time in years, he feels safe.

"I don't deserve you" he voices his thoughts, forehead pressed against yours as he tries to even his breathing, yet each breath seems more labored than the last.

Your hands travel to his face, cupping it with tender hands. He leans on the touch, because despite his crimes and past dawning upon him, he's a man: one seeking comfort on a pretty face and anything that'll remind him of distant emotions that can still exist despite what the world has become. Joel's hands travel to yours, thumb brushing skin free of scars and pain. He envies and loves the beauty in your face, eyes full of something akin to affection looking back, blurring the pain mirrored on his own. You kiss him again, and he can feel the emotions in the tip of your tongue.

"You're wrong" your voice holds a quiet determination. Time was a precious gift, but in Jackson, time could be, and the resolve longing tells him you'll be there. I'm not going anywhere, Joel. Not without you. "We all deserve love, Joel"

Joel Miller is a man who finds it hard to trust, yet, when he takes a look at your eyes―warm as rum, he allows himself to believe in you.

cr: divider @kodaswrld / gif @loregifs

#dilfistwrites #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #joel miller #joel miller tlou #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel miller angst #jackson!joel miller #tlou #tlou fanfiction #joel tlou #the last of us #tlou hbo #tlou joel

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macfrog · 2 years ago

Text

if i had a gun cowboy like me chapter 12.5 (joel's pov)

long-awaited, pain-packed, and sealed with a bow by yours truly. i love y'all. thank you for being so patient and kind with me on this one. this chapter is joel's experience of the end of illicit affairs and all of hits different. you might wanna check those chapters out before you indulge in the angst-fest that is this one. hope you enjoy 🧡

pairing: dbf!joel x fem!reader

summary: walk a mile in joel miller's shoes. see if you'd do anything different

warnings: more heartache, more angst, lois, alcohol + drug consumption, mention of reader being roofied, very brief mention of joel punching knox, age gap (reader is 23, joel is 48), cursing

word count: 9.8k

terrible news! there is no more taglist! make sure you're following @macfroglets w notifs on if you wanna be buzzed when i post 🤍

series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist

“Right. Sorry. It’s just…we kinda have a…situation, here.” It’s you. He fucking knows it’s you. His heart begins to hammer. He doesn’t give a fuck whether she puts two and two together or not when he asks – “Where is she?” “We’re still at Frank’s,” Anna says, sniffing. He can hear the booming bassline of music, muffled; the sharper chatter of voices. She’s on the street. In his head, he can see her shoulders hunched; her bare arms wrapped around her body for warmth. She goes to say it again. “We’re still at –” “’n where is she?” Joel cuts, and she finally cracks.

You’re still fast asleep when he lifts his head.

You’ve had this argument plenty before. I do not snore. Yes, baby, you do. I’ve heard you. I don’t! It’s alright, it’s okay that you do. It’s a cute snore. Joel, I don’t fucking –

Right now, he’s pretty certain you’re snoring. He just wishes you were awake to hear yourself.

He thinks about pulling his phone, taking a video so that once you’re up, you can hear the little bursts of air, the tiny rasps from your nostrils as you snooze. But if he ever did record anything like that – just like the Hillcrest pictures, until you’d found them last night – he’d keep it for himself. Wouldn’t offer it up so easily.

Just something for him to have, for all the time he spends without you.

Your hair’s still all over the place. Tangled in Joel’s right arm, still smelling of chlorine and sex. Your head rests softly on the crook of his elbow like it’s a pillow; your lips and eyes are puffy, tired. You have this ridiculously strong vice grip on his left arm; during the night he felt you wrap your wrists around it and pull it into your chest, tucking it gently under your chin until your entire upper half was drowned in his.

His chest snug against your back, his arms encasing you safely, and his hips…his hips lined with yours. His now semi-hard cock buried between your legs – he’d slept inside you last night, and it was like, after forty-eight years, someone finally took him by the shoulders and said: This is how you do it. This is how you rest.

He was out as soon as his head hit the pillow, soon as his eyes fell shut. He stirred only to feel you maneuvering his arm, and then fell straight back asleep.

He felt comfortable. He felt safe. Big, old, tough guy Joel Miller. Never let anybody in since Sarah’s mom left. Alone for almost seventeen years, and fine with it. His cheeks heat at the idea of needing – of wanting to feel that. Safe. But then you came along, and he realized he’d been waiting his whole life to feel it. Didn’t even notice he’d been missing it.

That’s how these things go, right? Can’t miss what you don’t have, and all that.

But now he has it. Now he has you.

And you make him feel things he’s never felt before, or if he has, it was so fucking long ago that he’s forgotten. You drive him fucking insane. Keep him up at night, wondering what the hell he’s gotten himself into. Make him do stuff that his reflection glares at him over. Are you being serious right now? Make him…different. New.

The night before last, when he’d picked you up from Frank’s after rodeo night, he promised to make you a big breakfast in the morning. Compensation for not swinging by McDonald’s on the way home. But then your dad called, and you had to take off before Joel had even properly woken up.

When he eventually rose from the bed, he went straight to the store. Stocked up on eggs, flour, sugar, bananas. He’d printed a recipe from his computer while you were gone. Marked the items off as he meandered through the store. Stood for ten minutes deliberating over which gluten-free flour would be best, before an assistant asked if he needed any help.

I’m good, he muttered, and then, as the kid wandered off, cleared his throat and said, Actually –

Greg – the kid assistant in question – had suggested the red bag. Said it’s corn flour, instead of wheat. Joel can’t pronounce the brand name. He just knows it’s tucked behind a box of cereal in the cupboard downstairs – he hid it there so you wouldn’t find it and snuff out his plan.

His plan, which he now has to put into action. Without waking you. He’d lie here forever just staring at you, if he hadn’t sworn to himself to make good on his promise and cook you some damn pancakes.

So he slowly pulls his left hand from between yours, loosening your death grip, and steals it back across your waist. He does the same for his right arm – more careful, though, so he doesn’t tug on your hair. Like some kind of wild cat creeping through the jungle, every moment calculated and careful.

He bunches the comforter up a little at your back, so that if you do stir, it might feel like he’s still there. Still a weight, curving around you. He takes a good five minutes just to travel the length of the room – the lightest he’s ever walked, dodging the spots on the carpet that he knows make the floorboards squeal.

When the door gently clicks back into place, he heads downstairs. Cracks out his frying pan – non-stick, obviously – and all his ingredients, pulls the printed recipe from its hiding place between two cookbooks and lays it out on the counter, flattening the creases and unfolding the corners. And gets to it.

His first egg cracks messily over the lip of the bowl. The yolk runs down the outside, and he curses before swiping it back up with his index finger. The second egg empties fully inside the bowl, but drags with it tiny fragments of shell. Joel spends five minutes focusing on picking every single piece out of the mixture. He crouches to make sure he’s poured the exact amount of milk, eyes level with the top of the liquid, and he double checks every step before he follows it.

This has to be perfect. Has to be. For you.

The entire time, all he can think about is you asking to sleep with his body inside yours. Wanting him closer than you’d ever wanted him before, as close as he could physically be. Your sleepy voice circles between his ears on loop – want somethin’ else. That safe feeling creeps up on him all over again.

He knows he shouldn’t. He can’t. He’s spent the last month purposefully pushing those feelings down, dampening them anytime they rose to the surface. Only allowing himself to feel them, to acknowledge them, when you’re around. Because he can’t fucking help but acknowledge them when you’re here – they stare him straight in the face.

So he’d been making peace with letting the floodgates open just a little bit at a time – one quick rush whenever you’d give him one of your meaningful glances, when your hot skin would brush against his, when your mouth would fall open at the feeling of his first deep thrust inside you.

And then he’d bolt them back up.

Except that, now…he’s not sure the dam can hold much longer. There are cracks he’s not repairing quickly enough. Unintended consequences hammering against the other side of the stone in the form of angry white waves.

He’s staring at the beige circle of batter in the pan, swept off with the waves into someplace far from his kitchen, when the sound of your voice draws him back.

“Joel? You down there?”

The floorboards at the top of his stairs creak. You’re leaning over the banister.

“Yeah, darlin’, I’m here.” He slips halfway out of the kitchen door, closing it over his body in hopes you won’t smell the pancakes. You ask what he’s doing, and he says, “Just makin’ a coffee. You want anything brought up?”

“I’m good,” you reply. “’m gonna take a shower.”

“Alright, baby. There’s probably some stuff in Sarah’s bathroom you can use.”

He listens closely as your footsteps recede, waiting to hear the hum of his shower before he relaxes again, flipping the pancake over. It sizzles away as he runs one thick finger along the inside of the bowl and tastes his handiwork. Pretty damn good, he thinks. He’s sucking his finger clean when his cell goes.

Joel swipes to answer, and before he can utter a Hello?, your dad’s voice is screaming down the line to him.

“Mornin’, pal! You in? You up?”

He figures this is the infamous speakerphone you rambled for ten minutes about last night. Like a fucking foghorn, man. I’m deaf in this ear now.

He doesn’t wait for Joel to respond. “I was just passin’ by, remembered you got that leakin’ pipe, or whatever it is. Under your sink, right? You good for me to drop in ‘n take a look?”

“Uh – uh, I’m –” Joel stammers his way through a sentence he doesn’t know the ending of, slotting the phone between his cheek and his shoulder and giving the pan a rattle against the stovetop. He slips the spatula under the mixture, and when he flips it over, the pancake is charcoal black. “Fuck.”

“What’s that?” you dad roars, deafening in Joel’s ear. Fuckin’ speakerphone.

“Nothin’, it’s…” He sighs, accepting his new-found position: backed into a fucking corner. What’s new these days?

“Yeah, I’m up. See you in a bit.”

He hangs up the phone midway through an Alright, buddy from your dad, and whacks the chargrilled pancake on top of the pile. His phone surfs across the counter in a blur of blind panic, before Joel’s taking the stairs two at a time to get to you.

The door’s ajar. He can hear you quietly singing to yourself. Same song you’re always fucking singing, always trying to coax Joel into singing along with you. You’re humming the guitar solo when he whips the door open.

“Hey, hey,” he’s panting, taking your towel in one hand and reaching for the shower door with the other, a blur of movement before his eyes like he’s not in control of his own body. “Out.”

“Huh?” you reply, blinded by the soap suds running down your forehead and into your eyes.

“Baby,” Joel whispers, desperate, “you gotta get out. He’s here. Your damn dad’s here.”

He drags you over to the first place he spots: his closet. He knows it’s no fucking good, but he can hear your dad’s car squealing to a halt in his drive, and he’s in a blink panic wondering what artefacts, what evidence of your being here lie dotted around his house. Your bikini’s hanging up out back, there’s probably a hoodie still strewn over the back of his couch.

He doesn’t have time to think, though, because in the midst of his mental scan of every room whilst explaining to you what’s going on, your dad’s heavy boots just thudded onto his doormat.

“Miller?” he calls up the stairs. And Joel closes the closet over.

----------

He stands by the front door watching your dad’s car purr off down the street, waiting until it turns left and disappears behind the Dawsons’ back fence to shut the door. When he turns back into his hallway, the house is uncomfortably silent. You’re still up in his room.

The weight of your phone pulls at the waistband of his jeans. He slips his hand into his back pocket, fishes it out, and takes one step toward the stairs. The screen lights in his palm.

There’s a cluster of notifications from some film class group chat, a couple Snapchats from Sarah. A reminder to take your birth control from some pink-icon app, and then –

I’m heading over to Joel’s to check something out for him. Wanna meet me there?

He stares at it until the text burns into his eyes. Blinks, and it’s seared into his lids. His breath leaves his chest in a heavy, burdened sigh. It trembles as it pushes from his lungs. He feels something burning under his skin. All over.

He’s angry. And he’s trying to keep it contained.

Keep it where it lies, keep it beneath the surface. Stop it from pooling right behind his lips, collecting in the light of his eyes. Keep it from revealing itself. But when his foot lifts to the first step, it’s like a deadweight in the air.

He’s angry. But he’s fucking exhausted.

The bedroom is empty when Joel pushes the door open. You’re still hidden in the closet. You don’t look up at him when he pulls on the shuttered door, letting light flood across your hands, still covering your face. There are flicks of dripping wet hair peeking out from under the towel on your head.

He wants to put his arms around you. Wants to kiss you all over. Tell you, It’s okay, it’s alright. He didn’t see nothin’.

But he can’t. Because neither of those things are true.

Your dad saw the cowgirl hat. Hell of a lot like a hat my daughter has. It sent a sharpened bolt of panic through Joel’s body the second the words came tumbling out. He might’ve seen your bag lying at the bottom of the stairs. Might’ve passed your car on his drive here. There are so many loose fucking ends.

And more than that – harder to accept: maybe this isn’t okay anymore. Maybe it hasn’t been the entire time. And maybe, despite all his good efforts and the fucking way you make him feel, despite it being weeks now of tiptoeing and lying and covering your tracks – maybe you finally crossed a line.

He can’t look at you a second longer. His heart’s in his throat. If he opens his mouth to speak, he’ll probably choke. Break down. So he walks away.

You follow him downstairs a few minutes later, fully dressed and silent. Your touch sweeps across his shoulder blades, and it takes everything in him not to turn to you then and there. Come here, kiss me. Pretend none of it’s happening, just for a moment.

He sets your plate down in front of you. He’s taken the burnt pancake. He follows a pattern: cuts into the food, glances out to the backyard, and back to the plate. It’s the only thing keeping the words from rolling out onto the table in front of him. The only thing stopping him from –

You kick his leg. So gently, he barely feels it.

“You gonna eat?” he asks in response, chewing on the smoky flavor of burnt batter. Your hands hesitate, and he feels his own flinch as if to take them, rub them, squeeze them. And then he watches as you drag your knife through your own breakfast.

He wants you to yell at him. He wants to give meaning to the guilt he feels. He knows what’s coming, and he isn’t so sure that you do.

This is…impossible. It has been, from the start. Always sneaking off, coming up with excuses. So many fucking excuses, he can’t even keep them straight in his head anymore. She’s here, droppin’ my flannel off. Now we’re upstairs, I’m showin’ her my guitar. Need her to help with decorations. Your TV’s broken, did you know that? Don’t mind us, just sat in this private corner of my backyard, out of view of fucking everyone. I’ll pick her up from her rodeo night, take her home. She’s at Anna’s all day today, right?

And your dad – kind and naïve, or maybe just so fucking gullible that every single one lands like the flour did in the egg mixture. Just gracefully floats down into his brain, absorbs itself and folds perfectly into place.

So, yell at him. Get mad. Make him feel like the fucking asshole he knows he is. Leading you on, and letting you get close to him, and then when it gets too hard – pushing you away. Doesn’t matter if that’s what he did or not; doesn’t matter whether he did or didn’t mean it. He wants you to be mad at him. To justify what he’s about to do.

He slides you your phone. Motions for you to read it.

“Fuck…” you whisper, and then he thinks you get it.

But then you say, “…he didn’t see me, though. Right?” and his heart sinks.

No. He didn’t see you. But he saw so many little pieces of you, that Joel finds it impossible to consider that he isn’t already seeing the entire picture. He’s picturing your dad at home in the living room, one hand on his hip, the other running through his hair, adding two and two and two and two and –

You’re bickering. Actually arguing. He doesn’t know how to navigate it, save for letting the frustration take the wheel and drive the point home: you came too close to being caught.

You’re smarter than this, he knows you are. He knows that you can see plain as day, everything that he can. The bag, the hat, the fucking home-cooked breakfast sat on his kitchen counter. He’s watching you argue your point, hands dancing in the air animatedly, eyebrows lifting, eyes widening. Hear me out. Listen to me. Hear me out.

“I didn’t fucking mean to let him see the b–”

“That’s not the point,” Joel says, before he has time to stop himself.

“Then what’s your point?”

He feels his voice carry off into the air with the images racing around his head. Hank’s shadow under the door. The roar of voices downstairs as you climaxed. Your body pinned under Joel’s on your couch. The way the morning light screamed into the house as your front door burst open.

He doesn’t sound like he has much of a point, even to himself. He’s in it just as much as you are. He’s lied and he’s hidden just as much as you have, and made mistakes that are…worse, as far as he’s concerned.

And the worst one of all sits directly opposite him. Head low, eyes boring into the wood of his kitchen table. He can see the tears swelling across your waterline. Can feel the heat from here as it spreads across your face. Anger thrums through his chest again, and his teeth grit.

He murmurs, pushing himself up from the table and away from you. Tells you there’s some stuff he needs to see to. You’re mad about it, like he knew you would be. Like you should be. He promises he’ll be back in a couple hours; promises you’ll talk when he gets home.

And then he leaves.

----------

Clark’s is on the other side of town. It takes him nearly forty minutes to get there, and more than half of that time is spent staring at the tail lights of a Honda in front of him. Some accident up ahead. His eyes bore into the burning red strip of brake light until it’s singed into them, a blur of blue when he finally rips his glare away and stares up at the white sky.

He thinks about calling you. Saying, Hey, I’m stuck in traffic, talk to me, but he doesn’t. He just…doesn’t.

Instead, he wonders what you’re doing. Whether or not you’re still at his place. He wouldn’t blame you if you weren’t. But if you are – and he hopes you are – what are you doing?

He thinks: She’s on the couch. Bundled in blankets. Grey’s is on TV. She’s rewatchin’ her favorite episodes.

Least, that’s what he wants you to be doing. Wants you to be making yourself feel better, because he knows he was a complete ass earlier. You didn’t deserve any of it. Nothing that he didn’t deserve himself, just as much, anyway.

He thinks about coming home, and you hitting pause, pushing yourself off the couch and sauntering around to him. Wrapping him in the blanket until your bodies are pressed together under the woven red, and kissing him. Kiss me kiss me kiss me.

And the thought of you, standing on your tiptoes to press your soft lips to his, your fingers sifting through his hair, is like a cold pack on a searing wound. Dulls his anger, even if it’s just for a second.

His wide tires crawl silently across the smooth lot of the plant hire, parking right in front of the wire fence. The truck door slams shut when he gets out. He doesn’t mean it. Maybe he does. But he does it without thinking, and with a hot head, a temper sharper than nails, he strides over to the glass-paneled door and swings it open.

She’s sat behind the desk, same as always. Dark, deep auburn hair, groomed and set to perfection so that when she looks up, it doesn’t move an inch. Curls around the sweetheart shape of her face, smooth and shining. Her blue eyes twinkle in the glaring light from outside, and she stands.

She tugs lightly on the hem of her white blouse. You’d probably elbow him and say, That’s cream, not white. She smiles at him and it doesn’t look a thing like your smile. He doesn’t remember the last time he saw your smile. Fuck, he thinks, when did I last make her smile?

And he’s still wondering, when Lois says, “Hey, stranger,” and puts a gentle, pale, red-nailed hand down on the desk. “Long time, no see.”

“Yeah,” Joel grumbles, clearing his throat and glancing at the man in a pair of thick, steel-toe boots, sat in a waiting area to his left. He thinks it’s probably polite to ask how she is. It’s been seven weeks since he blew off her hint for a date.

“Good, thanks,” she replies, cheeks swelling even more. They’re lightly shaded crimson, a soft shimmer to them against her snowy skin, dappled with light freckles. “You?”

He nods once. “Good,” he echoes, not sure what else to say. He’s lying, and she doesn’t seem to figure him out the way you would.

No. Instead, Lois steps back, straightens up, and twirls the pen in her fingers. “What can I do ya for?”

“Got some equipment I’m after,” he mutters, hand slipping into his back pocket for his phone. Lois’s eyes flit up and down his body as he taps his passcode in with his thumb.

She asks him something, but it sounds like she’s speaking through a closed door. He’s elsewhere.

The phone unlocks, screen lifting to reveal the last open app: his camera roll. His thumbs hover over the screen, tracing where yours would’ve tapped last night.

The video’s muted, she won’t hear it even if he let it play, but he swipes away the second he recognizes the tangled mess of your hair, his fist locked tight in it. His own hair, salt and pepper buried deep in the crook of your neck.

Something in his chest aches. Pulls tight, hurts his heart. He takes a deep breath and scares the feeling away. He’s staring at his camera roll. Staring at twelve little square thumbnails – couple of them work stuff, couple of them lists of supplies he has to remember to pick up – and then. Then.

You. At the Hillcrest. Dimples in your cheeks. That’s what made him take his phone out. The soft dips in your skin that appear anytime you smile, laugh, sometimes even just when you talk. He’d first noticed them when you had a mouth full of pizza, chatting animatedly about Meredith and Derek, and he’s noticed them every time since.

He’d seen them, as you posed with Sarah for a selfie at lunch. And his hand had slipped into his pocket before his brain even had the chance to finish the thought.

His quiet way of marking how he felt in that moment. How his chest seemed to fill as if with air, or something thicker. Sweeter. Like it was trying to push words up, a comment to tell you how beautiful you looked. Trying to make him move, run his thumb light as air across that tiny valley in your cheek and look at you with eyes that translated the words hammering behind his eyes.

But you had company. And all he managed to do was take two fucking photos.

Lois talks again, and this time, there’s no closed door.

“Huh?” Joel’s head snaps up, takes a few seconds to focus on the red hair in front of him. “Sorry, Lois, sorry.”

“’s alright. You okay?” She’s smiling so warmly, so sincerely. And there are no dimples in her cheeks.

“Yeah,” he clears his throat, “just checkin’ for the address.”

She holds out a pad, a stack of hire agreement forms hovering between her body and his, but he’s not looking. He’s still scrolling through his phone, thumbs searching your dad’s text thread for the information. Lois lowers the pad to the counter, places the pen on top. Fiddles with it until it’s lined up with the top of the form perfectly.

Then Joel looks up, and she smiles again.

“Not for you, then?” she asks.

He shakes his head. “Just the messenger.”

“Got it. Well, you know what you’re doing. Let me know if you need anything.”

Lois takes a step back, eyes still on Joel, who smiles politely, then swipes the form from the desk and takes a seat between Steel-Toe Boots and some tall, leafy plant that he has to bat away when he sits down. He’s copying the site address, phone resting on his thigh, when the receptionist speaks again.

“How’s Sarah doin’? She home yet?”

“Yeah,” Joel replies, “been home a couple weeks now. She’s been in Nashville this weekend.”

Lois lifts her head, blinking slowly. “Nashville. Nice. So, you’ve had a weekend to yourself.”

He scoffs. “Yeah,” he croaks.

“And what does Joel Miller get up to when he has an empty house for a few days?”

His fingers squeeze around the pen, pushing deeper into the paper. His expression hardens. “Nothing excitin’ enough to share. Sat by the pool yesterday. Was nice out.”

She agrees. “Sure was. You have company?”

Joel shakes his head once. Blinks the image of you and your red bikini from his vision. Focuses on dragging the pen one digit at a time across the line labeled Phone Number. If he cared enough, he’d give the obvious hint a couple seconds’ consideration, even just to protect Lois’s pride a little.

But he doesn’t care. And right now, he ain’t interested in protecting anyone but you.

“Nope. Just me ‘n a few beers.”

“Better off that way,” a hoarse, forty-cigs-a-day voice rasps from his right. “Less fuckin’ problems.”

Joel’s jaw rotates a degree towards the work boots; notices the folds of dry, leathery skin piled atop the raised gray eyebrows of their owner, and then turns back silently.

Lois clears her throat awkwardly. “Well, I spent the day with my book. I’m readin’ a Colleen Hoover. Adam’s at camp, so – quiet house for me, too.”

Joel finds himself nodding. Autopilot. He’s pretending he’s listening.

You’re still in his sight, wandering over from the sliding kitchen doors, a bottle in each hand. He can hardly see you when he looks up, the sun’s so bright. You hold a beer out, condensation dripping down your fingers towards Joel’s when he takes it, and then you slump down in the sun lounger next to his.

His arm reaches across, and your small fingers wrap and then unwrap around his, running across his knuckles, nails lightly scratching his worked hands. And he’s smiling, and he doesn’t even notice it until his eyes meet yours and you laugh, and he asks, What? through a chuckle, and you say, Nothin’, you just look happy.

Your dimpled blush blurs back into checkboxes and scrawled handwriting. You’re gone again. He’s in a white office, and the gentle lapping of the water on the pool’s edge fades into the headache noise of a fan humming, and he feels the warmth of your gaze on his skin turn into the cold, harsh spotlight glare of Lois’s eyes on him.

He looks up. She’s still smiling. At this point, he finds it fucking unnerving.

He rises from his chair, swings a wandering leaf from that ugly green plant out of his way and paces back over to the desk, sliding the pad back across to her. Their hands brush as she takes it from his grip, and he pulls his wrist close to his body. Lois doesn’t seem to notice.

She’s running the pen down the form, checking everything he’s filled in. Her tongue moves around the inside of her cheek, sucking on a hard candy. “Delivery on Friday?” she double checks, and Joel nods. “Alright,” she says, tearing away his copy, “we’ll call ya.”

“’ppreciate it,” he mumbles, folding the paper into his back pocket.

She turns, reaching to slip the form into a blue tray, and Joel pauses. Thinks to say something – he hopes Adam has a fun time at camp, or that Lois enjoys the rest of her quiet week. But then he sees you sat opposite him, staring fixedly at the plate before you, tears threatening to spill down your cheeks. He feels your hand laced in his, hears your laugh still ringing in his ears.

He misses you. He should never have left you. You matter more to him than some equipment for a site. Matter more to him than anything. He should’ve never fucking left.

Joel nods. Reaches for the handle of the door. Glances back to Lois. “There a florist anywhere near here?”

----------

He pulls the truck in alongside the florist. Teal window frames, a little pink door. He can hear you now. How fucking cute is that store? Give me your phone, I gotta get a picture. Mine’s is in my bag in the back. Look, the traffic’s movin’, Joel, give me your phone – quick!

His fingers hook around the silver door handle. He pats his jeans once – wallet’s right there – and goes to pull, when his cell vibrates from the center console. He can see himself in the glass screen, your dad’s name written across the reflection of his forehead.

He bites down on his lip. Hard. Glances up to the road ahead. Blinks. And decides to answer.

“Joel,” your dad chirps down the line. “Sorry, buddy, you’ll be sick a’ the sight ‘n sound of me today.”

Joel manages a convincing laugh. “What’s up?”

“Just makin’ sure you’re rememberin’ to put Friday’s date down for delivery on that order. We’re gonna need the stuff over the weekend, so.”

“Yep. Just been to do it right now. Friday’s date, Harvey’s site, your card details ‘n everything.”

“’attaboy. Good job. You’re all grown up.”

“Funny.”

“Thanks, pal. I appreciate it. There wasn’t no chance I was gettin’ time to do it myself,” he lowers his voice, “I’m still stuck here with Kelman.”

Joel’s fingers trace around his steering wheel. “Oh, yeah? He keepin’ you busy?”

“You bet. Had to haggle with ‘im just to get a lunch break. Speakin’ of – I swung by the house and that daughter of mine wasn’t home. Haven’t seen or heard from her since yesterday mornin’. I’m just checkin’ she ain’t stop by to see Sarah or som’?”

His fingers lock tight around the leather. “Sarah’s still in Nashville, she gets in tonight. Couldn’t tell you where yours is. I’m not home yet, so.”

It’s a half-truth. He could wager a pretty good guess, but he can’t be certain, can he?

Your dad chuckles down the line. “She spent the night at Anna’s. My house must be like prison to her – she’s never around anymore. I’ll hear from her soon, I’m sure. Alright. Thanks, again, Joel.”

He drops the phone back into the cupholder with a sigh, leaning back against the headrest to stare at the roof of the truck. He’s still picturing you in his living room, head turning to the street at every sound of a car door, or tires rolling by. And then the image is marred by your dad, peering in the window back at you, catching you wrapped up in a situation you shouldn’t be in.

He doesn’t want your dad to find out. For obvious reasons. Because it would mean the collapse of their friendship, the collapse of the world they built between them – for you, for Sarah, for themselves. Comfortability, and normalcy, and routine and order all thrown to the wind on account of some month-long fling.

But more important than all of that: it would mean dragging you into all of that, too. Fucking up your relationship with your dad. Making things weird between you and Sarah. Ruining whatever’s left of what you and Joel had, before you both took it too far.

And if he doesn’t want all that – if he doesn’t want your dad finding out – then something has to change. Something’s gotta stop.

His fingers wrap tight around the key and turn, and the truck jumps to life. He turns away from the teal-colored florist as he pulls off.

----------

You take it about as well as he reckoned you might. About as well as you should, given the circumstances. He isn’t surprised, and he doesn’t blame you. He’s probably on your side, when you argue back with him.

“You’re not serious, right? Joel. You’re not –”

“Kid, I…”

“No. What? Because of a fucking bag?”

He lifts his gaze and pleads with you. “Because of the lying.”

You’re right, with your response: it’s never been an issue until now. He’s been more than fucking happy to sneak off, take you as his own, and then return with a satisfied grin and a mouth full of excuses to feed your company. He almost agrees.

It’s just: this time, your dad’s at your heels like a bloodhound. A little less sharp, maybe. Blind as a fucking bat, sure. But he can smell something’s up. And he’s circling it, nose to the ground, drawing nearer and nearer to the pair of you with each step.

You ask if he wants to tell the truth. That thought scares him just as much. Knocks him back a few steps. No, he doesn’t want to come clean.

The words fly back and forth like a tennis match. Too fast for him to keep control of what he’s saying and how you’re hearing it. He wants to break it off – is there anything to break off? – but he doesn’t want to lose you – how can you lose something you never had? – and then: did he ever have you in the first place?

You’re standing over him, between his knees. “End it,” you tell him. “I’ll go.”

There’s a casualness in the loose shrug of your shoulders that scares him more than the prospect of you actually leaving. How easy it looks like it could be, for you to just wander out. Sling your bag over your shoulder and revert back to the start of the summer, when he was just a ride home after a rainy day at work.

Forget how to touch him the way he’s certain only you can, forget the secret language between you, forget every stolen glance and whispered word and every thought that ever translated from your brain to his as easy as they would pass between your lips.

“You don’t mean nothin’ to me? That what you think?” He’s laughing. Disbelief, fear, shock. Whichever one it is, it pulls across his cheeks painfully. Somehow, you’ve ended up at the foot of his bed.

“Well, what else am I supposed to take from this, asshole? That you’re fuckin’ in love with me?”

It’s cold water over an already-dying fire. The words smother into ash on his tongue. No more come to the front. He just stares at you. His phone starts to chitter out into the silence between you.

You take a step forward. Your voice is low. “You don’t get to do this, you know. You don’t get to pull me in and then drop me…once you’re done with me.”

“Don’t.”

It’s not much, but it soars from the pit of his stomach, through his throat and past his lips like a final arrow. All he can muster up.

“Don’t.”

There’s a weight where the words originate from. Something deep in his gut, an ache pulling its way upward, swelling across his chest. His ears are screaming.

Of all the things you might think – he’s an asshole, he’s a liar, he doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing – the worst one would be that he spent this entire time leading you on. Making you feel special. Making you think you were something to him.

You are something to him. You’re – you’re fucking everything to him. It’s why he’s doing this, right? Going against every instinct, every gut feeling. To protect you. To do what’s right by you. He’s not fucking done with you. He wonders if he’ll ever go another day in his life without thinking about you.

“I can’t read your mind anymore…” you whisper, and his lungs steal a breath. His lack of response flattens your expression.

Joel might not be done, but you are.

He can feel you slipping from his grasp like sand through his knuckles. Each grain rocking itself loose, choosing to throw itself to the depths below rather than spend another second wrapped in his clutch.

He’s trying so desperately to hold onto you. Listen to me, he thinks, and he knows you can’t hear him anymore. Because now you’re really going – you’re tripping out of his room. Your heel catches on the threshold, like one last-ditch attempt from fate to pull you back into him, but you stop yourself and spin, fleeing down the hallway.

He takes a loose grasp of your wrist, fingers barely meeting on the other side of your skin before you tear it away from him like he’s scalded you. The look on your face makes him think for a moment that he might actually have done it – burned you. Pained you. Raised the skin below your gentle palm in a furious, red glow.

He’s swapping words out like they’re tools, each one immediately breaking and being flung back into the box. He’s trying any combination, any useless, futile order of words to make you stop in your tracks. You know how much I care about you, ‘s why I’m doin’ it, baby, come back, we can talk about this.

And he opens his mouth to give voice to the only words he knows would stop you – the reason why he’s doing it in the first place, the only thought he’s had anytime he’s looked at you for the last couple weeks. He opens his mouth to say it, or say something like it, when the machine silences the ringtone and the pair of you, too.

Her voice is like ice down the back of his shirt. He stares at the machine, red light blinking like a rag to a bull. He could walk over to it and smash the ever-loving fuck out of it with his fists until it’s dust on his coffee table. Until it shuts the fuck up, stops interfering with his fucking business.

And then he thinks about Lois, and her cream blouse, and her red nails, and her big, blue eyes, and her soft drawl and everything about her that is so entirely opposite to everything about you.

And how much – despite how nice and friendly, or funny and good-natured she is – how much he hates her right now, and how much he fucking loves you.

But you’re gone, now. Washed away by the tide. No more sand in Joel’s palm.

He tries to stop it. Tries to wind back a little, tries to make the sea cough up what it just stole from him. Give her back, you fuck. His eyes are stinging like salt water. Why are they stinging? There’s a roaring in his ears – the waves laughing in his face. Sickly and deafening.

He’s doing his best to keep a hold on his trembling voice. He knows he sounds pathetic. But yours is louder, stronger, steadier. And when you talk, it’s with an air of finality. Like you’re turning over the horizon. The last time he’ll ever see you again.

“I’ll see you ‘round, Joel.”

----------

He doesn’t call or text you that night. He doesn’t know what he’d say. Doesn’t even know where he’d begin. You’re mad, and Joel figures you got every right to be. This entire thing – today, this weekend, the whole month you’ve been together – is one big fucking mess.

He spends the afternoon hunched over his kitchen table, trying to distract himself with work. Twirling a pencil between his fingers, reading three, four, sometimes five times over the same building plans before deciding that the words and numbers won’t fucking sink in. He leaves them strewn across the table, wanders aimlessly upstairs and takes a cold shower.

Sarah’s flight gets in at 8PM. Joel’s sat curbside, truck engine humming, scanning every single figure that walks out of the airport building. When he spots the gray hoodie, the brown hair tied back with a pink scrunchie, the much-too-big-for-four-days-away suitcase rolling at her heels, he gets out.

She hugs her friends, they nod in passing greeting to him, and she skips over.

“Hey,” he breathes as she wraps her arms around his waist. “How was your flight? Saw you comin’ in.”

She shrugs in response. “I’m hungry. Wanna go get McDonald’s?”

Joel grumbles, slotting her case in the back of the truck. “You don’t wanna get home? Take a shower first? You smell like plane.”

“Ha! No.”

She opens the passenger side door and hoists her foot up on the seat, retying her sneaker. Joel’s already in and buckled up, hands on the wheel, watching her blue nails loop the laces.

“There’s one, like, ten minutes away.”

He’s shaking his head. “We got food in the house.”

Her gaze lifts. Her foot drops. “Oh, c’mon, it’s on the way home. We’ll be, like, five minutes. I just got off a two-hour flight, dude, right through dinner. I’m starving, I –”

“Would you just get in the damn truck, Sarah?”

It’s shorter, snappier, angrier than he meant. But he’s parked in the middle of the packed pick-up area, and the rattling of suitcase wheels and the whistling of cab drivers and the fucking roaring of planes overhead are making the headache behind his eyes worse.

Sarah freezes, one arm still leaning on the doorframe. “Jesus. What the fuck?”

“Sorry,” Joel mutters, shaking his head. “Sorry. Just – get in.”

“No need to be an asshole about it,” she murmurs, pulling herself up into the passenger seat.

Joel’s face is in his hands, elbows atop the steering wheel. “I’m not tryna be an asshole,” he says into his palms.

His daughter looks at him. Concerned. “Somethin’ happen? While I was gone?”

He shakes his head again.

Nothing happened.

He’s quiet the rest of the night. The rest of the week. Sarah notices, he knows she does, because she pries. In her own way. She’s smarter than he is. Less obvious.

She’s already up and in the kitchen when he rises on Tuesday morning. Spins around at the toaster, tells him the machine’s ready for his coffee. Asks if he wants her to make it. Asks if he wants any breakfast.

Thanks, kiddo. No, I’ll get it. No, you’re good, thanks.

They sit opposite one another in silence, save for the crunching of Sarah’s toast. He can feel her eyes on him, same way he felt Lois’s. Trying to burrow deep inside, take a look at his brain. Catch a glimpse of the words he’s thinking over and over and over.

There ain’t no words, though. It’s just images. Video replay of your back as you strode down his driveway, the way the wind caught your hair and brushed your cheek, the way your hand came up to wipe your tears. And the way he stood there, like a fucking idiot, and did nothing.

His chest hurts any time he thinks about you. Pulls in, knits itself together in knots. He’s good at pushing feelings down, good at turning them away from the sunlight like faded pebbles. But this is different. It’s a different kind of hurt.

It’s unresolved, it’s an open wound. It’s you. And it’s every time he hears REO Speedwagon, every time he pulls a flannel over his shoulders and catches the scent of your perfume on it, every time he’s flicking through the TV and catches a flash of a hospital setting, it’s a pair of hands deep inside the wound, pulling it a little wider.

It aches. It stings and it aches and it winds.

And then he turns the pebbles around. Back to the shade. Over and over and fucking over.

On Wednesday night, he caves. Asks Sarah if she’s spoken to you.

She’s chewing on a slice of pizza; licks the grease from her fingertips before she answers. “Not really. She’s been quieter than usual. Why?”

“She’s been quieter than usual?” he repeats, playing off the way his head shot up by looking straight back down at the pizza box.

Sarah narrows her eyes. “Yeah. I figure she’s working a lot.”

“Right. Right.”

“She gets tired of being in the house all the time, I think. Getting treated like a kid still. So I guess the more time she can spend outta there, the better.”

Joel nods slowly. He already knows that much.

Sarah studies him. Watches his hands as he dabs a pizza crust into the dip. When he tosses it in his mouth, he looks back up at her.

“What?”

“Nothing,” she says. “You want the last slice?”

“You take it,” he mutters, sitting back and wiping his hands on a napkin. “I’m stuffed.”

She hums, reaching forward. “Whatever it is,” she says, pulling the dough apart, “that’s got you this down –”

“Ain’t nothin’ got me down, kiddo.”

“– whatever it is,” she continues, “I bet it works itself out.”

Sarah stands up, taking her water with her, and wanders out of the kitchen.

----------

Joel struggles through another sleepless night, Thursday through Friday. His eyes don’t close over once. He hauls himself out of bed early in the morning, forces a black coffee down his throat, and heads off to work.

He’s up at some new client in Waco. Andrew Curtis – or, well, Andrew Curtis’s father, but Joel’s been dealing primarily with the son, and the guy’s a fucking imbecile. Doesn’t know his head from his ass, probably. And he has a voice like nails on a damn chalkboard, and his shirt’s untucked around the back, but Joel ain’t got a tone kind enough, or half the wordsmanship, or an ounce of energy to tell him.

Anyway – he spends all day at this dusty site, trying to work and instead, thinking about whatever the fuck you’re doing. Wherever you are, whoever you’re with. It’s almost seven by the time he’s leaving, packing up his truck and watching Andrew Curtis across the yard. He’s spotted his own shadow; he’s twisting around to reach the ducktail poking out from above his belt loops.

Joel thinks to call you about it on the way home. Tell you all about the guy: his dry conversation, his flannel, the fact he kept calling Joel Joe all day. He figures it would make you laugh, least the way he’d tell it, and he reckons that’s exactly what you need right now. That’s exactly what he needs, right now.

When Clark’s call him, he dials your dad. Has his ear blown half to hell by the speakerphone. Learns midway through the conversation that you’re right there in the car, too, and bites back a stream of incoherent, senseless words. Settles for a quiet reminder: he’s right here if you need him.

He doesn’t expect you to take him up on it. Knows you got better things to do than deal with some asshole who’d rather break your heart than have a few difficult conversations. You’re probably having fun, probably finally feeling good again. You’re probably fine.

But still. He doesn’t sleep that night, either.

It’s just gone two when Anna calls. He’s lying in bed, some shopping network on loop on the TV. His tired eyes bore into the screen, defocusing over the pixels, not watching nor listening and barely fucking breathing until he picks up the phone. Her voice is panicked, shrill, and shaking so much he wonders if his own phone is trembling with it.

“Mr. Miller?” she asks, and Joel sits up. “Got your number from Yelp. ‘m sorry it’s so late, it’s…oh, fuck – it’s, like, 2AM.”

“Anna,” Joel says hoarsely. Get to the fuckin’ point.

“Right. Sorry. It’s just…we kinda have a…situation, here.”

It’s you. He fucking knows it’s you. His heart begins to hammer. He doesn’t give a fuck whether she puts two and two together or not when he asks –

“Where is she?”

“We’re still at Frank’s,” Anna says, sniffing. He can hear the booming bassline of music, muffled; the sharper chatter of voices. She’s on the street. In his head, he can see her shoulders hunched; her bare arms wrapped around her body for warmth. She goes to say it again. “We’re still at –”

“’n where is she?” Joel cuts, and she finally cracks.

In one long, drawn breath, she spills. “She was fucked from the second we walked in here; she drank too much too quick, Mr. Miller – Joel,” she says when he corrects her, “and then she just – I dunno, she just – fucking disappeared with these guys, me ‘n Kara never saw ‘em in our lives – and they went upstairs we think, and she came back smelling like weed, and then this guy – he just, like, scooped her off, Mr. M– I mean Joel, like, totally dragged her away, and then –”

“Who–? Anna – Anna, wait,” Joel says, shushing her between her rambling, trying to rein in what she’s saying. When she finally shuts up, he speaks slowly and calmly. “Who dragged her away?”

“We don’t fuckin’ know!” she almost shrieks down the line. It cuts out for a second and Joel’s heart stops dead.“– so we don’t know,” she says when her voice filters back through into his ear, “but Sam said he saw the dude drop something in her bottle when he turned away. A pill or something.”

Joel’s body tenses. Freezes solid, with the blood in his veins. His eyes fix on one spot on his dresser: the loose handle that sits a little squint. He stares at it until his peripheral starts to blur.

“He – say that again?”

“He roofied her, we think. But we can’t fucking find them. Sam and Kara are in there just now looking. The guy pulled her away, that’s what I’m tryna say!”

“Right,” whispers Joel, nodding. He drags a heavy hand over his eyes, tries to push the image of you in danger out of his head for one second so he can figure out what to do.

Anna doesn’t hear him. She keeps talking. “…and then Sam said she told him not to call her dad, but I had to call someone, y’know? You’re the only person I think she wouldn’t – I think she wouldn’t mind me callin’. Please.”

He’s already halfway down the stairs, arms pushing through the sleeves of his shirt. He keeps the phone against his cheek when he bends to reach for his boots, ties them loose and grabs his keys.

“You call me as soon as you find her, you hear? I’m on my way,” he tells Anna, and hangs up.

He’s panicking. Fear, transferred between her cell and his, creeping over his shoulders, wrapping long, cold fingers around his throat. He’s panicking. He’s panicking. He never panics. Where the fuck are you? Who the fuck are you with?

There’s barely any traffic on the road, but the drive takes for-fucking-ever. The lights at the side of the road blur into long, thin streaks of orange. His hands are tight around the steering wheel, his jaw clenched. Your name lies loose on his lips.

He pulls up right outside the bar. There are small clusters of people, congregated tight together under the streetlights; cigarettes hanging from lips, bottles loose in hands. He shoves by them on his way to the door. Some guy shuffles out of his way, looking up to cuss Joel out and quickly dipping his head again when he locks eyes with the grizzly expression.

He shoves the door open with his shoulder, and spots you instantly.

----------

His knuckles are throbbing. Skin stretching anytime he moves his hand, searing hot and sharply stinging across the bone. Your touch is the only thing soothing them right now.

He got two good punches in. Just two. Burst the guy’s nose. He would’ve kept going, had he not been in a bar full of people – people who knew who he was – and had you not been stood behind him, body liquid-like from how much you were swaying.

But he has you home now. Up in your room, settled in bed. You’re safe. You’re with him.

You’re fucking wasted. Like, can barely lift a glass of water to your lips unaided wasted. He spent the entire drive watching over you, stealing glances when your head turned or your eyes lulled closed, checking you were still awake, still talking, still fucking breathing.

Whatever that asshole gave you, you don’t seem to have had enough for it to do too much damage. The alcohol is the real culprit. Though you were cognitive enough to yell at him over Lois in the kitchen, which relieved him for a second before it fucking crushed him. He’s lying awake right now – listening to the sound of your snoring – replaying the argument in his head. Over and over.

You’re an asshole and a liar. Just stringing me along this whole time.

He’s some awful cocktail of angry and terrified and fucking heartbroken. You’re lying inches from him, your hand resting softly on top of his, and yet – you’re miles away. The space between you both – fragmented, treacherous.

In a perfect world, he’d have wrapped his arms around your shoulders. He’d have pulled you against his weight, against his strong, steady form. And he’d have walked you, as slow as you needed, out of the bar and to his truck. Maybe laughing. Maybe singing.

He’d have told you everything was fine, told you he loved you, told you he was gonna get you home, make you feel better. He’d hold you until the sun came up, and then hold you until it went back down.

He’d love you. And you’d let him.

Maybe that world doesn’t exist, Joel thinks. And maybe that’s for the better.

It fucking hurts, though. Stings like a hot blade through his chest. All this time, messing around, pretending there was nothing more to it. Letting his feelings through like water in a fucking dam. It was bound to break eventually.

And maybe he really thought, even just for a fleeting moment, there could be something here. Something worth holding onto. More than two idiots messing around, more than sex and secrecy.

He didn’t even realize. Didn’t notice the shift. When did he start feeling…more? When did it cross that line?

He’s staring at the end of your bed. Thinking about you under him, gripping onto his shirt, his hand between your legs. The very first time. And every other fucking time since then. Which one was the threshold? Who pushed who?

His ringtone bursts through the silence, making him jump. His arm swings to fish it from the nightstand, swiping to answer before he’s even read who’s calling, just to shut the thing up.

“Hello?” he murmurs.

“Hey, Joe? Uh, I mean, Joel? It’s Andrew Curtis here.”

He rolls his eyes. For fuck’s sake. “Mornin’, Andrew.”

“Hi. Sorry, I know it’s super early. I’m just checkin’ we’re still good to go. I got my guys ready, we’re rarin’ to get goin’ whenever you are.”

Joel clears his throat, pushing slowly off the plush mattress, resting your hand on the sheets. “Yeah, uh…” He slips out of your room, hopping over to the bathroom and closing the door over. “…I had a, uh…a family emergency durin’ the night. I’m gonna be a little late, but I’ll be there.”

“Oh, gee, I hope everything’s alright?”

He phrases it like he wants Joel to clue him in. He considers for a second actually saying, Yeah, my best friend’s daughter – who I’ve been sleeping with for the last month – got plastered at a bar – Frank’s, local place, you heard of it? – because I broke things off with her – but I didn’t want to, I was just tryna be fuckin’ noble – and I went and picked her up, punched a guy who was tryna hurt her, because guess what, Andrew – I’m in fuckin’ love with her.

He sums it up with: “Yeah. Everything’s fine now. Thanks.”

“Alright, well, great news! Call me when you’re twenty minutes out, I’ll have the guys here for you arrivin’. Safe journey, Joe!”

Joel breathes an Uhuh and hangs up, holding the bridge of his nose. He has a headache, like he’s the one who’s been drinking. It’s only going to get worse, too, heading off to go spend his Saturday with Andrew fucking Curtis and his loose flannel.

The sun’s rising slowly, lighting the hall in a warm glow. Joel pads quietly into your room and pulls the cover back over his side of the mattress. You stir; your head jerks only to move some hair from your face, and then you sigh, sleep pulling you back into its arms.

He watches you for a second. Wishes he could run a light hand down your cheek, kiss your head. Whisper a goodbye, the same way you did to him almost a week ago.

He shakes the thought, collecting his boots from the floor. His hand hovers over his shirt for a moment. And then he lifts it by the collar, lays it neatly on the pillow by your head, and leaves. You can keep it, trash it, burn it. But it’s yours. Everything about him is yours.

In the kitchen, he stands by the sink, nursing a cup of coffee. It’s a quarter to six. This early on a Saturday, he figures he’ll be in Waco by seven, seven-thirty latest. His eyes fix on the spot you two stood last night, yelling back and forth about Lois. She seems so far away, now. He can barely remember the shape of her face, the sound of her voice.

His grip tightens around the mug. He places it in the sink, and grabs his keys. As he passes the stairs, he pauses. Leans on one foot, head tilted to listen out for any sound of life. Any fucking sound – the creak of a floorboard, the squeak of a door handle. Anything to keep him here. Anything.

Nothing comes. No sound, no movement, no you.

He closes the front door gently on his way out.

----------

taglist: @yvonneeeee @subconsciouscollapse @leahlovestwd @peqchsoup @whorror-s @k1ttybean @whichwitchwanda @abuttoncalledsmalls @anner--nanner @jpbplvr @laysmt @ankhmutes @bookishhella @cannolighost @luvrking @mellymbee @yourwinchesterbros @nostalxgic @scottstotts @daiseygriffithx @letsgroovetonighttt @huffle-punk @unbotheredbeeeee @iluvurfather @wildcat116 @godisawomansblog @55vvaa55 @koshkaj-blog @initforthebooks @theywhowriteandknowthings @thatgirljayy@sasakipsposts @casa-boiardi @milla-frenchy @aim-formyheart @taeslarityy @lxstbxyscave23 @joelmillerxapologist @capt-rex @giixo @capricorngf @feministfanboi @fifia-writes @darleneslane @theplumsoldier @sharp-cheekbones-locked @suzmagine @endlessthxxghts @ivebeenflagged @blognametakenn @jessahmewren @nobodycanseeinsidemysoul @ranahx @pedropascalsbbg @dindjarinsbeskarbunny @cartoon-garbage04 @caatheeriinee07 @kngslayr @dissentientss @hopplessilse @annagraceevanss @lucyeyelesbarrow @faceache111 @vickywallace @lelifesaver

@slvbl @regalwhovianbrowncoat774 @casa-boiardi @msjarvis @acornacreacure @totallynotastanacc @alejaa-a @aphterthoughtt @pedroluver @earthtogrogu @sexygaypalpatine @cool-iguana @serenaxpedro @lizzyervs @bitchwitch1981 @brittmb115 @stormseyer @scarletthefierce @patti7dc @pattwtf @atticrissfinch @pascalpvnk @lizzyervs @jediknightjana @jessie8605 @iknowisoundcrazy @caitispunk @vickie5446 @mrsquill @uncassettodiricordi @gracieispunk @hellishjoel

(psst! after this weekend my taglist is no more! follow @macfroglets + turn on notifs if you wanna be in the know when i post!)

#joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #the last of us #tlou #tlou fic #dbf!joel miller #dbf!joel #dad's best friend #joel miller smut #joel miller fluff #joel miller angst #fic: cowboy like me #smut #fluff #angst

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zomb-rabbit · 1 year ago

Note

Rubbing my hands together like a evil fly

What's up pookie how are you, I have another request of it's okay :3

Some sfw and NSFW headcanons for Tim and Evan?

(the volleyball ones were so good I was giggling and kicking my legs ngl)

-🐟

HIII FISHY !! i'm soso happy you liked them :33 lmk if any of this should change !!

[NSFT] 🚬☠️ Tim Wright / Evan Myers x gn!reader sft and nsft headcanons :)

· · ·

Tim :

[SFT]

sappy guy honestly

he's got a lot of walls for you to get through, but as soon as you do he's the SWEETEST

he's a family man i can tell you that

whether that's y'all and some kids or y'all and some pets is up to you

he's the kinda guy to slow dance in the kitchen with you, quietly humming and tracing small circles into your back

he feels so guilty for it, but he does have a lot of reoccurring nightmares given what he's been through

he made need space, he may need comfort, but he just doesn't want you to be scared

that's honestly a major fear of his, making you scared of him in any way

it's a lot of his job and day to day, but he doesn't wanna do that to you. he knows you, he's let you into his life, he wants to keep you there

he honestly and truly does his best to keep you happy

he knows he can't get you everything he wishes he could, but he'll be damned if he doesn't try to make it up to you in other ways

[NSFT]

SPEAKING OF OTHER WAYYSSS

lord have mercy does this man love to praise you

every little thing you do, every little noise you make, he thinks it's the sweetest thing

not to say he won't be absolutely demolishing you, but he's definitely gonna be whispering deep, gravely praises into your ear while he does it

you have an almost constant hum of a low, "yeahh, that feel good, pretty? doin' so good for me, just a little more, i know you've got it in ya"

LOOOVES FUCKING YOU FROM THE BACK 🗣️

the control he has to use you however he wants reaaally gets him going

and he likes that you get to be as loud as you want, since most of the time he lasts long enough for your arms give out holding your body up that you're just a moaning mess against the pillows

he has

a secret

that he is EMBARRASSEDDDDDD about

it makes his head spin when you mark up his neck

he's so sensitive, poor thing has to grab onto your hips with a vice grip to keep himself grounded

if you catch him in the right moment while you're riding him and go for his neck, it's one of the few times you can hear him whimper

Evan :

[SFT]

HE IS SUCH A GOOF

complete dork and we love him for it

he's so obviously head over heels for you and it's the sweetest

if you like to talk about drama from work, school, etc he is PERFECT for over the top reactions

i feel like you guys have a lot of those moments where if there's a beat of silence in a conversation or just in general as soon as you guys make eye contact you burst out laughing at literally nothing

likes to play his music LOUDD

especially in the shower or while he's cleaning he is jamming way tf out and he absolutely wants you to join him

i think physical touch, words of affirmation and quality time are big things for him, so even if you're just there sitting on the couch while he's blasting music and smiling at him, he's over the moon

he's so silly and such a sap he'd do anything for you ☹️

[NSFT]

i can't imagine a world where Evan isn't loud

loves having you on top, you having any kind of control over him makes him melt

he is such a mess when he gets head

he's grabbing at anything he can, throwing his head back to let out whimpers and moans of your name

"o-ohh my god- babe please, please please it's s'much-"

HE CAN BE A SWEETHEART SOFT DOM THO

pressing your legs against your chest, panting and whimpering while trying his best to stay focused and keep an actual rhythm but you just feel so good around him his hips stutter and jolt against the back of your thighs

he always loves getting to see your face during anything

he wants to know he's doing good, and if he gets to watch your eyes roll back and hear you gasp out his name it's all he needs

he likes to talk you through it 😛

you could be on top riding him and as soon as he knows you're close he'd have a hand gripping your thigh or holding your hand, his voice low and adoring at he tells you "come on, baby, i got you, cum for me. i'm right here, i knoww, it feels so good, huh?"

#🐟#evan myers x reader #evan myers smut #tim wright x reader #tim wright smut #everymanhybrid x reader #marble hornets x reader #rabbit writings

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getyourdirtyhandsoffme · 1 year ago

Text

Title: "Smoking hot" (18+)

Sanji x ftm reader

Warning: mentions of smoking, a bit (?) toxic idk, mentions the word 'boy cunt' or 'boy pussy', porn with plot, Sanji relieving his sex drive, feminine terms, mentions of 'boy tits' pre-surger. Nipple sucking. The chances of gender dysphoria are quite high, didn't proof read nor use a grammar site to fix this, straight (?) Sanji using your body with consent.

Author: y'all, I'm bored and I just wanted to make a Sanji x FTM reader. I'm a Sanji simp, sadly. Idk wtf I made, I called it a day.

Like, comment, or/and reblog! Thank you!

You joined the Strawhats when Luffy crashed into your house and just demanded you to come after learning about your skills, baking and swift skills with weapons.

You were always quick in your feet when it comes to making desserts along with matching your skill sets with the main cook, Sanji.

You loved Sanji but he wouldn't love you.

He loves women, girls, every kind of lady he will nose bleed without any hesitation.

You, a man, well a transgender man in fact, don't see yourself as a woman and would rather have him treat you like any other man then fawn over you like he does with Nami and Robin, both girls.

You didn't really come out yet, nor are you ready anyways.

You knew they wouldn't judge at all, most definitely Luffy. He would mostly be curious but as long as you are cool and strong then he won't care.

You just weren't ready so you kept it a secret for a while until a doctor, Chopper found out later on when you were injured.

He scolded you a bit for tightening your chest too tight until you gave him your reason.

He understands, of course, he is a doctor, he knows these types of things.

He thought of a different solution and something more healthier but it would be hard to find that type of material, he is willing to help and keep your secret.

Months gone by—fights, parties, adventures, etc.

You finally got the material Chopper promised, a binder. It was comfortable and makes your chest look like a man's chest. The only rule is you only have to wear it for 8 hours, you can't sleep in it.

Which is another challenge since you sleep in the boys deck.

So Chopper thought to just have you sleep in the doctor's quarters.

Some of the boys along with the girls question, except Chopper, however they just choose to ignore it thinking it's probably hard to sleep in the men's room.

Nami found that understandable as she would've done the same thing.

Sanji fawned over her just thinking of the girls sleeping in the same section as the men—he got punched by Nami.

It continues on, your secret still kept in along with Chopper checking up on you.

You really need to tell them someday, just not sure how or when.

Until now.

It was your turn for the night, Sanji was up making you food for the night while you were getting ready to take a shower.

You didn't think too much of it so you just chose not to lock the door...a bad idea.

Sanji, the man he is, walks in without even knocking as he thought it was a good idea to just dump the food on top of the sink carefully since you were both 'men'.

Sanji looks at you in shock, trying not to nose bleed by your feminine figure as you try not to cry out of embarrassment.

Of course, Sanji being the gentleman he is, apologized as he takes the food and runs out of the bathroom closing the door behind him.

It was never mentioned again after that.

It was awkward.

You couldn't look at Sanji straight nor Sanji as well.

He tried to treat you like he treats other men in the ship but it was hard for him, kinda.

Of course, he knows you see yourself as a man but your body, your chest, those woman parts. He couldn't. So he just chooses to just insult you then hitting you to balance it out.

It continued on until another situation happened again.

Luffy stops at an island so it was only you and the cook watching over the ship.

Sanji did complain how he would rather be with the ladies to protect them but got pushed down by Nami saying we need someone strong to watch over the ship which swooned him again.

Nami did mention you as well but you weren't that offended, honestly you knew you were not that strong as those monster trio so you just shrugged off.

You thought things would be normal.

You thought.

You moaned as a high sex drive Sanji slammed into you with hard thrust making both of your legs wobble. Your clit was going through the hard thrust as you smell the smoke hitting the air.

"Fuck, I needed this so much. Your boy pussy is pleasing my dick so well..."

His voice, deep and raspy making you shiver as he continues on fucking you. His hands reach through your jiggling chest from the harsh thrust, grabbing and squishing it.

"Fuck, even you boy tits are moving is so sexy. What a fuckin pretty boy, I'll miss these..." He takes off his cigarette and places it on top of your lips, indicating you to hold it.

You took the cigarette from his fingers with your mouth as you watched Sanji lean into your chest and started sucking hard onto your hard nipples, making you moan, tasting the ash into your mouth.

You reach the cigarette from your mouth, taking it out as you continue on moaning.

He stops sucking your nipples as he stares at you.

"You're going to be my personal sex toy, this boy cunt belongs to me, you got that?"

You just nodded as he took out his dick as the semen spurted into your thighs. Your clit clenching into nothing as you whimpered from the emptiness.

"Look at that...your boy pussy really wants another round, aye?" His fingers touch your puffed clit, feeling the wetness from his fingers.

"let's go again, after this other smoke. I still feel horny, you think you can take all of that away, baby boy? All of these women couldn't get a chance with me but you, a man with feminine body parts, you are perfect..." He lines his dick again into your puffy cunt as he slams again making you moan louder.

"I wonder if this makes me gay....whatever."

I got like thousands of drafts (16+ drafts) ummm y'all ill lock in UHHHH...

#ftm reader #male reader #x ftm reader #x male reader #sanji x male reader #sanji x reader #one piece x male reader #one piece x reader #x bottom male reader #x bottom reader #mr.off #mr.offstory #vinsmoke sanji #one piece scenario

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haartemis · 6 months ago

Text

Sweet Tooth | Rodrygo Goes

pairing: rodrygo goes x fem!reader

word count: 3.1k

A/N: based on this request. so sorry for the delay anon, had some writer's block. i hope you like it <3. let me know what y'all think!!

summary: a text to the wrong number sparks conversation with the mysterious 'baker boy', die hard rodrygo goes fan and fellow dessert enthusiast. as the friendship progresses, an undeniable connections grows between the two of you and you start to wonder about his real identity.

you: hey! those chocolate things you mentioned are called brigadeiros, right? wanna make sure I’ve got the right dessert lol 😅

You attach a link to the recipe you’d found online before shooting a quick text to sofia, your co-worker. earlier that day she’d mentioned trying these little fudgy chocolate truffles when she visited brazil. as someone with the biggest sweet tooth known to man, you’d immediately wanted to try them yourself. so after work, you headed straight to the store, picking up cans of condensed milk,cocoa powder, and sprinkles. now, standing in your kitchen, you’re ready to see if they live up to the hype. but then, a tiny worry popped up in your head: were they brigadeiros, or was it another brazilian dessert she mentioned? To be sure, you decided to double check with sofia.

you get a response a few minutes later.

+34 680 123 456: that recipe’s kinda bad. I should know, I’m brazilian.

you blink. sofia was definitely not brazilian. glancing back at the number, you feel a jolt of realization.

“shit,” you mutter under your breath. you’d sent the message to a complete stranger.

you debate texting back an apology, but before you do, a new message comes through. it’s a detailed recipe. along with the steps, the person’s included specific tips, like their favorite brand of cocoa powder to use and a suggestion to roll the brigadeiros in coconut flakes for an extra touch.

you smile at one of the little notes:

+34 680 123 456: stir until your arm hurts. trust me, it’s worth it :)

you’re touched by this stranger’s kindness. shooting them a quick thank you text, you roll up your sleeves and get to work, following the recipe to a T. An hour or so goes by and you gaze down at the tray of gooey, fudgy treats you've created. when you take a bite out of one them, you close your eyes and actually moan.

you carefully arrange the brigadeiros on a plate, trying to the best of your ability to make them look as aesthetic as possible before snapping a picture and sending it to the stranger.

you: omg thank you again for the recipe! they turned out to be so good 😍

+34 680 123 456: no problem :) they look really good!

+34 680 123 456: let me know if you have any other queries regarding dessert recipes i'm kind of an expert 😉

you: did i accidentally text a professional baker 👀

+34 680 123 456: haha no. far from it. it's just a hobby. my actual job keeps me busy so baking is a nice distraction

you: i get you, there's nothing like melting chocolate to remind you there's life outside spreadsheets and emails

+34 680 123 456: my job's a bit more physical but yeah, baking is like instant therapy.

you don't respond after that, because what else is there to say to someone who is technically a stranger? letting the conversation go on as long as it did was kind of weird and maybe a little risky, but you're grateful for the recipe, so you don't run to block the number.

instead, you lock your phone and munch on another brigadeiro.

a couple of days later, you're curled up in bed, watching your favorite romcom. when it gets to a scene where the main character indulges in a delicious looking chocolate souffle, you get an idea. bolting out of bed, you head to the kitchen, pulling your cupboards open to check if you have the ingredients needed. you've arranged all of it on your kitchen counter when another thought hits you and you impulsively grab your phone:

you: any tips for making chocolate souffle?

when a few minutes go by and you don't get a reply, you start feeling a twinge of regret. why did you think it was alright to text a stranger at 11 at night? you face palm, cringing at your own actions.

but then, your phone buzzes.

+34 680 123 456: chocolate souffle huh? that's ambitious

you: i'm up for the challenge 😌

a few minutes later, you receive a detailed recipe along with tidbits of helpful tips. it's a couple paragraphs long, and yet again you're hit with gratitude for this stranger's kindness.

you: thank you!!

+34 680 123 456: no worries , fair warning though it might take some patience

you: uh oh. now you have to promise to stay on standby in case of a souffle emergency lol

+34 680 123 456: i'll be here 😊

you can't help but smile down at your phone, feeling an unexpected warmth inside you.

you follow the recipe, and although it isn't as picture perfect as you'd liked it look, it does come out tasting amazing.

you: another success!

+34 680 123 456: no picture this time?

you: it doesn't look that good i have to admit..

+34 680 123 456: i still wanna see! come on, just one pic

you sigh, looking over at your deflated dessert. after a moment's hesitation, you quickly snap a picture and send it over.

+34 680 123 456: hey it's not that bad

+34 680 123 456: also you're really pretty, by the way :)

confused, you zoom in on the picture you'd sent and realize with a jolt that your reflection on the oven's glass is visible. it's not exactly your best angle, but your heart still flutters.

+34 680 123 456: sorry was that weird?

you: maybe a little, but i don't mind.

+34 680 123 456: promise i'm not some old creep. just a regular 23 year old guy who appreciates souffles (and accidental selfies apparently)

you feel a wave of relief at the knowledge he's age appropriate. but now you're curious, so you go and save his number, then open whatsapp.

you do a double take. his profile picture is a photo of rodrygo goes, real madrid's #11, beaming as he holds last season's champions league trophy.

you cringe a little. there’s nothing more off-putting than football fanboys who plaster their favorite players everywhere. you were hoping to get a glimpse of his face, but oh well.

you send him another text, this time on whatsapp:

you: can i get a pic of you? it's only fair

baker boy: you're looking at it

you: no i mean a real picture of you. that's just some footballer

baker boy: hey, that's a future ballon d'or winner, not just 'some footballer' 😌

you roll your eyes, fighting off the ick you're getting from the fanboy vibes.

you: right... but if i wanted a picture of rodrygo, i'd just google him

he doesn't argue with that, and a few moments later you get a picture. your breath catches at the sight of a lifted shirt and a toned, muscled brown torso decorated by a striking tattoo of an eagle. you swallow hard.

you: ok definitely not what i expected 😳

baker boy: you asked, i obliged

you: is there a story behind that eagle?

baker boy: yeah. but if i tell you, you'll have to tell me something about yourself in return

you: fair enough

and just like that, a steady stream of messages start to be exchanged between you two, and the most unlikely friendship of your life begins. what started as baking tips suddenly turns to late night conversations about everything from your favorite movies to bucket list activities. you don't pry much, but he gives you just enough information for you to piece together that he's well travelled, an avid surfer, a huge fan of football, and extremely well off. you start wondering about his job— you think that maybe he's in finance or tech, but that doesn't line up with what he said about having physically demanding work. nonetheless, you find that you enjoy his conversation very, very much. each text feel like peeling back another layer of someone so funny, thoughtful and kind. and more often than not, you find yourself grinning at your phone like an idiot.

one afternoon, you're hanging out at a friend's place, a real madrid match on. just as you look up, rodrygo scores an amazing goal. you immediately go and text him: omg your fav player just scored!!

he doesn't respond for about 3 hours. usually, when he's off work, he's quick to reply, so the delay stings a little.

in the evening, your phone buzzes.

baker boy: did you like it?

baker boy: sorry for the late response, i was at the stadium

you: yeah. it was cool

you: you watched the game at the stadium?

baker boy: you could say that

something tugs at you, a question beginning to form in the back of your mind. but before it can take root, you push it aside.

another week goes by, and you find yourself with a friend seated in the stands of the santiago bernabeu, soaking up the electric energy of the match. it pulls you in completely, the roar of the crowd, the sea of white jerseys. you try and keep track of the ball, but your eyes keep drifting back to one player in particular: rodrygo goes, with his quick darts and beautiful footwork. you get it now, why baker boy is obsessed with him. there's an elegance to the man, something about his game that draws you in completely.

as the final whistle blows and madrid claims victory, you anxiously glance down at your phone to check for any new messages. you'd texted baker boy a picture of the view from your seat, hoping that maybe he'd be here as well. but alas, no response throughout the game.

the players have all retreated into the tunnel and you and your friend are about to start leaving when your phone buzzes.

baker boy: you're here?

you: yup!

a pause, and then:

baker boy: which section?

you quickly type it to him, a nervous feeling growing in your stomach.

baker boy: stay where you are

you gulp. a million anxious questions flood your mind. what if he’s been lying this whole time? what if he’s actually a 50-year-old creep? who even thought it was a good idea to start a friendship over text? what if he’s exactly who he says he is, but there’s no spark in real life?

no, this was a bad idea. a really, really bad idea. panic rising, you grab your friend by the sleeve and practically drag her to the exit. you don't let out the breath you were holding until you're in her car zooming away, watching the stadium fade in the rearview mirror. a part of you feels guilty, but another part, the part that's responsible for self preservation feels that it's the right decision.

baker boy: i can't find you. where are you?

baker boy: did you leave?

baker boy: hello??

you don't respond to any of the messages.

"remember the girl i introduced to you last week?" sofia asks brightly, leaning over the divider between your desks.

"huh?" you pull your tired eyes away from your computer screen to look at your cubicle neighbor.

"thaynara! i brought her to happy hour on thursday?" she tries to jog your memory.

ah,yes. thaynara was a pretty, bubbly brazilian that you'd gotten along with. you'd even swapped numbers.

you nod. and sofia continues, "her cousin is having a small get together tonight at his house. she said you should come."

"sure" you mutter. " why not?"

it's been a week since you last spoke to baker boy, the day you bolted from the stadium to avoid meeting him. since then, his messages have sat unanswered, and each time you open the chat, a wave of guilt washes over you. you tell yourself it's the right call, that forming and keeping a friendship with a complete stranger over text is at best idiotic, and at worst, dangerous. no matter how much it felt like he was a normal, genuine guy who occasionally made your heart flutter, it just wasn't worth it.

sofia's invitation seems like a nice distraction though, so after work, you quickly head over to your place for an outfit change before grabbing a ride from sofia to head to thaynara's cousin's place.

as you enter the gated community and pull into a long, tree lined driveway, you can't help but ask the question at the tip of your tongue: "thaynara's rich?" you blurt.

"her cousin's rich" sofia corrects with a small smile.

"right.." you mutter, admiring the beautiful villa in front of you. "what does she do?"

"it's a he" sofia softly chuckles as she parks the car. "and you'll see"

you shoot her a quizzical look, but before you can ask any more questions, she's already out the car and leading the way. you quickly follow.

you catch up just as she rings the bell, and a moment later thaynara opens the door. she greets you both enthusiastically, pulling you inside the house.

soon the three of you are sitting in the spacious living room, chatting with the rest of the guests. you quickly pick up on the effortless closeness between all of them and you're not shocked when you find out they're all childhood friends who grew up in the outskirts of sao paulo.

“where’s—“ sofia begins to ask, glancing around curiously.

“he’s upstairs taking a nap” thaynara says. “I swear he’s like a koala bear, every day after training he has to go sleep”

you smile to yourself, thinking about baker boy and his insistence that daily naps were a non-negotiable part of his day.

“don’t listen to her” you hear a deep, groggy voice interject.

you look up, and your eyes immediately widen. at the top of the stairs stands rodrygo goes, clad in sweatpants and a cozy looking hoodie. his eyes are slightly bloodshot, a tell tale sign he's just woken up. he walks down the stairs delicately, body obviously worn out.

"sorry guys" he grimaces as he limps over. "tough training today"

he sinks onto the couch next to thaynara with a sigh. he still hasn't noticed you.

"rodry" she nudges him. " this is sofia's friend, y/n. i told you she was coming"

his eyes snap up. now he sees you.

he pauses for a moment too long, eyes fixed on you. he visibly stiffens, and you see a hint of something on his face, maybe shock. was he...blushing?

you're about to open your mouth to ease the awkwardness when he finally responds quietly: " it's nice to meet you, y/n. i'm rodrygo."

you offer a polite smile, but inside you're trying to decipher his reaction. "nice to meet you,too"

the evening goes on. there's more chatter and laughter, and you're swallowed in conversation with the friendly brazilians. the tv hums in the background, drawing a couple people in with a basketball game. meanwhile, another group has started a game of monopoly. you enjoy the casual atmosphere, swept up in stories and jokes in portuguese and english.

except there's rodrygo. he doesn't make any effort to start a conversation with you after your initial greeting. he stays across the room, laughing and mingling with everyone but you. you would think he absolutely hates your guts, except you catch him glancing at you from the corder of your eye once or twice. you tell yourself not to dwell on it too much, but there's something about him. something that makes you feel like there's tension simmering beneath the surface.

you’re pouring a drink in the kitchen when you sense someone behind you. you turn, and there he is, leaning casually against the doorway, his eyes finally meeting yours.

“hey,” he says softly, a hesitant smile playing on his lips. “you enjoying yourself?”

“yeah” you reply, trying to match his casual tone. “it’s been nice. everyone’s been really welcoming.”

he nods, looking down as if gathering his thoughts. “i didn’t expect you here tonight,” he admits, meeting your gaze again. there’s something vulnerable in his eyes.

your face falls. "oh, i'm sorry. i didn't - thaynara said you were fine with having me over. i- "

his eyes widen in return, and he raises his hands in defense. "no, no, no. that's not what i meant. i-" he searches for something in your face, then seemingly gives up. "never mind"

you stare at the floor. you feel so embarrassed. you shouldn't have come at all.

"um" he swallows. "gabriel asked me to grab him a glass of water"

you don't know why he feels the need to explain his presence in his own kitchen but you nod. you watch as he reaches the highest cupboard. as he does, the bottom his hoodie lifts just a bit, revealing a sliver of tanned, toned stomach. and there, unmistakable, is the eagle tattoo. your breath catches, eyes widening.

it's him.

realization hits you like a speeding freight train. you feel your cheeks heat up, and you slap your hands over your face, peeking through your fingers to look at rodrygo's now smirking face.

"i feel like an idiot" you murmur, before bursting in to laughter. "you're.. you're baker boy"

"took you long enough" rodrygo chuckles along with you.

his fingers are warm against yours as he gently pulls your hands away from your face. his touch lasts longer than necessary, but when he lets go, you find he's looking at you with an amused yet nervous look.

"i thought i'd never get to talk to you again" he says, voice low.

you stare at the ground guiltily. "i'm sorry. i just- i thought it was getting weird, being that devoted to a friendship with a stranger"

he nods. "no, i get it. thank god you somehow made it to my house, huh?"

"yeah." you say quietly. "thank god"

a beat of silence ensues.

"so, uh, how about we take things offline" he fiddles with the bottom of his sleeve nervously. you find extremely it cute. " there's this brazilian restaurant. they have a new dessert on their menu i want to try. do you want to go?"

a warm smile spreads across your face as you nod, unable to hide the excitement bubbling up inside. “i’d like that,” you say softly.

his eyes light up, and his nervous fidgeting gives way to a confident grin. “great. I’ll send you the details then”

you head back together and continue to mingle with friends. he steals glances at you, and you flush each time. now, there's a spark between you two. something familiar, yet new. you can't help but feel like this is a fresh start. the beginning of something great.

#rodrygo goes imagine #rodrygo x reader #rodrygo goes x reader #football fanfic

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