#check them out on ao3 when you get the chance)

[naughtyneganjdm]

Love's Second Chance: A Holiday Reunion - Chapter 1

Summary: Christmas time is supposed to be the most wonderful time of the year, but for Y/N it has become a lonely holiday now that she is a divorced mother. This Christmas, she gets looped into a love triangle with two lovers from her past, Joel Miller and Negan Smith, where the holiday brings all of them back together.

Characters: (in chapter 1) Joel Miller, Negan Smith (mentions), the reader (OC), Rosita Espinosa, Carol Peletier, Tommy Miller (mentions), etc.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/60501985/chapters/154453672

Warnings: Alternate universe, swearing, angst, third person reader, female reader, reader is a mother, reader is divorced, reader was a teenage mother, reader is in her 30s, Joel and Negan have both been de-aged, etc. There is a mix of both TLOU and TWD characters. Please be sure to check the overall warnings on AO3, so you know what to expect!

Notes: I'm a fool for Christmas stories, so I'm back at it again this year. This time having a story featuring both Joel and Negan. Apparently my favorite duo! I will be updating this story three times a week until Christmas!

Remember Y/N means your name or whatever name you choose.

The warmth of a crackling fire. The scent of gingerbread, peppermint or a freshly put-up Christmas tree. It was amazing how many things could really start reminding you of Christmas. It was a time where those who celebrated would start to get excited for the festivities that were to come. Radio stations were playing Christmas music. Stores would be full with people shopping for both presents and food for their holidays. Christmas was always certain to draw out many emotions from people. Whether it was the excitement of the holiday, the events that you could go to, getting together with your family or just the whole genre all together.

Sometimes baking, decorating, planning and enjoying the overall atmosphere of Christmas could be a good distraction for someone who was going through a hard time. Right now that was the primary focus for Y/N. It was toward the end of her workday. Luckily, she got to work remotely from home so that meant she could also do other things at home when she had her breaks. Right now, the smell of gingerbread and sugar cookies were filling her home and she knew the timer would be going off any moment now. She was in the middle of a video call with her boss Carol and her best friend Rosita who had gotten her this job so many years ago when she was in need of one. What was supposed to be a rundown of the work they were getting done when Y/N went on vacation had become a talk between friends instead. Each person going over what they would be doing for the holiday.

“You seem distracted,” Rosita noted with Y/N looking back over her shoulder. Forcing herself to look back at the screen, Y/N realized that she must have checked on the timer too much. Rosita wasn’t one to pick up on things like that easily, so it had to have been a lot. “What are you up to now?”

“I’m just baking some cookies before the children get home,” Y/N was honest with the two. There was no reason for her to lie. She got her work done fast. In fact, she was the best worker in the business. Not that it was a great job or something entirely too complicated. It was just a data entry job that she had gotten when she was younger so that way she could help cover the bills. It wasn’t her dream job, but Y/N had gotten pregnant when she was seventeen and had her daughter when she was eighteen. That led to her not being able to get a degree until years later and it was just an associate degree from the local community college. At the time she got the job, she was desperately in need of a job that allowed her to be home with the baby and this one just happened to work out. Thankfully, Carol understood at the time because she had children as well and this job worked for her. Y/N always told herself that she would get a different job eventually. One that was better, but now her daughter was seventeen and she also had a son that was thirteen. She just got comfortable in the job that she was in and stayed. It wasn’t something to brag about, but at least she liked the people she worked with. And she got to stay home except for going into the office a few times a month. She couldn’t really complain. Especially when she got to be home to raise the children. “Their dad picked them up from school and they were supposed to be going out to eat with him.”

“I don’t know how you do it girl,” Rosita declared with a long sigh, adjusting her Bluetooth earphones that she was using over the video. “It’s super hard with just having Coco running around the house now. Yet, here you are baking cookies, decorating the house, being the amazing PTO mom for your children.”

“It’s a little different having teenage children than it is a toddler,” Y/N reminded her friend with a hesitant laugh. “I remember the days of Elizabeth and Peter being that age and it was hard. Sleep was not a normal thing during those days.”

“And suddenly I’m very happy that Sophia and Benjamin are in college and Henry is about to graduate,” Carol spoke up with a half-smile, throwing her hands up in the air when she spoke. “Kids are cute, but if I could do it all over again, I’m not sure I would.”

“Carol!” Rosita laughed making Y/N smile when her over the top boss continued to make a very dramatic expression. “I doubt Ezekiel would be happy hearing you say that.”

“What Ezekiel doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” Carol placed her hand to her chest, and, in that moment the sound of the timer for the cookies was going off. “Alright ladies. We can sign off now so you can get to the rest of your day. Enjoy your holiday vacation, Y/N.”

Signing out of work and closing up her laptop, Y/N pushed back her chair and headed into the kitchen. It had been a few years since Y/N had really taken time off for herself. In the past she would have taken vacation time a lot, but not so much lately. That’s why she had taken it all at once. She had to take it, so it just made sense to do it at Christmas time. It gave her more time to focus on the children and enjoy the holiday.

Taking her cookies out of the oven, she set them out onto a rack to cool them. Preparing the frosting, she knew that the kids often liked to help so she was getting things ready for them. Likely, she would start the decorating of the cookies and they would help her finish. While the cookies continued to cool, she made her way around the house cleaning things up. The fireplace was on which gave a nice aura to the room that matched the lights that went with the heavily decorated tree in the corner of the living room. At the bottom of the tree was a toy train that her family had been collecting multiple pieces for since she was eighteen years old. It was a tradition to put it out every year. And each year they would try to add pieces to it. For Christmas, she had always tried to go out of her way to make it magical for her children. Being such a young mom, she wanted to do her best to make the holiday feel special for her children. At first, they didn’t have much, so she had to find ways to make things special and decorating was really the easiest way to do that.

Moving over toward the front window, there was a nook that was dawned with a Christmas village with extensive buildings and figurines that she had been collecting since she was younger as well. Each year she would buy one piece to add to it and it always looked really neat setting it up every year and lighting it up in the front window. Turning that on, she knew this was a daily thing. She got into the routine of things and it was just normal for her. Stockings were hanging in front of the fireplace and it just felt cozy for anyone that may have enjoyed Christmas.

Heading back into the kitchen, she started decorating the sugar cookies first. There were various shapes of candy canes, Santa hats, sleighs, stuffed bears, snowmen, reindeer and snowflakes. Those she figured her children would be less interested in decorating. It was usually the gingerbread men and women they had the most fun with.

The sound of the front door pushing open was heard and it made her smile when her son calling out to her followed, “Mom? Where are you?”

“In the kitchen kiddo,” she responded, raising her voice just enough. It was probably obvious where she was, but her son was very dramatic and liked to make his presence known. Hearing the sound of footsteps, she gasped when she felt a pair of arms wrapping around her and hugging her firmly from behind. Looking over her shoulder, she saw her son cuddling into her and it made her smile. “Hey Peter. How was school?”

“It was the last day before vacation, so great,” Peter offered up a big smile, his long eyelashes fluttering to an open. Y/N turned on her heel, brushing her fingers through her son’s dark hair and he gave her a weak smile. “I’m not supposed to tell you, but dad got me a big peppermint chocolate shake today at the diner. It was huge! It had sprinkles too.”

“Good job at keeping a secret,” Y/N heard the sound of her daughter coming into the kitchen. Elizabeth’s dark hair was pulled back into a ponytail, her dark eyes connecting with her mother’s when she dropped her backpack down in the corner of the kitchen. “No one is going to trust you with a secret ever. I hope you know that.”

“I have a hard time lying,” Peter explained, moving in beside his mother to see all the cookies she had already decorated. “I’m going to be on such a sugar high tonight.”

“Maybe you don’t deserve to eat those cookies since you told on me,” a voice spoke up from the entrance of the kitchen making Y/N look back. “Ellie had my back. You on the other hand…”

“Liz. I want to be called Liz, dad,” Elizabeth corrected her father making him groan out in frustration, reaching out to pull his daughter in closer to him. A frustrated sound fell from Elizabeth with how hard her father was hugging her to his chest. “Dad! Come on!”

“You know she wants to be called Liz now, Joel,” Y/N corrected with a long sigh. It had the color flooding into Elizabeth’s face since both her parents weren’t really latching onto the whole Liz nickname. “I’m also aware of it, but I’m still having a hard time not calling her Elizabeth.”

“I reckon I’m never going to be able to remember this whole Liz thing,” Joel’s southern drawl lingered, his dark eyes narrowing when he lifted his hand to give Y/N a small wave. It had her returning the gesture watching Joel lean down to press a kiss against Elizabeth’s temple. Looking between the three of them, she let out a long sigh. The older the children got, the more they looked like their father. Joel’s genes were strong in both Elizabeth and Peter. They had his eye color, skin tone and hair color. The trio looked gorgeous on her daughter and her son looked like a mini version of Joel. Pretty close to what she remembered when she first met Joel. “You’re always going to be my Ellie. You should know that. No matter how old you get, or how uncool it is to call you that. I’ve been calling you Ellie since before you could walk.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know,” Elizabeth pat her father on the stomach playfully. Pulling out from beneath Joel’s arm, Elizabeth moved over to look at the cookies. Almost instinctively she reached for some of the decorating icing to start helping. Following in his sister’s footsteps, Peter started to help as well.

“I always loved this day,” Joel stammered, walking across the kitchen to step in behind Y/N. Lowering his head in beside hers, Joel let his breath linger against the side of her neck. The closeness of him surprised her as he stretched his arm out to grab one of the sugar cookies that hadn’t been decorated yet. Instead of pulling away, Joel turned in to press a kiss against her cheek and it had her eyes coming to a tight close. Once the warmth of him left, her eyes opened and she saw him resting back against the counter. Tipping his head back, he dropped the cookie into his mouth and groaned at the way it tasted. “Your cookies were always top notch.”

“And you always stole a ton of them before they were done being decorated,” Y/N reminded Joel with a tiny chuckle causing him to shrug dramatically. Reaching for another cookie had her huffing out and he gave a wicked smirk.

Seeing Peter do the same made her scoff and shake her head. Wanting to be as much like his father as possible, Peter would often mimic the things that Joel would do. Which meant he plowed back two sugar cookies as well.

“How big was this shake?” Y/N wondered which had Joel shrugging and shaking his head. Obviously not wanting to give the answer.

“Gigantic,” Peter explained with a mouthful of the last cookie that he shoved into his mouth.

“You’re not helping buddy,” Joel grunted under his breath, swallowing down the last of his sugar cookie. “I need some milk.”

“You know where it is,” Y/N nodded toward the cabinet where the glasses were. With a sigh, Joel moved across the kitchen and grabbed four glasses setting them out on the counter. Heading over to the fridge, Joel pulled out the milk and started pouring a glass for everyone. “I guess it’s a good thing he is going to be with you tonight. Because you know how he gets when he has this much sugar.”

“I’m thirteen mom, I’m not six anymore,” Peter snickered, nudging his mother playfully with his hip and it had her smiling. “I can handle being on a sugar high. I’m a big boy.”

“Still my baby,” Y/N claimed with a wink, lowering down to press a kiss over the top of Peter’s head. “Did the two of you pack last night?”

“I did,” Elizabeth replied with a gaze down at her brother seeing him swallow down his last bit of cookie. “He did not.”

“Sellout,” Peter retorted under his breath, working to decorate the next cookie he grabbed from the rack. “I got…distracted. I was playing a game and before you know it, it was really late and I knew I had school…”

“Maybe you should have stopped playing the game?” Elizabeth suggested with a tip of her head, drawing Peter to grumble something under his breath.

“I really don’t understand why we can’t just have dad stay over,” Peter blurt out making Joel clear his throat. It had Y/N looking back at him and she could see that tension that filled Joel’s body while he was drinking the milk that he had poured for himself. “It’s Christmas. We should have things be the way they used to be.”

“That’s not how things are done when your parents are divorced,” Elizabeth stated with a roll of her eyes making Y/N’s heart skip a beat with her children talking about her and Joel. “We’re lucky that our parents get along. Some of my friends, their parents hate each other. Fight over them just to make the other mad. And it’s never about them, it’s always for personal reasons. It makes them miserable because the parents are more so focused on hurting the other one instead of loving them.”

“I’m just saying,” Peter kept up with his previous statement setting aside the decorated cookie and reaching for another. “I remember things being really fun when we did this. I miss that. I wish we could just go back to the way things were. Dad could move back in and we could do what we did every year.”

“Bud?” Joel spoke quietly which had Peter looking over his shoulder at his father. Joel shook his head and Peter’s tanned flesh went pale.

This was the fourth Christmas that the two of them had spent separated. It was three years since they had been divorced. Joel was her high school sweetheart. Both of them had big dreams. She wanted to travel the world and be a journalist. Live in the big city. Joel wanted to be either a football player or a professional singer. But when she got pregnant? That didn’t exactly work out for either one of them. It meant she never left her hometown. Neither did he.

Joel’s parents died tragically when he was eighteen which left him taking care of his little brother Tommy. Tommy was five years younger than Joel and because Joel didn’t want Tommy going into the system, he also adopted Tommy. So not only was he taking care of his little brother, but Joel had gotten Y/N pregnant not long after. That meant an incredible amount of stress had been thrown on him.

At first? Everything was okay between them. Joel married Y/N right after Elizabeth was born. They moved into Joel’s parents’ house and he was a great dad. He never stopped being a great dad. Joel took on his father’s business of being a contractor since he had helped his dad when he was a teenager while she stayed home taking care of both Elizabeth and Tommy. Four years after Elizabeth was born, they had Peter. Originally, it wasn’t too hard because Tommy helped out with the children and around the house, but when Tommy turned eighteen he decided that he wanted to make a difference in the world and joined the army. That alone stressed Joel out to the extreme.

By the time she was twenty-one and Joel was twenty-three they had been through a lot. More than most people their age had been. They weren’t making much money and they were doing their best just to get by. Thankfully, she got her job soon after that which helped with the bills and she got to stay home to take care of the children. It was a few years more before they moved out of Joel’s parents’ home and got one of their own. Even though she thought they had the perfect life, Joel was unhappy. And each day that became more and more clear. He was still an amazing father, but they started bickering. A few fights here and there led to nights where they would verbally fight all night long, sometimes leading their fights into the middle of the day.

After years of that, it led to them separating four years ago and eventually to their divorce three years ago. Neither of the children took it well. They both really loved their dad. And rightfully so. Joel was a good father. There was something about Joel that they were drawn to. She was with them all the time growing up and Joel was always the parent that was gone long nights and was working really hard, so he was the parent they wanted the attention of the most. And when he was home? He gave it to them. So it was safe to say they mostly blamed her for the divorce. They tried to hide it more now, but when the separation first happened neither Elizabeth nor Peter were happy with her. It made her happy that after this long, there were no more fights and even though there was an occasional comment made here or there, they seemed to be happy with her.

Joel and Y/N had shared custody of the children. Which meant they were pretty open with things. They were supposed to be with her half the month and with him half the other, but they never stopped the children from seeing them if they wanted. Joel had moved back into his parents’ old home with Tommy which was only a few blocks away so they still spent a lot of time together.

Honestly? Y/N never really got over the divorce. Her feelings for Joel were just as strong as the day she met him. Joel’s family had moved to town when she was young and she immediately had a crush on him. They were just kids then though.

Their divorce was hard on her. It wasn’t like anyone cheated. It was just the tension of it all. Joel had become cold. He wasn’t a very affectionate lover. And it was always inherently clear how unhappy he was when he was married to her. Being married became lonely. Which was vastly different from how Joel was when they were younger. Joel was very affectionate in the beginning. Very loving. Now? They got along as much as they could for the children. Which meant she had to push down a lot of her feelings. But it was worth it for the children to be happy and grow up in a stable environment.

“I know, I’m not supposed to talk about the divorce,” Peter finally spoke up after the uncomfortable silence flooded the room with the three of them still decorating the cookies while Joel stayed in the back of the kitchen. “I just really miss how things used to be. That’s all.”

“I do too,” Elizabeth agreed quietly, but Y/N didn’t know what to say so she kept her mouth shut. Of course she missed the way things used to be.

“I can help decorate,” Joel offered, setting his glass of milk down on the counter. Moving over toward the gingerbread cookies, he pulled one of them off the rack and set up his area to start decorating. “We always used to decorate cookies as ourselves every year. So why not do that again?”

“This could take a while,” Y/N suggested, but Joel look to her with his dark eyes and shrugged. “Tess won’t get mad that you are here?”

“They aren’t together anymore,” Elizabeth was quick to answer and it had a rush of color flushing into Joel’s face. When his eyes connected with Elizabeth’s she shrugged her shoulders dramatically just like Peter had done earlier. “Well, you aren’t.”

“How long has that been?” Y/N looked to Joel noticing that he got uncomfortable when they brought up his ex-girlfriend. Tess and Joel had started dating a few months after their divorce finalized, so she was surprised to hear they weren’t together. Joel bobbed his head about with Peter adjusting his spot at the counter to move in next to his father to start decorating his gingerbread cookie.

“A while,” Joel grumbled under his breath, bringing his fingers up to suck off the icing that was at the tips of them. It had his dimples showing and he could see that Y/N was staring at him. “I don’t really pay attention to time with how busy I’ve been with work.”

“Months,” Elizabeth spoke again for her father keeping her focus on the cookies that were there.

“I’m glad you know more about my dating life,” Joel rumbled reaching for one of the sugar cookies to shove another one into his mouth.

“I just pay attention,” Elizabeth pointed out realizing that she was making her father uncomfortable talking about Tess. “When the two of you were together, she was always texting me. Making plans with Peter and me. Since you two broke up? I haven’t heard from her.”

“I thought you liked Tess,” Y/N recalled what the children had told her when she talked about the woman that Joel had been with.

“We did,” Peter replied back, his voice now muffled since he copied his father again in grabbing another cookie.

“It’s just strange that she drops us the moment they break up. You work so hard to build this relationship with us because you’re dating our father and then you cut us off completely when the two of you break up?” Elizabeth legitimately seemed bothered by the fact that Tess stopped interacting with them. “It’s messed up.”

“So how about these cookies? Huh?” Joel tried to come up with a distraction, going to reach for another one, but Y/N reached out to place her hand over his wrist to stop him. Instead of listening to her urgings, Joel grabbed one of the snowman cookies and bit off the head of it. “They taste really good.”

“I wouldn’t know. I was trying to finish helping mom decorate them first,” Elizabeth smirked back at her father, giving him a shake of her head. He finished off the cookie before going back to decorating. When they finished off the sugar cookies, the girls went to decorating their gingerbread women. Joel had moved on to working on other cookies, but Peter was pretty dedicated to making his gingerbread man perfect. By the time they were done, Peter was still working on that single cookie. “What’s taking you so long Peter?”

“You’re being lazy,” Joel moved in behind Peter to pick him up in his arms, pulling him away from the counter. The two of them wrestled while their laughter filled the kitchen. Finally, Y/N grabbed herself one of the finished sugar cookies that she had made while watching the two of them. “Making the three of us do all the work.”

“I just wanted mine to be good,” Peter jumped on Joel’s back, hooking his arms around Joel’s shoulders. It had Elizabeth rolling her eyes and grabbing a cookie with her mother. “You see what I mean? We shouldn’t have to go be with just dad and uncle Tommy. We should be together. Dad can just grab his stuff. Come over and we can pretend like we’re a family again. The four of us have the most fun when we’re all together.”

“Are we going to keep the gingerbread family like we did when we were younger?” Elizabeth looked to Y/N for confirmation. Nodding, she reached for a serving platter to first put down Joel’s cookie which he decorated in a green plaid shirt, work boots and a beard with dark hair. On his cookie, he gave himself a Santa hat. Then she set Elizabeth’s down next to Joel’s. Elizabeth had decorated hers in a softball outfit which made sense since Elizabeth was on her softball team and loved it. Reaching for Peter’s cookie, she could see that he decorated what she assumed to be an ugly Christmas sweater for his cookie and then Y/N placed her cookie at the far end. It was just a generic gingerbread woman with her hair color. Maybe hers was the saddest of the whole crew since it had the least amount of personality of the four. “You know your cookie is supposed to go next to dad’s.”

Elizabeth moved in beside Y/N to move the cookies together. It had a warmth flooding Y/N’s body when she sighed. In the past they would dry out the cookies by leaving them out before displaying them. Elizabeth seemed proud of herself when Joel finally let out a long exhale.

“Your Uncle Tommy has a big night planned of movie watching, so we better get ready to go,” Joel announced moving for his milk to finish it off. Setting the glass in the sink made Y/N’s head lower as Joel pointed upstairs. “Better go get packed buddy. You too Ellie.”

“Yes dad,” Elizabeth sighed knowing that she wanted to correct her father again, but instead she just accepted that he was still going to call her the lifelong nickname that he gave her.

It was almost as if their children were sulking as they dragged their feet out of the kitchen to head upstairs to grab their belongings to go be with their father. Once they were gone, Joel stepped in beside her and folded his arms in front of his chest. “It’s like Christmas brings out the inner child in them. Instead of being our teenagers full of teenage angst, they become young again. I like it.”

“They still are young,” she reminded Joel with a playful nudge before heading back for a container. “I’ll pack you some cookies for home.”

“And they will likely be all gone by tonight,” Joel declared with a snicker, placing his hand in over the soft part of his abdomen. It had her rolling her eyes and shaking her head while she gathered the cookies. “I always loved when you did the Christmas baking. All the cookies, cupcakes, pies…”

“You’re always welcome to take what you want,” she packed one container of sugar cookies and then moved to the gingerbread cookies to pack another. “So…who broke things off between you and Tess?”

“Uh…” Joel inhaled sharply, leaning against the counter again. Curling his fingers around the countertop, he shrugged his shoulders and didn’t seem to have a good response. “It was a little bit of both, I guess.”

Neither one of them spoke after that. It was awkward talking to Joel about his girlfriend. Tess was a very blunt person. It didn’t mean that Y/N didn’t like her. She did her best to like Tess, but Tess was very domineering. Which was hard since her and Joel shared children together.

“So…” Joel started, his thick fingers brushing through his hair drawing attention to his curls at the back of his neck. “What are you going to be doing while they are with me?”

“Tomorrow morning I’m putting decorations up around town. Helping out,” she explained, knowing that she needed things to do in order to keep herself distracted. It had Joel’s eyebrows bouncing up, his hands settling at his hips while he stared out at her.

“That sounds like you,” Joel commented, biting at his bottom lip having a hard time thinking of something else to say to her.

“You’re welcome to join if you want,” she offered and Joel let out a sarcastic laugh. When they were together she would always drag him along with her to do that so they had things they did together. Toward the end? Joel complained constantly and made it clear he hated it. “I’m just saying. Tommy is coming to help.”

“Well, good for Tommy,” Joel retorted with a long sigh, folding his arms in front of his chest when she shifted back and forth on her feet. “Unfortunately, I have to turn you down. I made an appointment with the children to go get photos with Santa. I know they are older now, but they seem to get a bigger kick out of it now than they did as children. It’s less scary and more so funny. I think Ellie calls it cringe, yet they still find it super funny.”

“Oh,” her face went hot when she thought about the idea of them getting photos. That was something she started as a tradition. One she was no longer included in. “That’s nice.”

“After that, I promised to take them shopping for their gifts,” Joel looked toward the exit of the kitchen toward the stairs. “And mine.”

“Last minute shopping. Totally still you,” she couldn’t help but throw that out at him since he used a similar line earlier. It had Joel smirking, his dimples showing when he shook his head.

“I guess I should go help them,” Joel pointed toward the stairs, backstepping toward the exit of the kitchen. “Make sure little man doesn’t forget anything.”

“I’ll clean up,” she barely had time to get that out before Joel was already making his way out of the kitchen.

Maybe that was too quick of a leave. It had Joel stopping at the bottom of the stairs to steal a quick look back at Y/N. Her head was tipped down and Joel felt tension in his body. Until that moment? She had actually looked happy. But now that she was alone in the kitchen to herself, she looked sad.

Considering his next move, Joel grasped tightly onto the railing of the stairway. Part of him thought he should go help her clean up. But he was never very good at that in the first place. It was one thing they used to bicker about when they were together. Joel always left dishes in the sink and his clothes all over the place. Which meant she was picking up after him all the time. They had more fights about it than he cared to admit.

Instead of helping, he let the other part of him win out and he started heading up the stairs. It was strange how even though he had been gone from the house four years, how much everything still felt like home. Y/N still decorated the same way. Just added a few more things here and there. Lights were wrapped around the railing leading up the stairs brightening the stairway. The photos were still up the way they were when they were together. With a few school photos added to the walls. The only ones that were down were the ones of their wedding or from when they were younger taking trips together.

The first bedroom on the right was Peter’s and he could hear the extensive shuffling. Standing in the doorway, Joel outstretched his arms and rest them against the doorframe, “You need help there kid?”

“No, I got it,” Peter insisted shoving a few of his clothes into his bag messily. “Thanks though dad.”

“I’ll check on your sister,” Joel pointed back toward Elizabeth’s room and Peter waved his hand about. Going to move for Elizabeth’s room, Joel backstepped when he saw the door to the room he used to share with Y/N was open. Looking to the stairs, Joel swallowed down hard and moved quietly into the bedroom. Even that didn’t look any different. The only difference is that his things weren’t thrown all over the place. His exercise equipment was gone along with his dresser. Instead there was a small sitting area there.

On the center of the bed was a robe that Joel assumed Y/N had been wearing earlier in the day. Reaching out, he caressed his fingers over the soft material before bringing it up to his nose to smell it. The scent of her perfume lingered over it and it made Joel smile. That was something he always loved. Her perfume. It had been a while since he had been close enough to her to actually smell it.

Setting the robe back on the bed, Joel looked to her dresser to see that two of the photos she had taken down that were originally in the hallway were now sitting on top of it. Stepping in closer to the dresser, Joel bit at his cheek when he saw the first one was their wedding photo. It was the two of them together with Elizabeth dressed in her flower girl outfit. Because they were just kids themselves, they had a backyard wedding at his parents’ home, but they were happy enough at that time. They had each other and that was enough.

Placing that photo back, Joel reached for the photo of them on their last anniversary that they shared. Tommy had made them reservations that Tommy was really proud of at an expensive local restaurant. It was something that Tommy had saved up for as a thank you to them for all they did for him growing up. It was completely out of Joel’s scene. All throughout dinner he felt awkward. It was one of those places that had multiple courses already chosen for you. Since Tommy pre-paid for it, Joel forced himself through it, but he hated it. And he really let Y/N know how much he hated it. Having to dress up nice was not something that Joel enjoyed. He was uncomfortable the whole time. When they got home, Tommy had taken the photo of them. It was Joel sitting in a chair with Y/N in his lap while Joel was holding onto the gift she had gotten him. Y/N got him a really nice acoustic guitar that he had told her he wanted when they first started dating. It was something he would go to the store and play all the time.  It was something she was really proud of. In the photo she looked really happy. And at that moment? She was.

It was after Tommy left when their fighting started again. Instead of appreciating the guitar that she got him, he told her to return it since it was stupid to waste the money. Especially since in the time that they had been together he had learned how to do wood carvings and he knew how to make acoustic guitars himself. Back then? He didn’t understand the meaning behind the gesture. He just saw it as a waste of money. Especially since he lost out on his dreams of actually becoming a singer.

They also fought over the fact he bought her nothing other than flowers. Grand gestures were something that Y/N was big on. Even when they didn’t have money, she always tried to do things special. That anniversary, he just bought her flowers and gave her them when he got home from work. She didn’t complain, he just could see that she was disappointed. Which led to them fighting about her needing to be honest with him about things. That night they didn’t get intimate together. Not once. It ended with him sleeping on the floor in Elizabeth’s room.

The guitar put a big wedge between them because she told him if he hated the guitar he could return it to get the money back. Not wanting to look bad because it was a small town they lived in, Joel just let it sit and collect dust. Until they got separated and he took it with him. Now he played it occasionally and realized why she was upset because it was actually a really romantic gift.

It surprised him that she kept that photo considering how bad that night went. Setting the photo back where it was, Joel moved back over to the bed. Dropping back onto it had him staring up at the ceiling feeling an ache at his chest. Crawling over to the side of the bed that was his, Joel reached for her pillow and wrapped it up in his arms. Burying his face against it, he closed his eyes and realized how much more comfortable this whole set up actually felt than it did back at his place with Tommy.

After a few minutes, he forced himself to get up since he realized that it was probably creepy what he was doing. This wasn’t his house anymore. It was just a vague memory of how things used to be. That’s it.

Leaving the room, he headed over to Elizabeth’s room to see that she was sitting at her desk doing something on her laptop and he smirked. Leaning against the doorframe, he tipped his head to the side and cleared his throat causing her to jump.

“Getting in trouble?” Joel watched her shake her head when she showed him that she was writing her best friend in a chat. Taking a quick look, he sighed and moved over to her dresser to grab the softball that was there. Dropping back on her bed, he started throwing the ball up in the air catching it repeatedly.

“You know, Peter’s not wrong. Things were better when it was the four of us,” Elizabeth stressed hearing her father sigh loudly and she shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t see what the problem is. You’re not with Tess anymore. So why not spend time with mom? She’s hot, right?”

“What?” Joel chuckled at his daughter saying that about her mother.

“Listen, I’ve seen the moms at my school. I know mom is a catch,” she suggested to Joel hearing him laugh before going back to throwing the ball. “Why don’t you want to spend time with the four of us?”

“Hey! I didn’t see your mom jumping at the idea when Peter was talking about it,” Joel fumbled the ball, letting out a groan when it rolled across the floor. Pressing up onto his shoulder, Joel scoffed out when his eyes fell upon one of the posters that she had hanging up. It was one that was new and it made him roll his eyes. “I still can’t believe you’ve had a crush on that man since you were fourteen.”

“Everyone has celebrity crushes dad,” she looked back over her shoulder at the poster that he dramatically groaned over. Giving her father her attention back, she saw him throw his head back into the pillows.

“Sure. But most girls your age have crushes on twinks from a boy band,” Joel declared hearing his daughter laugh at the description of the kind of boys that he thought she would like. “Instead, you like a professional baseball player that’s my age. Do you know how creepy that is?”

“Most women here have a crush on Negan Smith,” she stood up from her chair to head over to point at the poster that was on the back of her door. “He’s the hometown hero. Rookie of the year when he started. One of the greatest baseball players of our time.”

“Do you know how old you were when he won rookie of the year?” Joel’s eyebrow arched up in curiosity, dramatically turning his head to stare out at her. It had her cheeks flushing over with red and he let out a hesitant laugh. “I think I need to stress here that he’s my age.”

“You were young when you had me,” she pointed out, heading over to the edge of her bed to sit down with him.

“Not that young,” Joel countered finding it creepy that his daughter’s celebrity crush was Negan Smith who was probably the most popular player for their state’s professional baseball team. “What about that boyband kid that you liked when you were eight?”

Tipping his head back, Joel eyed over the magazine cutouts that she had plastered over her ceiling and he felt his heart skip a beat when his eyes fell onto one of the photos. Hopping up onto the bed had her gasping out when he snatched the photo from the collage of photos she had up there.

“The hell is this?” Joel’s dark eyes almost seemed angry when he held the magazine page out in front of her face.

“Uhm? Negan Smith?” Elizabeth flashed him an innocent smile with Joel looking over the photo. “It was a photoshoot he did in order to bring attention to the sexism in sports magazines. It was him making a statement.”

“He’s naked,” Joel sneered, looking over the photo. It had the baseball star holding a baseball glove over his groin and he had a baseball bat thrown over his shoulder. They had covered him in dirt and he had eye black under his eyes. “Why in God’s name do you have this photo over your bed? Why do you have this at all? Does your mother let you put these up here?”

“First of all, he’s not naked. Everything is covered,” she reached for the magazine pull out and he tugged it away from her. “Second, mom doesn’t know that that’s there. She actually kind of gives me my privacy. So, there is that.”

“You’re seventeen,” Joel scoffed looking over the pullout feeling like the room was spinning around him. “This is way too sexual for you. I went to school with this guy. He was one of my best friends. This is another level of creepy.”

“Dad, you’re being a little hypocritical. I know you and mom were having sex at my age. A magazine pull out is not the end of the world. It’s not even porn,” Elizabeth fought back trying to reach for it, but Joel yanked it back away from her again. “I used my babysitting money to buy that dad. It’s a few years old and it’s hard to find.”

“How much did you pay for it?” Joel scoffed seeing the confusion in her eyes. “How much?”

“Like thirty dollars,” she explained and he felt his blood boiling. “What?”

“Thirty dollars for this?” Joel’s eyebrows furrowed and he grunted out looking it over. “Can’t you just find a photo of it on the internet and print it out? Why waste the money?”

“Because it’s authentic and an original. It would probably be worth more too because he just announced that he was retiring because of his most recent injury. Do you remember when that one guy purposely hurt him when we were watching that game?” she brought back a memory of when he was still living here and they’d watch games together. “Well, he came back from that injury, but it still made his leg weak and he hurt it really bad. So bad that he has to retire. He’s only doing one more season. People are going crazy over his stuff,” she reasoned with Joel who reached into his back pocket to pull out his wallet. Pulling out thirty dollars, he tossed it on the bed beside him and rolled up the poster causing her to gasp out. “You’re going to bend it dad!”

“Good. It doesn’t belong in my…” Joel stopped realizing he was about to say it didn’t belong in his house, but this wasn’t his house anymore. “It doesn’t belong in my seventeen-year-old daughter’s bedroom. I paid you back for it. I don’t care if it’s worth a hundred dollars. Spend your money on something better than some naughty ass photo of someone I used to be best friends with.”

“Oh come on, all of that’s bullshit dad,” she bickered with her father, throwing her hands up in the air and he dramatically shrugged his shoulders. “I know you say you two were best friends and I know you were on the same baseball team, but other than that? I think you’re pushing it with the best friend thing. If the two of you were best friends, why have I never met him? Why do I see no photos of the two of you together?”

“Because in our last year of high school we kind of…went different ways,” Joel explained, still clinging onto the magazine pullout that he had stolen from his daughter. “Him, your mother, me and Uncle Tommy were the closest of friends. We were since I moved here. Honestly? I reckon he was probably better friends with your mother. But we all considered each other best friends. We were together all the time. And back then he didn’t have a single tattoo on him.”

Joel reached up to pinch up at the bridge of his nose, “And as far as photos? We probably have loads of them upstairs in the attic. I can prove it right now. I still haven’t cleaned out that thing since we moved in here and I doubt your mother did either because she always asked me to clean things up, but I didn’t.”

“Prove it,” she frowned, folding her arms in front of her chest reminding Joel of what he looked like when he was angry.

Urging her to follow him, Joel set the magazine pullout down on the table that was in the hallway. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see that Elizabeth was reaching for it and he snapped his fingers at her to get her to stop, “Ellie! Don’t think about it!”

“You are so infuriating sometimes,” Elizabeth frowned realizing that she had officially lost part of her collage. Joel hopped up to pull at the hatch to get it opened and get the stairs down to go into the attic. Motioning her to go up first, Joel knew that if he turned his back on his daughter that she would likely grab what he had set aside. Color rushed into her face, her eyes rolling when she moved up the steps. Joel followed her not far behind. When they got up there, Elizabeth let out a dramatic cough and he huffed. “It’s dusty.”

“It’s not that bad,” Joel suggested taking a look around. A long time ago, Joel started to remodel the attic for Y/N, but he never finished it. Half of it was done and the other half just looked like a normal attic. Moving across the way, Joel cleaned off the bench that was at the far end where the nook he designed was. Holding his hand out, he motioned Elizabeth to take a seat. She eyed it over with disgust before slowly lowering down. “Give me a few minutes.”

“So,” Elizabeth began, her curiosity growing while Joel started going through boxes. “What was he like when he was younger?”

“Arrogant,” Joel stammered, his whole face scrunching up when he thought about Negan. “Everyone loved Negan. We were the two most popular guys in school by our senior year. He played baseball and basketball. I played baseball and football. We had a bit of a feud going on that last year. He was a smartass.”

“But you were friends?” her eyebrow arched in curiosity. Pausing, Joel looked over his shoulder at his daughter. Taking a second to think it over, Joel nodded and cleared his throat. “What did you like about him?”

“He was funny. He could really get under some of the teachers’ skin,” Joel responded, setting aside some of the boxes letting out a sigh when he dug through them. “He was really smart. He could look at a book and just memorize everything. He was a class clown so it always infuriated the teachers when they tried to embarrass him and he would come back with the answer. Negan either had people really loving him or hating him because he was so good at reading people. He could have people eating out of the palm of his hand.”

Smirking, Joel opened one of the boxes to see on top of the box was some photos of him and Elizabeth when she was a baby. Holding out the photos, he saw her smile when she reached for the photos accepting them to look them over.

“Maybe I’ll come over here and finish the attic up for your mom. Clear up some things and go through the photos,” Joel offered appreciating the smile that Elizabeth was giving when she looked at the photos of them together. “It’s been a long time since I had a clean-shaven face.”

“You look so young,” Elizabeth commented holding a photo up of Joel holding Elizabeth on his shoulders at a football game together. “You were such a jock back then.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Joel waved his hand in the air, getting down on the ground to make it easier for him to go through the boxes. After looking through a few boxes, Joel stopped when he found photos of Y/N and him from high school. With a smirk, he grabbed a handful of the photos of them at his prom. Holding them out to Elizabeth, he allowed her to look them over while he dug through the photos. When he realized this was the box that he wanted, he headed over to the bench to sit down beside her. “That was a fun night.”

“Please don’t go into details,” Elizabeth groaned causing Joel to roll his eyes. “I know what happens on prom night.”

“I just mean we had a fun time at prom, then a few of the kids were throwing a party at their parents’ house. It was right off the water, it was awesome,” Joel explained with a long sigh, his eyes narrowing when he cleared his throat. “It was right before your grandparents passed away.”

Elizabeth gave Joel a sideways glance before continuing through the photos, smiling when she saw a photo of a young Joel kissing Y/N on the cheek with her mom laughing, “You two looked so happy together.”

“We were. We were so in love. All that mattered to me back then was her,” Joel admitted, his breathing growing uneven when he thought back to that time. “I just wanted to be with her all the time. I was afraid to let her go. I was supposed to be going off to college and she still had two more years left at school. I was so worried someone else was going to swoop in and take her. I guess the world solved that problem for me though. College was just never meant to happen.”

“You still could have gone,” she thought aloud and it had Joel taking a moment to break from looking at the photos to gaze out at her. “You could have. You had a full ride. You could have made it work. Mom eventually went to college.”

“I couldn’t. I had to take care of Uncle Tommy or else he would have been put into the system. And then your mom got pregnant with you,” Joel recalled his younger years, shifting uneasily knowing that Y/N had been pregnant at seventeen which was how old Elizabeth was now. “I couldn’t do that to Tommy. And I couldn’t do that to you and your mom.”

It looked like Elizabeth wanted to say something, but she didn’t. She just went back to looking at the photos. Seeing a photo of Negan training with him when they were on the baseball team, he handed it over to Elizabeth and she snickered.

“I know the two of you were on the team together dad. I’ve seen the team photo in the hallways of the high school,” she reminded her father hearing Joel grunt. “That doesn’t mean you were best friends. He looks so different without the facial hair.”

“Not as big of a babe,” Joel mocked the way a teenage girl would talk. It had her reaching out to hit him in the chest and he chuckled. “That was before he got that scar on his face over his eyebrow.”

“You know how he got that scar, right?” Elizabeth was eager to tell the story, but Joel hushed her.

“Everyone knows that story. He told it all the time when he first started becoming popular,” Joel pointed out feeling a bit of jealousy at how much this town loved Negan Smith. Stopping on one of the photos, he tossed it to Elizabeth and heard the surprised sound that followed. It was a photo of him, Negan and Y/N sitting on the couch that was in his parents’ basement. A young Tommy was laid out across their lap and they were all laughing. “Told you. That’s at your grandparents’ home.”

Noticing that all the photos were starting to include Negan, Joel handed piles of photos to her and could see the awe that came from her looking at the photos, “See. I’m not a liar. I’ve always been a very honest person.”

“Holy shit,” she held up a photo of Joel and Negan together. Negan had his arm wrapped around Joel’s shoulders. Negan was curling his lip up in a ridiculous pose with Joel wearing a backwards baseball cap. Elizabeth clung to the photo before reaching for the next. It was a photo of Y/N between both Joel and Negan. Both of them were kissing her cheek and it had Elizabeth laughing. “So many people would be jealous of mom with this one.”

“Yeah, I know. I was really cute,” Joel knew that Elizabeth was talking about Negan, but he was being a smart ass. Elizabeth rolled her eyes before continuing through the photos. There were a lot of photos of Y/N and Negan which had Elizabeth shocked. There was an extremely young photo of Negan and Y/N that was in that box leaving Joel to shrug when Elizabeth held it up. “I told you those two were closer. Negan was my age, but they knew each other pretty much her whole life. They were neighbors. Together all the time.”

“Why doesn’t mom talk about him?” Elizabeth stammered, stopping on a photo of her mom sitting on Negan’s lap with her arms wrapped around his shoulders.

“Uhm,” Joel considered what to say next before clearing his throat. “Because when he stopped talking to me, he stopped talking to her. The woman he ended up getting married to showed up at the school the last year. Really pretty girl. Negan was hooked on her. Your mother wanted him to be your godfather…”

“No shit,” she gasped, clinging to the photo of Negan with her mother. “What the hell happened? Could you imagine if Negan Smith was my godfather?”

“He just stopped interacting with the two of us all together. Your mother tried to reach out to him multiple times, but then she just stopped trying,” Joel cleared his throat, rubbing at the side of his face before sighing loudly. “I think it hurt too much, so she just wrote him off. Didn’t want to think about it since the two of them were so close.”

“How did I never know this?” Elizabeth seemed upset that this was a part of her parents’ lives that she didn’t know. “So you just were friends with Negan Smith?”

“Yeah. When your Uncle Tommy and I moved to town, there was this boy that kept picking on your Uncle Tommy. All the time. He was smaller for his age. It was during the summer and this boy would knock him off his bike. Push him down. Do what bullies do. One day, I was outside and I saw this boy hit your Uncle Tommy. Your mother and Negan were outside playing hockey. We all saw it happen. I was heading over to whoop the bully’s ass, but she beat me to it. Hit the boy with the hockey stick that she had. Then she beat his ass,” Joel explained with a laugh mimicking a few punches drawing Elizabeth to laugh. “She kicked that boy’s ass so bad that he refused to tell his parents. He didn’t want the whole school knowing that he had his ass kicked by a girl. But yeah, you’re mother had a crush on me from the first moment I met her, but I’m pretty sure that day is the day she fell in love with me. That was the day we first started hanging out.”

“She fell in love with you? Not the other way around?” she was surprised to hear that and Joel tipped his head from side to side. “How couldn’t you fall in love with her after that?”

“She kind of scared the shit out of me, but in a good way,” Joel claimed, his hand placing in over the center of his chest. “So yes. For your mother it was love at first sight. For me? It took until I was about seventeen.”

“What are you two doing up here?” a voice made them both jump and they looked to the stairs to see that Y/N was moving into the attic.

“Your daughter has like the biggest crush ever on Negan Smith,” Joel once again teased his daughter, talking in a stereotypical way that had her pushing into Joel’s chest. A loud laugh fell from his throat when he pointed toward the photos. “She didn’t believe that we were best friends back in the day. So I had to prove it.”

“Why’d you never tell me?” Elizabeth was curious when Y/N moved forward to look at the photo that Elizabeth had of her with Negan and Joel kissing her cheeks. “I’ve had the biggest crush on him forever and you never said anything.” 

“It was a long time ago,” she reasoned, shrugging her shoulders as Joel started pulling himself up from the bench that he was seated on with Elizabeth. Talking about Negan didn’t seem to appeal much to her when she waved her hand about. “I have all the cookies packed up and I made a pie the other day that I’m sending with you.”

“How I remained skinny when we were together blows my mind. I like your food way too much,” Joel reached down to pat his stomach realizing now that he was older, it was harder to stay in shape for him. “Come on Ellie. We have to get home. Uncle Tommy is probably waiting.”

Elizabeth didn’t really want to, but she accepted her father’s hand when he helped her up. They moved down the stairs and onto the second level. Joel had Elizabeth going back to her room for her stuff before reaching for the poster he snatched from Elizabeth’s room. Handing it out to Y/N had her looking down and unrolling the photo. Once she realized what it was, her eyes grew wide.

“I guess her and her mother have the same type,” Joel sneered and it had Y/N lifting her eyes up at Joel slowly. “That was on her wall. Our daughter should never have anything like that on her wall. Maybe pay a little more attention to the things that she is getting her hands on.”

“Yes sir,” Y/N almost seemed offended when she rolled the photo back up and felt a warmth flooding into her face. The look that Joel gave her almost looked angry, but she couldn’t say anything else because the two children were walking out with their bags.

Seeing them out to say her goodbyes, Y/N cleaned things up before heading back upstairs. Noticing that the stairs were still pulled out for the attic, Y/N went to close them up before thinking things over. Going up into the attic, she headed over toward the box of photos. Lowering down on the bench that Joel and Elizabeth were on earlier. Pushing through the photos, there was a sense of sadness that ate her up inside seeing some of her photos of when she was pregnant with Elizabeth. Joel was so loving and sweet back then. And he looked so happy. Stopping on a photo had her heart racing. In that pile was a photo of a much younger version of her and Negan kissing. Clearing her throat, she pushed the photo into her back pocket. That was the last thing her daughter should be seeing and she knew that.

Closing up the attic, she headed to bed and pulled out the photo she snatched along with the magazine pull out that Joel had given her. Taking a look at it, she shook her head and tossed both of them into the top drawer of her dresser. For so long Y/N had pushed away her past. It almost felt like she had forgotten her past. Right now, she was just living and working to get through every day. And that was enough.

----

Tags: @chainsawsangel @fancypeacepersona @violent-darkness @negansbestie @elegantfanficluv

@sanctuaryforthelost

[valenfield-inspo]

Jill Valentine & Chris Redfield - Resident Evil: Revelations Moodboard

[devondespresso]

Let Me Raise The Bar

T | 3,602 words | Steddie | also on ao3! | Modern AU, Meet Cute, Fluff

This fic is for the @strangerthingswritersguild fic exchange, by @starryeyedjanai and @devondespresso. Thank you to @dreamwatch and @bubblesandink for betaing for me!! <3

dividers by @/thecutestgrotto

edit: oh my god i forgot the keep reading the first time im so sorry guys

This night is going terribly.

He keeps telling himself he’ll delete all his dating apps for good, but the prospect of being alone forever always has him re-downloading them.

Right now, he’s remembering why he hates them so much.

He hates Tinder, specifically—guys on Tinder only want to fuck. And if that was what he was looking for, that’d be fine, great even!

But he wants a relationship and guys on Tinder will say they want one too and then turn around and leave right after they get what they want.

At least guys on Grindr are upfront about it being just a hookup—no one’s getting their hopes up or feelings hurt when it turns out to be just that.

Tinder guys will take you on a date and pretend to be interested in you as a person and then won't fucking text back after they leave your apartment the next morning. It’s annoying and it’s frustrating and it’s a waste of Steve's fucking time at this point.

And this guy tonight isn't even trying to pretend. He tried to get Steve to blow him in his apartment building garage before they even left for the date and he really should have taken that for the red flag that it was.

But Steve looks good, and he did his hair routine that takes entirely too fucking long for no one to appreciate it.

His date drives him to this hole in the wall restaurant that Steve must have passed a million times on the bus ride to his job without ever noticing.

He thought he might be able to turn things around when they got there—it’s a small Italian place, a real family-owned type vibe to it. He knows before he even orders that the food is going to be some of the best he’s tasted since moving here.

He tries asking the typical first date questions to get to know him, but his date keeps giving him short answers. So he switches to talking about himself a little, but then he realizes his date’s been staring at his mouth the whole time he’s been talking and Steve finally snaps that he isn't getting into his pants.

Steve breathes out a deep sigh as his “date” gets up and goes to the bathroom. Some fucking date this is—they haven't even gotten their fucking food yet. What a disaster.

“Hey,” he hears their waiter—Eddie, his nametag reminds Steve when he looks up—say after a minute of his date being gone. “I hate to be the bearer of super bad news, but I just saw your date slip out the back door, and I don't know if he’s planning on coming back.”

There's a lilt of sympathy in his voice and Steve can't help but snort.

“Of course he did,” Steve says. “Why can't guys just be upfront about what they want? It would save everyone so much time.”

He’s not looking for an answer, but Eddie's mouth twists and he says, “Guys are stupid. I mean, they’d have to be to give up the chance to get to know someone as cute as you.”

Steve can't really muster up a smile at the pity, so he says, “Well, whatever the case, he was my ride home, so I think I need to call a Lyft now. Can you box the food up and bring me the check?” At least he’ll have lunch for tomorrow, which doesn't feel like an adequate consolation prize for how shitty he feels right now.

Eddie shakes his head and says, “There’s no way I’m letting you pay for such a shitty date.” Steve opens his mouth to protest, but Eddie continues, “Tell you what, my shift ends in ten minutes. Why don't I show you how I’d treat you if we went on a date.”

Steve's heart thuds in his chest, a flicker of hope in this incredibly dull evening. “Seriously?” he asks.

Eddie nods. “Think of it as a trial run. See if I rank good enough for a real one.” He winks and Steve finds himself nodding dumbly, still shocked at the rapid turn of events.

“Okay,” Steve says, kind of breathless.

Eddie heads back to finish cleaning up his other tables before he ends his shift, and Steve fills Robin in over text about what happened.

He’s still waiting for a response when Eddie shows back up with two plates of food, setting one in front of Steve and the other where his date sat before sliding into the chair across from him.

He’s wearing a different shirt, Steve realizes. It also looks like he attempted to wrangle his curly hair into something more manageable, maybe sprayed some water on it to smooth it down.

The thought that this guy, this random guy who happened to be his waiter on this horrific night, would put in more effort than his previous date makes Steve's cheeks get hot.

Maybe this night really can turn around.

“Alright, names. Hi, I'm Eddie.” Eddie says, sticking his hand out across the table cartoonishly for a handshake. Steve suppresses a laugh and takes Eddie’s hand with a smile.

“Steve.” He says, and Eddie’s eyes brighten before he takes his hand back.

“So, Steve, what do you do for fun?” Eddie says, leaning forward slightly with vibrant confidence, tone feeling more and more noticeably rehearsed as he goes. “Other than light up the room with that smile, of course.”

Steve huffs a laugh, blushing despite himself.

“You practice that one a lot?”

Eddie shrinks back a little, still smiling even as he messes with the hair on the back of his neck, already starting to ruffle what he’d tried to tame.

“Yeah, it’s uh…”

“It’s sweet.” Steve leans in a little closer himself, trying to match the effort Eddie keeps putting in. “Almost as sweet as the smile you're wearing.”

Eddie flushes pink and lets out a little “Thank you” to cover a nervous laugh—and christ, Steve is already hooked.

Steve hums and grabs his fork to start eating and Eddie mirrors him.

“Thank you for this by the way.” Steve continues, “Tonight's been… ugh, you know.”

“A special kind of shitty?”

“Yeah,” Steve sighs, “So all this is… really nice.”

“I'm glad.” Eddie says, voice soft before he shrugs and continues casually “M’hoping I’ll at least do better than the last guy.”

“Yeah, of course, you haven’t even asked me to blow you yet or anything.”

Eddie turns red and busts out a nervous laugh, looking away immediately. God, he’s so fucking cute.

“Yeah, yeah, I'm not–” Eddie looks back at him, nervous still, but sincere anyway, “That's not exactly my style.”

“You a wine and dine kinda guy?”

Eddie shrugs lightly, then he seems to get an idea, leaning in again with a smile “Actually– ideally, I'm a dine and mine kinda guy.”

A smile takes over Steve’s face that he can’t fully tamp down, a little flustered and a lot amused.

Eddie preens, then continues with a shy smile.

“Though, uh, usually it's more dine and…” Eddie pauses, “Pine. Dine and pine. You know, like pining.”

Steve makes his face relax as he nods and leans back. “Oh, yeah, like the tree.”

Eddie stops and looks at Steve, and soon Steve’s smile breaks out again.

“No, I know what you mean.” He says with a little laugh that Eddie quickly mirrors.

Eddie visibly relaxes, slouching overdramatically to the side with a sigh.

“God, I swear I’m usually good at this sort of thing, words and stories and shit,” He groans, gesturing around almost like he’s talking to himself, “But apparently I meet one pretty boy and suddenly I’ve got screws loose. And they’re all falling out, all across the floor, ‘there they go!’, y’know?”

Steve bites back a snicker and hums a quiet agreement. Eddie notices, though, looks up and sees right to Steve’s amusement, so Steve decides to save them both the embarrassment and move on.

“So your job. You like it here?

“Oh yeah, absolutely,” Eddie says, perking up and gesturing as he starts talking, “The owners are really cool, they were our neighbors– Wayne’s—my uncle’s—neighbors when I first moved in with him, way way back, and they were so chill, loved having people over. Then one time in highschool I mentioned saving up ‘cause I’m trying to make it big with my band, and they offered to give me a job here while we get there.”

“That’s awesome. Your band any good?”

“Depends on who you ask.” Eddie laughs, playing with the food on his plate, “Wayne says we’re pretty good, which is probably the equivalent of moms showing up to their toddler’s dance recitals, but it’s something.”

“Where'd you guys play?”

“The Hideout, a couple blocks down…”

Steve nods.

“Yeah, it’s, uh, pretty fun if you ever wanted to stop by.“

“Sounds like a great second date.”

Eddie blushes, playing with his hair again as he smiles and looks away.

“I’ll probably have to wear earplugs– not because of your band or–”

“No, no, no, you’re good–” Eddie says, almost jumping up to reassure him, “It’s metal, that’s normal– good, even.”

“Oh– good.” Steve says, a bit awkwardly, and looks back down to his food.

Eddie leaves barely a moment of silence before he pulls the conversation back together.

“So what about you? You just a professional bad-Tinder-dater?”

Steve huffs and fiddles with his fork.

“Guidance counselor, actually.”

“Oh damn, really?”

“Yeah, Middle school.”

“Oh god,” Eddie groans playfully, “I can't imagine going back there willingly.”

“Yeah, I mean, it can get pretty rough,” Steve shrugs, “It's good though. Kids start thinking about who they are, I get to try and make that a little less shitty.”

“That’s a tall order.” Eddie laughed into his glass. “I respect it though. Hell, just having a queer adult exist around me would’ve made a lot of it easier.”

“God, yeah. I've got practice, at least, for when they need more than just some guy standing around in an office.” he laughed, pulling out sarcastic air quotes for the next part, “ I ‘babysat’ kids in middle school before I graduated. Bunch of little shits but they were good kids– still are good. They're like four years younger than me though, so they're more like siblings than kids.”

“Yeah, bet they don't take well to ‘kids’.”

“Oh, they hate it.” Steve laughed and Eddie followed with him, “Always hated it, but Dustin put his foot down after highschool. Rob and I call them my ‘twenty-somethings’ now.”

“God, wait, how old are you?” Eddie laughed

“Twenty-six.”

Eddie laughed a little louder, a lively and full laugh that looked enchanting on Eddie.

“You'd love them, they're all–

Steve’s phone buzzes.

Both of them look over to it on the table. Steve moves it to the seat next to him, looked up to Eddie with an apologetic smile.

His phone buzzes again.

And again, and soon Eddie’s eyes flick in that direction, eyebrow quirking with barely-restrained curiosity.

Then Steve’s phone starts ringing, the electric guitars of Hammer To Fall creeping up in volume way too fast for comfort.

“Sorry–” Steve cringes, grabbing his phone and answering the call in a furious whisper, “Robin, are you dying?”

“No, but thank you for confirming that you aren’t.”

“I texted you what happened.”

“Yeah and it was vague as hell! I reserve the right to be a worrywart with this shit.”

“Yeah, I know.” Steve sighs, but can’t really argue with her on it. “This was going well, though–”

“Is.” Eddie chimes in, not trying to be loud enough for the phone to pick it up, just for Steve to hear him clearly.

“Is going well.” Steve smiles.

“Oooo okayyy.” Robin hums and Steve can hear her cheeky smile through the phone.

“Goodbye, Robin.” Steve says, failing a half-assed attempt to cover his amusement.

“Oh wait no, tell him if he tries anything I’ll–”

“M’not doing that.”

“I will though, I’ll go after him–”

“Oh woah you’re breaking up, can’t hear you.” Steve deadpans.

“Steve, I know–”

“Love you, bye–”

“Steeeeve–”

“Don’t pull your hair out.” Steve says and hangs up, coming back to the present to Eddie watching him, thankfully looking amused instead of annoyed.

“Sorry about that.” Steve says.

“No, no, it’s fine.” Eddie leans forward again, propping his head up in one hand, “So… friend?”

“Best friend, has to be to get away with shit like that so easily.”

Eddie snorts.

“What was she calling about?”

“I wasn’t clear that this new date thing was gonna be a good thing.”

Eddie nods civilly.

“She worries,” Steve continues, “Fuckin’ tinder dates, y’know?”

“Uh, not really….” Eddie smiles.

“Good for you. They’re all the same asshole in a different haircut.” Steve says, and Eddie smiles, laughing a little with him before continuing with something calmer, a little more earnest.

“Then why keep going to them?”

Steve shrugs.

“Call me an optimist, I guess.”

Eddie hums noncommittally, like he’s thinking more than he’s sharing, and continues the conversation in a lighter direction.

_

The rest of the date is wonderful. A little less chaotic, especially once they start finally eating their food for real, but what it lacks in eventfulness it makes up for in comfort. They’re not exactly quiet, but Eddie’s energy always comes with a sincerity underneath, like he’s bold and fun because he just is, and not because he’s making himself be.

It’s refreshing. And as the night goes on, it becomes intoxicating.

So when Eddie offers to save him the Lyft fee and just drive Steve home, Steve agrees, just to get a little longer in Eddie’s bubble.

Eddie leads him through the restaurant and out the back into a small parking lot with a handful of cars and one big van, decorated with a clearly hand-painted dragon on the side. Which, of course, ends up being Eddie’s.

“Dustin would love this thing.” Steve says as he hops into the passenger’s seat, not really thinking twice about it as he looks at the interior, eyes lingering on the big fuzzy dice with too many sides hanging from the mirrors.

“So Dustin is…?”

“A Twenty-something.” Steve laughs as he spins the fuzzy dice to see all of its sides. “He’s like my little brother. Loves DnD and science and… all the nerd shit.”

“Nerd shit?”

“Yeah, I mean– it's not my thing but it’s cool. I’ve played with Dustin and them a couple times.”

“Oooo, a bit of a nerd, are we?” Eddie hums in a weird, almost witchy voice.

“Casually.”

“Mmm, but you’re already down the path~~”

“Just drive, dude.” Steve says with a fond eye roll.

“As you wish, your majesty.” Eddie hums in his normal voice, giving Steve a glowing glance before shoving the keys in.

“Alright, I'm about to push your nerd-tolerance to its limits.” Eddie says, pulling out his phone with a grin. He connects it to the car and quickly turns it down before drums and guitar erupt from the speakers, and Steve flinches at the volume.

“Sorry, sorry.” Eddie whispers and turns down the music again.

Steve nods, and after a second of the music playing much more quietly, he finds it much more comfortable. Nice, even. The energy is quick and alive like Eddie is, though the aggressive vocals fit his outward aesthetic more than his borderline goofy demeanor.

“It’s not the music, I promise.” Steve says, saying it casually but meaning it sincerely.

“You’re fine, I get it.” Eddie laughs, a little too cynically for Steve’s liking.

“No, I–” Steve reaches for Eddie’s hand between them, intertwining fingers and bringing both hands up between them, “I’m serious, I like it. My head’s a little sensitive, been hit a few too many times, but it’s nice. It’s bold and very energetic… stuff that I already like about you.”

Eddie blushes hard—a sweet cherry pink—as he slouches, bringing their joined hands closer to his face like he’s trying to hide behind them. Eddie rests his forehead against the back of Steve’s hand and huffs a quiet laugh.

“God, you’re quite the charmer, Stevie.” Eddie says, and Steve finds his face warming too.

“And I’m guessing it’s working?” Steve laughs.

Eddie looks up at him, smiling wide.

“Oh, it’s working very well.” Eddie says, and brings their hands closer to him again to plant a soft kiss onto Steve’s hand.

Steve’s face goes warm again, lights him on fire, and Eddie’s smile turns slightly smug before he looks away.

“Alright,” Eddie says, looking back to the front to drive but not letting go of Steve’s hand. He even reaches his left arm over to change the gears, leaning into how silly he looks to make Steve laugh.

It’s sweet, it's genuine, and it's everything to Steve.

Eddie starts driving, hand still firmly holding onto Steve’s, neither of them willing to let go first. Steve looks at it as Eddie drives, splitting most of his attention between their hands, Eddie’s profile lit up by the colorful city lights, and the road ahead as he navigates Eddie to his apartment.

And if they miss a turn or two because Steve’s tired brain doesn’t want to watch the damn road? Eddie doesn’t mention it.

_

“Alright.” Eddie says, putting the car into park with his left hand again, though far less comically now.

He sits there for a second, quiet like something’s on his mind, so Steve waits.

“Okay, uh,” Eddie starts, looking vaguely down as he wanders through what he wants to say, “I had fun, I’m assuming by how the nights gone that you did, too…”

Steve squeezes Eddie's hand, and Eddie laughs.

“I had a really great time. And I want to do this again, if you want to.” Eddie glances up at Steve for a second before his eyes dart away again. “But I want to be sure you’re… you’re not being an optimist with me. That you want want this, y’know, because you're an amazing guy, Stevie. I don’t know how you keep having such shit luck but believe me when I tell you it's not because of you.”

Eddie looks back up at him again and keeps his gaze there, looking more relaxed now.

“So, uh, I would love to take you out again.” Eddie says, “If you want to.”

If he wants to, as if that's not the most romantic thing Steve’s heard in his life.

Steve almost says that. He also debates kissing him or pulling him into an awkward hug over the center console that he’s sure would be put up with no matter how uncomfortable it’d be. But Steve doesn’t, because Eddie continues before Steve can make a decision.

“What do you want?”

Steve resists the urge to say a cheesy ‘You’ and thinks about it, really thinks so he can put together words that make sense, so he can give Eddie a real answer.

“I want a long relationship. A real one, y’know?”

Eddie nods.

“And I want to get married, someday. I want someone who’ll stay that long, who will love and let me love them, all cheesy and clingy and shit.”

Eddie hums, searching Steve’s face.

“And?”

Steve looks down at the joined hands between them.

“And I’d love if it were you. You’re sweet, so sweet, but you’re also… alive. Everything you do, you’re…” Steve thinks hard for a moment, working out how to phrase it. “It’s like the world doesn’t weigh you down. And you’re so genuine and you’ll come and say what you mean like it’s nothing, and I think every one of the people in my life—my favorite people—would love being around you almost as much as I do.”

Steve looks back up to him, face hot with another intense flush, and tries to smile casually.

“Hate to break it to you, dude, but you’re kinda my perfect man.”

Eddie huffs a breathy laugh, face painted with disbelief and wonder.

“Okay, then. Case closed.”

“Yeah,” Steve hums, with as much fondness as possible. Steve leans in across the center console, bringing a hand up slowly, trying to signal that he’s leaning in for a kiss.

It takes Eddie a second, and Steve gets to watch him look down at Steve’s hand and look at Steve leaning in, gets to see the moment it clicked before Eddie lunges to meet him halfway and then some, making the hand that was supposed to cradle Eddie’s face hold onto the seat beneath him to keep their balance.

Eddie kisses him hard at first, bringing a hand up to card through Steve’s hair, excited and alive. Then Eddie seems to come back to his senses, moving back but taking Steve with him until they’re both leaning over the center again.

Their kiss softens, intensity melting out into fondness, gentle but passionate, warm and Steve wants to melt from it.

Still, Steve’s going home tonight, going to go upstairs to Robin and tell her all about it. He’ll get to have a good night's sleep in a bed that doesn’t need cleaning, and he’ll get to wake up to the idea of something new brewing fresh in his mind.

Steve pulls back gently and Eddie does the same, eyes flicking open one after the other, a smile on Steve’s face and another lighting up Eddie’s.

Steve catches his breath, feeling lighter now than he has in ages, and Eddie opens his mouth to say something again.

“Does this mean I can get your number?”

[rweoutofthewoods]

fanfic/fandom ettiquite guide

Okay, I've seen some things recently that make me think there is some need to make a master post of some general fandom and fic ettiquite just because some people may not know and I think there's a huge wave of fanfic becoming more mainstream especially on apps like tiktok.

If you don't like it, don't engage with it!! I think this above all, is the golden rule of fandom. The internet is made for you to be able to mute, hide, and censor things you don't like. DO THAT! don't make a career off of hating things. This goes along with the three laws of fandom, which u should check out FIRST OF ALL.

DON'T GATEKEEP!! If you're posting about a fic, art, ANYTHING link it, credit it! Don't post a tiktok about a fic and then refuse to give the name. Not only are you failing to credit the creators of this content, but you're taking away from the fact that fandom is a COMMUNITY where content is meant for everyone.

Ao3 is an archive. You're going to see things you might not like or even find offensive or uncomfortable. But fanfic is not meant to be censored. Ao3 is made to be unfiltered, people can post anything and everything. Posting fics on other sites simply to shame their content not only brings MORE attention to it, but it's pointless. If you want a website that is censored go to wattpad. And of course, if you don't like it DON'T READ. You can filter your tags and warnings on ao3 so it won't show you that content.

Along those lines LEARN HOW TO USE AO3. There is no algorithm, it is not tiktok. You don't need to censor words in your tags. Your fics are not magically getting pushed out to people. Make sure you're using "person 1/person 2" for romantic relationships and "person 1 & person 2" for non-romantic relationships. Make sure things like non-con and underage are tagged under the warnings. AND AS A READER, know how to filter ships and tags to find the content you want. You can filter by kudos, certain tags, exclude certain relationships or characters etc. USE IT.

Do not create placeholder fics or other "non fics" on ao3. This is against their terms of service. You can (and probably will) be reported, this annoys people endlessly. We don't want to find a fic and open it to see "I haven't written this yet, sorry!" JUST SAVE A DRAFT OR DO IT IN A DOCUMENT? this seems like way to rack up hits, and it comes across as disingenuous, I don't see a real valid reason to make placeholders.

HOW TO WRITE AN ACCEPTABLE COMMENT: long is not important. A simple "loved this!" will make an author happy. DO NOT say any variation of "update pls?" regardless of how nice you think it is. Authors update when they can.I'm not the only author I've seen unhappy with this. JUST WAIT, either it will be updated or it won't, and either way you will live. If you have nothing nice to say about a fic?? MOVE ON. Don't leave a hate comment.

Do not rate or publicly shit on fanfic! A lot of authors know many people, and the chances of that author seeing whatever you're saying about their work is very high. If you don't like it, click off and read something else. If it's still living rent-free in your mind, that sounds like fan behavior to me. And there is no standard fics are supposed to meet, don't rate them.

Don't cross-post fics. Don't put fics on other sites, don't put translation on other sites. DON'T DO ANYTHING with a fic without checking with the author first. On that note, also don't post fics on GoodReads etc. unless an author explicitly says it's okay.

IF YOU DO NOT MARK YOUR BOOKMARKS AS PRIVATE AUTHORS CAN SEE THEM!! If you're going to say anything that isn't positive, you better mark that as private or better yet, move on. Don't say anything on a public bookmark you wouldn't want the author to read.

YOU CANNOT PROFIT OFF OF FANFIC, don't sell bound fics! Don't bind fics if the intention is to sell them. You're potentially creating a lawsuit for the authors of these fics and putting the existence of fanfic in danger. I've seen multiple authors debating taking fics down because of binding issues, just don't do it. AND IF YOU'RE BUYING BOUND FICS YOU'RE PART OF THE PROBLEM. it's selfish and I wish bad karma upon you.

You wouldn't think I'd have to say this but don't plagiarize or use AI to create fics/art etc. firstly making ai write something IS a form of plagiarism. bUT ALSO just write your own content. If you can't, then writing fics etc. is just not for you. No shame about it!

DON'T ASK AUTHORS TO BETA FOR YOU!! You wouldn't believe how many people have asked me to beta their fics for them, I AM NOT A BETA. I HAVE a beta because my proofreading skills are shit. If someone wants to beta they will offer, or go find a blog or somewhere where people are looking to beta. Like @needabeta You can even make a post asking around for a beta, but don't go bug your favorite authors to proofread your fics.

Really just don't harass authors. Of course, don't be afraid to send nice dms, asks, or comments if their inbox is open, but don't spam them especially if they don't reply. Respect boundaries! Don't send nasty anons, everyone knows this is a sign of jealousy and obsession. You're only succeeding in making yourself look bad. Ask yourself why is this author living rent-free in your mind, hm??

If you don't like a ship, stay away from the content geared towards that ship. There's no reason for you to be in people's inbox harassing them over a ship. It's never that deep. If you truly hate it so much, go consume the content for ships you DO like.

Stay grounded. This goes to both fic authors and readers alike. Hits and popularity are not the mark of a good fic. Getting a lot of hits doesn't mean it's good and NOT getting many doesn't mean it's bad. I'm tired of seeing tiktoks asking "so what's the next big fic?" WHY DOES IT HAVE TO BE A "BIG FIC"? go look through the ao3 tag and find something you like to read, it doesn't have to be what everyone else is reading.

Headcanons are not law. People can think whatever they want about the characters. If you disagree with someone's hc, just move on... and just because a headcanon is popular, doesn't mean everyone has to abide by it. Be creative!

Don't treat artists and authors like celebs! We're all in this together! We're all losers who like the same characters and ships. Of course, compliment and be kind to all creators because we put a lot of time and effort into creating fan content for you all, but don't worship anyone. Don't treat them weirdly or make a post like "omg x followed me!" that's a bit weird. If you want to be excited, dm your friends and giggle together, but acting like authors and artists etc. are celebs only creates the room for people to stop seeing them as normal people and start acting rude or entitled. And many people are uncomfortable with it!!

TLDR; stop creating so much negativity in fandom spaces. At least in MY fandom it's just constantly shitting on ships, fics, art. It's hate anons, antis, and constant fighting about every headcanon. I'M TIRED OF IT! Learn to filter out content you don't want to see, and move on with your life instead of spreading more negativity.

If you have anything you think I should add shoot me a comment or an ask and I will add it! I'm sure I didn't get everything :) this mostly applies to my own experience being in the hp/marauders fandom for a good 10+ years, and I'm sure it varies slightly from fandom to fandom.

[messrmoonyy]

- The gilded cage

Arthur Morgan x Fem!reader

Request- how about some of the girls going along to the mayors party in Saint Denis. Have you seen the cut content of Molly when she was meant to be at the party? So Dutch takes Molly along, Arthur takes reader? And what if Arthur gets a a little jealous of reader mingling and then they sneak away for some smutty time together…

A/N- this is my first Arthur fic so he may be a lil out of character whilst I get to grips with writing him. I also have not written straight smut in like 2 years. But we vibe. Enjoy

Also shoutout to @devnmon for supporting and enabling my rdr2 brainrot. You’re a real one

Warnings- 18+ | smut: unprotected p in v, semi public sex ( wc - 7.7k )

Masterlist / AO3

Saint Denis was a little too rich for your blood. You’d only ventured into the city a handful of times, but the times you had you’d decided you didn’t really like it. You felt too… common. You never had liked the wealthy, flaunting their security and safety that was wrapped up in dollars and gold. 

But. You loved money. God did you love money. And as much as you hated the residents of the city, you sure loved robbing them blind. You always had had a knack for making the rich mysteriously lose their dollars and their watches, it had been the sole reason you’d ended up in Dutch’s gang in the first place. 

You’d even tried picking his pockets at first.

But you were on best behaviour tonight. Under Dutch’s orders. And you figured as boring as that sounded, you’d oblige. Simply because the men rarely let the girls get involved with any of the interesting stuff in camp. There was only so much laundry you could do before your brain truly went numb from boredom. Only so much listening to Miss Grimshaw nagging at you to do some work or Micah antagonising someone over something stupid. 

So even with Dutch’s strict orders to behave and your dislike of the city, you had jumped at the chance to come along to the party. 

“ i can practically smell the money “ you sighed as you took Arthur’s hand to step down from the coach, already hearing the bustle of the party happening somewhere out the back of the mansion in front of you “ you sure I can’t go pickin? Just a lil “ you were half joking, half not. On the times you had wandered into the city, the stuff you’d gathered picking your way around the saloons and back alleys had been a decent haul. The stuff some of these people carried around on the average day was enough to fund the food for the whole of camp for a couple days or more. 

Who knew what kind of goodies they’d have on them in their finery. 

“ no miss “ Dutch’s stern voice sounded, but he was sporting a small look of amusement “ keep those talented hands of yours to yourself. This is about business. We steal nothing. That goes for all of you. Steal. Nothing. Unless it’s information “ 

“ don’t worry. I’ll keep her in check “ Arthur spoke with a small chuckle, placing a hand lightly to your back. 

“ this is why we shouldn’t have brought the women. They always cause trouble “ Bill complained, as he stepped out of the second coach with Hosea, making you scowl. 

“ I hope you aren’t grouping me into that Mr Williamson “ Molly piped up with a disapproving scowl of her own as she stepped out of the coach, seemingly more mad at Dutch for not helping her out more than at Bill though. Arthur offered her his hand instead, helping her step onto the path without breaking her neck in her extravagant dress. 

Always the gentleman. 

She looked wonderful and you had begun to wonder if she had owned that dress all along or had gone out and got it special. Maybe Dutch had picked it up for her. It wouldn’t surprise you if she had been lugging it around from place to place, waiting for some perfect moment to pull it out. She always did look more put together than the majority of camp. Though you really didn’t understand how she could walk in the dress she was currently wearing, skirts full and you guessed pretty heavy too. 

“ no need to bring you “ Bill continued. 

“ I ain’t even causin’ trouble “ you piped in, throwing your own scowl Bills way again “ When did you last contribute to the box anyways huh Bill? I don’t see you doin’ nothin’ but sit around all damn day. No need to bring you I say. Jus’ cause you ain’t got no lady on your arm you’re complainin’ bout me and Molly “ 

“ what? A lady like you? I should be damn lucky I ain’t “ 

“ why you- “

“ Bill I suggest you leave it “ Arthur murmured lowly, planting himself between you and Bill before you did in fact cause some trouble. Bill grumbled something, spitting on the floor with a look of disgust and turning away from you. 

Dutch sighed heavily, looking increasingly pissed off at the group in front of him and held his arm out to Molly. 

“ Miss O’Shea “ It pained you a little to know he was probably only being nice to her tonight for appearances sake. He’d been practically ignoring her recently. And wasn’t doing Molly any good. You hoped a night out of camp would do her well “ now would you all just calm. Down. We, are simple distinguished gentleman, here for business. So start damn acting like it “ you scoffed at that, making a pointed look in Bills direction as you did 

“ distinguished my ass “ 

“ play nice now “ Arthur said quietly, but you heard the smile in his tone as he did. He then offered you his arm as Dutch had done to Molly. But unlike Dutch the act didn’t feel performative, a way to blend in and appear far higher class than they actually were. Arthur actually was a gentleman. For the most part anyways. 

“ why thank you mister “ you said in a cheery tone, throwing him a coy smile and slipping your gloved hands into the crook of his elbow. 

It did feel a little funny to be walking beside him like that. All dressed up and in clothes that weren’t smeared with gun oil, dust or god knows what else. It made your mind drift a little to what life could’ve been like. 

Your group crossed the street, promptly being stopped at the gates 

“ gentleman “ the guard greeted, taking the invitation from Dutch’s hands “ the mayor doesn’t allow guns at official functions “ the way he looked at Dutch and the others was almost demeaning. Like he knew you were all riff raff and of course would be the sort to attend such an event armed “ Not after last years incident “ none of the boys seemed particularly thrilled to be handing over their firearms. Arthur in particular sighed heavily beside you as he handed his pistol over. 

He didn’t like being unarmed. Especially when he was out with you. You usually also had your gun belt permanently fixed at your waist. But it wasn’t exactly fitting with your current attire. 

Though you did note the guards didn’t even spare a glance to you or Molly, which in turn made you all the more smug knowing you had your knife tucked into your boot. Just in case of course. 

“ Luca here will take you gentleman to Mr Bronte. I believe he is expecting you “ 

“ I know you got that knife in yer boot “ Arthur said lowly so that no one else would hear. 

“ he ain’t said anythin’ about knifes. Only guns “ Arthur smiled and shook his head slightly, placing his hand over yours for a moment. 

“ that’s my girl “ 

You walked up the neat cobbled path to the mayors house then, unable to do anything but look in awe at the huge house in front of you. You’d thought Shady Belle was something spectacular, had walked around every room imagining what it had looked like in all its glory. Amazed at the vastness of the place and all the rooms it had. 

And yet it was nothing compared to this place. This was real money. 

“ I look okay? “ you asked, suddenly feeling ever so slightly nervous, smoothing your hand over your skirts. Even in your attempts to look as clean and put together as you did, some part of you felt like everyone would see you were a walking sham. 

All in all you knew you probably did look fine. The dress was the most lavish thing you’d ever owned, you didn’t even want to guess how much it had cost Arthur. It was still on the simpler side, skirts not quite as full as Mollys and not as detailed. But it was beautiful. Pale pink and ruffled shoulders and details on your skirts, gloves up to your elbows in a material so soft you’d sighed when you’d first pulled them on. 

It all made a nice change from the usual simple clothes you wore, hips weighted by skirts rather than your gun belt. And skirts that didn’t have a million holes darned over. 

And Arthur had picked it all out. Had picked it himself especially for you. 

It did make you smile to imagine him in the tailors, completely out of his depth when it came to women’s fashion but determined to find you something nice. Your big, tough cowboy staring blankly at fabric swatches and fancy hats. 

“ gonna be the prettiest girl here “ you smiled warmly at his words, hand smoothing over your dress again. 

He’d turned up that morning into your shared room of shady Belle, finding you hiding away from Miss Grimshaw on the balcony, the dress draped over his arm along with some fancy suit and tie get up for himself. He’d looked almost sheepish as he’d shown you it, promising to go get you something else if you hated it. Which of course you hadn’t. 

You’d practically jumped with joy at being able to go out on a job. The boys so rarely let the girls do anything meaningful other than tend to camp. Though this particular outing you knew Dutch had only brought you and Molly along because it would make your group seem a little more agreeable. Something about women making them look a little less intimidating. And of course Dutch and Arthur’s partners were the most obvious of choices. 

Much to Mary-Beth and Karen’s dismay. Though they had very quickly changed their mind at the idea of having to hang off Bills arm all night. 

It wasn’t exactly the reason you wanted to be brought along. But you took it. 

The inside of the mansion was as glorious as the outside, it almost made you angry that people had such wealth. That these people could sleep in a new room each night of the week if they felt like it, when people were starving outside of their gates. 

“ Hosea, Bill. Take the ladies out and enjoy the party. We’ll join you after we pay our respects to signor Bronte. Arthur, with me “ Arthur gave a curt nod 

“ I won’t be long “ he assured, hand slipping down around your back and leaning down to your ear “ hands to yourself “ you scoffed as he said it, looking up at him as he stepped away from you. 

“ I can’t promise “ you caught his smile as he walked over to Dutch and the staff. Disappearing up the stairs. 

“ it’s just this way “ one of members of Lemieux’s staff spoke, gesturing the four of you in the direction of some doors leading out into the party. 

“ let’s go ladies. You fancy a drink? “ Hosea said cheerfully, following closely behind you and Molly as you headed outside. You were ushered out into gardens, a mass of the rich and wealthy of Saint Denis all crowded around. Drinking and laughing at things you were sure were not as remotely funny as they were making it out to be. 

Bill quickly made himself scarce, disappearing into the crowds to do lord knows what, much to your joy. 

“ right. Champagne? “ Hosea excused himself to collect some drinks and you stood on the back porch looking down at the groups of people. 

So far removed from what you were used to. You wondered how they’d react knowing you and your little group were currently sleeping in a barely standing plantation home, half of you out under the stars. That you were frauds. Not glamorous and wealthy like them. 

In your experience the rich liked to pretend the poor didn’t exist. Unless they were hiring them as help. 

“ oh I missed this “ Molly said beside you, almost dreamily in tone. And seemingly more to herself than to you. It was quite possibly the happiest you’d seen her look in days. 

She fit right in. Her gorgeous dress rivalling that of some of the other woman down in the courtyard, her hair piled up on her head and her fancy jewellery that was actually hers. Not something stolen from an unsuspecting lady in town. This was Molly. Money and wealth. It still baffled you how she had ended up with Dutch, how she could leave that all behind for a life wandering. 

“ you go to party’s like this a lot? Before Dutch I mean “ she gave a small shrug, searching in her small purse for a moment before placing a cigarette between her lips. You could imagine an even younger Molly, a bright eyed teenager done up all fancy and weaving her way through a party just like this one. 

“ sometimes “ her eyes were scanning the crowds, practically sparkling at being surrounded by the upper class again “ wonder what kind of people are here “ she seemed to be talking more to herself than you again and very promptly dismissed herself, heading down the stairs and gliding between the guests. Like some true social butterfly, decked out in her finest. 

Hosea returned with three glasses of champagne and a slightly confused look noticing Molly had vanished. 

“ eh more for me “ he said with a smile, handing you your glass before promptly finishing his own and moving onto what would’ve been Mollys “ I’m going to do some snooping. You’ll be alright? “

“ I’ll be jus’ fine Hosea “ you said with a smile and watched him too disappear down into the crowds. 

It was interesting to watch them, to see them behave as if this entire event was a normal evenings activity. Maybe for them it was. But it all felt so… false. People who appeared to be friends but didn’t seem to even really like each other, some silent competition between everyone to have the better dress. The better hat. The biggest house. 

You’d take your creaky cot under the stars with Arthur any day, would much rather sit around the campfire getting tipsy and singing. Surrounded by real family. Real friends. Relationships built on loyalty and protection. Not on trying to out do each other. 

You walked between the small crowds, eavesdropping on conversations in hopes to find something useful. Something to take back to Dutch to prove bringing you along wasn’t a useless endeavour. But it was mostly women discussing their elaborate hats, sharing stories of the terrible jobs their maids did, or complaining about their husbands poker habits. Or gossiping about how they had heard one of their friends was in delicate condition. 

You heard mentions of Leviticus Cornwall, but nothing concrete enough to warrant telling anyone about. 

You tried hunting down Molly, simply to have a friend to stand beside and not feel so…out of place. But she had vanished into the crowds somewhere. So you planted yourself on the side of an ornate water fountain, simply hoping Arthur would return soon. Maybe he’d dance with you, or take you walking around the vast garden laid out ahead of you. 

You two never really got the chance to do things like that. Romantic things. Arthur had his ways, of course. He’d take you out riding or sit with you on his lap by the fire, telling you about whatever interesting thing he’d discovered that day. He’d bring you flowers he’d pick from time to time, find you interesting things when he went wandering, let you read aloud to him with the excuse he wanted you to get better at it. When in reality you had seen him confess to his journal that he simply just liked to listen to your voice. 

He was far softer than he appeared. With you anyway. And as much as you didn’t like the kinds of people in attendance, you thought it might be nice to pretend for the night. To be two wealthy young oil tycoons, dancing and drinking champagne together, gushing about your money and your jewels. 

You made your way through another flute of champagne before he returned, interrupting your frivolous daydreaming. 

“ there she is “ you turned your head with a beaming smile at his voice, relief at a familiar face “ been lookin for ya “ he sat down beside you, looping an arm around your waist “ you behavin’? “

“ course I am. Ain’t took as much as a pearl “ you said quite proudly, though decided not to mention that the temptation had truly been hard to deny. Not only were these people rich, they were getting drunker by the second. They were practically begging to be robbed. 

“ good girl “ 

“ it go okay with ugh.. what’s his name? “ you asked, turning to face him. He looked just as uncomfortable with the entire situation as you did. This wasn’t his scene. It never had been. He’d grown up just as poor as you had. 

Arthur robbed the rich, he didn’t fraternise with them. 

“ Bronte. Yeah. Fine. Dutch he’s tryna find the mayor or somethin “ he ran a finger between his neck and collar of his shirt, clearly growing uncomfortable with it. It made you laugh a little. 

“ you ain’t cut out for the finer life “ 

“ no. I ain’t “ he was looking around at the guests in a similar way to you. With a mild sense of disgust “ saw some woman back there, hat so big she were topplin over “ you smiled and leant your head against his shoulder, he tucked you in closer to his side and dropped a kiss to the top of your head. 

“ was daydreamin whilst you were with Dutch “ you mused. 

“ yeah? About what? “ 

“ playin’ pretend. Bein’ fancy for the night. Y’know dancin’ and pretendin’ we got buckets of money “ the small sigh Arthur let out made you wonder if he thought that was a life you pined for. It wasn’t. Not really. Yeah, you liked money but.. you just wanted to be comfortable. Little ranch or a cabin some place quiet. Not poor. Not rich. Just. Existing happily “ ain’t us though “ 

“ you and me we… we ain’t like these people. We ain’t ever gonna be like these people “

“ we don’t gotta be. Me, you. Some pokey lil farm someplace out west? Now that’s the dream cowboy “ he chuckled and nodded, dropping another kiss to your head 

“ that’s the dream darlin’ “ you both sat quietly for a short while longer, watching the rich get drunker and more foolish. The odd person acknowledged your presence, greeting you as they passed or tipping their hat. But mostly they left you alone. It was at the point that one man drunkenly stumbled into a bush a few feet away that made you speak up again. 

“ never thought I’d miss that damn swamp. But lord above… these people “ Arthur scoffed as he too watched the fool try and right himself again, leaves sticking to the pomade in his hair 

“ yeah. I think I need a drink “ he patted your side lightly so you’d stop leaning on him and stood up “ champagne? “ 

“ oh well ain’t you just so kind sir “ you said in your best attempt a dramatic upper class drawl “ and you gonna dance with me after mister? “ you asked with a teasing smile and he rubbed a hand at the back of his neck for a moment looking almost sheepish. But he was smiling, the sweet genuine kind he only really seemed to show around you. 

“ sure darlin’. But I’m definitely gonna need that drink for that “ he ventured back into the crowds then and you stayed put, continuing to watch the guests laugh and talk about how incredible their lives were. 

“ I don’t recognise you “ an inquisitive voice spoke, tinged with that accent that the wealthy had started latching on to in some attempts to make themselves sound more superior. Smarter. Whatever. You thought it was quite ridiculous. You turned your head to look at the man, seeing if he was in fact talking to you. 

“ talkin’ to me mister? “ he was eyeing you up and down like he was somewhat intrigued but amused by you at the same time. A stupid top hat on his head adored with plumes and the chain of a pocket watch hanging from his pocket. It almost made you laugh at how your brain immediately began thinking about how you could steal it and how much it was worth. 

“ I am indeed miss “ he stepped closer, puffing on his cigar and not taking his eyes off of you for a second “ I have frequented many of the mayors parties but you… I do not remember you “ a small wave of panic flushed your skin but you remained calm. Not recognising you was far easier to work your way out of than if he had recognised your face. 

“ I’m new in town. My… uncle. He’s friends with Mr Bronte “ the man hummed, sitting himself down beside you. 

“ so you’re here with your uncle? “ you shifted slightly at his closeness but remembered you needed to keep up appearances so forced a smile onto your face 

“ yeah. And my husband. He’s around here someplace “ the man’s eyes immediately darted down to your gloved hands, probably noting the lack of a ring on your finger. You and Arthur weren’t married. But you may as well have been. He often referred to you as his wife, and he as your husband. 

He’d ask you one day. 

“ a lucky man “ the man said, blowing smoke in your direction and still looking you up and down. You decided at that moment you very much wanted to steal his watch. Dutch be damned. Having to put up with the likes of slimy rich men for more than ten seconds… well you figured that warranted you at least getting something shiny in return. 

“ oh well ain’t you just a charmer “ you said with a smile, placing a hand to his arm “ you here with your wife mister? “ the man laughed and shook his head, scooting a little closer to you.  

“ I’m more of a… free spirit “ you gave a small laugh, trying not to crinkle your nose at the smoke blowing in your face again. 

Arthur often smelt of fresh smoke, both cigarette and fire, and that fresh air smell that clung to your clothes after being out in the open air for hours. And you loved it on him, because it was well… him. The smoke from this man was far from appealing. But that watch…

“ ohh I see. You ain’t one to be tied down huh? “ your fingers inched closer to the man’s pocket, wrapping lightly around the chain. 

“ everythin’ okay here? “ Arthur appeared behind you, a glass in each of his hands.  

“ ah is this the fine man that brought you along? Well aren’t you lucky sir “ the man spoke and you noted he didn’t even glance in Arthur’s direction as he spoke, you were now looping the chain of his watch around your wrist. Just one small tug…

“ Mr Callahan “ Arthur murmured, handing you a glass and standing behind you with a hand to your shoulder

“ wonderful to meet you sir. Me and your wife were having a delightful conversation weren’t we dear? "The pressure of Arthur’s fingers increased as he spoke the sweet name, though you weren’t entirely sure it wasn’t because he’d noticed the man’s watch was now safely hidden in the fabric of your skirt. 

“ oh yes. Wonderful mister “ the watch discreetly made its way into your boot and you were ready to get away

“ where’d you find a beautiful thing like this sir? I may need to frequent the place myself “ he placed a hand onto your arm and finally looked up at Arthur rather than at you. He made your skin crawl. You didn’t hold a single ounce of remorse for the stolen watch 

“ oh no where you’d like “ his tone was a little snippy, the kind when someone was starting to piss him off but he was trying to keep his cool. And Arthur kicking off in the middle of the mayors party wasn’t exactly a part of Dutch’s plan. 

“ now I am so sorry but i believe my husband did promise me a dance “ you rose to your feet, sipping your champagne before placing the glass down and taking Arthur’s from his hands “ ain’t that right my love? “ 

“ yeah… need ya to come with me “ he said lowly, offering you his arm. His face had gone slightly dark, not entirely able to read him, you frowned slightly. But let him lead you away from the man, completely bypassing the area with couples twirling to the music. 

“ where we goin? “ you asked with a small laugh, latching onto his arm again and having to take quick steps to keep up with his purposeful strides “ Arthur?”

He didn’t answer immediately, simply led you away from the crowds and around the side of the mayor's house. 

“ You mad cause I took that watch? Look he deserved it- “

“ ain’t mad “ he mumbled, still leading you along. 

“ okay… so we stealin’ somethin’ else? “ you asked with excitement filtering into your words, already trying to figure out what it could be “ need me to act like a maid? I can do that real good y’know. Is it money? Papers? Oh, is it jewellery? Gold? “ Arthur chuckled at your excitement and shook his head, bringing you to a halt between some elaborately trimmed bushes and trees in planters. 

“ we ain’t stealin’ a thing “ you pouted with a mild disappointment and he chuckled again, advancing on you and backing you up against the wall behind you “ don’t gimme that look “ he tucked his fingers under your chin, nudging your face upwards to look at him. He was a god few inches taller than you, but he always made you feel ten times smaller when he looked down at you like that. 

“ what’s gotten into you? “ you asked with a giggle, hands slipping under his jacket to slide over his waist. 

“ just wanted some time alone with you is all “ 

“ behind some trees? You are a strange man sometimes Arthur Morgan y’know that? “ he gave a heavy sigh and brushed his thumb across your cheek softly, watching you intently. He always looked at you like you like you were the only woman on the planet “ you sure you ain’t mad about the watch? “ 

“ no. I ain’t mad. Feller flirtin’ with my woman and only loses his watch sounds like a good deal to me “ he grumbled, leaning forward to press a kiss to your lips. 

And a light bulb suddenly pinged on in your head. 

“ are you jealous? “ you asked, unable to hide your complete utter joy and amusement as the realisation hit you. He grumbled some kind of an answer and tried to kiss you again but you turned your head to the side, so he settled for your neck instead “ why Arthur Morgan. You are jealous “ 

He didn’t answer you again, simply tilted your head so he could get at your neck more, his other hand splaying over your lower back to tug you close against him. A mischievous streak ran through you and you chewed on your lip for a moment deciding whether or not to push his buttons. 

“ he was kinda nice to me y’know. He seemed a nice feller “ Arthur’s teeth grazed your skin at your words and your smile grew bigger “ kept me from bein’ so lonely with you gone “ 

“ he wanted to do more than keep you company “ your fingers ran through the long strands of his hair, sighing softly as he continued to kiss your neck 

“ you think? You gonna keep me company now? “ 

“ oh I’ll keep you company “ you had said it only really to tease. Thinking that actually, a sordid little moment with your lover behind the bushes would be an incredible improvement on the evening. 

But it was hard to simply just kiss Arthur. He had wandering hands, had lips as addictive as whiskey. Even when you assumed he wasn’t particularly trying to work you up, he did. But the way he was tugging at your body to keep you pressed against him, the way his lips were burning a trail along your neck and across your jaw…

“ Arthur… y’know anyone could come round here “ 

“ stay quiet then and they ain’t gonna be none the wiser “ your skin prickled with heat at his words and your hips involuntarily rolled against him. Maybe it was the thrill. Maybe it was the fact that he was so… needy. Desperate to remind himself that you were his and not some stupid rich man in an equally as stupid hat.

He groaned against your hot skin as you pressed against him, the sound igniting something deep in your bones. Flaring up through your veins and cursing like lava through your veins. 

Your hands found themselves back under his jacket, fingers tugging at his shirt to free it from where it has been neatly tucked into his pants. You knew you couldn’t get it off of him but you still wanted to feel. 

You hummed softly when your fingertips met his skin, as hot as you knew yours must be. He loved to feel you touch him, loved when dragged your nails across his back, sunk your teeth into his shoulder to quiet your moans when you were dangerously close to other members of camp. 

You wished you could do it in that moment. Wished you were back in your room, truly the only good thing to come out of Shady Belle was the fact that you had a room. 

But Arthur didn’t seem keen on waiting. Seemingly having some point to prove to himself. And you were more than happy to let him. 

His hands drifted down to the floaty material of your skirt, reluctantly pulling himself away from your neck to frown at the material in front of him. 

“ why you gotta have so many damn skirts? “ he grumbled, fumbling with the layers of fabric hanging from your waist. 

“ you picked the dress “ you reminded him with a smile, chasing after his lips again. Desperate to kiss him properly now that he had stopped his assault on your neck. He kissed you with a energy that demanded your attention, that drew you in and locked you in place. Hot. Wet. Addictive “ least it ain’t as big as Mollys “ you said when you let yourself pull away. 

“ yeah well I weren’t plannin’ on keepin’ you in it when we- god damn there’s enough fabric here to dress the entire camp “ you couldn’t help the giggle that fell past your lips, watching him try to figure out how he was going to play out whatever sordid thoughts were running through his head. 

Your own mind had quite ungracefully fallen into the gutter itself, realising exactly what Arthur wanted. And your constant desperation for the man in front of you overruling all your concerns at the location. 

He seemed to be getting a little agitated with your dress and you held back the urge to giggle at him. Instead opting to try sooth the frown lines worrying at his forehead, reaching forward to palm at him through the material of his pants. In hopes it would be some kind of incentive for him to hurry up as well. 

As much as you needed him as badly as you needed air, you were also still aware of exactly where you were. And how long it would take until Dutch came looking. 

“ c’mon Arthur “ you whispered, desperation beginning to fill your words “ ‘fore they notice we’re gone “ it had been his idea to take you away, and yet you were seemingly the more desperate of the two of you now. But how could he or anyone else blame you? When he was all gussied up like he was. In truth you liked his normal attire a little more. Liked him a little more… rugged. But lord did he look handsome in his suit, his hair and beard all neat and tidy. 

Arthur’s breath audibly caught in his throat from your touch and it seemed to effectively spur him on. 

“ yes ma’am “ He spun you around with strong hands to your waist, your own hands bracing yourself against the wall. The next moments were a flurry of his hands hitching your skirts over your hips, grabbing at your undergarments before a strong arm looped around your waist to pull you back against him. 

His hand disappeared under your bunched up skirts making you gasp softly as his fingers dipped into the warmth between your thighs. 

“ this all for me darlin? “ you could hear the smirk in his words, feel it as he brushed his nose against your cheek. The short stands of his beard tickled at your skin, sending a shiver snaking along your spine. 

“ course it is “ the sound of a lady drunkenly laughing a little too close by made you freeze, hand reaching around to grab at Arthur’s arm. 

He didn’t seem discouraged by the idea of someone stumbling upon you both, simply moved his hand up to grasp gently at your jaw, turning your face towards his to kiss you. His other hand was still between your thighs, and you sighed softly against his lips as he drew a thick finger between the wetness of your folds “ oh Arthur…“ 

Your cunt clenched around nothing. As if silently begging for his fingers to just push inside of you, take you in a way you had always found so much more personal than just sitting on his cock. His fingers that held his guns, that he used to beat people to death more times than either of you could care to count. Those same fingers working you open, covered in the slick evidence of your desire for him instead of gun oil. Fingers that cause pain and damage, but also sent you spiralling into mind blowing pits of pleasure. 

And paired with the current location? It just felt… dirty. Erotic. You felt no better than a common whore loitering in a saloon for custom. You wanted him so desperately, needed him. 

“ Arthur “ you sighed, pushing your self against his hand as he toyed with your swollen clit. 

“ tell me what y’need pretty girl “ he said softly, tickling your skin with his beard and dragging his tongue across your neck before sinking his teeth into the flesh, making you whimper. 

“ you- Arthur. You. Please “ his hand continued its gentle movements as he worked at your neck. You pushed your hips back against him, grinding against the hardness still trapped by his pants in a way that couldn’t be comfortable. His breath shuddered against your skin as you did, holding you flush against him to let you wiggle your hips in a silent invitation to just take you already. 

A smashing glass drew your attention briefly away from him again. And as much as you could let him do that all evening, you were still hyper aware of your surroundings. 

You silently wished he’d just waited until you were back at camp, could take his time with you on that shitty little bed in the privacy of your room at Shady Belle. 

But there you were. And there were hundreds of others only a few feet away too. 

“ stop teasin we ain’t got the time “ at any other time he’d have worked you into a mess with his fingers, even dropped to his knees and disappeared under your skirts, have you coming on his tongue over and over again just because he wanted to. But he hadn’t planned the situation well at all, and you weren’t exactly in the best of locations. If anyone so much as peaked around the corner of the building a little too far you were certain you’d be spotted. 

And wouldn’t that be a tale. 

“ ain’t you bossy “ you opened your mouth to snip back at him, but your words evaporated into nothing but a soft whimper as Arthur followed your demands, pushing past his desires to take his time with you. Truly it was his own fault that he couldn’t though, as he withdrew his fingers and fumbled with the buttons on his pants. 

“ Arthur “ you whimpered softly, breath stuttering at the feel of his swollen tip brushing between the wet folds of your cunt. 

“ quiet now darlin’ “ He pushed in slowly, in the way he so often did. Making sure you felt every single devastating inch, your back arching against his chest as your body flushed with warmth. Even after so many times the stretch was still a lot, a deep burning ache that eventually melted away into a blinding hot pleasure that burnt its way through your veins. 

He pressed on until he was flush against you, the material of his opened pants scratching against your soft skin as he held you there a moment. He exhaled slowly, his breath warm against your skin. 

It was never fucking with Arthur. Not very often anyways. It was love making. Soft. And slow. And a brutal pace that made sure you remembered he’d been there the next morning, but oh so drawn out. He was gentle. Tender. It had always shocked you how violent he could be and yet become so careful and soft with you. And even there, concealed by a few perfectly trimmed bushes and planters, he was taking his time. Reminding you that you were his. And maybe reminding himself of the fact too. 

Reminding himself that maybe there were men only a few feet away that wanted you. That would pay for the pleasure of your company. But only Arthur could have it, that he was the only one you would ever offer it too. 

That this deep rooted instinct to protect what was his wasn’t entirely necessary but god was it wanted. That his desire made your blood boil with lust, skin burn under his touch. 

“ That’s my girl “ he whispered, tone low and steady as he set himself into a bruising pace, still tightly holding onto you as he did. His face had fallen to your neck again, lips latching onto every inch of exposed skin they could. 

You were certain you were going to walk back into the party looking like you’d taken a dip with some leeches. 

You tried your best to be quiet, teeth sinking into your bottom lip in some hopes that mixed with the sounds of the party happening only a few feet away you wouldn’t be heard. But it was so hard to be silent when he was fucking you like that. So determined, so strong, pulling out almost completely before pushing back in hard. 

Your hand was still gripping at his arm, blunt fingernails digging at his skin through his jacket. His pace increased a little, settling into a steady rhythm that carved a devastating stretch inside of you. 

“ y’know I think that feller- that feller back there. He wanted you like this “ you couldn’t help the smile that pulled its way onto your face, still flushing with joy at his jealousy. You knew Arthur desired you carnally. Always had done and always would. But a reminder like the present one was always nice. 

“ y’think so? “ 

“ I know “ he grumbled, his pace increasing a little more, clearly attempting to take out his frustrations with the handsy man. But also maybe simply trying to assure himself in the process too. 

Arthur didn’t like to admit it but he was a little self conscious. You’d heard him talk down to himself in the mirror countless times, had seen the way he spoke about himself when you peaked over his shoulder at his journal. Had an almost crippling fear of abandonment that sometimes he did need to be reminded that you wanted him. 

“ poor feller “ you said with a small sigh before pushing lightly at Arthur’s arm so he’d let you go. You winced slightly as he pulled out, immediately missing the heavy feel of him there, and spun around tugging him back towards you by the lapels of his jacket “ ain’t got nothin on you “ you hitched your skirts up in your arm and wrapped your spare hand around the now slick length of his cock making him stutter a breath. 

His face was flushed, bottom lip shiny from kissing you. You wanted to absolutely devour him, strip him of his fancy clothes and remind him just how much you wanted every part of him. 

The look in his eyes was almost primal. Desire and lust burning so brightly it made your chest ache, to feel so wanted. To feel so desired. 

To have a man so usually controlled and put together, be reduced to not being able to even wait until you got home. That he had to have you there. Right there in that moment. He couldn’t wait. 

You needed him to pull you apart. To worship every inch of you in the way he so often did. 

But the side of the mayor's house was truly not the place for such a thing. 

“ no one could make me feel the way you do “ you whispered, stroking him softly in your hand as you tried to stoke the fire under his ego. Make him realise he truly had no reason to be jealous “ and him back there? He thought he could huh? Poor feller “ 

“ poor feller “ he echoed, sliding a hand over your leg and hitching it over his hip, sliding back into you with a welcome ease that made your head fall back against the wall. 

“ Thinks he could fuck me better than this? Man must be damn crazy “ you said with a smile, breathless as he fucked into you. You were practically dripping around him, the lewd sounds between you enough to make your skin flush. 

“ you’re mine darlin “ you nodded immediately. Not a single doubt in your mind on the matter. You were his. And he yours. That was how it would always be “ all mine, you hear? “ 

“ all yours Arthur. Ain’t no man in this whole damn country could replace you” 

He moved with more determination, thrusting into you harder in a way you knew was going to bruise your back from rubbing against the wall. His all too familiar deep, hard pace. You pulled him down by the back of his neck, muffling your whimpers with his mouth cautious again that you were getting a little reckless. 

“ that good? Makin me feel so good darlin’ such a good girl “ the entire thing felt almost animalistic. Desires so strong they couldn’t be withheld. Dirty. Filthy. Perfect. 

“ God Arthur “ the look on his face alone made you clench around him, never wanting him to leave, needing to feel the heavy bruising sensation as he split you apart for the rest of your life. He hitched your leg higher, hitting some new devastating part inside of you that made you see stars. Eyes rolling to the back of your head and unable to contain the sounds escaping your throat any longer. 

“ There she is, jus’ like that darlin I got ya” his grip on your leg grew restless, fingers dancing over your skin and trying to pull you as close to him as he could get you. He always wanted you close. Always wanted to feel your skin against his own. A moment later his thrusts became sloppier and you knew he wasn’t far off. Though quite frankly neither were you “ so pretty for me like this ain’t ya? My girl “ his words only pulled you closer to the edge, knot twisting tighter. 

“ Arthur I- “

“ I know. I know darlin, can feel it “ he almost cooed, lifting a hand to cup your face gently “ that’s it look right at me. That’s a girl right at me “ with his gaze so intense you couldn’t hold it any longer, biting down on your lip as you attempted to conceal your sounds of ecstasy as you came over his cock. 

He was barely a second behind you, a stuttered groan of a sound leaving him as he dropped his forehead against yours, painting your slick walls with rope after rope of come as you clenched around him. Holding him in place so that not a single drop of him would go to waste. It was a risky business letting him finish inside of you, truly it was. But in your sex drunk haze you didn’t care, couldn’t give a damn because it simply felt too good to give up. 

He nudged his nose against yours, brushing his lips against your own and kissed you softly. So tender and gentle, his hand carefully lowering your leg back down, slipping his softening length out of you making you wince. He kissed the crinkles it caused to show at the corners of your eyes, whispering a gentle sorry. He soothed his hands over your waist with a care very few men had for women those days. 

“ my girl “ he murmured, littering kisses across your cheeks and nose. 

When he pulled back you couldn’t help but smile. The dopey, soft kind. He was looking far less put together than he had done when you’d arrived, the pomade in his hair no longer serving its purpose after your fingers had gotten to it. He’d broken a sweat too, his forehead shiny. His skin flushed. 

The smugness was overwhelming though, could see it in his eyes. In the small smirk pulling at his lips. He seemed incredibly proud of himself. 

“ you are somethin’ else “ he mumbled as he finished readjusting his clothes, reaching forward to slip the ruffled strap of your dress back up your shoulder from where it had slipped. Pressing a kiss to the skin there for good measure. 

“ I ain’t the jealous one “ you teased as you combed your fingers through his hair in some attempt to tidy it. 

“ ain’t jealous. No idea what you talkin about girl “ he said with a small clear of his throat in some attempt to hide the obvious lie, you simply smiled again and pressed a kiss to his cheek 

“ mhm sure “ 

There was something about having to go back out into the party with the light ache between your legs, with the evidence of Arthur’s jealousy slowly dripping down your thighs. And Arthur seemed to think so too 

“ now. I believe you wanted to dance? “

[slut4thebroken]

Daddy’s Little Girl

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Stepdad!Raymond Leon x reader

Summary | Your stepdad catches you doing something you shouldn’t be.

Warnings | Smut, 18+, sexual content, very large age gap, technically incest, innocence kink, protective (controlling) Ray, grinding, pillow humping hehe, praise, degradation, spanking, punishment?, humiliation, virginity checks, daddy but not the kink?, he kind of hates everyone except you tbh.

Words | 3.7 k

Notes | Idk I feel like the end maybe got a lil ooc but I feel like it’s not enough to be out of place in the fic.

Ao3 link | <3

Masterlist

Tonight was movie night, your favorite night of the week. For the longest time, your step dad refused to do this. You’d beg and beg, and he’d stare at you with that hard, unrelenting gaze until you gave up. That was while you still called him Mr. Leon. That was before your mom skipped town, leaving you with him. You were 16 when that happened and Raymond seriously considered sending you off to some orphanage. It was only two more years anyway. 

But over time, the idea started to make his stomach churn and his jaw clench in anger. That was when he started treating you like his stepdaughter, rather than some child he was stuck with. That was when you started calling him daddy. 

The first time, it surprised him. Girls your age have long since grown out of calling their fathers ‘daddy’ and started calling their boyfriends that instead. But he could tell you were being genuine and not just making a move on him or trying to rile him up. It took a while, but eventually he got used to it. He even started calling you a few pet names as well. That was the first sign that he’d gone completely soft toward you. 

The second was when he actually agreed to have a movie night with you… As soon as he reluctantly said yes, you practically squealed as you ran to the couch, telling him to make popcorn while you got everything ready. 

You didn’t try to get closer to him that time. But the next time, you sat in the middle of the couch rather than on the side, still not touching him yet. The third time was when you tried to lean your head on his shoulder. He jerked away from you, mostly out of pure instinct, but when he saw your pouting face, he sighed heavily and let you do it anyway as he sat there, his body completely stiff. 

It only progressed from there, until he finally started getting used to holding you while you snuggled into his chest. He almost… liked doing it— not that he would ever admit that though. When you were in his arms, he felt like he was protecting you, keeping you safe. From what? He didn’t know. Maybe it was just paternal instinct. 

As you got older though, he got more protective. He started setting rules, most of which you were fine with. It was the little ones like bedtime by eleven on school nights or homework before fun that you didn’t like. But you followed them anyway. 

The first time you brought a boy home… he almost committed a felony, to put it simply. He never came back though— thankfully— but you yelled at him for scaring him away when you were just trying to work on an assignment together. That eased his nerves, but he still didn’t regret what he did. However, that prompted him to have a talk with you. Not the talk, you weren’t ready for that yet, he decided. 

He sat you down and told you about boys your age and their intentions and what they’d do to you if given the chance. He was trying to scare you, and it worked. He slept easy knowing that your nights were spent watching movies with him, rather than partying or having sex. 

You put on pajamas and fuzzy socks and he wore sweatpants and a shirt. While you settled on the couch and browsed for a movie, he was busy making some popcorn for you both. 

“What about this one?” You asked as he walked in and sat down next to you. 

“What’s it rated?” He seemed wary. 

“R… But I’ve seen R rated movies before!” He glanced at the screen, then turned back to you with a sigh. 

“Fine. Just this once, you know I don’t like you watching really graphic content.” You bit back a grin and pressed play. He held the popcorn in his lap and you rested your head on his shoulder, both of your lower halves covered by the blanket. 

It started out fine. There was a lot of cursing and some violence, but it wasn’t too bad. What was bad was the super graphic and super long sex scene. You shifted awkwardly and looked at your lap. Should you just watch and pretend like this isn’t weird? That’s what he’s doing…

When you folded your legs up and rested them on his thigh, he placed a warm hand just above your knee. You cleared your throat and buried your face in his chest a little. 

“It’s just a sex scene.” He chuckled quietly. 

“I- I know… I’m just not used to watching it s’all.” He hummed in response and started brushing his thumb back and forth on your thigh, making your shiver. 

“We can watch something else.”

“No! I- I’m not a child. I can watch a… a— sex scene.” You said the last two words quietly and your cheeks heated up in embarrassment. 

“I know you can, princess. I’m saying you don’t have to.” You could tell he was amused, but you were getting more and more flustered. 

“Well, I- I want to.” You decided. He was fine with that. Even though he didn’t really want you watching this kind of stuff, he liked watching you blush and squirm. 

The sex scene was over and you relaxed into him, focusing on the movie again. The rest of it was more violence and cursing, then it was over. When you yawned and snuggled into his chest, he brought an awkward hand up to your shoulder, trying to pull you away. 

“Bed time.” You let out a low whine, but stood up anyway. “Go get ready for bed.” 

“Mhm.” You mumbled sleepily. You brushed your teeth and finished your nightly routine, but as soon as you laid down, you noticed the warm feeling in your belly and the ache between your legs. You’ve felt this once or twice, but you’ve never acted on it before. You laid there, desperately trying to ignore it and just fall asleep, but it wouldn’t go away and you kept thinking about his hand on your thigh and the way he smells and how safe you feel in his arms. Letting out a quiet whine, you pressed your thighs together and squirmed a bit, trying to ease the ache. It only got worse though. 

You turned on your side and squeezed your thighs together harder as your hips started moving back and forth, chasing pleasure that wasn’t there. You heard running water as he washed the dishes, so with the knowledge that he was too busy to catch you doing something inappropriate, you got up on your knees and placed a pillow between your legs. 

The movement of your hips was awkward at first, but you quickly picked up a comfortable pace and continued that for a while. You felt so dirty and perverted doing this, but you couldn’t stop. Especially not when you imagined doing this on his thigh instead. Would he grab your hips to help you? Or maybe he’d lay back and watch you hump his leg like a dog. 

You whimpered and closed your eyes as your head fell forward. Maybe he’d let you grind on something else… something much more R rated. The thought had you moaning quietly before you could stop yourself so you bit your lip to keep any more sounds in. You’ve only started having these thoughts about him recently and they confused you, but made you feel good, so you didn’t try to shut them down. 

Your belly felt like it was tightening and filling with heat, and you started panting as you bucked your hips faster. You weren’t exactly sure what you were feeling. All you knew was that the thought of stopping made you want to cry in desperation. 

“Are you all ready—” The door suddenly opened and you practically jumped away from the pillow as you stared at him with wide eyes. The feeling in your tummy was slowly leaving and you tried not to whine out loud because of it. “What were you doing?” He asked, tone a complete 180 from only a few seconds ago. 

“N-nothing, I was… I was getting ready for bed.” He slowly shut the door and you swallowed audibly as you waited for what was next. 

“You were getting ready for bed with your pillow down there?” He asked, obviously not believing you. You bit your lip as you nodded, staring up at him with wide, innocent eyes and he stalked closer. You held your breath as he neared the bed, but when he reached for the pillow, you were too slow to try and grab it first. He held it up to his face and inhaled deeply, making your cheeks heat up as you squirmed uncomfortably. 

“This is exactly why I didn’t want to watch that movie. You get these ideas in your head and soon enough your whoring yourself around for every guy in this fucking city.” 

“No! No, I- I wouldn’t…” You didn’t want to whine, but his words were embarrassing you. He set the pillow down then sat next to it with a heavy sigh. You watched him pinch the bridge of his nose and close his eyes. 

“I guess this is my fault… I should’ve talked with you a long time ago, I was just scared.” Your brows furrowed in confusion and you schooched closer to him. 

“Scared?”

“Of losing my little girl. But clearly I need to accept the fact that you’re a young woman now. You can’t be my little girl forever.” You’ve never heard him sound so sad. 

“Yes I can.” You frowned. 

“Princess… You’re already 18. I don’t think that’s possible.” He chuckled dryly. 

“But… I- I want to be your little girl.” Your frown deepened and your eyes started to burn with tears. “Forever, daddy.” You whined. 

“I know, baby. But that’s what happens, you have to grow up, no matter how much you don’t want to.” You were getting even more confused and upset. What does this mean? Will there not be anymore movie nights? Will he not make you hot chocolate or read to you or tuck you in before bed? “And now’s the time. You’re already getting curious about big girl things.” 

“No! I- I’m sorry. I won’t do it again, daddy— I promise. I’ll do anything, just— please…” You cried, giving him puppy dog eyes as your bottom lip wobbled. 

“You want to stay my little girl?” He asked quietly, bringing a hand up to brush your hair out of your face. 

“Please.” You whined and he nodded. 

“You have two choices; you can be a big girl and I’ll teach you whatever you need to know to be safe, or… you can be my little girl, but you’ll need to be punished for your behavior.” 

“The second.” You didn’t even hesitate. 

“Okay, baby. Over my lap.” When you started moving to lay on his lap, he stopped you. “Other way.” You obeyed and laid across his thighs, pushing the pillow away so you could be comfortable. 

“No no no, princess.” He chuckled quietly. “That’s part of the punishment. You’re going to keep your face in your mess as a constant reminder of why you’re being punished right now.” With a low whine, you pulled the pillow back toward you, but kept your head above it. You could see now that there was a tiny damp spot on the fabric, only furthering your embarrassment. 

“Mmph!” Was the only noise you could get out when he placed a firm hand on the back of your head and shoved you down. You jumped when you felt his warm hand on the back of your thigh, slowly moving up. He teased the bottom of your sleep shorts before going back down on the other leg. “This is what you want? To be daddy’s little girl?” 

“Yes!” You cried, but it was muffled because of him still holding you down. 

“Fine.” He roughly pulled your shorts down to your thighs, making you whine and squirm in this hold. “At least you’re not completely gone yet…” He murmured, running a hand over your plain cotton panties. “Ready?” He didn’t let your reply before landing a hard smack on your ass, making you cry out. He did the same to the other cheek, then grabbed your underwear and pulled them up to expose more skin. 

You moaned quietly when he rubbed a soothing hand over your already sore ass. It felt huge. Sure you’ve noticed his hands once or twice, but it felt like he could grab your entire ass cheek and more with just one hand. 

He hit you again, but this time he didn’t stop until you were crying and reaching back to push him away. He released your head and twisted your arms behind your back painfully, keeping you still. With your head now free, you tried protesting verbally. 

“It hurts, daddy.” You whined. 

“Yeah? Keep your face in that pillow or I’ll use my belt and it’ll hurt a whole lot more.” He warned, making your breath catch in your throat. You didn’t want to find out if he was bluffing or not, so you lowered your head back down, trying not to get too embarrassed by the smell of your own arousal. 

He started spanking you again, lighter this time, but after doing it over and over, the light smacks started to hurt. You cried and squirmed and kicked your feet, trying to get a break. 

“I know…” He cooed, finally stopping to roughly rub and grope your ass, making you wince. “You can take it though.” You shook your head as a quiet sob left you. Your tears haven’t fallen yet, but you knew they were about to. 

“Please— Please… I'm sorry for being bad, daddy.” You whimpered, turning your head to try and see him. He just shushed you and continued playing with your ass for a while. When he got bored of that, he was spanking you again. He only did a few this time, but he hit you so hard… you could barely take it. You were crying now and your struggling picked up until one of your legs slid off his thigh. You held it up by your foot on the ground, but when you tried to raise it again, he placed a firm hand on that thigh to keep it in place. So you relaxed into the new position as he snaked his hand up. 

He cursed under his breath, then moved his hand to pull your panties up even further, making the outline of your cunt more pronounced. His thumb brushed over your slit, but it didn’t go anywhere near where it actually ached. 

“Now, why would my little girl be so wet during a punishment?” He asked innocently, as if his words had a less crude meaning. 

“I- I’m sorry, daddy… Can’t help it.” You whined, squirming again to try and get some kind of pressure on your clit. You couldn't help the moan that escaped when he pulled your panties to the side, then ran a finger through your slit. 

“Clearly you’re growing up just a little bit, but I think we can come to a fair compromise.” You waited anxiously for his proposal. “You can still be my little girl, but we’ll have some adult playtime too.” You were nodding before he even finished. “That means you can only be with daddy. Only big girls do that kind of stuff with other boys.” 

“Only you.” You promised. 

“Since I know how insatiable you're getting though, I’ll have to do checks every week, maybe more, to make sure you’re still my little girl.” 

“Checks?” You asked quietly, brows furrowed in confusion. 

“Would you like me to do one now to show you?” You agreed hesitantly and he raised his leg that was under your hips to arch your back a little. When he released your arms, you immediately brought them back up to a more comfortable position. 

He placed both hands on your thighs, just below your ass, and used his thumbs to pull you open even more, exposing you. You tried not to get embarrassed or nervous, but no one’s ever seen down there before. What if he thinks it’s ugly? What if it has a weird smell? Your thoughts were interrupted by him circling your hole with one finger. 

“Ready?” He asked, but barely dipping the tip in your entrance to tease you. 

“Y-yes.” You said through a breath. He slowly pushed his finger in and you fisted the sheets as your head dropped down— you didn’t even care about your scent on the pillow anymore. His finger was so thick and long, and you mewled quietly at the feeling. He curled it against your walls and you let out a choked moan at the new feeling. “What… What are you checking for?” You whispered, unable to speak any louder. 

“Your hymen. That’s something only little girls have. Once it’s gone, that makes you a big girl.” He explained, continuing to move his finger inside you at a torturously slow pace. 

“Daddy…” You whined breathily. The only response you got was a quiet hum, telling you to finish what you were wanting to say. “Feels good..” He suddenly pulled his finger out, forcing a strangled sob out of you. “No— please! Please keep going.” You cried as he wiped his finger on your ass to clean it off. 

“Shh. While I’m here, I might as well do a full check. Lay down.” He pulled your shorts all the way off, then you moved to the center of the bed and laid down on your back as he settled between your legs. His thumbs were pulling you apart again, but this time his finger went above your hole. Your breath hitched and your eyes fluttered closed as your hips rocked, trying to get more friction. When he brushed a finger over your clit, you jolted and released a loud moan. 

“This is only for daddy to touch, do you understand? No boys, no hands, no pillows.” You nodded as you panted and bucked your hips again. 

“Only for daddy.” You mumbled almost incoherently. He continued brushing over your clit with feather light touches, but the feeling in your belly was getting more and more intense. “Please…” You whined, squirming even more. 

“Do you even know what you’re begging for, little girl?” You shook your head as your hips started moving more frantically now, like how they were when you were on the pillow. 

“Please, daddy.” You moaned, the feeling in your tummy growing tighter. He suddenly removed his finger again and you cried out loudly, all but throwing a tantrum in response. “Please! Please don’t stop..” You sobbed. “It hurts, daddy… please make it go away.” Your voice was a pathetic whimper, but you ignored the embarrassment, focusing on giving him puppy dog eyes and a pout instead. 

“No.” You let out a long bratty whine, making him bring his hand down on your clit with a loud smack. He didn’t hit too hard, but it was hard enough to make you choke on a gasp, and then silence you. He grabbed the pillow and tossed it to the ground, then sat on the edge of the bed. “Finish what you started.” 

“But,” He raised his brows, warning you to stop disobeying him and just do it. So with a pout, you moved to the floor and straddled the pillow. 

“Atta girl. Do it just like how you were when I walked in.” You blushed at the reminder, but slowly lowered yourself onto it and started moving your hips. It didn’t take long for you to get desperate enough to show your enthusiasm without shame. But you were also getting impossibly more desperate for him. 

“Daddy… please.” You whined. “Wanna touch you.” The way you whimpered and looked up at him with puppy dog eyes made him fold almost instantly. 

“Where?” 

“Wanna do this, but… on your thigh.” He sighed, but patted his leg and you scrambled up to straddle it as you wrapped your arms around his neck. 

“Better?” You bit back a grin as you nodded. He suddenly grabbed your hips and started moving you against his thigh, but you quickly picked back up and started rutting against him desperately. Now that you could smell him and feel his warmth, and his strong hands holding your hips, your tummy was getting impossibly tighter with arousal. All of the friction on your clit was starting to hurt a little, but you couldn’t stop. Not now. 

“Such a good girl…” He cooed, making you whine and ride his leg faster. “I’m gonna teach you all the ways little girls can please their daddies. Do you want that, baby?”

“Mhm.” You were too spaced out to respond properly. “Daddy, it— I…” You choked out, not even knowing what it was that you were actually feeling. 

“It’s okay. Keep going.” You whined at his encouragement but obeyed eagerly, wanting to feel this pleasure longer. Your sounds got louder and your hips moved even faster until you mewled quietly as your body convulsed. You were shaking and writhing from the intense pleasure and his hands started pulling your hips when you weren’t able to focus on moving them anymore. “Good girl… Ride it out.” He said quietly and you squeezed your eyes shut as you buried your face in the crook of his neck. He kept grinding your hips down on his thigh and you were sobbing out moans until it finally subsided and the achy feeling was gone. 

“How was that?” He asked, loosening his grip to an intensity that wouldn’t leave bruises. 

“What… what was…” You were panting heavily, trying to catch your breath and calm down. 

“It’s called an orgasm. Only I can give them to you, do you understand?” His voice was soft but still stern. 

“Mhm.” You nodded, now so much more tired than you were a few seconds ago. He pulled the covers back, then picked you up by your hips and placed you on the bed. You laid down, then he brought the covers up and handed you your stuffed animal before tucking you in. “My little girl.” He whispered, pushing your hair out of your face. You blushed and smiled sleepily. “Only mine.” 

“Only yours..” You mumbled incoherently and he placed a soft kiss on your forehead, filling your stomach with butterflies. 

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[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Infected

Miguel O'Hara X F!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info

Summary: An accident at one of Alchemax’s labs has led to Miguel being briefly contaminated with cA1m - a prototype drug that is meant to calm animals. However it seems to have a very different effect in humans.

A/N: A massive thank you to @midgardian-witch for reading the beginning of this (catching a hilarious typo), making some excellent suggestions,  and reassuring me that I hadn’t just lost my mind completely (yet).

Reader doesn’t know Miguel’s spiderman.

Warnings: dubious consent - it’s basically a sex pollen fic, blood, hair pulling (can I write a fic without an Oscar Isaac character getting their hair pulled?), so much cum, hand job, oral (both m and f receiving), things get a little rough, face fucking, cum eating, biting, scratching, p in v sex, typos, please let me know if I’ve missed a warning!

Word Count: 5433

________________________________

“It’s mainly preliminary.” You said with a smile. “You weren’t in the room, but the filtration system links four of the labs.” 

You check over Miguel’s notes, so far, he didn’t have any symptoms. 

There had been an ‘accident’ in Lab B2, an accident that was being rapidly looked into. Lab B1, and B4 had been empty, but Miguel had been in B3. 

Miguel was currently in a rapidly repurposed testing room, sitting on the bed with his shirt rolled up his forearms. His specific request for somewhere with reinforced walls, doors and windows had been… unusual. But he was a big guy, couldn’t hurt to be too careful. 

“How are the others doing?” He asked with a slightly raised eyebrow. 

“Okay,” you nodded. There had been eight people in Lab B2 when the container had broken. Two people, like Miguel, weren’t showing any symptoms. 

The chemical compound, nicknamed cA1m, while liquid in its storage unit, turned to a gas at above zero degrees. Luckily it also denatured quickly, and there was a good chance that those who still weren’t showing symptoms were unaffected. 

The chemical’s intention was for a more humane way to calm wild animals and livestock during veterinary checks. That way the animal in question didn’t need potentially dangerous anaesthetic for basic to mild level medical care. 

It also wore off in 24 hours. 

However, it still needed some work. And while early tests had gone well, apparently it did not have the desired effect in humans. 

Four of the six infected had gone feral, absolutely crazy with rage, trying to kill and destroy everything and everyone within their reach. 

Luckily no one had been severely injured before they had been tranquilised. 

The other two were different, they had… other urges. 

“Have you found any links as to why Doctor Guerrero and Doctor Vaughan didn’t react like the others?” Miguel asks. His voice was calm and controlled, like it always was. Politely interested, like he was listening to a presentation about your latest control data. 

“Well, I have an idea. Though I haven’t fully proven it yet.” 

He tilted his head to the side in a silent question. The action was endearing, it made your heart flutter and heat rise to your skin. And you hated it so, so much. 

You smiled quickly and looked down, trying to cover the fact you’d been staring at him for a second too long. 

“So,” you continued, drawing the word out a little to give you a pause of breathing room. “Both Guerrero and Vaughan are in relationships, both of them wanted to,” you pause for a moment, trying to find the most professional way to phrase it. “get to their partners. Unlike the others they also had a massively increased level of oxytocin.” 

“Your theory is that that cA1m causes a berserk level of rage unless the subject is in love?” There was the smallest smirk on his lips.

It sounded stupid when he put it like that. 

“Well… yes.” You fold your arms. “Look, Miguel,” he grinned when you said his name and you fought, and lost, the urge to smile back. “I’ve had fourteen hours and six people to base this off, plus three who are showing no symptoms. Give me a break, yeah?” 

He held up his hands playfully. “I didn’t say anything.”

“You gave me a look.”

“What look?” He teased. 

“I know you want to be trying to figure this out yourself, but you’re the one who insisted on not being allowed any breakable, or expensive, equipment while you’re in here.” 

He smiled. “It’s true.” His gaze was heavy, crushing almost. 

You shook your head and turned to the side table. “Anyway, are you gonna let me draw some blood or what?” 

He nodded and held his arm out to you. 

You know why you had been ‘nominated’ (begged) to be the one to see Miguel. He wasn’t the easiest CEO to work for in the sense that he was both physically and mentally intimidating, but what usually threw most people was that he was quiet, tended to watch and listen. 

And he had a bit of resting bitch face.  

But he was actually pretty pleasant to talk to when you got to know him. 

You brushed your arm against his as you moved to get your equipment. Miguel audibly gasped. 

A flash of worry pinched at your mind, you turned to look at him. “You okay?” 

Miguel nodded; he was staring straight ahead at the wall. Obviously in distress.

“Miguel?” This wasn’t the same as those who had suddenly developed into a full-blown rage, but still you couldn’t help the sense of apprehension that crawled along your skin. You glanced at the sedative on the side table and shook your head.

“Miguel?” You spoke again, a little softer and moved a step closer towards him. 

He shuddered at your voice, screwing his eyes up tightly. Sweat was beading on his forehead, heat rolling off him in waves.

“Miguel, I’m gonna-”

He moved faster than you could comprehend, one second he was sitting on the bed and the next he was looming over you, his hands clenched tightly around your biceps, and forcing you back.

You yelped as he pressed you into the wall, grabbing hold of his forearms. 

His eyes were dark and wild, brimming with a terrifying energy.

“Miguel, wh-”

He crashed his lips into yours, swallowing down your words and slipping his tongue into your mouth frantically. It took you a fragment of a second to react, surprise freezing your limbs solid. 

Miguel took your delay to his advantage, pushing his knee between your legs and pressing close. Not leaving a fraction of space between you as he devoured your mouth. Stealing your breath and igniting heat along your veins. 

“Miguel,” you managed to push him back, the heels of your hands in his chest. This was the cA1m affecting him, it was the only explanation. Maybe the filtration system had diluted the chemical and caused a delayed reaction. “You need to-”

He snarled, his eyes pinpoint focused on you as he leaned forward and kissed you, hard. All tongue and sharp teeth as he wrapped his fingers around the back of your neck and gripped your thigh bruisingly tight, hitching it high on his hip. 

You’d had dreams like this, fantasies, where he pinned you to the wall and kissed you until you couldn’t breathe. But you couldn’t do this, you couldn’t take advantage of him like this- 

There was a sharp pinch of pain as Miguel sank his teeth into your bottom lip. You let out a small squeak of surprise, pulling away from him. And raised your hand to your mouth, your fingers coming back red. 

Miguel, however, seemed unphased as he trailed kisses along your neck, smearing your blood along your skin. He ground his hips into yours, rocking back and forth and- oh god, he was big, just like the rest of him. 

“Miguel, you need to,” you swallowed down a whimper as he sucked at your pulse point, just managing to resist the urge to hold him closer, to run your hands through his hair. “It’s the cA1m, you’re not thinking straight.”

He murmured something into your neck, his mouth not leaving your skin far enough for the words to be intelligible. 

“Miguel-” You gasped as he nipped at your throat, not enough to break the skin this time. 

Heat was burning from his skin, scorching into your body like you were too close to a flame. 

You grabbed a fistful of his hair, yanking his head back a fraction too forcefully. You thought the brief pain might snap him out of it, give him a second of clarity. But as his chin tilted upwards, exposing his neck, he let out a long groan, his eyes squeezed shut. 

It went straight to your core, your thighs clenching at the sound. 

“Need you so bad, shit,” he rocked against you harder, pressing his length right up against your centre. “Always need you, you don’t understand,” he moaned and buried his head back into your neck, despite your grip on his hair, and sucked a love bite into your skin.

This time you couldn’t resist the urge. You sunk your fingers deeper, scratching your nails along his scalp and pulled him closer, pushing his face in your neck.

Miguel groaned appreciatively, digging his sharp nails into your shoulders. He nipped just below your ear, the keen, yet sweet little sting of pain blended with the slow and steady roll of his hips was simply tortuous. Almost enough to make you lose all common sense. 

Almost. 

You couldn’t do this, you couldn’t do this, you just couldn’t do this. 

“Miguel-”

He whined as you said his name. 

And you had to bite your lips together in order to hold onto your fading self respect. 

“On the table,” you swallowed, trying to get your words out quickly, “there’s a sedative. It’ll help, it’ll-”

“You’ll help, being near you helps.” He mumbles, the words barely audible. He snakes his fingers along your ribs, just teasing the hem of your shirt.

“We just need to-oh!”

Miguel grabs hold of your shirt and pulls, ripping it open, buttons pinging off and going flying. Honestly, there’s less resistance from the material than you expected.

And then he's everywhere, his face buried in your chest, kissing the tops of your breasts as his fingers pinch at your nipples through the thin fabric of your bra. 

You can't stop the moan of surprise that escapes your lips as you arch into his touch. 

You had to stop this, now. Before he did something you'd very much enjoy and he'd very much regret. 

"Fuck," you hiss under your breath and act quickly, trying not to overthink and get yourself caught up. 

Maybe if he… had some relief you could grab the sedative in the afterglow. Hell, maybe he wouldn't even need the sedative if he came once. 

Before you can lose your nerve you quickly unbuckled his trousers and managed to squeeze your hand under the material despite Miguel's frenzied mind trying to keep the physical space separating you both to a minimum. 

He gasps as you touch him, letting out a choked sob that your brain was already committing to memory and filing under 'for use later'. 

The velvety soft skin was rock hard and burning hot against your hand. So big that you couldn't even get your fingers fully round his girth. 

"Please." He muttered, pressing his forehead against yours, his hands resting tightly on your waist. 

His eyes were screwed shut, his mouth slightly open and when you moved your hand, the smallest upwards movement. He let out the sweetest sigh. 

You bite your lip and wince as you catch the broken skin, but it doesn’t stop you from tracing your thumb over the tip of him, smearing precome along the head. You were trying to be quick, methodical, clinical, as you began to stroke him, setting an even pace. This was just a problem to solve. You should not be enjoying this. 

But every glide of your hand, every touch, made Miguel gasp and moan as if it was the first time he’d ever experienced such sensations, made him bite his lip with his sharp (had they always been that sharp?) teeth, and it was intoxicating. 

He pistoned his hips into your touch, thrusting faster and faster, and practically growling as he grew closer to his release. 

You couldn’t help but watch him, enraptured, as heat pooled in your lower stomach, your own need growing. But this wasn’t about you. 

Still, you couldn’t help yourself rocking back and forth against his leg ever so slightly to just take the edge off. 

Miguel grunted, his eyes rolling back in his head, and there was a sharp pinch of pain as he tightened his grip on your waist, his nails digging in much harder than they surely should have been able to.

He swore under his breath as he cums, twitching under your touch, and coating your hand and stomach with his release. 

There’s so much of it, far more than there should be as he cums and cums, gasping for air. Another side effect of the cA1m - perhaps you’d be annoyed as his release soaks into your ruined shirt if the sight of him reaching his peak wasn’t exhilarating. 

You let go of him quickly, managing to disentangle yourself from him, despite Miguel low, exhausted whine of protest. 

God, how were you going to get a new shirt without running into someone? And, you realised, probably a new pair of trousers too. Miguel’s spend had run down and soaked into the left side. 

You grabbed the sedative from the side table. Your mind already racing, it wasn’t Miguel’s fault but would he remember? Would he be awkward with you now? Would your little chats and jokes stop? You swallowed down a pang of fear and turned. Now wasn’t the time for what ifs you-

Miguel grabbed your arms and you squeaked in surprise. How could he move so silently? His eyes were dark, hooded with lust, his trousers just hanging from his hips and… well, obviously so much for the idea that him cumming once would be enough. 

“I need you.” He growled, his voice so low that you almost felt light headed. “I know you want me too, I can smell it.” He leaned forward scraping his teeth over your pulse point, and for a shameful moment you let yourself get caught up again, allowed yourself to revel in the sensation for the smallest second. 

While he was distracted you pushed the needle into his upper arm, through his shirt, and injected the sedative. 

It shouldn't take long. 

He growled, pulling his mouth away from your neck to stare dangerously into your eyes. 

You swallowed. A spike of fear dug into the base of your skull, some ancient urge telling you to run. 

“It’s okay,” you said soothingly, unsure if you were really talking to Miguel or yourself. “It’s just the sedative.” You pulled the needle out of his arm. “You’ll be fine, let’s lay you down so-”

He kissed you hungrily, harsh and demanding as he forced his tongue into your mouth. 

You allowed yourself to kiss him back the smallest amount as you waited for the sedative to work. 

And waited… And waited…

Oh, no, just no, this wasn’t right, this couldn’t be right. There was more than enough in the injection to knock him out and yet he didn’t show any signs of slowing down. 

Okay, so, this definitely wasn’t how it went with the others. 

You side step, trying to twist past him and break his hold all in one movement. Maybe you could get to the door, maybe you could do… something. Your mind raced, there had to be a way to fix this, to help him, to be useful. 

The side step didn’t work, Miguel’s grip was too tight, and you stumbled, skidding around and to your knees. The edge of the bed thumped into your back. 

You gasp, gulp and stare up at him. That spike of fear dragging itself down your spine. 

He growls and moves closer, his length bobbing and perfectly at your eye level. His gaze is dark and desperate, his bottom lip pinched between his teeth. You could see his pulse thundering in his neck, echoing along the length of his dick. 

Rapid heartbeat was one of the side effects all the others had experienced, the sedative being the only thing that had managed to return it to a normaler level. 

Maybe there was only one way you could be useful. 

Miguel shifts his weight, preparing to move, but you lean forward first and run your tongue along the length of him. 

A deep moan rumbles in his chest as you touch him, a gasp of breath. The sound floods heat to your core. 

You wrap your lips around the tip, grabbing hold of his hips to pull him closer as you swallow as much of him as you can. You bob your head, encouraging him to move with you and there is a moment where you can feel the tension in his muscles, the strain in his thighs as he tries to hold back, to keep himself in check. 

It doesn’t last long. 

He snarls and thrusts forward, snapping his hips and nearly choking you. You splutter, trying to breathe through your nose but Miguel doesn’t give you a second to recover. He pushes forward, the back of your head slamming against the edge of the bed as he plunges deeper and deeper into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat with ease and still not even half way in. 

Your grip on his hips tightens and you don’t know if you’re trying to pull him away or urging him on. 

It burns, the size of him makes your jaw ache, tears roll down the sides of your cheeks from the force of his relentless thrusts. 

His hands dig into the mattress by the side of you head, tearing into the fabric as he pounds into you, fucking your mouth with everything he’s got. 

He groans, “yes, baby, yes,” his voice low and barely distinguishable as words. 

You do your best to just hold on, to breathe and take as much as you can. The sounds of his moans filling your ears and mind, and god, how you wished you didn’t have a gag reflex and could take him deeper. 

He keeps ramming into your mouth, snapping his hips against you with a frenzied energy and you push against his lower back, silently begging him to keep going. 

Your neck throbs from discomfort, bruising forming where the skin is repeatedly hitting against the hard outline of the bed frame. Your knees burn from where they continuously rub against the floor with every buck and thrust. 

Miguel lets out a short, animalistic cry as he cums down your throat suddenly. You moan against him, trying to swallow all of it but there’s just so, so much. It spills out of the side of your mouth and down your chin despite your best efforts.

He leans forward, breathing hard, his cock still in your mouth. And for a second you think this is it, the sedative will take hold or maybe this mindless lust has come to an end. 

But he’s still hard when he pulls himself out of your mouth, his eyes still glazed over with the same madness when he looks down at you. He runs his hand over your chin, the pads of his fingers slightly sharp, and collects some of his spend that hasn’t trickled down your neck and onto your torn shirt and bra. Another item of clothing you’d need to change. 

He smears his cum along your cheek, the movement possessive, like he was marking his territory. 

There’s a pause, the lull in the eye of the storm before he pulls you up from the ground with a shocking display of strength, moving as if you were no heavier than a glass of water he was eager to drink down. 

You can’t help the little yelp of surprise that escapes you as he practically throws you onto the bed, your back hitting the mattress and momentarily knocking the air out of your lungs.

But then he’s on top of you, pressing himself firmly between your legs as he growls and snaps his teeth close to your neck. He bites at your throat, hard enough to break the skin and you cry out as the pain quickly disappears into pleasure. 

Your mewls only make his actions more frenzied as he tears your clothes completely off you with a speed that makes your head spin, before removing his own. The material rips so easily, as if he used a blade. 

He runs his tongue along your chest, messily cleaning up the cum he’d spilt along you just moments before. 

“Miguel-” You try to start, but then his mouth is back on yours, tasting like salt and iron as he drinks down your words to leave you breathless. 

You gasp as he breaks away, trailing sloppy kisses down your body, his fingers running over your skin and leaving scratches. He bites your hip partially deeply and you keen, arching up into him as he moans. 

“Your so fucking sweet.” He mutters before kissing lower and lower and, oh god. You nearly scream as his lips wrap around your clit and he sucks hard. Pleasure coils tight in your belly as a new wave of wetness leaks out and soaks into the torn up sheets beneath you. 

His fingers dig into your thighs as he pushes his face into you, only breaking away so that he can lick through your folds hungrily, devouring you like a starving animal. 

“Miguel!” You whine, letting out a series of high pitch moans that sound alien even to your own ears. 

He sucks your clit once more, his teeth just grazing across it before he snarls and pulls away, pushing the back of your thighs and pressing them against your chest with a crushing strength. 

You struggle to take a breath, barely filling your lungs before he’s thrusting into you with a guttural groan and a sharp snap of his hips. 

The size of him hurts, it’s too much, too fast and you gasp in pain. You clench your jaw, your eyes screwing up as your hands fly to his shoulders, trying to push him back even though you know it’s no use against his strength. 

But he stops instantly, stilling his movements. 

You stare up at him in surprise. His eyes are still dark but there’s something else there, something pushing through that lust haze. 

“Pain?” He whispers, sounding the most like his old self that he has since this ordeal began.

You swallow and nod, tears building at the corners of your eyes. 

He slowly loosens his grip around your thighs, letting go shakily as if it is taking a lot of self control to do so. And while he doesn’t pull out, he doesn’t thrust in deeper either. 

Carefully, he manoeuvres your legs down onto the bed either side of him, watching your face for any sign of increased discomfort. It’s only then that he looks down to where you’re joined, completely split open with only a quarter of his length inside. 

He groans lows and you brace yourself for a brutal thrust that never comes. Instead he keeps his hips still as he slowly trails his sharp nails down your stomach, teasing the very edge of your clit before pressing his thumb against it fully. 

A small moan escapes you and you clench down instinctively. Miguel hums in approval and starts to slowly circle the bundle of nerves, the touch light and soft as he just borders on the edge of losing control. 

The pain starts to dissipate quickly, replaced with a steady continuous build of that deep need from before. You start to squirm. The pressure of his thumb isn’t enough and you rock your hips ever so slightly, your breathing hitching in your throat. 

"More?" He whispers.

You nod your head rapidly. 

“Thank god.” Miguel sighs, the words mumbled like a prayer almost too quietly for you to hear, and lets some of his weakening control slip. 

Slowly he pushes further in, the tension shaking in his thighs as he fights with every instinct to pound you into the mattress and turn you into a crying mess beneath him. 

He keeps circling your clit, groaning as feels a fresh wave of wetness leaking out of you. 

You moan, grabbing hold of his shoulders. But this time you pull him towards you, urging him deeper. God, he’s big. Already it’s like you can feel him in your throat. 

The stretch burns, but it’s good, it feels right. Like he is going to reach a whole new devastating part of you. Make you cum so hard that he’ll ruin any other sexual partner for good.

You hook your left leg on his hip and squeeze your calf over his lower back, encouraging him closer, deeper. While you plant your right foot firmly against the bed to rock up against him. 

Miguel groans, his eyes closed. His movements on your clit falter as he slides further in. 

There’s a sharp pain in your hip where his left hand holds you tight,  his nails (it had to be his nails) dug in so deep that they broke your skin. 

You let out a soft whine, clenching around his girth as he presses up against you perfectly and still pushes further in. The pleasure in your stomach tightening and starting to completely overwhelm all other thoughts, urging you to just chase your release. 

Tears prick again at the corners of your eyes, a soft emotion beating hard in your chest. And you can’t help yourself, you grab hold of the back of Miguel’s neck, pulling him down towards you and arching up at the same time to kiss him hungrily. 

He moans into your mouth, pushing back against you and forcing you into the mattress. His hips snap forward, finally sheathing himself completely in your tight, wet heat. 

For a moment it’s like you can’t breathe, so completely full that not even air can enter. 

Miguel stills, giving you a moment to adjust as he licks into your mouth and groans as your walls squeeze around his length. His pubis bone presses firmly against your clit, and you can feel the echo of his racing heart beat along his skin. 

He breaks the kiss to breathe hard, his eyes closed and forehead pressed against yours. “I can’t… I need to…”

“Please,” you answer desperately, kissing him softly as you start to rock your hips ever so slightly. 

Miguel lets out a whine, his eyebrows pinched together in bliss and the expression alone is nearly enough to make you cum on the spot. 

“Can’t stop,” he mutters and you're not even sure if he’s aware of what he’s saying anymore as he grabs your wrists in either of his hands and pins them to the bed. “Feels so…” He ruts into you, pulling out so that just the tip of his cock stays inside before slamming back into you. “Fuck. So. Fucking. Tight.”

You wail under him as pleasure runs up your spine and down your legs as he punctuates every thrust with an upwards rock of his hips, continuously rubbing against your clit and pressing the head of his length to that perfect spot inside. 

“So. Fucking. Wet.” He growls. His nails are slicing into your wrists, but you don’t care. Can’t care, you’ve lost all ability to feel anything but the glide of his cock and the heady build of your orgasm. 

“So. Mine.” He growls and bites down hard on your neck. You cry out, the brutal pace of his hips only increasing, bringing you closer and closer and-

You gasp, his name catching in your throat as you finally cum. Every muscle shaking as it crashes over you in waves. 

Miguel tears his mouth away from your neck, blood shining on his lips as he watches you come undone. He moans, his thrusts not faltering for a second. 

“That’s it, cum all over me,” he glances down for a moment watching himself disappearing into you, amazed at how well you’re taking him, how tightly your walls are griping him, trying to milk him for all he’s worth. “Squeezing me so tight, oh shit-” 

He cums loudly, still pistoning in and out of you as he fills you up with his release. There’s still so much of it, some leaks out, spilling out of your abused hole and sticking to your thighs. 

You breathe deeply, your mind foggy from how hard you came. Your legs ache from being stretched so wide, your pussy throbs from overstimulation. 

Miguel doesn’t stop, still rock hard and trusting. Pushing his cum deeper into you. 

“Miguel,” you whine, your throat raw. 

“I can’t-” he bites his lip, “I can’t stop, I need to, fuck, please, I need to-”

You kiss his neck, biting harder than you normally would at his jugular. He whines, the sound going straight to your core. Heat starts to build again.

“Keep going,” you mutter against his skin. “Keep going as long as you need to.” 

.

You wake up sore and sticky. Aching and in pain. Even the slightest movement brings out an array of discomfort. Every muscle throbs, like you had done a year's worth of exercise in one day, and all the bites and scratches sting as you shift, the scrapes making you feel like someone had tossed you naked into a bush of brambles and thorns. 

It takes you a moment to remember where you are, the tiredness in your bones trying to coax you back to sleep. 

“I’m sorry.” 

Miguel’s voice makes you jump. He’s still close to you, laying on his side with his chest pressed up against your back. One arm around your waist. There’s tension there, you know he wants to move away but is scared to move at the same time. 

His cock is pressed against your backside, soft and sated. 

You turn to look at him, too tired to worry about your nakedness. Besides, he had seen plenty of it anyway.

“You’ve got nothing to be sorry for.” 

He scoffs. His mouth pressed into a thin line as he looks down. 

It’s only then as you turn around completely to look at him that you see tears in his eyes. “Miguel?” 

You softly touch his cheek but he flinches away from you. The action spikes through your heart. He can’t even look at you now. 

“I’ve got everything to be sorry for, I, I took advantage of you, I rap-”

“No, no, no, no,” you can’t help but touch him again, putting your hand back on his cheek and rubbing your thumb soothingly across his skin. 

This time he leans into it, letting out the smallest, shaky breath. 

“You were infected, Miguel, you couldn’t control yourself. I don’t know how much you remember but the sedative didn’t work, and your heart rate was just, I mean, it was crazy high. And, if anything, I was the one that took advantage of you and-”

His eyes snap open. “You? You took advantage of me?” He says disbelievingly. “Look at you.” He touches the bite marks on your neck gently. 

You give him a little smile. “I don’t mind.”

He breathes out another shaky breath, but there’s a hint of a smile. “You don’t mind?” 

You shake your head. “Happy to help.” 

He chuckles a little at that and nods as he runs a hand through his hair. 

There’s a pause, a silence that you can’t stand. 

“I guess I was wrong.”

Miguel frowns a little, confused. 

“My theory, about people having that reaction if they’re in love, I mean.” 

There’s a pause, the only sound a little gulp as Miguel swallows. Something passes over his face for a second, a faint trace of heat rising to his skin.

Oh. Maybe you weren’t wrong. 

“Miguel?”

He breathes deeply, looking down. “I-”

You don’t give him a chance to finish, letting your adrenaline overwhelm you as you quickly lean forward and press your lips to his. Hoping against hope that you weren’t misreading the situation. 

He’s caught by surprise for a moment, but moans happily and softly kisses you back as his arm wraps around you and pulls you close. 

The kiss is slow and gentle, languid and sweet. It makes your stomach drop like you were falling from a great height. His embrace the only thing keeping you safe. 

He runs his tongue over your bottom lip lightly, careful of the cuts, but licks into your mouth hungrily the second you part your lips. It’s not the same lustful need from before, this is deeper, sharper and desperate in a different way. As if after devouring your body he now needed to devour your soul. 

He kisses you again, lightly before you both pull back for a second. He grins at you, a little shyly and you smile as you stroke his cheek.  

“You weren’t wrong.” He muttered. 

You frown and shake your head, confused. 

He chuckles and kisses you again. “Your theory about love.” 

____________________________________

Thank you for reading!

@pleasurebuttonwrites @raven-rk @campingwiththecharmings @alexxavicry @mystinky-butt @cocodiem @oscarisaacsspit @whatthefishh @mbakubabe @solobagginses @romanarose @saturn-rings-writes

[netherfeildren]

Pink : Part II: I See Your Father as My Father

Series Masterlist : Part I : Part III

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Content Warnings: No outbreak AU; Welcome to the father-in-law suck and fuck extravaganza; Fix-it-fic but the thing that needs fixing is a person; Daddy issues; Daddy kink; Divorce; DD/lg dynamics; Older man/Younger woman; Inappropriate relationships; Self esteem issues; Discussions of emotional and mental abuse; Unhealthy coping mechanisms; Ass play lite; Unprotected sex; Creampie; Praise kink; Aftercare; Size kink; Spitting; Come eating; Thigh fucking; Oral sex

A/N: Check the tags on the masterlist, as well!

Word Count: 12.3K

Rating: Explicit 18+

Read on AO3

Ko-fi

2. I See Your Father as My Father

When he swings the door open, he’s still half pulling a t-shirt over his curl messed head, faded gray, rust orange longhorn across the front, a flash of hair sprinkled belly. All man, man, man. It stretches over his broad shoulders so the holes strewn there stretch and gape wide making your face heat unbearably. And he’s struck silent for a second, realizing it’s you taking up space on his front porch, trying to hide against the shadow of the wooden beam at your back, ringing his bell in the middle of the night like the Devil’s on your heels. Brow pulled low, he steps out onto the porch, into the shadows with you, his gaze flashing back and forth between your eyes. He says your name, and you hate it. “Did somethin’ happen? Are you alright?” And you want to say no, that nothing is alright. That you know you shouldn’t be here, but you’re here anyways now, and so he needs to tell you what’s going to happen next because this is as far as you’d planned. The sound of his voice, the sight of him, that’s as far as you’d planned. The rest is up to him now, even if he doesn’t know it. Your eyes fall down the long, broad length of him. Rumpled jeans, hastily pulled on, and his bare feet, oddly erotic. They’re paler than the rest of him, sun deprived, and briefly, ridiculously, you wonder if he has that funny sock tan men get around their ankles. The skin stretched over strong tendon and bone, beautifully arched. You give a tiny shake of your head, something like a whimper slipping up your throat. And you think he must realize or understand because he sighs, long and drawn out, dragging his palm over his mouth as he watches you struggle. You think that’s his tell, that dragging hand; he does it when he’s thinking, confused, worried, upset which leads you to worry that maybe he’s upset you’re here now, but it’s done, you’ve come. There’s nothing either of you can do to undo it now. Your eyes move back up to his face, and he’s taking stock of you now also. The soft, loose jersey shorts, too big pullover almost covering them entirely, the sleeves twisted around your clenched fingers. “You gotta tell me what you’re doin’ here, sweetheart. You gotta say it out loud.” You let out a rough, frustrated sound through your clenched teeth, looking away from him for a second. 

“We never talked about it,” you say instead because you want to hear him acknowledge it, you want that to be said out loud. 

He understands immediately, “You never gave me a chance to.”

You look back at him, he’s taken a step closer, and you wrap your arms back behind the beam, trying to meld yourself to the wood, keep yourself away from him.

“What else was I supposed to do? If we talked about it, it would’ve happened again.”

“Well, then that’s why – that’s why we never talked about it.”

“But did you want to?” And your voice breaks a little at the end, “Did you want to talk about it?”

He sighs again, a muttered curse under his breath. He isn’t going to give you the easy way out. “Tell me why he left you,” and you flinch. He, his son. It’s the truth, no reason to cower. You were left. You have to look away again, unable to confess this when looking into the kinder version of eyes that never loved you. 

“I think you know. I think you could tell from the very first moment you saw us together.” He hums his agreement, and the sound fucking hurts. “He never loved me. He never even really liked me, I don’t think. But that became okay after a while.” A tear falls, and you listen to the sound of him suck in a sharp breath; it makes you smile just a little, that small sound. You look back at his face, “I don’t want you to think I’m not okay with that now because I really am. It made me realize that he’d never been what I wanted or needed either. That he couldn’t ever give me what I wanted either.”

“And what’s that?” His voice sounds gentle, but you know that it’s put on. You know there isn’t going to be anything gentle about this. 

You choose to ignore that, “You know he said once, that I’d lied to him about who I was. But I didn’t– I really didn’t, Joel,” and you say it with such panic, or fervor, or something that’s desperate to ensure that he doesn’t think the same of you. That he doesn’t take you for a liar also. “He just couldn’t understand that this is the only way I know how to be. Being scared all the time makes you a liar. It makes you what the moment needs you to be no matter what that is. Do you know what I mean?”

“Yeah,” he nods, “I know what you mean,” but he looks nervous, the truth of him too close to the surface, and it soothes you. The two of you are the same, you knew it. 

You peek down at your twisted fingers, nails gnawed raw and bloody and disgusting. “I don’t think he ever loved me and that made me sad. But now, I don't think I ever loved him either, and that makes me sadder. It was all for nothing, I let him turn me into that thing for nothing, and I was always waiting for him to treat me better, different. But a person who can treat you badly once usually finds it quite easy to do it again.” You look back up at him, shocked for a moment at your sharp honesty. “I’m sorry. He’s your son. I shouldn’t say these things to you,” even thought it sounds like hypocrisy, for look at where you’re standing in the middle of the night.

“And you’re you.”

And the sober way he says it sobers you, recenters you. “Yes. I’ve always been only myself.” And it’s the truth, the most difficult one. That despite Sam’s claims that you’d made him believe you to be someone you weren’t, despite the sick desire for complacency, to please all those around you, you have always been only you. Even when they’d tried to force you to be something you weren’t, you were still always only yourself. You say it again, just to hear the sound of the words. 

“You gotta tell me what you’re doing here then. You want to talk about that? About what happened that night? Is that it?”

“Yes.”

He sighs, that telling gesture over his stern mouth again. “If we do this, there’s no goin’ back, and I–”

“There already is no going back for me. I can’t forget. I can’t stop remembering.”

“It would be different– if we– if I take you, it’ll be different. You get me? I won’t be able to stop. I know myself well enough to know that. I won’t be able to stay away from you after.”

“I don’t care.”

“So that’s what you want?” But you can’t say the words out loud, you can’t, you can’t. You’re ashamed, embarrassed, humiliated by your own desire, small and slanted. Despite all your progress, and as much as you want it, you still know you shouldn’t. “I gotta fuckin’ hear it, sweetheart. Is that what you want?” You shake your head a little, another tear, wrapping your arms around yourself. You can see the fight in his eyes, trying to hold you off from the inside out. I don’t know, another tear. He makes a frustrated noise, turning to pace to the opposite end of the porch, hand fisted in his hair. When he turns back he seems to deflate, eyes going cool and steady and then, suddenly, like a ricochet, bright and light, a flash fire. Once more: “What do you want?” To be wanted. To be good. “You want me to kiss you? You want me to fuck you?”

And your eyes flutter closed in relief, there it is, finally, the hard part’s over. It’s been said out loud. “Yes, that’s what I want.” He’s on you in three ground eating strides, big hand wrapping around the contours of your jaw, the other fisting in the hair at the back of your head, pulling you up so that you’re balanced on the tips of your toes. Your eyes fall shut, mouth parting embarrassingly ready for him to kiss you, but he gives your head a little shake between his palms. “You’re supposed to belong to my son, goddamnit. I’m not supposed to want you like this. This is wrong.”

“I never belonged to him,” and then bitter truth, honesty laminated in humiliation, “And I don’t care if it’s wrong.” Followed by a thought, a wash of shyness, held in his hands as you are, large strong hands: there is a part of me that feels very innocent still, naive, experienced hands that will finally teach you how to be good. You watch the bob of his Adam's apple beneath the sun roughened skin of his throat, and when you look back up at his eyes, there is nothing like innocence, nothing like naivety in them, only the reflection of something complex, something more. He goes very still, almost vibrational with restraint, his fingers clench around you once, and then, with unbearable control, his hands flex open, releasing you. 

“Get in the house,” he says very, very quietly. You cup your own palm around the space of your chin where he’d gripped you and turn on your toes, scampering inside, into the home of the man who would have remained your father-in-law for the rest of your life had his son ever decided to love you. The door slams shut behind him. 

-

He steps into the dark restroom with a staying hand out and ready, as if approaching a wounded, rabid animal. 

His son, his son is a cruel and small man. Joel is coming to realize this with something like horror running in currents beneath his skin. Quick to anger, quick to aggression. And you, his daughter-in-law, no one knows this better than you do. He’d naively thought, when his fully grown son had appeared at his door steps all those months ago, that the question Joel had carried on the tip of his tongue for half of his adult life had finally been answered. Alone but never necessarily lonely, something like a film of boredom and monotony over his life. He was content with the place he’d made for himself; he had his business and his brother and friends, and Joel was fine. But a child of his own, he’d never expected it, never even considered it a possibility. And what he’d come to discover: his son, who shouldn’t still be a child, but in many ways, was. 

He licks at the groove of his molar as he watches the tremble of your back, trying to hide your weeping face in the shadows of the bathroom wall. A small, anxious thing that had been, out of everything, perhaps the biggest shock of all. To learn that he had a son, an entire life lost to time, and that there was someone in the world that his son should have loved enough to tie himself to – it was shocking. To discover that his son was married when Joel was not, disorienting. 

He says your name softly and watches the jerk of your frame, that vein of anxiety he’d sensed in you from the get go that he was fairly certain Sam had a large part in sowing. You’d shown up with your hair picked up today, only the second time you’ve ever worn it so. Piled messy at the top of your head, a few strands laying against the nape of your neck, the vulnerable slope of your shoulder. He feels strangely afraid of you, afraid for you. Unsure of what to say, heart beating out of his chest, rebounding against his ribcage so hard he’s sure you can hear it. “I’m sorry. He didn’t mean it. He–”

“Please, don’t apologize for him.” A tiny sniffle. “Don’t apologize for him,” you say again, and there’s a hum of exhaustion in your voice, brokenness, it makes Joel go from afraid to entirely terrified, but then angry too… angry too. He takes a step forward, another, he’s an arms length away from you now. He could touch you if he was brave enough. If the intent behind it wasn’t as wrong as it is. Angry because he’s looking at that vulnerable nape, imagining the fit of his palm molded over the delicate column, and you’re something to be taken care of. Something like a gift. Even though he doesn’t know you well enough to say such a thing yet, even though he shouldn’t be thinking such a thing about his daughter-in-law. Even though you hold yourself with a hard rigidness most of the time, quiet dignity and cold vulnerability that seem almost impossible to get through. And yet he suspects that with enough care and patience you could become immediately soft, easily penetrated. He should see his son as a gift, and he does, he does, he does, he swears he does. If Joel repeats it enough times in his mind surely he’ll come to believe it with his whole heart, but what he sees more than the gift of a child that was kept from him, is nothing but a boy beating down a creature that was not taught to defend itself. And that makes him angry beyond belief. 

Joel can be a hard man. He is a hard man. Perhaps, a large part of the reason why he’s still alone, why nothing more than a quick fuck ever seems to work out for him. Women like him, they enjoy his company, they come to bed with him easily. But Joel is hard and cold, and he’s never much minded his aloneness, a difficult thing to sell to a woman, the reality that he doesn’t really care to need anyone else. And so perhaps, this is his son’s inherited vice, that coldness, but despite Joel’s preference for solitude, for the fact that he doesn’t care about making a person stick around, he tries to never be cruel, and he is sure to never hurt those that are more easily hurt than himself. He doesn’t think there’s any worse sort of sin, and so he knows that this cruelty he’s witnessing didn’t come from him. But then he thinks that if it didn’t come from him, then it surely came as a consequence of him, of his absence, and so he is just as responsible for it. So he can’t help himself when, instead of more platitudes in favor of his gift of a son, he says: “You should leave him.” You let out a bitter sound of a laugh, something that pokes at that wound of fear of his. 

“Should I? I don’t think that’s what you’re supposed to say.”

“Isn’t it? It’s the truth. It’s what you need to hear right now,” The sweetheart he adds at the end has a tiny shiver moving down the length of your spine that his own vertebrae can’t help but imitate. You hang your head, bearing more of that lovely nape, head seemingly bowed in supplication for something gentler than what his son can offer you, and he can’t help himself again. He wants to sink his teeth into that soft expanse of skin. You’re too pretty, pretty in all the ways a perfect thing can be, and Joel is a hard man, not a weak one, but he feels weak now. He feels brought to his knees, heavy stone of guilt weighing in his gut as he lays his palm on the back of your bared neck. Don’t touch, don’t touch, don’t touch, this doesn’t belong to you. He tightens his hand, grips the column, presses the calluses of his palm to the soft skin. “Look at me–” he gruffs, turns you by the pressure of his hand, a kitten gripped by the scruff and made to listen. “You deserve more than that shit.” That shit being his son, his blood. Joel is two feet tall and so ashamed he’s nauseous. But your eyes, they look up at him, tear filled and so lost, and he wants to show you how it should be. “You deserve more,” he says again. Later, he’ll tell himself he surely must have said the words out loud, asked for it with teeth and tongue. The blame can only be his, he provoked it, he soothed the wound, incited it, because you’re surging up and against him, fingers clawing at his shoulders and throat and pressing your mouth to his, clumsy and tear stained and open so that the first thing he tastes is your breath on his tongue, then your tongue on his tongue, and then absolution tinged with shame, gross desire like desperation. He groans like a dying man, clutching at you immediately, unthinking, pulling you into himself, soft, full tits against hard chest so that he feels like he’s burning and dying and coming back to life all with the taste of your spit and tears in his mouth. He holds you steady, hand still clamped to the back of your neck and thinks that if he’s going to commit a sin he might as well take his fill. He eats at you. Head held in place, knees bent and arm banded around your waist to bring you level with each other, he pulls your head back, mouth open and tries to swallow you whole. And Joel doesn’t think of his son, not for a single second, while he kisses his daughter-in-law.

His lips slide to your throat, hunting for your pulse, tasting the tiny flutter, going weak at the knees at the whimpered sound you make, cock harder than it’s been in years, a noise like begging, like more. He sucks hard at that thrum, but your noises shift to frightened, protesting, fingers digging into his shoulders to warn him. He can’t leave marks, he can’t leave marks on something that belongs to another. His erection is an iron band down the leg of his jeans, and he has to force himself not to thrust the aching cock into the soft apex of your thighs, feel your warmth there. He has to stop, he has to– to what? To let you go back to a boy that mistreats you? Even if that boy is his son, it’s wrong, it goes against everything Joel is as a man. He presses his face into the blistering heat of your throat, a muttered fuck under the ledge of your little chin. A rattling shiver has started up in you, teeth chattering with the force of it, and he bands his arms around you tightly, pressing the air out of your lungs, hand smoothing up to twist in the back of your hair and force you entirely still. “Don’t,” his voice is so deep he almost doesn’t recognize it coming out of his own mouth, “Don’t be afraid.” The sound of his popping knees as he unbends to his full height, your weight still in his arms. He lets you go in increments, slowly so as not to jar you further, hands holding tight until the last moment when he forces them to unclench, let you go. “Don’t be afraid,” he says again. “You did nothing wrong. This was all me.” Your eyes are huge, but you’re not crying anymore, and that feels like victory to Joel, despite the rest, the only thing that matters.

You run from him after that, because of course you do. What’s the other option? That he’d keep you there in that dark restroom, from his son and your marriage and the world, forever? He clutches at his chest and is swallowed whole by his shame and his guilt, the terrible fear that he isn’t the sort of parent that can blindly see past their child’s faults, love them despite everything else, not the type of man who can keep himself from wanting something he shouldn’t, he hadn’t felt so when he’d kissed you with that sick desperation on his tongue. And once he hears the sound of a slamming car door, and Sam’s truck peeling out of the drive and speeding away, he takes out his hard cock and fucks his fist until the heat of his semen is sliding over his skin, a handful of pathetic strokes and the sound of your name almost like a sob in the dark.

-

You listen to the sound of his bare feet padding across the wooden floor, and your head feels like it’s breaking water, seeing clearly for the first time in years. It’s a rich parquet, gleaming in the dim light of the street lamp glow. You wonder if he installed it himself, like the wallpaper, proof of the care and attention to detail in his home. You think you would like to be cared for as such also. There’s a soft green throw draped over the back of the chocolate leather couch, and you dig your fingers into it, twisting amidst the knitted weave as you turn to face him, and he has that look in his eyes again, the one from before. The one like too much, too much, the one like fear and want. Stopping just in front of you, the tips of his bare toes meet the front of your shoes, and he reaches to drag the pad of his thumb over the high slope of your cheekbone, the fine skin catching beneath his calluses. “You’re too beautiful,” he says, and you wish it sounded like an accusation, but it doesn't, and you want to tell him you don’t believe him, just to be difficult, just to be contrary, but you know he’s not the sort of man that lies. It only sounds like praise. His eyes are so dark in the shadow of the house, the green and brown and caramel striations gone away in the night, and he’s shifting his jaw, chewing on a thought before he spits it out. His other hand comes up to gently, so gently cup the other side of your face, and he holds you there, just so, angling you this way and that, appraising you, chewing, chewing slowly. “Too beautiful – I never even stood a chance,” he says more to himself than to you. This is a man that does things with intention. This is a man that sees you as a complexity, as something more. This is a man. “He told me something – last time we saw each other.” Your heart beats painfully in your chest, you can feel it in your eyes and ears and the backs of your knees.

“What’s that?”

“That the two of you were havin’ problems. In– in the bedroom. That–”

You try and jerk away, but he holds you trapped. “Stop. Please. Don’t–”

“Is that all this is? Older man – want me to teach you somethin’?”

Cradled as you are, you close your eyes, brow folding in a frown, unable to refute him with a shake for the way he’s captured you. You bring your own hand up to circle his thick wrist, fingers not meeting around it. He has hair here, your palm slides further down, hair here too. All man, man, man. No longer in the hands of a boy, and you’re touching him. Now you’re touching him too. “That very first time I met you– I wondered what you’d taste like. How heavy you’d be inside of me. If you’d be rough, leave marks, or gentle. You know I– I wanted– If he hadn’t been there, if–” Now he’s the one that begs you to stop. 

His hands on you are tighter now, almost strangling, squeezing a moan out of you. “Are you going to tell him?” His grip goes loose again, caressing. “ If we do this– are you going to use this against him? It’s yours to do with as you will, I just want to know beforehand. It won't change the way I have you tonight.”

“Only tonight?” Your voice sounding strange, hungry. 

His eyes move entirely around your face, taking you in, held as you are. His gaze is manic, fevered, but his words are slow, stacked one on top of the other for you. “No. No, I don’t think it’ll only be tonight.”

“I’m not going to use this against him.” For the first time in two years, what you’re doing, the decisions you’re making, have nothing to do with your ex-husband. This is only for you. Joel is only for you. 

“Tell me what you want,” he asks for the last time. 

“To be good,” you finally say, and the rough sound he makes, the flush you can faintly see crawling up the column of his throat, it has a painful knot of want tightening your cunt, the wet drip of slick pooling in your panties, all hot and bruised feeling on the inside. 

He lets his hands slide slowly from your face to hang loosely by his sides, and you take it as your invitation to touch him as you like now. He’s so much taller than you, your neck craning back to look up at his face. You start there, the crest of his cheek, the strong, curved nose, plush mouth that looks specifically made for kissing a cunt until it cries. He makes your thoughts feel savage, he makes you feel like something you’ve never been before. “You’re just a little girl, aren’t you?” He says softly. Your hands move down to his thick neck, and you try and cage him there, hands too small to circle him entirely, the insinuation of a strangling. Too small, too small, too small. You shake your head, mesmerized by the contradiction of your small fragility trying to capture all that strength held inside of him. You look up at his eyes, holding him around the throat as you are, and shake your head. You’re not. “Then what are you?”

“I don’t know. I want you to show me.” And that does something to him. You see the change come over him in that very moment, something chimeral in the change your words provoke. He’s made of nothing but vibrational restraint, giving you your moment of peace to explore him as you need to before he takes you for himself. You’re almost certain you can hear the sound of him grinding his molars to dust inside his mouth. And you want him to show you, it’s the truth. As wrong or whatever it is that it may be, it’s your truth. You’d always felt like you’d done being a woman the wrong way, a grating way, an unappealing way, but you didn’t want to be unappealing or wrong. You only wanted to be yourself. And worst of all, you’d been made to feel like that, over and over again, by the man who should have done nothing but the opposite. And you know it might be bad now, to want to be shown or that there was no right way, but still, but still, you want it. You would still like for someone, for Joel, to teach you how to be better, how to be good. Was that really so bad?

Your hands slide down to the thick muscles of his chest, thumbs dipping into the dents of his collarbones, lower to the soft of his belly, the edge of his jeans. The both of you are trembling now, you in lust, desperation, him in restraint maybe. There are beads of sweat dampening the curls at his temples. “We shouldn’t do this.”

“Do you think so?”

He nods, but he’s cupping your elbows in his big hands anyway, pulling you towards him so that your breasts graze the top of his belly. “But we’re doin’ it anyway.” You go up on your tiptoes, hand cupping the sharp edge of his jaw to pull him down towards you, and he’s like a leashed wolf; heavy, hot breaths fanning across your face, and he slowly does as you bid, mint, mixed with something sharp like whiskey. He’s watching you so intently, watching to see what you’ll do with him, but your eyes are only on that soft wet mouth. You want his tongue inside of you, and that first press is so, so soft, barely there. A sound like dying, you can’t tell who it comes from, another soft brush, and you’re taking his top lip between both of yours, sucking on it lightly, hands snaking over his thick shoulders to bring yourself up closer so that he’s finally wrapping his arms around you, pressing you tightly to himself, belly to belly. He still hasn’t closed his eyes, he’s still watching you, and your heart is beating so fast and so hard and you want this so much that you’re sure he can feel it reverberating into his own chest cavity, spurring his own beating muscle on. You press another tiny kiss to his full, open mouth. “I’m scared,” you whisper onto his tongue, and he smoothes a staying hand down your spine, settling over the curve of your ass and squeezing there, holding you in his snare. He’s barely even touched you, and yet, you already know that no one else has ever been like this. 

“That’s alright. Got nothin’ to be scared of – I’m gonna be so gentle with you, baby.”

“I’m not your baby,” hint of an obstinate, provoking whine in your voice.

“But that’s what you are.” He changes the angle of his descent, and now he’s the one moving in for another tiny kiss. “Just a little baby.”

“And I don’t want it gentle.”

“You’ll take it how I say. How ‘bout that?” Another kiss, and now the taste of his tongue. You’d never forgotten it, the slick, hot slide of it, from that other time. He licks into you, takes away your ability to talk. In a single blink of an eye, less than a second’s thought, he’s taken all control from you, made the game his own, and now you’ve finally gotten what you’d come here for. Now you can finally say it out loud. He wraps a massive fist around the length of your hair and eats at your mouth, makes it his more than it’s ever been yours. All tongue and teeth and wet spit, the sound of his pleasure for you vibrating in your ears, and there is it, the pressure of his hard cock as he slides his hand lower, between your legs to feel the heat and damp of the pussy that’s wet only for him, pulls you further into himself. The heft of the bulge has you whining and squirming in his hold, clawing at his shoulders and the skin of his neck to climb up the length of him, get closer, get more. You want that cock, you want it inside of you, filling you with its weight and its come. You’ve wanted it from the first time you’d met him as his daughter-in-law, standing beside his son in the place of his wife. You’d wanted his cock more than you’d ever wanted his sons, and you’re only ashamed that you’re not ashamed at all. And he tastes that desperation on you, nips at your lip with a gruff settle, a little yank of your hair to tug your head back and unlatch his mouth from yours, sliding in a wet trail to your neck, settle, settle. He bites at the line of your throat, hard. Sucks even harder, leaves a mark, leaves a claim he wasn’t able to last time. The deeply rumbled sound that comes from him attests to his intention and your answering, whimpered mewl is nothing but a cry for more; I know, baby, I know, he whispers into your ear. His mouth moves down your chest, pulling the already stretched neck of your pullover wider to nuzzle at the deep groove of your cleavage. You want to ask him if he’s worried, guilty, if he’s wanted you for as long as you wanted him, if he was hard when you kissed him that night in his little wallpapered restroom, but then the heat of his mouth is clamping around your nipple and sucking, wetting the fabric of your top with his tongue, biting down at your breast, the sharp of his teeth clamping down around your sensitive flesh, nothing but your soft sleep bra beneath to protect you. You yank hard at his messy curls, trying to pull his punishing teeth away and pull yourself closer, all at the same time. His eyes flash up to yours, mouth latched at your breast, cheeks hollowing as he takes a hard, wet pull and there’s laughter in his gaze, hot and bright and infectious. “I’ll be gentle, but I’m not gonna be nice, baby.” He nuzzles into the wet spot left behind, presses another kiss, soft and conciliatory now over your throbbing nipple. “You want me to be nice? Want me to be nice to this little pussy?” He rubs the flat of his fingers over that desperate place between your legs as he turns to walk the two of you back towards the front of the sofa. There’s no response to be given, mouth hanging open, eyes wide. He turns to sit, pulling you to remain standing between his spread thighs, hands wrapped around your hips. “Gotta use your words, pretty baby. I wanna hear what you want.”

“I want whatever you want. I want it however you want it,” you say through your flush and your shyness. You want to be honest, not a liar here in this moment with him. 

He lets his head fall forward to rest against your lower belly, nuzzles there, and you hear his whispered, Jesus, fuck, before he pulls back to look up at you, drags his palms down the back of your legs all the way to your ankles, nudging your shoes and socks off, and then sliding all the way back up, scratchy calluses making you shiver until he reaches the edge of your shorts and tucks the tips of his fingers there. “Take your shirt off,” he says gently, and you only pause for a second of timidity before you’re pulling it over your head, left only in your soft pink sleep bra not intended for the eyes of ex-father-in-law’s you’ve come to seduce. Your shyness flushes higher, burning your face, sprouting beads of embarrassed sweat at the nape of your neck. He untucks his fingers from the waistband of your shorts, smoothing his palms up the slopes of your curves, thumbs dragging up the plane of your belly, dipping into the dent of your navel to reach up and squeeze your breasts tight in his big hands, then pulls the straps down over your shoulders, the bra down over the curves of your breasts to leave them bare and heavy. And his eyes never leave yours as he gets you naked for himself, fingers sliding down your sides now to pull your shorts and panties and the scrunched bra down, the flush in his face deepening, heightening even though he’s yet to look at you. Don’t be scared, he whispers again, shaking his head a little when you wrap your arms around your breasts, trying to hide yourself away from him. When he’s taken your shorts from you, gripping each ankle to help you step out of their circle, he finally looks at you, takes in the entire bare expanse of your naked body, gently prying your arms from your breasts. “Lemme see, lemme see, you’re so fuckin’ pretty, baby.” He runs his hands all over you, the slope of your belly, lifts the weights of your tits in his palms to let them fall and sway heavily, down the outsides of your thighs and back up and around to squeeze the lush of your ass. He pulls you further towards him with that clutch on you and presses his nose into the apex of your thighs, nuzzles at the soft thatch of curls there, brings his thumb up to pet at it and breathes deep. “I like this – so pretty,” he tells you again. If it was possible for a person to die of shyness you surely would in this moment, but this was what you’d come here for, this was what you hadn’t been able to say out loud. He presses his nose there again, takes another deep breath, and then starts to mouth wetly, pressing soft kisses and then the wet of his tongue, licking and parting at your slick seam. He groans so deep it sends you to shivering, hands coming up to cover your face, to hide away from that sound of lust, the feral look in his eyes when he looks up at you with the taste of your cunt in his mouth. He starts to lap at you in earnest, closing his eyes in sheer enjoyment as he pets at your clit with his tongue, shifting his angle this way and that to get at you more deeply. He pulls one of your feet up onto the edge of the sofa to open you, and you’re jostled forward, catching yourself on his broad shoulder as he spreads and eats you. His hand on your ass shifts lower, searching for your opening from behind and starts to pet at you there too so that he’s coming at you from the front and the back, and it’s too much, his sucking mouth and probing fingers. Your standing leg buckles, and he’s forced to pull his mouth from you, steady you. You let your knees give out slowly, coming to a folded kneel between his legs. He leans forward, mouth glossy with your slick and pulls your face to his, chin pinched between his fingers to kiss you, and the taste of you on his tongue sets something off within you.

Suddenly, your shy insecurity doesn't really matter as much with the flavor of your pussy on his tongue. You surge up on your knees, pressing closer to him, pulling him to you with your arms twisted around his neck, moaning into his mouth as you taste the sweet muskiness on his tongue. Like kindling catching fire in your veins you start to claw at him, pulling at his clothes, his hair, scratching at his skin. He half pulls you up and on top of him, your steaming hot form, entirely bare and naked on top of his clothed one. You can feel the heft of his cock against your belly, grinding there, trying to find whatever friction possible, and he makes a frustrated noise at the back of his throat, pushing you back down onto the floor and pulling back to open his jeans. He’s panting and sweating, chest heaving and cheeks flushed a bright red. He wants you just as much as you want him. And it’s bad, it’s bad and wrong to compare, God knows, but when he finally pulls his cock out, he’s not wearing anything beneath his jeans, you know that this is a man unlike your husband ever was; long and thick, fucking big, swollen, flushed tip peaking out from soft surrounding skin, leaking a clear slick of drool. He takes it out and sits back, pushing his hips forward to settle into his seat and stretches his long legs on either side of you. You listen to the sound of the scooting coffee table as he shoves it back with his foot. His cock arches obscenely from his open jeans, and you reach up slowly, a little intimidated, to circle it with your fingers delicately. “You’re so hard,” you whisper. 

He drags a gentle hand over the crown of your head, pulling the hair tie from your ponytail as he goes. “This is how much I want you. This is all you.” He circles his big hand around your much smaller one, squeezes his big cock tighter with both of your hands, and you flush with a pleasure so intense it’s almost painful. You can make a man hard, the proof is right here in front of you. 

He’s uncut, and that’s doubly intimidating. “I’ve never seen one like that,” he pulls your hand up slowly with his, squeezes and twists hard at the sticky wet tip. 

“It’s okay, baby,” he croons, looking down at you with a maniacal sort of glint in his eyes. “Just open your mouth,” he wraps his other hand around your jaw, “You don’t need to see it if it’s inside you,” wedges his fingers between your molars over the skin of your cheeks, prying your mouth open. You bend your head forward, tongue hanging out, and he taps the heavy weight of his cock there, jostles the wet tip slightly from side to side, the wet sticky sound of it has your pussy clenching around terrible emptiness. He slides his hand up your cheek, twists his fingers through your hair and directs you how he wants you, slides his cock further back on your tongue, and you wrap your lips around him, give him your first real suck, tongue swirling gently around the fat head. Pulling back with a sharp hollowing of your cheeks, he squeezes his fist around yours almost painfully, and you press an open mouthed kiss at the spongey tip, gently tonguing the slit, lapping at it with the flat of your tongue like a little kitten. The sight of you licking his dick has him groaning, bearing the white line of his teeth at you. 

“You taste so good,” you say up at him with big wet eyes, “Like I always imagined you would.”

“Fuck–” he snarls, “Killin’ me,” and he’s jerking you up off the floor roughly, pulling your knees apart to settle you in a straddle on his lap, pressing you close with a hand on your ass so that the wet heat of your cunt is meeting the heat of his cock. The both of you groan like it hurts, like you’ve been waiting for this for longer than is right, and he pulls your mouth back to his, wet and messy, sucking on your tongue, gripping your hair so tightly, your eyes smart and water. You claw at his shirt, pulling it up, trying to get at his skin, and he pulls back suddenly, frustratedly ripping it over his head, and then coming back to your mouth, single minded in his dedication to having the taste of you on his tongue. You try and grind down on him, but he hitches you up higher so your breasts are level with his face. “This’ll be over ‘fore it’s even begun if we’re not careful,” he laughs as he settles you, cunt leaking against his stomach and turning the hair there sticky sweet with your slick, and slots his hand between your thighs, gives you something to rub yourself against while he kisses you. “Oh, baby, you’ve got the wettest little cunt,” he says between kisses, lips sliding down to suck at your neck, lifting your breast to his mouth to lick and bite at your swollen nipple. 

And past sense, past restraint, you beg: “I want your cock, please, I want it so badly.” 

“Nuh uh,” he grunts, “Not yet. You’re not ready.”

You whine and beg that you are, you promise you are, but he only sucks at your tits harder, presses his hand harder between your thighs, and you can literally hear the wet squelch of your pussy as you ride his palm, your clit grinding against his belly on the forward slide as you work yourself up into a frenzy, wet whimpers and a pathetic little tear or two slipping out in your frustration to come. Need you nice and soft to take me, sweetheart, he murmurs into the tender skin beneath your chin, but he decides to be kind, crooking his finger just so that it brushes up against your clit, setting off a shivery little orgasm fluttering through your belly. He laughs softly, humoring the silly little thing wiggling around in his lap that’s so desperate to come, decides to be kinder halfway through your orgasm and starts to slowly press a single thick finger into your hungry, clenching hole. Shit, you hear his curse, while you moan and cry into his shoulder, mouthing and biting at the sun freckled golden skin there, gnawing on him like some rabid thing. And then he says, a little teasing: “Just from this, huh? Just from a little wiggling around on daddy’s lap?” sending a wash of agonized relief through you as he wedges a second one of those thick, thick fingers inside to stretch you further. It’s what you’d wanted to call him from the first moment. Just one more thing said out loud. You nod your head against his shoulder, a whine and a breath and daddy, daddy, daddy, as he stretches you; make that sound again, he begs and pets and coos at you, yes, yes, I could come from that sound alone, gives you all the patience you’d always needed. “Look at all this slick you’ve made to take my big cock in your little cunt, baby. What a good girl you are.” He twists his wrist, fucks space into you with his fingers, “You’re so fuckin’ tiny – how’re you gonna take me in this little thing, huh?” He bites down on your soft breast, encourages the sway of your hips with his fingers hooked inside of you. “Don’t worry, I’ll make it fit,” presses a kiss to your forehead, scratchy beard against the sensitive skin there, gently stroking you into another orgasm around his fingers, petting at something raw and bruised feeling inside of you, sending you to tears. 

He pulls his fingers from you slowly once you’re done, leaving your body to tighten and gape around terrible emptiness, and you feel the wet smear of your come on your asscheek where he grips you, searches and pets your asshole to slick it with your wet. “You want daddy to fix you?” He says then, “Want me to make you all better? S’what you want, right?”

You nod slowly, sniffle, “Make me good,” you mumble into his neck. 

“But you’re already good,” and he takes away all your choices, the ability to argue or refute, “You’re already so good. A perfect, gorgeous girl.” Kindling in your veins, madness, something more desperate than anything else you’ve ever felt in your entire life, true hunger. Worse than your desire for your father to understand you, to love you, to not be angry, your fight to keep a husband that would have never stayed. You reach for his cock, trying to impale yourself on it blindly, shifting to press the hot, blunt head at your wet opening. He moans like a dying man, “Wait– wait, lemme get a condom.” He sounds like he’s begging. 

“No, please, now.”

“Fuck– fuck, you’re so eager to jump on my bare cock without a rubber or anything.” But it’s only because no one has ever touched you like this, and when he grips the thick root of his cock and notches it as your cunt, pushes inside slowly, you realize he’s doing it in a way that makes you understand the difference between the man and the boy. 

“I need to feel your skin,” you sound like you’re begging now too. Sighing in relief when he starts to stretch you, when it starts to hurt. It’s slow going, fitting the largeness of his body into your much smaller one. But his hands are steady and soothing as he works you down another inch, another, let’s you fuck yourself on his cock. Murmured praises and all of his desire for you and yeah, just like that, take daddy’s cock, until he’s fully seated inside of you, holds you down, presses and grinds there, thick tip made fatter by his foreskin kissing your cervix. Finally, he pulls you back by the hair, and your father-in-law’s cock is inside of you. “Want you to look at me while I teach you how to fuck– how to take a cock,” because he knows, because he’s always known, had the gross ability to read you exactly as you are. He shifts his hips back, presses up, up, up, inside of you, and his eyes are so beautiful, and he teaches you how to take a cock, not a little girl now, only a woman. You wrap your arms around his neck, kiss his face, lick his tongue, nibble on his ears, feel him all over, he’s all over and everywhere, and it should maybe be humiliating, riding the cock that made the man that was your husband, it should feel wrong or something like a sin, but it only feels, instead, like it was made for you. Like this is where you should have been all along. Once you’ve adjusted, he grips your hips tight and harsh, makes your skin smart enough you know you’ll have bruises in the shapes of his fingers and pounds up into you, the slick slide of your cunt sucking him deeper, taking him as hard as he wants to give it to you, swollen and sensitive, squeezes your ass and grunts and moans and says, yeah, baby, bounce on this fat cock, like it’s the only thing you’d ever have to do for the rest of your life. You wish it was. And the sounds he makes, that’s what really makes you come again, what sets off your orgasm while you’re riding him – the desperate, rough sounds of a man fucking up into a tight, hot cunt that’s wet only for him. It coils in you so tight it hurts, it hurts, and then goes loose and fluttery, pussy flooding around his thrusting length. You can’t even moan, mouth hanging open, proably drooling a little, probably crying a little, nothing but hot air and wet and not a little girl anymore, only a woman, and he doesn’t gentle, fucks you harder, rougher, squeezes your ass and chases his own orgasm. His thrusts going sloppy and uneven, his moans turning to cracked whimpers. 

“I’m not on birth control… but– but my period’s soon,” you whisper into his ear, and he makes a noise not wholly human, going still for a moment, throbbing inside you, thinking, thinking of the risk, decides he doesn’t give a fuck by the murmured,  fuck it, I have to, and starts to move again, harder, hurting on every punch up against the mouth of your womb. I have to, is what he says, and that settles something inside of you. “Gonna come in this pretty, tight cunt. Gonna make it all mine.” You decide you don’t really give a fuck either. “Make daddy come. Squeeze down on daddy’s cock – yeah, just like that. You wanted to play at being the big girl? Now m’gonna treat you like one – gonna fuck you full, baby.” And you’re nothing but want and yes and please and thank you, daddy. And that first spurt, that hurts too, burns you, changes something inside of you that you know will never go back to the way it was before. You’ll want that hurt for the rest of your life, and you won’t ever be able to forget it, and it might be the worst thing that’s ever happened to you, but the heat of it spurs on another small orgasm of your own, jars you with the swell and throb of his cock, fills you till the come from your cunt is leaking down onto his slick balls and the leather beneath. And he holds you through the whole thing, stroking and squeezing and tasting, taking sips of your mouth, pressing his breath back into you, breathing life into you. No longer a ghoul in the night either. You feel him go soft and yet still heavy inside, a muted bruise against your womb, sighing frequently as you settle, little kittenish sounds that have his spent cock stirring lazily inside of you while you leak and leak and leak and go drowsy and then just on this side of fully asleep. 

“Are you okay?” You remember to ask in a small voice while his fingers play gently in the wet where you’re connected. 

He makes a soft sound, like he’s humoring you, like you’ve surprised him. “Course I’m okay,” presses a kiss to your forehead. 

When he shifts you off of him to stand, a protesting whine at the back of your throat, he shucks his jeans off with a soft grunt, finally as naked as you’ve been the whole time, and his cock hangs heavy between his legs, shiny with your cunt as you stare up at him while he looks down at you. Afraid for a brief uncertain second before he’s lifting you in his arms, and when he carries you to his bed after, you feel terribly like a child. Again that naivety, that hope, but it isn't a bad thing, here and now with him. Not something to be used against you, not a bruise or a wound or a lost limb, and you haven’t failed at being good because he’s already made you so. 

-

You’re pressed right up beneath his chin when he wakes up. Your soft, warm form all along his side, lush tits and the vulnerable slope of your belly against his skin, and it feels so intimate, entirely twined around him as you are. He brings his palm up to cup the small bowl of your skull, and in the hushed morning light, your mistake breathes life into the world. Joel has always been a hard man. Joel has always been a hard man, but never weak, and certainly, not good, per se, but never cruel. But there’s something like weakness, there’s something that should be like cruelty here, waking up with you bare, still leaking his spend in his bed, and Joel can’t tell if that weakness, that cruelty is his, born of him or of his own making, he only knows that it should be here, probably is here. It’s difficult to gauge the moral acumen of what he should or should not be feeling when he has you like this beside him. And most confusing of all, that it actually feels nothing like a mistake. Only like it was always meant to happen, and now it finally has. 

He’d come inside of you, worst of all, sense gone away in the night, couldn’t claim exemption from weakness now, filled you until you’d leaked down his balls, the woman who’d been the wife of his son, and he should feel guilty, he should feel disgusted with himself. A betrayer of his own child. But all he feels is that he needs it again. That he needs you again. That if he could, he’d keep you. 

Joel had never wanted children. The thought or desire had never really crossed his mind… and yet– You make a sweet little keening sound in your throat right before you open your eyes, and he feels the stretch and wiggle of your little toes against his shins, the flutter of your long lashes against the tip of his chin. “Good morning.” Soft hand coming up to cover his mouth, hold him in place while you wiggle and slither all over him. 

“How do you feel?” He’d expected you to be shy, regretful, nervous waking up, and to find you entirely not, to get to wake up to you like this, soft and warm and lovely in his bed smelling of his come and his sweat, smiling that pretty little smile; it’s the mightiest sort of victory. You drape yourself on top of him, all soft limbs and softer tits, and the heat of your cunt pressed against his belly as you nuzzle into his chest hair. You’re different now, compared to before, that exhaustion he’d sensed is closer to the surface now, more easily visible, as if your body’s been collecting it, pulling it from the depths of you, getting ready to finally expel it. But there’s a clarity about you now too, you’re tired, but you’re also more yourself. Or on your way there. So lovely it hurts, vulnerable and fragile but entirely yourself. Afraid too, he can tell, because it’s your right to be afraid, because it’s normal, because we’re all afraid sometimes. “Sore?” Another nuzzle, and then, settling on your cheek to look up at him with those gorgeous eyes that’d damned him from the very first moment. 

“Just a little.”

“You did so well last night,” he pets your hair slowly. “You took me so well. I’m so proud of you.” And oh, you like that. Blooming, the temperature in your body seeming to spike suddenly, suffusing all your limbs, radiating from your belly. Shifting and squirming on top of him. His half hard erection, trapped between the two of you, aching already, and you try and rub yourself all along its length, hitching a knee up by his hip to open yourself. He gives you a rough sound to settle, but you want something from him now, trying to rub your wet pussy all over him. If he was younger, a man of less control, he’d be fucking into you already and without thought. “It’s time for listening now, little girl.” He grips your hair tightly, tilting your face up to look at him, uncurls his fingers to cup the small bowl of your skull and hold you in place. “Sometimes people need time, sometimes they need us to be patient with them, wait for them. That’s what you needed, and there ain’t anything wrong with that. And you’re not gonna feel bad or less for getting there a little more slowly than others. Everything comes in its due time, and that’s okay.” You’re staring up at him, wide eyed, something like fear or panic, but you’re going to listen to him if it’s the last thing he does. He fists your hair again, gently forces your head into a nod. “Agree with me now. Say yes.”

“Yes, daddy,” you whisper very softly, pressing up to peck him lightly on the mouth. He catches you by the nape, a kitten picked up by the scruff, and holds you there, immediately turns the kiss wet and savage. You feel, so much, like you’re his, and this terrifies Joel. You aren’t his to keep, he knows this. He is not unaware of what’s happening here, of the consequences. He is not delusional about how this will end. But still, but still, you feel like his. 

You’re back to you’re squirming now, whines and pleading moans as you try and rub yourself against his cock, and he reaches down to cup you, gently fingering at your folds, feeling the havoc he’d wrought on your pussy last night. “You’re so swollen, baby. Can’t fuck you again so soon.”

“Please, daddy, please, please. I can take it, I promise.”

“Not gonna hurt my soft little cunt.” The start of another whine, but he cuts you off, gives you a staying look, cranes his neck to lick into your mouth. “I’m not.”

“I want you so badly. I want you to make me come.” Tiny kisses and kitten licks to his jaw and throat. There’s fire in his belly, cock throbbing something fierce. He grips beneath your knee, opens your leg and pulls back to slot his cock between your thighs, up against your slick, swollen cunt, then presses your thighs closed back together tightly. 

“Just like this – how ‘bout that?” He says as he starts to thrust up slowly against your pussy, trying to keep his movements gentle, careful not to hurt you. He runs his palms along the length of you, squeezes your tits and pinches and plucks at your swollen, sucked dark nipples. The signs of him are all over your body, and it makes him something like wild, infuses him with something like madness. Joel has never felt like this about any woman, ever. And to have it be you – to have this happen to him with you, there is something like weakness and like cruelty here. He needs to keep his head on straight. Remember what can and cannot be. He squeezes your ass tightly, digs his short-shorn fingernails into your soft cheeks, brings one hand up to get his fingertips spit slick, and then pulls your cheeks apart again to pet at your asshole. His gut goes tight and fire hot, he wants to fuck you here too. He wants all of you to be only his, his, fucking his. You hitch your hips in a desperate little arc as he presses gently on the tight ring of muscle, teasing you. “You like that?” He gruffs. “Want me to fill your little ass too, sweet girl?”

Yes, daddy, and he’s sure those must be the greatest words ever uttered to any man in all history. 

“You make the prettiest sounds,” he says while you sing and moan for him. “When I touch you like this,” he moves down to the wet mouth of your cunt, taps on it gently, “And like this,” further, a flutter at your clit while he fucks between your thighs, “And the way you cry when you come for me,” back up to press at your asshole again. “Will you do it for me again?” Christ, he’s going to end up taking you if he doesn’t stop, and he will not hurt you. With a rough sound of frustration, he flips the two of you over suddenly, laying you flat, kneeing your thighs open wide and spread for him. He shakes his head down at you, squeezes his eyes shut because the sight of your bare tits and messy hair and swollen lips, cock hungry blurry eyes, isn’t helping his restraint. “Gotta stop provokin’ me.”

“But it’s so fun, daddy,” you whine, arching to brush your breasts up against his chest. He lets his head fall, opens his mouth wide and takes the whole, heavy weight of your tit into his mouth, sucks hard, bites soft, switches to the other one, gives it the opposite. He pulls back then, going to his knees between your spread thighs and holds you open for inspection. Cunt all red and swollen and shiny with slick just for him. He’s sure if he pressed his fingers inside he’d be able to feel the slippery slide of his semen still. Another shake of his head, and he runs his palms down the soft of your thighs, cups the round of your knees in his palms. You jerk the right one back when he squeezes you there, and he fingers the sore spot, “What’s this from?” bends forward to press a soft kiss to the small hurt. 

“I was in a rush last night,” you say shyly. 

“Rush for what, silly girl? I was right here waitin’ for ya.” Your face does a little spasm at that, confused and vulnerable and then maybe even a little hurt, brow crumpling, and you squeeze your eyes shut. When they spring open again, they’re feverish, “Please, please, fuck me, Joel. Please, I don’t care if it hurts. I don’t–”

“Quit.” He pinches the inner slope of your thigh. “Not gonna convince me to hurt you.” You moan, frustrated and wanton, on the verge of tears, petulant and trying to twist away from him, but he traps you in place, stretches himself over you, propped up by one thick arm, and you drag your palms all down the length of his chest and belly. He squeezes your jaw with his other hand, pries you wide, “Open, lemme see.” He tilts your face this way and that, inspecting the wet gleam of your mouth, your little tongue and shiny, white teeth. 

“Wha’re y’lookin’ for?” You mumble with your jaw wedged open, eyes comically large. 

“Hmm, wonderin’ what it’d look like filled with my come,” he says with a laugh. He feels like a teenage boy, all the excitement of discovering sex with a woman for the first time. And it makes his stomach hurt a little bit, his heart pinch in fear. He sticks his fingers in your mouth, pressing down on your tongue, widening the angle, “You think my cock’ll fit in that little throat?” And you moan, eyes fluttering shut, writhing beneath him, begging for it, a garbled groan that sounds something like please, let’s find out. “Dunno… should we?” He let’s go of your face, goes back to his kneeling position between your legs, and finally gives his aching cock the relief of his fist squeezing tightly around it. He could come just from the sight of you, he’s sure, is just there on the edge already. He squeezes hard, almost painful at the root, sliding up dry, scratchy calluses catching at the soft skin around his head to make it hurt and sting, strangling the heat he feels pooling at the base of his spine and in his balls. He smiles at the memory of your wide, comically shocked eyes when you’d realized he was uncircumcised. I’ve never seen one like that before, and all he’d stupidly wanted to say was that you’d never see any other ever again. Ridiculous. 

He drags his thumb over the head of his cock, through the sticky drool of precum there, then reaches to pet through your slick soaked folds, parting you down the middle. You watch him with wide, wet eyes, as he pops his thumb into his mouth, humming around your combined tastes. “You wanna taste how good we are?” All you’re able to manage is an open mouthed nod. He leans forward and over you again, “Open,” he orders, and spits onto your waiting tongue, hand clamped around her jaw. “Close now – swallow. How’s that taste?” He asks when you obey so nicely. Your eyes flutter shut, jaw shifting from side to side as you savor the taste of your shared want for each other. 

“S’good. Want more.” You look back up at him, mouth open, and nothing in his whole life has been scarier than this. Not even a twenty something year old son, who should have been a man, but was still nothing but a child in such desperate need of his father, showing up on his doorstep one day out of the blue. There should be guilt in that Sam-shaped spot inside his chest, he’s sure of it, and maybe there is, maybe there’s a bitter ribbon of guilt threaded all the way through him, but it’s also entirely overpowered, overshadowed by the desire he feels for the little girl splayed out beneath him. He pulls back again, tries to temper the rising heat in his core, takes hold of his cock again and starts to slowly jack himself. “Finger that little pussy, lemme see. Be gentle with her.” But he grips your hand right as your fingertips are about to make contact with your glossy folds and brings them to his mouth, spit slicking them, there you go, before giving them back. You play in your wet, watching mesmerized as he slowly jerks himself off to the sight of you, circling your swollen clit, thrumming at it gentle, gentle, be soft with her, petting at the leaking mouth, winking at him, begging to be filled. He shifts closer, squeezing and twisting at his tip, pulling the skin back to make the bulbous dark head bulge. He wants it to hurt, he deserves for it to hurt. You watch the rough handling of himself like you’ve never seen anything like it before, head tilted on your neck so your cheek is squished against your shoulder to get a clear view of what he’s doing to himself. “You want it so bad,” he teases, and you nod, looking back up at his eyes. He shifts forward a little closer so that the backs of his knuckles are brushing up against your sex now, wet and sticky, and you let your fingers trail up his wrist, his forearm, while he quickens his pace, moves against you, over himself. You spread yourself a little wider, bringing your knees up higher to your chest, opening yourself for him, and he pulls his hips back a little, you want to come, he can see it in your eyes, you’re almost there, presses the tip to your wet clit, slides down the to the hungry mouth, circles, circles there, presses just a tiny bit. You’re nodding your head up at him, goading him on, please, please, just do it, please. “Not gonna,” he gruffs. “Not gonna convince me.”

“You’re so mean,” you cry, arching your hips, writhing, trying to find firmer pressure. 

“Didn’t I tell ya last night I wasn’t gonna be nice?” But he takes pity on you, presses the fat head just a little harder, gives you just the tip, grinding breathlessly against it, popping it in and out of your hot little cunt. “Better?” His whole body feels like one boiling vat of hot blood, sweaty and desperate, grunting, more animal than a man. “Gotta come just like this.” He quickens the jerk of his fist, bumping it into your clit on the slide forward, watches the stretch of your cunt taking just the first inch of him. He feels unhinged, thinks for one second of just fucking all the way in, hearing the sound of your cry as you take the hurt. He has to be able to do this all again, entirely, have you again the whole way “God, baby,” he groans, “You’re gonna let me fuck this tiny little pussy again, right? Tell me you’re going to let me fill it with my cock again?”

Please, please, daddy. Please. “Just do it now.” Joel doesn’t think he’s ever heard anything like the sound of you begging for his cock, anything as pretty, ever. “I– I need to–”

“I know what you need, baby. Just let daddy put his come in you, and then I’ll take care of you.” He’s just there, one last harsh squeeze and twist, and there’s warmth flooding his cock and balls as he starts to come for you, covering the entirety of your sex with his white milky spend, groaning like he’s dying. He pulls his hand from his spent cock, smearing his semen into your skin, little begging whimpers of his name and daddy, please from your mouth, and he spreads your legs and lowers his mouth to your swollen sex, eats his own come out of your cunt, pressing two fingers inside, slow and gentle as he can, to give you something to bear down on. He laps softly at your clit, soothing the ache, eats you until you’re going tight as a fist, cunt sucking his fingers as deep as it can and gushing all over his face, slick pooling in his palm where he laps and slurps at it when he’s unlatched his mouth from your pulsing clit. 

“I don’t think I can stay away from you,” he tells you later, while he dresses you slowly, sits you on the bathroom counter and brushes your teeth for you with his own toothbrush and combs the knots and gnarls out of your hair. Holds your cheek cupped in the palm of his hand as he drags a warm washcloth over your sweaty face. 

“Don’t want you to stay away,” you say in a small voice as you paw at his chest, twisting his t-shirt in little grabby fingers, pulling him into the cradle of your hips with sharp heels at the small of his back; needy, needy, needy thing. And worst of all, a sick part of him, something bitter sitting heavily on his tongue, wants to be the thing you need, the thing you’re desperate for, the thing you cry those pretty tears for. He’s weak now, he is. Joel finds in himself that he does have the capacity to be a weak man when the moment demands it of him. He shucks the washcloth into the sink, cups your face in his hands like something precious. He’d said once you were a gift, he’s sure of this now more than ever. 

And he tells you, because he knows he must: “We can fuck, but we’re not allowed to fall in love,” and tells himself that he only imagines the glint of defiance in your eyes when he says it. 

- That meeting in the dark had stayed with you, the sound of his voice telling you to leave his son, that you deserved better. The sound of his kindness, you’d stretched toward it like a flower seeking the light, the singular attention of a man like that. You’d gone over the memory of it over and over again in your mind, worn the edges of it until it was faded and worn. And when Sam had served you the divorce papers, and you’d all but gotten on your knees and begged him to please, please, stay, please, don’t leave me alone, that sound of kindness had been what you’d clung to through all the rest. That terrible clamor of failure and abandonment and not good enough, his kindness had remained, and you’re sure now, that it had brought you here too, to his home, to his bed, into his arms. This was where you’d always been meant to end up, perhaps, even from that first moment you’d met Sam all those years ago on the college green, in the arms of his father. Nothing could feel wrong after kismet like that, even if you weren’t allowed to fall in love.

Part III

Netherfeildren's Masterlist

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[astray-anomaly]

The first Chapter of Sea Level!!

TW: Hurt, character injury, violence, mention of death and experimentation

Here is the Ao3 link, if you rather not read it on Ao3 the chapter is below the cut!

10-18-25

13:42

For two days the whole Hadel Blacksite was drowned in complete darkness ever since the crystal was taken and with that all power was gone from the site, even the backup power was now offline. Meaning that small computer couldn’t work anymore, the same computer Sebastian was now wrapping up in a waterproof crate he had found in one of the storage units. Putting all of the extra wires and pieces in place along with a few classified documents he had left. He then covered them up with extra layers so they wouldn’t shuffle around as much to avoid any damage. Afterwards he shut and sealed the crate.

He swapped out the Scrambler on his back in favor of the crate, it was a bit heavier with all the extra equipment inside but he could carry it relatively easily. He quickly checked the radio he had on him, still no signal. He groaned and shoved it back in his jacket. He needed to get it, he did make a promise to get them out of here, he didn’t want to break it. True he had no intention of keeping it in the first place but damn it, he just had to get attached to this stupid old computer in only the two weeks they’ve known each other. Even if he still had doubts this was possible, he had to try to complete his promise, this was the one good thing he could do now with nothing else left.

It was worth a shot to get out of this forsaken hellhole then wait to get gunned down or probably die of starvation. He knew Urbanshade would soon send down groups of their guards again to clear out the place and start to repair it despite the multiple devastating damages to the site. Urbanshade would never just abandon this place, they would eventually get this place fully functioning again so he didn’t want to be there when they arrived. It was between the chance of seeing the sun again or death. Even if he was gonna die, he wanted to do it looking at the sky one last time.

He was hoping they would be able to reach Innovation Inc. once at the surface. It was one of the rival companies of Urbanshade he had been able to contact before all the radios were cut off, none of the others responded. Maybe he could finally get them both the help they needed if he had found that company, but he has to get out of the Hadel Blacksite first.

The only guide they had now was the dimly lit esca on Sebastian’s head and his poor night vision as he started his journey through the twisted and broken hallways of the facility. More and more water had begun to leak in as the outer pile system started to implode on themselves from the outside pressure. Even though the pressure here was the same as it would be just at the surface, the facility could only take so much after the power was gone and the pipe system was the first to collapse. So the whole facility will be flooded with water, leaving everything left to rust. But he knew Urbanshade wouldn’t let that happen so he had to get out quickly.

At least now there were more places to swim than having to slither through the cold hallways decorated in broken furniture, shattered glass, and sharp scraps. Sebastian had already caught his tail on a few pieces, even though most of them didn’t cut through the hard scales a few small parts managed to catch themselves in his flesh, making him bite back a painful hiss. Still he kept going forward.

All of the docks were blocked off by now so the plan was to find Z-317’s old containment cell and follow the passageway out to the ocean. The one that Sebastian had originally opened before when releasing Z-317 during the lockdown.

If only he could get there faster but his injured tail had to drag him down, yet it was better to be slow to not alarm the other creatures still roaming the facility. Even after releasing them they were still animals, they had to hunt, no doubt they would attack him on sight if they ended up spotting him. Even if he could fend for himself, that computer on his back was not as strong as he was, one slip up and it could possibly be over. He wouldn’t let that happen.

He had already been roaming around the dark facility for what felt like hours, at this point he was convinced he was going in circles, right, left, right- crash

Sebastian froze at hearing a loud noise behind him, screaming starting to echo through the halls. He’d been here for just long enough to recognize which entity was which just by their screeching alone and out of every single creature it just had to be this one.

Sebastian darted his way to find a side room or some sort of tunnel as quickly as possible as Pandemonium’s screaming drew nearer and nearer. When he couldn’t he just punched in one of the broken doors and pulled his way through, at least the mantis shrimp DNA was useful for something. He quickly curled into one of the corners as the room started to shake.

He held his breath as the creature’s roaring passed, it was silent for moments afterwards and Sebastian started to uncurl his tail from around himself and pull himself out the corner only for the screeching to start up again. Sebastian panicked, moving down the hallway as fast as he could. There was so much rubble scattered everywhere that he had to slither around, no wonder this hall was blocked off.

Sebastian growled in pain again as something else dug into his tail, he kept his shrimp claw holding onto the crate on his back as Pandemonium got nearer. He eventually spotted what looked like a way out, at least he hoped but he couldn’t escape that easily. Pandemonium was just behind him.

“That's it you ugly bastard!” He snarled angrily, swinging his tail back to hit the creature and basically ripping his shotgun out of the hostler. Shooting repeatedly at the mutated beast's face, managing to get the two main eyes, making the creature shriek in pain. Sebastian then took his chance to run for it, even with the two main eyes gone there were still many more staring at him.

At least the shock and pain from the creature gave him enough time to make his escape into the underwater tunnels, he didn’t stop to look back, not for one second.

Eventually everything was quiet again and Sebastian could relax a bit. However when the adrenaline died down he was hit with the agonizing pain in his tail from a big metal scrap impaled in his side,painting the water red. He bit his tongue as he held back tears. The salt water just made everything sting more, still he continued his way down the tunnel, trying his best despite the excruciating pain.

He finally got to the exit, dragging himself out of the water and crawled up the ramp. He laid down on the cold concrete floor, catching his breath and coughing up some blood. He had to sit up, pulling the crate off his back and pushing it to the side as he examined his tail that was dripping in blood. He still had a medkit left even if it wouldn’t help much, it was something.

He quickly scavenged through the small kit and pulled out the antibiotic ointment and bandages. He then looked back at his tail and saw just how badly the metal had stabbed itself in there, still it had to be taken out.

He bit down more on his tongue to the point of making it bleed as he gripped onto the metal tightly. Closing his eyes as he pulled, wailing as it was removed but was able to cover most of the noise. He couldn’t alarm any more monsters down here.

He threw the piece of metal back into the water, leaning back and holding his tail while also holding back tears. He reached for the antibiotics and started to apply them to the gaping wound, not even reacting to the cold sting anymore. He took whatever was left in the bottle and applied it to the more minor injuries, he didn’t want to waste bandages trying to wrap them up since they weren’t as severe. Once the bandages were applied to the large wound he laid down on the ground, catching his breath and closing his eyes. “..Fucking hell..” He groaned, knowing he had to get back up, after a bit he strapped the crate onto his back again and continued on his way.

Unfortunately now he was even more lost, not exactly sure where they ended up after having to make a quick escape from Pandemonium in a panic. So they could have been farther or closer to their destination, Sebastian prayed they were closer as he navigated through the dark corridors.

After an hour of mindlessly dragging himself around he noticed a familiar pair of large heavy doors, this was where the controls to the containment cells were, they were closer now.

He used the keycard he still kept from killing that one elite guardsman to unlock the door again. The door didn’t seem to open much with the mechanism damaged so he was forced to squeeze through. The inside was a complete mess, even the control console was torn apart by one of the creatures.

Sebastian continued his way through the labs and containment rooms. Keeping his gaze down on the floor so he didn’t have to see anything that could possibly trigger his memories. The smell here already made him feel nauseous.

He counted the doors until he finally saw the one that read Z-317. The room was taken up mostly by a large aquarium where the Eyefestian would originally be kept in. Now the glass was cracked and the tank was mostly drained with water spilling on the lab floor.

He debated on what to do for a moment, instead of picking carefully at the glass he decided to punch it in. Wasn’t the best choice but it was the quickest. He shook his hand off, his ears perked up when he heard the wailing sounds of another creature nearby, Frogger.

Sebastian carefully pulled himself through the glass and dropped into the water. Swimming down before the creature could bounce back to see him. Once at the bottom he let himself relax as the cold water completely engulfed him, releasing the tension in his body. He was no longer being chased, he could finally relax for a second. They were so close to the end now. He found the doors which lead the way out of here, they would finally get out to the ocean.

He slithered through the door and continued into the dark tunnel. What felt like an endless void with only his own esca to guide him which was getting dimmer with each passing minute, showing just as much energy he had left in him.

He swam through the tunnel for minutes with barely any light. His injured tail trying to push him along as much as possible. Until he finally saw a glimpse of light up ahead followed by the sound of rumbling footsteps. He had forgotten that the Trench Bleeders were still mobile because their power was separate from that of the Hadel Blacksite, they were still being controlled from somewhere else.

Sebastian darted to the light, swimming with all his strength until he heard the wretched sound of metal bending. “Shit-“ He cursed, noticing that the tunnel was closing in on itself. He swam faster even if it hurt to push himself, the water still stung. Hearing the creaking of the metal getting louder until finally-

He shot his way up through the exit and soon fell back onto the ocean floor as the tunnel crushed in on itself. Yet he wasn’t out of his troubles yet, he had to move, he had to get up. The Trench Bleeder was right over him, the lights from underneath the giant mechanism's foot blinded his already poor seeing eyes, he was about to be crushed if he didn’t move now.

He forced himself to get up, pushing his way through the water as the Bleeder’s foot came crashing down, shaking the whole place and making Sebastian’s entire head ring. After that everything went pitch black.

10-19-25

4:18

Everything was aching when Sebastian had opened his eyes again, he suddenly became aware of every part of his body that hurt, he could barely move to lift his head. His esca flickered on as he looked around to figure out his surroundings, his eyes taking a moment to adjust. He found himself in some small cave in the ground, he took a breather and rested his head back down on the smooth rock, he was still so, so tired.

He had to remember why he was here, he had to get out of here or both him and p.AI.nter would die, or worse, p.AI.nter would be forced back to roblux mining. He couldn’t let that happen, he had to make it to the surface, he had to make it to Innovation Inc. he couldn’t just give up now. There was no time to rest, no matter how tired he was, he already got the rest he needed. The hardest part of the journey was already over.

Sebastian forced his body to move, wincing at the pain in his tail and spine. The crate was weighing him down a bit from his body being weaker. He swam out of the cave into the open water, everything was dark, the Trench Bleeder looked to be long gone by now, how long had he been asleep?

He didn’t stop to think about it, starting to swim upwards.

“Where are you going?”

Sebastian suddenly paused at the familiar voice that echoed in his head. He turned around to be met with the bright green glow of multiple eyes staring right at him. He used his hand to shield his eyes from the shining light before slowly lowering it back down and looking back at the curious radioactive shark before him.

“Well?”

“I thought you had left a long time ago, there is no prey for you here, not anymore.” Sebastian replied, staring down the creature, meeting her gaze.

“Where else would there be for me to go?” The shark circled curiously around Sebastian, moving closer.

“The surface.” Sebastian answered. “That’s where we are going, to get help.” He paused. “To go back to my home.”

“The surface isn’t where I belong, that is where you come from. I have no home to return to.” The Eyefestian responded blankly.

“Do you not remember anything?” Sebastian looked curious.

“No. If there is a home for me I doubt it would be very welcoming now. These depths are now my home.”

“You know you could come with us, you don’t have to stay in this place, with all the bad memories.” Sebastian reached out his hand, offering.

“I know you want me to, but I know you’ll do just as fine without me. Plus I’ve made some good memories down here too.” Eyefestian gently pushed her snout into Sebastian’s hand. “Go see them again..”

Sebastian just nodded, gently petting Eyefestian. He had so much to thank her for, she was there ever since the start of his experiments. She was the only creature to know what he truly looked like before and he was the first one to be able to appreciate her beauty without dying.

No further words were exchanged before Sebastian watched Eyefestian disappear back down into the dark depths again.

He wiped his eyes before focusing back on his mission, firstly making sure the crate was still fully secured before continuing up. Swimming for minutes on end as his tail guided him through the water until he felt the sudden crushing feeling of the pressure shifting, feeling like his whole body just collapsed in on itself within a second. Trying to catch his breath as his throat was squeezing and his body froze.

He was no longer in the Let-Vand Zone, he was in the deep sea now.

It took him a moment to get used to the extreme pressure change until his body slowly began to relax and he could breathe at a stable pace again. He checked the crate on his back, nothing looked crushed. The crates were very reinforced but that didn’t mean they could last long, he had to get to a lesser pressure level quickly.

It was harder to tread through the dense water, but he forced his tail to push himself through with as much force and speed as possible. Even if he could breathe normally everything still felt suffocating, making him feel lightheaded. He wasn’t even sure how fast he was moving with the water crushing his whole body.

Everything was completely black, not even his vision helped, he wasn’t sure if he was even moving upwards anymore, he could have been moving in any direction and he wouldn’t know unless he ended up hitting something or managed to breach the surface. It made him paranoid of anything jumping out at him, it was too dark, anything could come from any direction.

All he could do was hope he would run into nothing, he had to keep pushing. He was determined to get to the surface, his determination being more powerful than his own exhaustion. The more he swam, the more the pressure seemed to lift off of his body and he could finally move faster. It felt so freeing to be able to stretch out and move around without having any more worries, he wasn’t entirely free yet but he was getting close.

He swam for another hour, his tail barely dragging him along, until finally he saw an actual light reflecting from off the ocean’s surface. Dashing up to it in his excitement and breaking through the water. The smell of fresh air filling his nose, the gentle wind blowing through his wet hair, sounds of seagulls flying overhead and the gentle waves moving. He made it, he actually did it.

Sebastian smiled happily as tears poured down his cheeks. He used his hand to shade his tired eyes as he looked in the distance at the rising sun that had come up to welcome him back to the surface.

[aealzx]

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Update Post

Prologue | AO3

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Despite not being comatose anymore, Danny’s health still wasn’t the greatest. After getting introductions for who everyone was they had started to explain to him what had happened. Only for him to fall asleep again before they got very far. After being assured by Bruce and Leslie that it was normal for those who had been in a coma to not be able to stay awake very long in the beginning, the others had found ways to entertain themselves while letting him rest more. When he woke up again hours later they let him orient himself again before trying to pick up where they’d left off. They had to repeat the same sequence again two more times before they got through the entire two months worth of events.

The hardest part of catching Danny up on everything had been admitting they didn’t know what had happened to Maddie and Jack. During the third time of being awake Danny had asked where they were, being confused why they hadn’t shown up to see him yet despite everything. And when Jazz had finally admitted it was because they weren’t there, and they didn’t even know if they were okay, Danny had panicked slightly. If he’d been in better health Jazz knew she wouldn’t have been able to stop him from running out into the city to try and find them himself. Yet at this point he couldn’t even push himself upright without help, and changing forms or even floating seemed impossible. Which had left him collapsed in Jazz’s lap, sobbing, “You don’t get it, Jazz! None of this matters at ALL if the people I care about aren’t alive! That includes mom and dad! None of this matters if they’re not okay too!”

Jazz knew that Danny really only fought to keep certain people happy. He’d protect everyone, sure. But the reason he kept going, the only real motivation he had for throwing himself in harm's way all the time, was to protect his friends and family. He did a lot of crazy heroic things, but he didn’t want to be some big time famous hero like she had learned Batman and Superman were. It was hard to not be able to tell him that he hadn’t failed. Only Sam, Tucker, and Danielle had been able to get him to calm down by reminding him how resilient Jack and Maddie were. Despite all the fights they got in, it was very rare that those two got hurt. So odds were they were still just fine after this disaster too. It had been enough to calm him down at least enough to stop crying, and allow himself to rest more. But his words still rang in Jazz’s head the next day.

Throughout the days Leslie was present more, checking Danny’s vitals, drawing a little more blood for another panel, bringing him room temperature water to sip in the afternoon. She strangely didn’t try to get Danny to eat anything until the next day. When Jazz asked about it Leslie had explained that while Danny definitely needed to eat again, there was a chance he wouldn’t be able to handle it just yet. While the cryo stasis had helped him not deteriorate as much as anyone else would have over a two month coma, he still had. He was underweight, malnourished, and easily fatigued. And that included his digestive system. She tried to help by giving Danny another vitamin IV with a slightly different formula. But even with that the first time she’d let him try eating two plain crackers he’d ended up throwing up less than an hour later.

That was when Bruce happened to come check on them. With the biggest hurdles for now having been taken care of, most of his kids had gone back to their own homes, as they usually did. It was hard to keep them around for more than a few days, and while there was still the task of getting these displaced kids back home they all knew that could wait until Danny was feeling better. Especially after learning through bits and pieces of information that there was a government team back there that would just love to hunt him down the first chance they got. So with Duke and Damian currently at school that left the house rather empty, and Bruce found himself taking charge of checking on their visitors. He had learned a lot about them in the past two days. The kids were obviously used to helping patch Danny back up, without the help of any adults. But they still relied on Danny being okay to feel secure. Danny was the one that protected them. Danny was the one they relied on being okay to judge whether or not everything else was okay. When Danny was cracking jokes the others were at ease. But when Danny couldn’t force himself to reassure them, there was a harsh spike in their anxiety. And usually Jazz was the one that took charge, trying to keep them all calm and reassured.

It was an unfair, but understandable situation that didn’t allow for Danny to truly rest. And that was what motivated Bruce to enter the room and approach the kids this time, stopping by the connected bathroom to grab a soft towel first. Jazz was once again the only one sitting on the bed while the other three hovered nearby, waiting to be directed. Her hands were on Danny’s back and arm as he was curled over the bucket Leslie had made sure was left just in case, coughing and half heaving despite there being nothing left in his stomach. Bruce couldn’t imagine how much stress it must be to have an audience, so decided the first thing he’d do would be to get the others to disperse. When he raised his hand to Tucker’s shoulder he couldn’t blame Tucker for jumping in startle.

“D’dude! You scared me,” Tucker protested shakily.

“He’ll be alright,” Bruce chose to assure instead of apologizing for inevitably sneaking up on the kids. “Can you three go work with Alfred to find a change of clothes and bedding?”

The three almost jumped on being given something to do, a series of affirmatives before they scurried from the room. Bruce sent Alfred a text to request he keep the three of them occupied for a while then knelt down next to the bed and offered the towel to Danny. It seemed his stomach had decided to stop throwing a fit for now, and as Danny took the towel and buried his face in it Bruce relocated the bucket to the nightstand. He didn’t need to wipe his entire face, but from that angle Bruce hadn’t missed the tears, and realized Danny was hiding.

“Jazz, can you join the others?” Bruce requested on Danny’s behalf. “And find Leslie to help waterproof his injuries so he can have a bath?” Not only would that give Danny some time away from the others, but he actually really needed one too. A fact Bruce realized when he’d reached up to help pull Danny’s hair out of his face. He’d probably feel a little better after getting fully cleaned up for once too.

Jazz seemed reluctant to leave, but at least seemed to know when her presence was a detriment more than comfort. She knew her brother well, and after leaning down to give Danny a peck on the head and whisper a quick ‘I love you’ she headed out the door.

“...Am I even allowed to have a bath?” Danny’s question came after he was sure Jazz was gone, raising his head and looking and sounding as miserable and pathetic as he probably felt.

“Of course you are,” Bruce assured, using his thumb to brush away another tear that escaped when Danny blinked. “We’ll just have to waterproof your injuries and IV site. But then you should be fine to take one for as long as you want.”

“...Really?”

“Yes.”

The idea of getting some time to himself was welcomed, but after realizing what he was thinking Danny’s expression crumpled again, and Bruce had to raise a little to catch him as we swayed. He was a little surprised when Danny actually curled into him then, his form shaking.

“Sorry,” Danny whimpered, and Bruce couldn’t keep himself from gathering the boy up in a tight hug. “...I’m not okay.”

That sounded like it had been incredibly hard to say, and Bruce had to wonder if it was something someone had been working on with him. He’d heard from Jason that it was relatively recent that Danny’s parents even knew what he was, let alone what he’d been going through. Perhaps one of them had been the one to talk him into letting them know when he wasn’t doing well.

“...I know,” Bruce responded quietly as he moved to sit on the bed and pull Danny into a ball. Everyone knew Danny wasn’t doing well physically. But Bruce knew he wasn’t just talking about that part of his health this time. “You’re going to be okay though.”

It felt good to be held by someone he didn’t have to protect. Someone that he didn’t have to pretend he knew what he was doing for. Act like he was just fine and nothing fazed him. It had been something he had just started getting after his parents got involved with all aspects of his life, and he hadn’t realized how much he would miss it until they weren’t there to give him that comfort. Jazz had a habit of calling out the fact that he was just a kid, but she was too, and couldn’t quite give him what he needed. But Bruce was an adult. And someone who seemed to have also lived through similar injuries. Hearing him say he’d be alright felt like a stated fact instead of just a confident reassurance.

It didn’t take long for Leslie to arrive and expertly shoo Jazz away again to help Alfred with the others. She wasn’t surprised at all to hear that Danny had thrown up, and instead just assured him he was going to be okay, and to think of it like having the stomach flu. The comparison did wonders in helping Danny calm down more, to the point he was only sniffling quietly as she took care of dressing his wounds in a waterproof covering.

“Don’t scrub too hard on the edges of the bandages when you’re washing up, okay?” Leslie directed while rubbing the said edges of the last bandage she was placing around his arm to encase the temporarily detached IV. She’d taken some time to clean the sites that would be covered so Danny would be able to feel completely clean after his bath, and was pleased to see he was healing a lot faster now that he wasn’t in some sort of stasis mode. She wouldn’t be surprised if his wounds were completely healed by the end of next week at this rate.

Danny gave a small hum in acknowledgement, understanding that he couldn’t break the seal if the bandages were going to work properly. The desire for an actual bath was strong enough that he was willing to comply with their conditions, even if it meant he had to have Bruce in the bathroom with him, just in case. It made sense considering he couldn’t go to the toilet on his own just yet, but at least Bruce had promised to stay facing towards the door as long as he could. He also had his phone with him to work on his own projects, so wouldn’t even try to get Danny to talk to him.

It was exhausting, but Danny also didn’t realize just how much it would feel good to be clean. To not have his scalp itch, and skin feel like a layer of grime was coating it. And also just to lounge in the warm water, in the silence and almost complete isolation. He was there for a little over an hour - dang fancy rich people's tubs and their ability to keep the water just right - before it became uncomfortably apparent he wasn’t just imagining the aching starting to get worse. Which led him to reluctantly using his foot to nudge the plug out to allow the water to drain and reaching out to knock his hand against Bruce’s shoulder.

“Done already?” Bruce asked easily, glancing over his shoulder halfway.

“Morphine is wearing off,” Danny admitted with a grimace, resting against the side of the tub.

“Ah,” Bruce nodded in unfortunate complete understanding, turning his phone screen off and tucking it into his pocket while grabbing the towel and soft robe to hand to Danny. “Let me know if you need help.”

Danny hummed once again to acknowledge what was said, but stubbornly took care of at least getting the bathrobe on himself on his own once the water had drained. Unfortunately he had to ask for help to get out of the tub, still too weak to lift himself up or stand. But Bruce didn’t react differently towards this than if Danny had simply asked for help opening a jar or something. It was nice.

Alfred had already brought a pair of soft pajama pants and fluffy socks when he’d returned to change the bedding as well. And once Danny was dressed Bruce had carried him back to the edge of the bed where Leslie could double check that the bandages had worked, get the IV reattached and another dose of morphine going. He found he was so worn out from the simple task, but also found that once the morphine did its job taking away the aches and pain he did feel a lot better than before. Enough that Duke pausing in the doorway while returning home from school didn’t make him feel too wary.

“Oh- First post injury bath?” Duke asked, pointing a finger at Danny as he noticed the bathrobe on the bed and Danny’s still damp hair. When Bruce nodded, Duke grinned. “Nice! Those always feel amazing somehow. You should take him to the couch next.”

“The couch?” Danny couldn’t help asking. Was it just the family room couch or something different?

“In the study. It’s quiet in there, and being stuck in bed sucks,” Duke explained. “I bet he was actually already planning on taking you there. After living here I came to find out Bruce is actually really good at helping people feel better. Even though he’s not perfect, no one is, he still makes a nice dad-”

“Duke,” Bruce interrupted, a slight scowl hiding his embarrassment. “Make sure you have enough time to finish your homework before patrol.”

Other people may have been put off by the glower, but Duke just laughed. “Sure sure. I’ll meet you in the study?”

It took Danny a moment to realize Duke was talking to him, and couldn’t keep his shoulders from drooping. He didn’t really want to entertain people yet, he was already feeling physically drained on top of emotionally.

Surprisingly Duke picked up on the mood easily. “I’ll keep quiet. Promise. But trust me when I say it’s really nice,” he offered, easily picking up Danny’s anti-social vibes.

“...Sure. We can try,” Danny accepted, figuring he could at least attempt the idea since Duke didn’t seem to want to spend the time talking.

It was just a few more minutes for Leslie to finish giving him another routine checkup and add an anti nausea patch behind his ear before allowing Bruce to pick him up again. Danny inevitably felt tiny as Bruce was able to carry him with just one arm, leaving the other free to bring the IV pole with them. But he found he didn’t mind. It had only been two days of him being awake in that bedroom, but Danny found getting to leave the room was nice. The study was quite a ways down the hall, and when they reached it Alfred was already there.

“I’ve provided the usual snacks for Master Duke and Master Damian. There’s also a thermos of warm broth that Dr. Thompkins has approved for Master Danny to try if he’s up for it. I will continue to keep the rest of the children occupied until supper,” Alfred informed, bringing their attention to the mentioned food on the low table in front of the very plush couch.

“Thank you Alfred,” Bruce responded simply, heading further in the room to get settled.

There was a fire crackling gently in the fireplace, keeping the room pleasantly warm despite the autumn chill outside. There was already a slight frost on the windows, but the glass was the only thing that reflected that cold. All the colors of the room were warm, and the faux fur blanket Bruce grabbed to help bundle Danny up in only increased the cozy feeling the room had. It was quiet, as Duke had said, and comfortable. Even when Duke and Damian joined them to work on their homework they rarely spoke. And when they did it was in low voices, and to each other about their homework or school day.

Danny had accepted being brought there with the thought that he’d have to end up asking to go back to the bedroom later. But after having spent some time quietly looking around the room his gaze had settled on watching the fire. And slowly the crackle of the wood, soft scratch of pens and pencils, rustling of paper and quiet taps of technology muddled into a soft haze. Eventually Danny’s eyes drooped closed as the soft sounds and comforting warmth became a lullaby coaxing him to sleep. 

Duke was right. The couch was pretty nice.

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This entire chapter was unplanned X'DD but I ain't complaining.

Bruce was as hard to draw as Dick was 8 | my art style is too cute coded for these rugged american comic characters.

Also I am extremely distracted translating a manga that not available in english just so I can know the story |D updates might be a little slower.

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Tag list: @galaxy-sharks-and-bottled-ships, @starscreamlover, @nerdynonnativenarnian, @dragongoblet, @megacharizardx99

@bellathecatastrophe, @cj-ghostemoji-destielpie, @asexual-insomniac, @wolfeyedwitch, @tkiesai, 

@fanaroff, @raven1508, @nebulainajar, @serasvictoria02, @oliocelottafanfics,

@honeysuckletook, @omniithe-deer, @wolf-under-the-stars, @gingernutcalo, @that-random-fangirl,

@op-sys-chaos, @kirasigncomics, @ehobep, @paranoid-ira

[leighsartworks216]

Broken Glass

Zayne x gn!Reader

Inspired by real life events I would have *loved* to have a Zayne here for

Warning: blood, injury, feet, guilt, self-deprecation, insecurity, swearing, kissing, established relationship

Word Count: 1,252

Main Masterlist

Love and Deepspace Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

A loud crash has Zayne on his feet in a heartbeat. He runs to the kitchen, standing in the doorway to assess what happened. Glass fragments - big, small, and smaller - litter the floor in a staggering display to your mistake. You’re at the center of the mess, crouched down to carefully pick up the larger shards. Barefoot.

“Be careful. Stay right there.” He disappears from the door to grab his shoes.

God, you feel awful. There’s something so entirely horrendous about breaking a glass object like this. It’s not easy to clean up, for one. You’d have to check under the cabinets and counters to make sure you got all the big pieces, and then sweep the smaller pieces up with a broom, and then vacuum thoroughly to make sure you got it all. And secondly, you never get all the pieces, no matter how thorough you are. Which means the hazard lingers for a while after. It’s a small mistake that has lasting consequences that all add up to make you feel like shit right now.

Sharp, shimmering edges of glass rest against your skin, threatening to dig in if you’re the slightest bit too careless. It glistens across the floor like a stunning array of gems on white tile, catching the glow of the overhead light and refracting it back to you. Zayne’s work shoes crunch over the fragments like thin ice as he carefully makes his way to you. His hands support you by your elbows as you stand. He transfers your small collection to his hands and goes to throw them away. Next to the trash can is a broom and dustpan.

You’re not really sure when it happened. Somehow, between the few seconds it took for Zayne to cross the kitchen and throw the chunks away, and him returning with the broom in hand, you cut yourself. You don’t feel the sting, but you do see the blood on the floor. Zayne quickly props the broom against the counter and sweeps you into his arms, carrying you all the way to the bathroom. He sets you on the countertop and sits on the lid of the toilet to check your feet, which, sure enough, are bleeding.

“Did you step in the glass?” His voice is sharp, straight to the point. He gently dabs a wad of tissue over the cut on your big toe that just seems to keep welling up with more blood, growing into a dark red bead that gets soaked up just before it gets the chance to succumb to gravity. You hiss when something sharp pokes into you at the site. “You have a piece of glass in your foot. Be still.”

“I must have, but I don’t know when…” you answer the mostly-redundant question. Your stomach sinks deeper and deeper with every second. If you didn’t feel like shit before, you definitely do now. You hiss again as he uses his thumb, wrapped in tissue, to pry out the small piece of glass. He wraps it in the spent tissue and grabs a fresh wad to hold tightly to the cut.

“Are you hurt anywhere else?”

He keeps a hold on your one foot while lifting your other one by the ankle to see the bottom. There’s a trail of blood sliding down to your heel from the middle of your foot. He sighs softly, taking in the damage.

“I’m sorry,” you meekly apologize.

He lifts the tissue away to check the bleeding. It’s slowed considerably, allowing him to focus on the other injury you’ve sustained.

You love Zayne, with every ounce your afflicted heart can give, but when he’s this quiet, snapping into his doctor mode, you can’t help but feel like you’ve royally fucked up. “I can put on some shoes and help you pick up the pieces,” you offer.

He shakes his head slightly, gently feeling for any embedded glass in your skin. He, thankfully, doesn’t find any. “I can take care of it,” he dismisses.

And your stomach hits rock bottom with a quiet fwump, weighed down by the guilt of your stupid accident.

Needing to find something to do to distract yourself, you turn your upper body to open th medicine cabinet and retrieve the box of bandaids on the bottom shelf. They’re covered in fun designs and colors, but they don’t bring the same joy right now as they normally would when you use one to cover up a paper cut. You pick out a few of the bigger ones, unsure what shapes he’d need.

He takes a long, fat one and removes the paper tabs, wrapping it securely around your toe. He rests that foot on his thigh as he turns to the other one. He takes a square bandage this time, and sticks it to the bottom of your foot.

“I’m sorry,” you say again.

His hands rest on the back of your ankles, keeping your feet on his thighs as he looks up at you. “You’ve already apologized.”

“I know, I just… Are you mad at me?”

“For breaking a glass?”

“For getting hurt.”

His thumbs rub mindlessly over the lateral malleolus of your ankles. “No, I’m not angry,” he says softly. “I was worried. If the glass went deeper into your skin, you’d need to go to the hospital to have it removed. There wouldn’t be anything I could do for it here.”

You stare at the box of bandaids in your lap, putting away the ones he didn’t end up using. One of his hands slides up your calf to rest just under the crook of your knee. Soft lips press against your knee.

“Look at me, my love.”

You hesitantly meet his eyes.

He offers you a soft smile. Dr. Zayne has been replaced once more by boyfriend Zayne. “I forgive you for breaking the glass, and for getting hurt. I only ask that you be more careful next time you break something.” He squeezes the meat of your calf affectionately, massaging the strong muscles underneath as he presses another sweet kiss to your leg. His other hand massages your ankle, tracing shapes up and down your Achilles tendon.

You set the box aside. The tension in your chest eases up as you run a hand through his hair. Getting so upset over this is so stupid, you know that. There’s just something so demeaning about breaking not just a drinking glass, but something of his. He looks up at you with something that kills the apology bubbling up your throat. You brush his bangs out of his eyes and say instead, “I’ll be more careful next time.”

“I know you will.”

He presses a final kiss to your other knee before slipping your feet from his lap. He stands and throws away the bloody tissues in the small trash can. You wrap your arms around his neck as he picks you up, holding on as he carries you to the living room couch. “Stay here. I’ll clean up.”

You grab his sleeve, stopping him before he can get far. You pull him until he’s leaning over you, with one hand supporting himself against the back of the couch and a raised eyebrow that silently asks what you’re doing. You lean up to kiss him softly, trying to pour all your gratitude and love for him into the kiss. “Thank you,” you murmur when you pull away. “I love you.”

He smiles and kisses your forehead. “I love you, too.”

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @huen1ngk41 @armycaratlover @cheesemachine44

[goodfish-bowl]

Hounds on Your Tail

Danny Phantom x Percy Jackson

Masterpost

DP Crossover Angst Week Day 3 - Bleeding out in an Alley Way

Warnings: Minor Gore, descriptions of blood, serious injury, blood loss

Notes: God I wrote this whole thing in less than 2 days. Speedrun time, I guess. Apologies for any errors as a result. It wanted to be longer than intended.

Word Count: 4,505

AO3 Link

Whoever the monsters were chasing after, they were after them with a single-minded focus to be envious of. Not even the demigods on their tails were enough to distract them. It was a group of half a dozen hellhounds, and three harpies, all dead set on chasing the same thing. And whoever they were chasing, was giving them one hell of a chase. 

Percy had only noticed the commotion because he was in the city visiting his mom, and had quickly decided to call for backup as fast as he could. Ms. O’Leary had managed to drag over both Nico and Will, both fully equipped. Annabeth had been tagging along on his visit. She was currently trying to figure out where the monsters and who they were chasing were headed. After the fifth double-back, it was clear that the person running was just trying to shake off the monsters, and possibly the group of demigods too. Percy was trying to at least spot who the monsters were chasing but had yet to catch sight of anything other than a beaten, red sneaker around a corner. 

Will had managed to get a lucky shot in, killing a harpy with one of his arrows, and both Percy and Nico had each gotten a hellhound. Sometime between when the group of demigods had first spotted the monsters and now, a hellhound and a harpy had both vanished. Percy wondered if whoever they were chasing had managed to kill both monsters or if they merely had broken off from the rest of the group. But Percy was getting just a bit tired of playing chase throughout all of New York City, he had no doubt that the monsters’ target was beginning to flag too. 

The remaining four monsters quickly darted around the latest alley detour their unfortunate prey had bolted into. Percy skidded to a halt, suddenly having three hellhounds cornered in a dead-end alley, pinned against a brick wall. The harpy angrily screeched and flew over the wall to continue the chase. Between the four of them, the hell hounds didn’t stand a chance, quickly becoming piles of yellow dust. From the other side of the wall, the harpy screeched again, followed by cries of pain and fighting. 

“Shit! How did they get to the other side of the wall?” Percy cursed, before turning to Annabeth. 

Percy didn’t have to say a thing, only crouch down. Annabeth came at him in a dead sprint. It was timed perfectly, as she stepped up onto his clasped hands and he flung her to the top of the wall, pulling herself up the rest of the way. Nico took hold of Will and vanished into the shadows of the alley. 

Percy was left alone on the opposite side of the alley. Luckily for him, there was a pipe clinging to the bricks of one of the buildings. It had just enough foothold for him to quickly climb up it and perch on top of the brick wall. Below, Will was hunched over a small figure leaning against the bricks, with Annabeth standing to the side, and Nico farther back. Percy jumped down. 

Percy winced, finally getting a glimpse at the person the monsters had been chasing for the past hour, possibly longer before he and Annabeth had noticed. It was a teenage boy with a mess and thick, black hair on his head. Blood seeped heavily from his stomach, and Percy recognized the slash of harpy claws. Will was trying to get the teen to stop clutching his stomach so he could at least check the wound. The boy’s jeans looked like they had been torn up even more from the hellhounds, with two large bite marks visible on his legs. There was blood smeared on the bricks he was leaning against, suggesting another wound on his back. 

“No! I’ll be fine, you have to leave before they come back!” The teen pleaded. 

“I told you, we’ll be fine! We killed the ones who were chasing you. It’s you I’m more worried about. You’re practically bleeding out in this alley! I need to make that harpy didn’t gut you!” Will argued back. 

“You really should let him at least check, he won’t stop until you let him,” Nico added. 

Percy frowned, not liking the situation one bit. He turned to Annabeth, who was glancing between their mystery teen-likely-demigod, and the top of the wall. 

“What is it, Wise Girl?”

“I’m trying to figure out how he managed to get over that wall before the harpy could fly over.”

“There was a pipe I used to get over. He could’ve done that,” Percy offered. 

“Not with two chunks taken out of his legs. I’m surprised he even managed to run after taking damage like that,” Annabeth refuted.

Percy winced, “Yeah, he certainly looks like he’s had a pack of hellhounds on his tail for over an hour.”

“Percy!” Will called out, and he snapped to attention. 

Will had gathered the bleeding boy into his arms, finally revealing a mix of wounds across his back from both claws and talons. 

“Nico and I are taking him back to camp! The slash on his stomach is too deep, I need to treat him there,” Will rushed. 

“Got it,” Percy nodded. “Annabeth and I will meet you back at camp.”

“No,” the teen protested, but was unable to fight back, seeming to be getting weaker by the second. Will’s clothes were slowly being soaked with blood. 

“Hurry,” Nico said. 

Will nodded and the three vanished into the shadows. 

“Percy,” Annabeth called out, walking over and crouching down where the teen had been leaning against the wall. “Is it just me, or is there something off about his blood?”

Percy crouched down to get a closer look, and sure enough, there were the smallest flecks of green of all things in the blood. He didn’t like that one bit. Those monsters had to be after that teen for some reason or another, but Percy had never heard of a demigod with green flecks in their blood either. Whatever it was, the monsters really wanted him dead. 

“We should hurry back to camp,” Percy decided. 

“Yeah.”

And the two took off. 

Danny officially banned himself from the big cities, especially places as crowded as New York City. With Jazz off at college and his leash pulled tight around his parents, there was no way he was getting out of not going to their latest ghost-hunter convention. No excuses had worked, and he had tried everything from faking illness to group projects. Danny had been forcibly dragged from Illinois to NYC in the GAV. Sam and Tucker were keeping a close eye on the portal for him at the very least, and he was sure he could fly back within the day if they got overwhelmed. 

Turns out, his parents had misinterpreted ‘ghostbuster’ for ‘ghost hunter’, and ended up dragging him to a comic con instead. That was cool, and his parents were thought to be cosplayers for all of 10 minutes before security refused to let them through due to their weapons. His parents still had a presentation to do, even if people just thought they were method acting, so Danny got sent back with an armload full of weapons to dump back in the GAV. Unfortunately for him, one went off, thoroughly shorting out his powers. Danny wasn’t going to let that bother him though. He had intended to go back inside and enjoy the con, avoiding his parents the entire while, He didn’t need powers for that. 

But then the first dog monster appeared. 

Danny had thought it was a ghost at first, and with his powers shorted out, he couldn’t necessarily rely on his ghost sense. With no powers and a very aggressive possibly-a-ghost dog on his heels, Danny took off running. Before he knew it, there was a whole pack of them, literally nipping at his heels, and doing their best to tear him to shreds. The bird ladies, (harpies if he remembered correctly), joined in not long after, adding in a much harder ‘dodging’ section to the chase. He thought it was weird no one was freaking out about the dogs of the harpies, but maybe New York was just like that?

Danny knew there were people on his heels too, but he didn’t have time to stop and see if they were also hostile or not. Glancing back had earned him harpy claws to the back. Even worse, the more he bled, the more excited his pursuers seemed to get, trying even harder to tear him to shreds. The pot shots he had managed to take at the dogs and harpies were only towards the end, when the steady hum of his powers, as unreliable as they were, started to return. More of them vanished as the chase went on, and Danny was just going to assume he lost them. He had managed to hit one of each, barely catching them collapse into a yellow powder before accidentally cornering himself in an alley. 

Danny had run into the bricks first, before finally able to slip through them with intangibility. He only had a moment to breathe before the harpy flew over the wall and tackled Danny to the ground, sinking its talons into his gut. He screamed and fired off another desperate ectoblast that missed by a wide margin. 

Danny got to meet his second group of pursuers as two people emerged from the shadows in the alley. One had immediately turned into nothing more than a black blur to Danny’s eyes, forcing the harpy off of him. He had tried to stand up to face the new possible threat, but blood loss forced Danny against the brick wall behind him, sliding down it and likely tearing open the wounds on his back even further. His vision blurred, and Danny was only able to make out golden blonde hair and a bright orange t-shirt approaching him. 

Danny cried out, clutching his stomach while trying to force himself back to his feet. The blonde forced themself between Danny and the view of the fight behind him. There was an impact to his left, and Danny was able to make out another person-shaped blur, also blonde with an orange shirt, who took off to help with the fight. 

“Hey!” The one in front of him tried to get his attention, but he could barely make out the rest of what they said. His head was feeling uncomfortably light. 

Danny struggled for a moment and got his vision to barely focus, but he was able to make out that the person in front of him was a guy and seemed really concerned. 

“Hey, I need you to let me see your wound. I’m a medic, I can help,” the guy demanded. 

Danny immediately recoiled. 

“No! I’ll be fine, you have to leave before they come back!” Danny didn’t want anyone here if there were more possibly-ghosts on his tail. He couldn’t use his powers around other people!

“I told you, we’ll be fine! We killed the ones who were chasing you. It’s you I’m more worried about. You’re practically bleeding out in this alley! I need to make sure that that harpy didn’t gut you!” The medic argued back. 

“You really should let him at least check, he won’t stop until you let him,” a second voice butted in. He sounded like he was underwater. 

The blonde guy said something else, but Danny couldn’t tell what. There was suddenly a hand on his wrist and he attempted to struggle, but the stranger had a vice grip. He forced Danny’s arm away from his stomach, then said something else. It… probably… hopefully looked a lot worse than it really was. Danny had taken hard hits before and still got up. He had to get away. 

Danny felt the hands on him re-adjust and tried to struggle again, but he felt so heavy. He grit his teeth and thrashed as best as he could, but his limbs barely responded. He could feel how absolutely soaked his clothing was though. He was being picked up and the entire world tilted around him. The second person approached, nothing more than a dark blob in Danny’s vision. 

His jumbled senses refused to give him anything else before darkness crept in in more ways than one, and Danny passed out. 

Danny woke up to acute, stinging pain, taking in a sharp breath that caused him to choke. His vision swam in white while he practically hacked out a lung. In less than a second, there was a supportive hand on his back practically propping him up, before slowly lowering him once again. Danny blinked the light out of his eyes, trying to see where he had ended up this time. 

Well, good news, it wasn’t a government facility. Bad news, Danny appeared to be in an infirmary of some kind. The wood interior betrayed it as some sort of cabin, despite its purpose. Danny winced at the familiar sensation of pulling on healing wounds. 

“Sorry, but you might not want to move too much just yet,” a voice apologized. 

Danny snapped to the person standing over him. An older teen with golden blond hair, tanned skin, and light blue eyes. He was definitely familiar, and Danny wondered if this was the same guy from the alley. 

“I just finished with your stitches not that long ago, but now that you’re awake, we can get some ambrosia into you to finish healing the rest of your injuries,” the guy continued. “But you should probably still take it easy for a while.”

Danny just blinked, openly staring at the guy giving him medical advice. He had no idea what ambrosia was. Also stitches, while normally a good thing, was a bad thing for Danny. He was going to end up healing, or burning through them. He prodded just the slightest bit at his core… and good, his powers were back. Which now left his other issue. His caretaker had left his side to go retrieve something from one of the cabinets. 

“Not that I don’t appreciate the medical care, but who are you? And also where am I?” Danny asked. 

The older teen blinked, turning back to Danny. “Oh right! Sorry, guess we forgot introductions due to the circumstances. I’m Will Solace, head of the Apollo Cabin. You’re currently at Camp Half-Blood right now.”

Danny stared at Will, rotating the names in his head. ‘Half-blood’, huh? That certainly said something, but Danny didn’t know what. He wondered if it was a joke of some kind. 

“I’m Danny,” he introduced himself, just giving his first name. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Danny. I’m sure the others are going to be eager to meet you. It’s not often that someone can outrun a group of hellhounds and harpies for that long!” Will praised. 

Danny mouthed the word ‘hellhounds’ in light confusion. Well, at least he got confirmation that other people knew about the dog monsters and bird ladies. He could also rule them out of being ghosts, since Danny had never encountered a ghost that turned into dust after being defeated. 

Will walked back over and placed a small, parchment paper-covered square in his hand. Danny opened it, revealing something that looked like a small lemon square. He sniffed it, getting a citrusy and spiced scent. Weird combination, but a snack was a snack.  

“I know I gave you a whole square but-” Will started, only to yelp as Danny popped the whole square in his mouth without hesitation. 

It tasted pretty close to how it smelt, but had an odd texture, like fudge instead of a lemon bar, but also uncomfortably chewy. It kind of reminded him of ectoplasm in the strong citrus flavor, but lemon instead of lime. The spices were really warm in his mouth like hot cinnamon, instead of the cool tingly flavor he kinda liked from ectoplasm. 

“You weren’t supposed to eat the whole thing!” Will exclaimed, and Danny swallowed. 

Will was on Danny in an instant, checking his temperature with the back of his head. Apparently, he didn’t like what he felt and stuck a thermometer into Danny’s mouth. The thermometer beeped after a moment, and Will snatched it, checking the numbers. His legs and back itched, but Danny couldn’t scratch at them due to his stomach injury, which also itched. 

“Well, you’re not going to burst into flames at least. You’re not even heating up, if anything you’re hypothermic,” Will announced.  

It took him a moment to realize why Will was freaking out, but Danny figured it out eventually. If the terrible lemon square was like ectoplasm, then it was very much not intended for normal consumption without consequences. Will’s words caught up to him then. 

“Wait? Flames?” Danny asked, bewildered. 

“Ambrosia, the food of the gods, can cause normal people to burst into flames. For people like us, eating too much can cause some pretty bad fevers and internal damage,” Will explained. 

That made sense if it was like ectoplasm. But- “What do you mean ‘people like us’?”

Will’s face scrunched up. “Well, um. I’ve only had to give this talk a few times. I’m not normally the one to do it but…” Will made eye contact with Danny. “What do you know about Greek mythology?”

The question seemed a bit left-field to Danny. “A decent amount, I think.” There were ghosts that resembled Greek myths, usually closer to Pandora’s place. 

“Well, it’s not as mythological as it may seem. Everything from monsters, as I’m sure you're familiar with by now, to the gods themselves is very real,” Will said like it was supposed to be some sort of big revelation. 

Danny processed the information. So the ‘hellhounds’, as Will called them, were Greek monsters, not ghosts. Didn’t like that. He liked that they had decided he was a chew toy even less. 

“Okay… and? That revelation didn’t answer the question.”

This time, it was Will’s turn to look gobsmacked for a moment before continuing. “Well, the gods didn’t go anywhere and still exist in modern times. And sometimes they come down and… interact with mortals,” Will added hesitantly. 

Danny remained silent. He still didn’t get where the blonde was going with this. He was very tempted to start picking at the stitches in his stomach. 

Will seemed to give up with whatever subtly he had been attempting. “Demigods. We’re demigods. You, me, most people at this camp.”

“Oh.”

Danny knit his brows together, crossing his arms and frowning, thinking it over. He wasn’t a demigod, that’s for sure. He wasn’t half-god, but half-ghost. Sure, Danny knew there were some pretty terrifying spirits in the Ghost Zone who could easily be mistaken for gods, so it was possible there was a mix-up with him here too. 

“After the monsters and the fact that you didn’t burst into flames after eating the ambrosia, yeah, that pretty much confirms you’re a demigod,” Will said. 

Danny did not want to be involved in whatever this mess was. He had enough problems in Amity Park. 

“Okay, cool. So, um. I’m a demigod, great. What am I supposed to do with that information?” Danny asked. He wanted to leave. His parents would notice eventually he had gone missing sooner or later. 

“Well, Camp Half-Blood exists as a sort of ‘safe spot’, and also a training ground. Monsters can’t get in here. It’s technically a summer camp, but we have campers who stay here both seasonally and year-round. It’s considered really dangerous to be all on your own. You’re probably the oldest new camper we’ve had in a while. Most tend to make their way here between 10 to 12 years old.”

“Do I have to come here?” 

Danny did not want to be forced to attend demigod camp. Being out of Amity Park for a week was terrible, but an entire summer? Yeah, no way. 

Will frowned. “Not… really, but-”

The door to the cabin opened, and another older teenager walked in. Tall, dark hair and sea green eyes. Danny didn’t recognize him at all.

“Hey, Will!” The new guy greeted, before noticing Danny stare at him. “Cool, you’re awake. Did Will give you the whole ‘congrats, you’re a demigod’ speech yet?”

“Percy,” Will practically whined. “I can’t believe you left that to me, but yeah, I did.” Will looked back at Danny. “Danny, this is Percy Jackson, he was part of the group who found you and brought you here. Percy, this is Danny,” Will introduced. 

Danny still didn’t recognize Percy, but he acknowledged that bleeding out on the ground wasn’t especially good for recall. 

“Thanks for the save. I like not being turned into bird food.”

Percy snorted a laugh and Will sighed. “No problem. I didn’t do much. The main people you have to thank is Will here and Nico, wherever he’s at.”

“Probably sleeping,” Will hummed in thought. 

“Probably,” Percy agreed. “By the way Danny, do you have any idea who your godly parent might be? A few of us like to make friendly bets when we get a new kid. I’ve got money on Hermes.”

Danny didn’t get a chance before Will butted back in. 

“Percy, he’s been up just long enough for me to get some ambrosia in him. I literally just explained the whole ‘demigod’ thing,” Will scolded. 

Percy gave a sheepish grin. “Sorry. So, what’d the ambrosia taste like? I know it throws a lot of people off when they first try some,” Percy asked, directing the question towards Danny. 

“Like a lemon bar someone decided to melt an entire bag of red hots in,” Danny described. “So, bad.” 

Both Percy and Will blinked, before Percy snorted, “That’s a new one.”

“It’s not supposed to taste bad. It usually tastes like something you really like,” Will explained. 

“Darn, I guess,” Danny shrugged. “Anyways, I do have to leave.”

“Leave? You’re not sticking around?” Percy asked, surprised. 

Danny shook his head. “Nope. I’m only in New York for a convention with my parents. They’ll probably notice I’m missing sooner or later,” Danny answered truthfully. 

Percy seemed to think about something before asking, “Are you healed up enough to at least get a tour? I understand if you have to go, but it’d probably be a good idea to at least get your hands on a weapon just in case you get attacked again.”

That, Danny could agree to. He wiggled a bitin his bed a bit, noticing that the itching had finally subsided. His stomach was still a bit sore, but other than that, and the stitches that sorely needed to be removed, he was fine. 

“Sure,” Danny said, sitting up and throwing his legs over the side. 

Will seemed dumbfounded but wasn’t able to get the words out before Percy declared, “Neat. Then let’s go!”

And Danny managed to escape the infirmary. 

Percy decided he liked Danny. He was laid back and friendly enough, giving just as much snark as he got. From what he had heard, a lot of new campers tended to freak out for at least an hour, but Danny took it all in stride, more exasperated than shocked. It was a little odd, but Percy brushed it off as just part of Danny’s personality. It wasn’t a bad trait to have. 

Percy made sure to give a decent tour as they made their way to the weapons shed. He asked questions and answered some, learning that Danny was originally from a place called Amity Park in Illinois. His parents were here for the Comic Con, and Danny got dragged along. He said he had always been quick on his feet. Percy really hoped Danny would come back for the summer, even if he couldn't stay now. He told Danny all the demigod basics, from what ‘claiming’ was, how the camp was laid out, and even some of the activities they participated in when there were more people around. 

From the weapons shed, Danny ended up picking a bronze short sword and was given a sheath to go with it. He told Percy that he knew how to use it just a bit from a couple of martial arts classes. He told Danny to come back and he could personally teach him how to sword fight like a pro. 

But throughout the whole tour, Percy picked up on the nonchalance Danny seemed to have, more like he was a tourist instead of someone who had finally found a place to stay. He definitely wasn’t planning on coming back, but he might anyway. Percy knew personally very well that plans rarely went according to plan. They got plenty of attention while walking around, since news of Danny’s chase had already managed to spread throughout the camp. There were some jeers and encouragement from people who tried to recruit him for Capture the Flag. Percy claimed he already called dibs. Danny just laughed. 

They were somewhere near the pavilion when it happened. 

Percy had just managed to convince Danny to at least stick around for dinner. A bright symbol appeared over Danny’s head, causing everyone who had been gathering to pause. Percy recognized the symbol, but never over anyone’s head in a claiming. It wasn’t a symbol that should even be possible to appear.

The air in camp changed immediately, and Danny noticed just as fast. His stance changed from lax into defensive. He knew how to fight a lot better than he let on, or perhaps it was just instinct. Percy hoped it was instinct. 

“What’s that? What’s going on?” Danny practically demanded. 

“You’ve been claimed,” Percy stated, more in horror than awe. 

“Claimed? By who?” Danny was just as confused as everyone else seemed to be. 

But Danny didn’t understand, he didn’t know. It was impossible, it was catastrophic, even. Danny didn’t realize just how bad this was.

“Son of Cronos,” someone hissed. 

Danny finally seemed to get the memo then, his facial expression going from confusion, to shock, to realization, and then to irritation of all things.

“Ancients, of course he did,” Danny growled under his breath. 

Percy had to act fast, he had to- his hand slipped right through Danny’s wrist, who leaped back out of reach at the same time Percy moved.

“Yeah, I’m leaving now,” Danny said. “Thanks for the sword and the tour, but I gotta go.”

“Wait!” Percy called out, jumping towards Danny again. 

He vanished. No flash, no sound, just gone, leaving only footprints behind. 

Percy cursed under his breath in a thorough mix of both Greek and Latin. He took a glance towards the head table, where Mr. D and Chiron were both also staring. Chiron looked like he had just aged 40 years, and Mr. D looked about ready to break his sobriety with something much stronger than wine and deeply, deeply exhausted. 

Yeah, this was beyond bad. 

[toxycodone]

Monster Fucker's Journal : Introduction

ship. laios touden x reader, reader x various monsters

chapter content: nsfw, masturbation + desc of monster sexual organs. reader is gender neutral but there is references to a clit and getting wet.

read on ao3 | click here for masterlist | next chapter (coming soon!)

Holding the wooden bowl up to your lips, you take the last sip of the broth, savoring the taste on your tongue.

Goddamn. Monster food is tasty. Never in your life did you think you'd be trying Giant Scorpion hot pot, but you're thanking every deity watching from above you're now able to say you tried it.

This is much better than Laios's odd first attempt at cooking these creatures. Despite his amassment of knowledge, cooking does not seem to be one of them.

Despite Marcille's claims of food poisoning and incessant whining, you still decided to give the meal Senshi prepared a taste, and you're glad you did. The flavor was rich, yet earthy...reminding you of the nice soup served at that tavern on the surface.

But this one was better. Much better. It's actually made from monsters! How fascinating!

Laios Touden thought he was the only monster lover around, often regarding himself as an outcast. That is, until he met you. You started out as a usual recruit--someone experienced enough to hold their own but green enough to not punish his wallet. The longer you spent alongside the blonde, the more his interests started to grow on you. The most prominent being monsters.

He seemed to grow quite fond of you as well, sharing his thoughts and theories with you in the little amount of spare time you shared during rest hours and between missions. Listening to him speak about the creatures always lifted the burden of the day off your shoulders. Laios is always so passionate when you get him going. His eyes glimmer with interest, tone so full of ardent affection--you can't help but watch with a lovesick grin.

You wonder if he could feel the same type of way for a person. That person hopefully being you.

Nearby, Laios sits on his bedroll. His large hands slap against the broad midriff of his armor, cauisng the sound of hollow metal to resonate in your ears. It snaps you out of your thoughts.

"That was good!"

His face is curled into a smile, a light flush on his face. You take a moment to appreciate the view. From the corner of your eye, you spot Chilchuck peering at you with a raised brow. Your eyes dart away, focusing elsewhere.

There's a nudge at your shoulder.

"Hey." Laios regards you with wide, curious smile. "How'd you like it? Good, right?"

You nod your head, then explain how different--yet delicious, the food was. In the back of your mind, you always wondered how monsters tasted, or hell, if they were even edible. Today, you can mark that off your bucket list.

His smile spreads from ear to ear now. If anything could radiate pure sunshine, it would be this man.

"Glad to hear it! You know..." He pulls a notebook from below the collar of his armor. It's comical enough to make you snort lightly. "I should take some notes."

Laios begins to scribble down what he's learned so far about the anatomy of walking mushrooms, giant scorpions, and of course--how to prepare them for consumption.

That journal...

Its cover is frayed, edges worn from overuse. There's a plethora of dog eared pages that sport tears and colorful tabs alike. Each page is covered top to bottom in notes you've been dying to read.

Laios promised a while ago let you take a look at it. However, he always seems to be too busy writing to ever give you the chance. Just looking at it makes you sigh. Oh, how you'd kill to get a peek into his mind. You're sure there's quite a bit of knowledge to be found perusing those pages.

The scribbling stops. The man shuts his book, before setting it back into its resting place inside its armor.

"Well, we should check out the path ahead. The first floor might not be too dangerous, but one should always take dungeon crawling seriously." Laios stands up, stretching a bit. The other party members move with him, but he holds out a hand.

"You guys stay here. Let your food disgest. It shouldn't take too long for me to check the path ahead."

The smile on his face is gentle, genuine. You don't understand how others have grown to ostracize the man. He's the most caring person you've met since arriving on the island.

Chilchuck and Marcille seem more relieved than anything. The two gorged themselves on monster food, so the rest is likely well needed. That speaks especially for the elf. Her stamina isn't the best, so traversing the dungeon right away on a full stomach seems like a recipe for disaster. Senshi gives a gentle nod and moves instead to pack his cooking supplies.

Laios picks up his sword and moves to the exit. You stand up too now, grabbing your things and following after him.

"Hm?" Laios, unsuspecting of your presence, is surprised. "Don't you want to stay with the others? I can handle this alone."

You shake your head. Despite his claims, you're not letting Laios venture out by himself. Plus, what if he spots a cool monster? If you can't peek at his journal, then you're gonna gather just as much firsthand experience as he has.

And the blonde doesn't fight you on the topic. Unbeknownst to you, your presence is always a welcome one to him. You both venture into the corridor leading to the second floor.

No matter how much time passes, it's always difficult to get used to the dim lighting within the dungeon. Gentle torchlight illuminates your path, which you're thankful for, but also a bit miffed about. Couldn't they have picked something larger? Brighter? If you were the Dungeon Lord, you would've replaced them with something different by now.

Wait...who the hell is lighting all those things in the first place?

Wait. Not important.

Instead, you focus on following in Laios's heavy footsteps. His leather boots tread lightly on the stone floor, barely echoing along the similarly crafted walls. There's a little tinkering noise from his breastplate, which you can only assume is the journal moving around in his armor. Thank goodness you're on a higher floor. That noise would be a dead giveaway for a monster.

This is probably the least dangerous hallway in the dungeon, no traps or other dangers to be found beside the occasional slime or walking mushroom. However, your party leader always feels the need to tread safely.

The familiar stale air surrounds your senses. To others, it's sickening. To you, it's homey. You're in your element now.

Laios halts, almost causing you to bump into him. Before you can ask a question, he turns to face you.

"I'm gonna head down the staircase real quick, then our little expedition should be over."

You nod. It's a cramped space. There's no need for you to both go down. If he needs any backup, you'll only be a shout away.

Before descending, he reaches in his armor, then pulls out the journal. Laios rests it in your hands.

"Can you take care of this?" He asks, almost bashfully. "I don't wanna make too much noise going down to the second floor. Or risk getting it damaged if a monster is waiting by the entrance..."

God, his expression is cute. He cases so much about this personal journal...why is he so adorable? Of course you'll protect it.

With an expression of gratitude, Laios takes off down the staircase, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

Its a bit of a bummer. You've been down this corridor without any sight of a monster. Hell, the entire first floor had more action. What's the deal with this place...?

Then, you're reminded of the book in your hand.

Now, you know you should be keeping a watchful eye for monsters and listening out for a distress call from Laios...but things have been so boring. There's no harm in a little light reading, right? Just while you're on your lonesome…

You thumb through the pages, starting off at his first real notes on monsters. First is walking mushrooms. You can tell these don’t interest him too much, the notes are lacking. Which is unsurprising. Laios tends to enjoy more complicated monsters. These bumbling creatures have never seemed to truly catch his interest like others. There appears to be a few notes about him theorizing their anatomy–wondering if they reproduce via spores and if said spores are dangerous. It’s interesting to think about in itself. Maybe these monsters could actually be scary if given those attributes. Laios might be onto something here.

The next page is about slimes. Some of the ink is smudged and weathered due to age. However, there’s new notes on the page in fresh ink. They document Senshi’s explanation of slime anatomy and how to cook them. There’s simple fun facts that Laios has shared with you thrice before, and the reminder makes you smile. Most of your reading is spent reminiscing on these factoids, before you hit the section titled “Reproduction”. 

It’s childish, but heat rises to your face as you press on.

The things about slimes seem to be lacking in solid truth. It’s mainly just Laios’s personal theories of their breeding habits. Asexual reproducing is one. Then there’s something about an exchange of genetic material between slimes. Apparently, Laios once found what appeared to be slime eggs in the remains of a heated bathhouse. It appears they search for a place warm and damp to lay their eggs. They likely have some sort of appendage used to lay their eggs in a safe place like this, similar to a snail.

Another note follows, something you wonder if Laios wanted to keep private?

‘What if they lay their eggs in live hosts?’

The thought makes you rub your thighs together. This is wrong. Weird. You should not feel wet at the thought of this. But you persist, letting a hand climb under your waistband. What Laios doesn’t know won’t hurt him.

‘It would explain their behavior. Slimes would grow docile as they look for a host to incubate their eggs. Ideal places to lay are rare in the dungeon, but other creatures (including adventurers), are plenty…”

Your fingers circle over your clit. You knew you liked monsters, but not to this extent…the idea of this being odd steadily starts to fade as you stroke yourself. It’s been so long since you’ve had a proper orgasm. Your body is desperate for anything at this point.

‘They likely function similar to other monsters that accommodate their prey (i.e.: “man eating” plants). Slime secretions have been used as various forms of lubrication. Perhaps during their breeding season, they contain elements that heighten arousal. That would inspire potential vessels to be more willing to their intrusion.’

It’s enthralling. The idea of a creature helping you reach a peak of ecstasy you never considered before. Your movements pick up the pace as you read on, driving you closer and closer to orgasm. As much as you wish you could make noise, you’d rather be caught dead than let Laios witness you getting off to his journal.

Would the creature treat you gently? Teasing you before eventually coaxing an intense orgasm out of you? Or would it relentlessly pound away, trying to stretch you out to accommodate its eggs and leave you a sloppy mess? 

You haven't felt this hot in a long time. It’s embarrassing how quickly you’re about to cum in your pants over something so vile.

Maybe it would cover your whole body in secretions, making your body feel fuzzy with delight, before toying with your clit. Sucking, teasing, running over the flesh until–

A wet, sticky drop lands on your head.

You’d be terribly grossed out if the dungeon hadn’t jaded you already. If anything, you’re more shocked to be snapped out of your lust induced haze. Your peer up at the ceiling to be greeted by an all too familiar monster.

This slime isn't like the one that attacked Marcille earlier at all. It's larger. And an odd color. Why is it pink....?

Your thoughts linger to Laios's journal. Didn't he make a note about this? 

‘During certain times become more docile and take on a pinkish hues. It’s theorized this may be due to a breeding season. It is unclear how slimes reproduce.’

You have an idea. 

A gross, unorthodox one. But it’s an idea nonetheless.

You have to coax the slime down here. You jump up, then wave at it, but the creature doesn’t seem to notice, causing you sigh out in frustration.

Another droplet lands on your head. You grit your teeth. This is your one chance to accomplish your newfound dream. And you’re not gonna let it go to waste. But how the hell are you gonna get this thing down without startling it into attacking you?

Wait...what exactly did that dwarf say? Slimes are attracted to noise, right? They can see your exhale, and attack when you exhale....

So you shout.

"LAIOS!"

And the slime drops from the ceiling, landing on your foot.

Just as planned, your knight in scathed, dull armor comes rushing down the hall, calling your name.

"Are you alri--?" Laios's golden eyes widen when he spots the slime. His weapon is unsheathed in a quick movement, ready to defend you against the monster with Senshi's prior slaying instructions fresh on his mind.

"Wait!"

Before Laios can bring his blade down on the creature, you hold out your hand. He ceases, confusion settling on his features.

"It's not harming me. I-if it wanted to kill me, it would've gone for my head to suffocate me, right?"

Rationalizing this seems impossible. But if anyone were to listen to your desire to fuck monsters, it had to be Laios Touden. So you're putting all your faith in him now. You've yet to judge him, so you hope he holds the same regard for you.

"I...guess." The sword in his hands lowers ever so slightly. It scrapes a shallow mark in the ground as the man steps closer. His head tilts to the side, brows furrowing as he studies the situation at hand. "So you don't want me to kill it?"

You're certain Laios will just take this as you having a healthy respect for monsters, then shoo it away to forgo violence. It takes a lot of mental fortitude, but you swallow the lump in your throat and continue.

"It's interesting behavior....you know, it is breeding season. Which is why they're more active as of late."

The slime starts to creep up your pant leg. Something appendage-like sticks out from its front, prodding at your calves and inner thighs as it makes it's way further.

Your breath catches in your throat. This is really happening.

Laios seems to notice what's going on. A hint of pink tints his pale cheeks, hands making their way to raise his sword once more.

"Laios."

He ceases his movements once more. And you seize your chance.

"Why don't we just let this happen?"

a/n. hey!! if you made it to the end thanks for reading <3 I'm really excited for this series and I hope you enjoyed it!

please consider liking/reblogging/leaving a comment *prayer hands emojis* engagement feeds me (along with other writers! so pls show some love <3)

[smartkookiee]

Wounds We Never Show // CH.3 - jjk.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・ ❥pairing: Jungkook x Reader (she/her, afab) ❥genre/rating: 18 +explicit content, enemies to lovers, enemies to friends to lovers, enemies with benefits ❥chapter warnings/tags: Medical Talk/Examination (Disclaimer: I am not an expert in medical things and how hospitals run or work, my knowledge is very limited but I did do a LOT of research for this and I did work for a surgeon for a year so if somethings aren't correct, please don't hold it against me.) Lawyer!Jungkook, Nurse!reader, swearing, mutual hating (I think that's it? Let me know if I missed something) ❥word-count: 6.7k ❥Series Masterlist Previous Chapter ||❥|| Next chapter fic is cross posted to ao3 - send an ask or comment on post to be added to the tag list. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・

Five Years Ago.

“Okay, everyone. I’ve posted your group assignments. Please check for your name and your partner, then move to sit together. You’ll be working with them for the rest of the semester, so get acquainted. We’ll start in 15 minutes.”

A wave of groans echoed through the classroom. The final project was looming, and nobody was thrilled about the mandatory paired assignment.

You opened your laptop, already dreading the thought of being stuck with someone you barely knew for the rest of the semester. You scrolled down the list, but when you saw your name next to Jeon Jungkook, your heart dropped.

Of all people... him?

Your fingers hovered over the trackpad as a handful of memories flooded to the front of your mind—You didn’t know him well but you knew Jungkook as your ex’s best friend, David. You felt your stomach churn with bitterness. The guy who probably laughed along when hearing David’s excuses he would use whenever he cheated on you. You had never actually had a chance to meet him since you and David were so on and off but now you couldn’t escape it.

You glanced up, scanning the room. Jungkook was sitting near the front, oblivious, casually scrolling through his phone. He hadn’t noticed you, but then again, why would he? You sank lower in your chair, hoping he wouldn’t find you. Maybe you could just avoid him until the semester ended. But no such luck.

Jungkook stood up, heading to the professor. After a brief conversation, the professor glanced toward the back of the room and pointed at you. Great. Jungkook thanked him and turned, his eyes locking on you.

You didn’t have the chance to escape before he reached you, a friendly smile plastered across his face as he approached. “Hi,” he greeted, extending a hand. “Y/N, right?”

You stared at his hand for a moment, your mind racing with old anger, but you forced yourself to give him a perfunctory shake. “Yeah,” you replied shortly, barely meeting his eyes.

If Jungkook noticed your cold response, he didn’t show it. He sat down next to you, still smiling, as if this was just a regular introduction between classmates. “I don’t know about you, but I have no idea where to start on this project,” he said with a light chuckle, trying to break the ice.

“Yeah,” you muttered, the tension thickening around you. Your voice was tight, your eyes fixed on your laptop screen. You could feel the weight of the past pressing on your chest, making it harder to breathe.

Jungkook leaned back in his chair, frowning slightly. “It’s nice to talk to someone, though. I don’t really know anyone in this class.”

“Well I know you.” You say it so quietly Jungkook almost doesn’t register that you said something. 

“What?” You glance at him and he has wide doe eyes full of confusion. 

“It’s nothing.” You clear your throat and brush him off. Jungkook was still left caught off guard but let it go for just a moment. Pulling his laptop back out of his bag and getting set up next to you. 

The silent anger was radiating off of you next to him and Jungkook felt suddenly anxious that he had said something wrong, “I’m sorry but did I offend you or something?”

“Nope.” You say , dry and short. 

“Seems like I did something.” 

“You didn’t.”

“Are you sure?”

“No.” You say in a more direct tone, looking him in the eyes this time. 

Jungkook just stared at you in silence for a moment, confused as to what was happening. Had he met you before? He couldn’t think of a time or place where he would have. He didn’t even recognize your name when he looked at the class list. Maybe you had met and so you were upset that he didn’t remember you. 

“I’m sorry for whatever it was I did. I really didn’t mean to offend you.” Jungkook keeps talking but you don’t respond to him. “Can we start over maybe?” 

You huffed, “I don’t think so.” 

He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling an unfamiliar knot of anxiety tightening in his chest. "Okay..." he muttered under his breath, unsure of what to do next. There was an awkward pause, the kind that stretched and lingered uncomfortably.

Jungkook cleared his throat, still trying to make sense of your reaction. "Look, I really don’t know what’s going on, but if I did something, I’d like to make it right."

You snapped your head toward him, finally unable to hold it in. “You want to make it right? Really?”

He nodded, his expression open, genuinely confused. “I mean, I don’t even know what I did, but yeah.”

You stared at him for a moment, trying to hold back the wave of anger rising in your chest. He has no idea. Of course, he doesn’t. He doesn’t even know you, doesn’t know the history. You wanted to scream, but instead, you spoke through gritted teeth. “Maybe you can ask David about it? I’m sure you two can have a great laugh about all of it.”

Jungkook blinked, the mention of David clearly throwing him off balance. “How did you know David?”

“Let’s just do this project and never speak again.” You dodge around his question, facing to the front of the room again. Jungkook was going to say something but was abruptly stopped. 

“Okay now that it seems everyone has gotten acquainted, let’s get started.” The voice of your professor is echoing around the room.

。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭

Present Day

It’s been a week since the wedding. 

Melanie and Namjoon were well into their honeymoon and you had been getting pictures the last couple of days. You had been exhausted all week following the wedding. Today was your first day back to work at the hospital though, another twelve hour shift. You were in oncology today and it wasn’t much different than another other hospital floor. It was always a different change of pace, much more difficult emotionally rather than physically.

“Dr. Kim will give you more details about what kind of specifics he likes, you’ve been down here before so I’m sure you will pick it up easily.” Vic, a long time friend and coworker. She was giving some details about Dr. Kim Seokjin and the oncology department. You’d met him before, very funny guy, very goofy which I guess is needed for this specialty. 

“Oh for sure. I just haven’t been stuck to a specialty in some time now.” You followed her around into the nurses station and you both take some chairs. 

You were a float nurse which means you were placed in different specialties where you were needed. The oncology staff lost some of it’s nurses recently so you were going to be here for a few weeks. Especially because you would also have Vic here with you. 

Her full name is Victoria but she has insisted that she never wants to be called that, never stopped you from throwing it out once in a while for funnies. Vic and you were hired at the same time, she used to be a float nurse just like you but eventually took a permanent position up here. She was basically your work wife and you two would always get drinks and hang out outside of work when time allowed, so you were very excited to be with her on shift for the next few weeks. 

Vic led you to the nurses’ station, where you both grabbed seats. "Yeah, but at least Seokjin’s goofy enough to keep the mood light when he can. He’s a walking dad joke at this point."

You laughed. "I’m surprised he hasn’t been banned for his humor."

"Honestly, it's only a matter of time," Vic replied, rolling her eyes playfully. "But, seriously, he’s a great doc, and Yoongi—well, you’ll see. They’re a good team." Just as she said that, a surgical resident walked by, nose buried in a chart. Vic immediately perked up, waving dramatically. "Speaking of which, here's my favorite little duckling—Yoongi!"

“What?” Yoongi’s head snapped up, his eyes darting between the two of you as if he was constantly prepared to flee.

“This is Yoongi. Seokjin’s prodigy.” She swiveled from side to side in her seat. 

Yoongi shot her a side glance before flicking her shoulder. "Dr. Min,” he corrected, though there was no real heat behind it. He then extended a hand to you, his grip firm but brief. "Nice to meet you."

“Hi, I’m Y/N.”

He shook your hand but as soon as he was here he was scurrying away again. Clearly trying to escape Vic’s antics, she probably antagonized him for a long time now.

"Aw, look at him go," Vic cooed, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "He pretends to be all tough, but Seokjin has him wrapped around his finger. Cute, right?”

You snorted. “Does he ever stick around long enough for a conversation, or is that a special kind of greeting?”

"He's shy. It's endearing, in a ‘I have to pull teeth to get a full sentence’ kind of way," she quipped. “Anyway, look at us—back together again.” Vic leaned back in her chair, grinning widely. “Now you can finally help me get Seokjin in line. Between the two of us, we might have a chance.”

You laughed, shaking your head. "You think I can do what an entire medical team can’t? I am excited to be working with you again. Same routine, just like the old days.”

“Until I get sick of you, of course,” Vic teased, giving you a wink.

You shot back with a smirk. “You sure you won’t want to murder me by the end of these few weeks?”

“Oh, probably,” Vic said with an exaggerated sigh. “But you’re my favorite pain in the ass, so I guess it’ll be worth it. Besides, we both know we’d end up getting drinks and complaining about everyone else anyway.”

“Touché.”

Vic showed you around the floor and gave you a better sense of how everyone works day to day and what you would be doing. You weren’t unfamiliar with everything here but being here the next couple of weeks would definitely be different than you were used to. You hadn’t gotten to see Dr. Kim anytime today, only seen him in passing and running from one room to another with Yoongi and another intern in toe. Once you had gotten everything Vic had let you lose to do what you could to help. 

“Actually, how about you take this new one first.” Vic opened up a tablet for you which had a chart ready for you, “She’s going to be here for a while.” 

You head up the wing as you look over her treatment plan. Stage three liver cancer which has metastasized to her bones and lungs. She will be undergoing chemotherapy and radiation and some surgeries to help remove the Mets. She also is in need of around the clock pain management with the spread to her bones. You felt bad reading it, the hardest part about being in this wing is seeing how hard some people have to fight. 

You make it to the room and give a light knock before entering. “Good morning.” 

“Oh hello!” A woman sitting on the bed awake and engrossed in some crochet project looked at you. 

“I’m Y/N, and I’ll be doing your workup today,” you said, entering the room and heading over to her monitor to start updating her chart.

“Oh, by all means. I’m ready!” She set aside her yarn and needles, sitting up straighter with an almost infectious energy that threw you off for a moment. Considering her condition, she seemed remarkably vibrant.

“So Mrs—.” You begin but she cuts you off, with her hand held up to you.

“Ji-eun is fine dear. No need for formality since you’ll see me out of my gown today.” She laughed to herself and you smiled. 

“Ji-eun it is.” You give her a soft smile and start getting her vitals and update her chart. “I know you are new with us here but I wanted to start by saying you are in really good hands with Dr. Kim.”

Ji-eun grinned wide, her eyes twinkling. “Can I just say he could totally be a movie star! I couldn’t stop blushing when he walked in this morning. You should’ve seen my poor husband’s face!”

You laughed along, shaking your head. “You’re not the first patient to say that, trust me. Everyone here seems to have a soft spot for Dr. Kim.”

“That younger doctor too. Quiet but so kind.” 

“Dr. Min, I just met him today, but I’ve heard good things.” You continued to type some notes into her chart.

"First day, huh?" Ji-eun asked, her eyes curious but warm.

“Not at all! Just new to the floor. I typically jump from specialty to specialty.” You start to do your physical exam of her as you continue to chat. 

“Well, I guess we’ll figure all of this out together then,” she said kindly, patting your arm as you continued your physical exam. “The doctors remind me of my boys a little.” 

“You have sons?” You ask and continue to examine her. 

“Yes, two. Grown men now, but they come to visit me often, whenever I’m in the hospital. You’ll probably meet them soon enough.” She sighs, adjusting her gown as you need to make sure you weren’t seeing any weird discoloration. The most important thing with her condition is the presentation of new spots or jaundice present in her skin. 

“I look forward to that,” you smiled. “So I am familiar with your status, Is this your first long stay in the hospital?”

Ji-eun’s face grew thoughtful as she tapped her lips. “Oh, no, no. I’ve had more surgeries than I can count, but this is the first time I’ve stayed this long. The pain’s gotten a bit too much lately—especially with this new tumor in my leg. I just needed more help. My poor husband can only do so much at home.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” you said sincerely. “But it sounds like you’ve got a lot of support.”

“Oh, I do,” Ji-eun nodded. “My husband’s been by my side for 33 years now, bless his heart. He and the boys will probably pop in this evening.”

“33 years? That’s incredible. Congratulations.”

“Thank you. It’s quite an adventure, let me tell you.” She sighed, you could see her eyeing your hand, looking for a ring. Probably making a mental note about one not being present. “Like I said, they come by in the evenings so you’ll probably meet the whole pack.”

“Shoot I usually work days not evenings.” 

“I’ll just have to force them to come at lunch time. My boys work so much but sometimes I can convince them to show up during lunch.” 

Ji-eun chatters on for a while while you continue administering her medicine and finish making notes for Dr. Kim. Talking about her husband mostly and some patients she knew at other hospitals. It still surprised you how much energy and how alive she felt compared to others you’ve seen in her condition. You would be surprised if she didn’t beat her cancer in no time with a spirit like that. 

“I think I’m all done here,” you said, tucking your tablet under your arm after you take one last glance over your checklist to make sure you got everything.

“Already?” Ji-eun blinked, chewing on her lip. “Gosh, I must’ve chatted your ear off. I think I’m more nervous than I thought.”

“That’s perfectly normal.” You give her a reassuring smile, “I don’t mind the chatter, I’m usually more chatty but it’s my first day full time up here. We can be nervous together.” 

Her eyes softened at that. “You know what? I’ll crochet something for you as a ‘welcome to the floor’ gift. It’ll keep me busy.”

“Oh, you don’t need to do that.”

“I insist! It’s my new hobby. Keeps my hands moving while I’m sitting here.”

You smiled, touched by the offer. “Well, in that case, I love stars if you know how to make those.”

“Stars it is,” she said with a wink, already picking out a new yarn color.

You left the room feeling lighter, buoyed by Ji-eun’s positivity. She was the kind of patient that reminded you why you loved this job, the strength and spirit some people carried, even in the toughest of circumstances. You made a mental note to start your day with her room as much as possible. It was the perfect way to lift your own spirits too.

“How’d the first one go champ?” Vic caught you walking up the hall and she saddled right up next to you. 

“Easy. She is so wonderful, like a breath of fresh air.” You sigh, “Can I have her as one of mine from now on?” 

“By all means.” Vic saw no reason why not. 

The day had been surprisingly smooth, and it felt good to finally have some time to catch your breath. You’d spent most of the day moving through rooms and getting a feel for the oncology floor. It was a slower pace compared to your usual shifts in the ER, but you welcomed it. With no major emergencies or immediate crises, you had more time to get to know the patients and the staff.

Dr. Kim had been a blur, practically a ghost for the day, absorbed in surgeries. You’d caught glimpses of him, but nothing more than that. You hoped you’d get a chance to speak with him soon, maybe figure out the best way to sync up with his preferences and routines. It was strange how he could command such attention without even being present. Everyone you spoke to—patients, nurses, and even Yoongi—seemed to speak of him with a kind of reverence.

You got to know Yoongi a little bit once he came by to work on some notes. You could tell that he was like any other surgical resident, eager to cut but he did not have the same energy as other residents you had met previously. Stark difference to the energy of Dr. Kim. 

You were sitting for a moment when Vic comes and joins you at the nurses station. It was getting close to the end of your day. 

“How was the wedding?” Vic asked as she settled into a chair next to you, she probably had been dying to ask. You had been talking non stop about this wedding for months now you were surprised she wasn't sick of hearing about it.

“It went great. Few hiccups but otherwise couldn’t have been more perfect. I’ll never be a maid of honor again though.” That was probably true, between this job and the months you spent working on everything with Melanie, you were glad it was over. 

“Did that guy bother you? What was his name?” 

The mention of Jungkook made you pause. Vic was not unfamiliar with the subject of Jungkook, in fact she probably was the next person outside of Melanie and Ash that had gotten an earful about your disdain for him. Except now, you hadn’t really unpacked what had happened between the two of you.

“Yes, Jungkook.” You clear your throat. Swiveling your chair to look at her. 

“Yeah, he’s the guy you’ve had issues with for years right?” 

“He’s the same old Jungkook.” You say but your tone wasn’t convincing enough for Vic. 

She asks. “What no exciting update? No he’s the devil and the next time I see him I’m going to actually rip his throat out? You usually have much more to say than that.” 

“Well, he wasn’t so bad this time. Annoying but we did our best. The weekend wasn’t about us.” 

You hadn’t really had a chance to unpack the events of the weekend. Mostly, just file it away and never speak about it again. Except your awkward demeanor had not been lost on Vic. You glance at her as she is giving you a confused expression. 

“What?” You ask her with an awkward laugh. 

“I’m confused. I’ve seen you draw devil horns on pictures of him and crop him out of group photos.” She scratched her head. 

You hesitated, keeping your focus on the paperwork in front of you. "He was… fine. I guess," you said, voice tight.

Vic stared at you for a long moment, her suspicion growing. “Fine? Since when is this guy ever just fine?” She let out a dry laugh. “You’ve spent years telling me every little thing he does drives you crazy—how is he suddenly fine?”

You shrugged, forcing a smile. "I don’t know. Maybe I’m over it. People grow up."

Vic’s brow shot up, unconvinced. “Over it? You? You once said you'd rather get a root canal with no anesthesia than spend five minutes with him.” 

“He once said I was so annoying that he’d rather listen to nails on a chalkboard for an hour than have a conversation with me. So I think the comparison was justified.”

“Not the point. I mean what happened to make you two reconcile so easily?” 

“I don’t know. It’s a weekend full of love and people we care about?” 

Vic wasn’t letting this go. “Come on. I know you. If nothing happened, you’d be ranting by now, probably calling him a walking disaster or comparing him to a toe fungus again.”

“Well…” You start trying to think of something but coming up short. “We just figured it out.” 

“Okay…” Vic’s eyes were on you like a hawk now, watching every subtle reaction. “Let’s say you did get along. That still doesn’t explain why you’re acting so weird about it.” She raised an eyebrow, her voice dipping lower. “Did you guys talk or something? He confess his undying love for you?”

You snort at the absurdity, Jungkook nor you would never have feelings for the other in a million years. “We had a fight. We almost got kicked out so we had to come to an agreement.”

“You know you aren’t as good of a liar as you think you are.” She pokes you in your side and swat her hand away. She leans back in her chair, arms above her head, thinking. You could feel her eyes on you still as you filled out some information on your tablet. “What did you sleep with the guy?”

You paused. You tried not to show any expression but how did she get that so fast? Your silence did not go unnoticed. 

Vic’s gaze sharpened as she caught your hesitation. “Oh no... Wait. I was just kidding but… No way.” She stared at you, her voice suddenly full of realization. “You didn’t…”

You get up from your seat taking your tablet with you, getting away from her even though you had no set place you were going. Vic followed very close behind you. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

Vic let out a disbelieving laugh, her jaw dropping. “This is... I don’t even know what this is. I mean, I knew something was up, but I didn’t expect this.” She paused, leaning in closer, her voice suddenly curious. “So... what happens now? Are you guys, like, cool now?”

You shook your head, pulling her off to the side so you can have this conversation quietly. “No, Vic. It’s not like that. We still—” You stopped, fumbling for the right words. “It didn’t fix anything. We still hate each other.”

Vic blinked, clearly confused. “Then... why did it happen?”

“Honestly, I’m not convinced I hadn’t had a stroke or something. I still don’t really believe it happened.” Which was true, thinking about it felt like it was some insane dream rather than reality.

Vic sat back, still processing what you had just admitted, her expression caught between disbelief and curiosity. “I mean, I knew there was a lot of tension between you two, but… I didn’t think that kind of tension.” She shook her head, still stunned. “So, what? Was it like, some heat-of-the-moment thing? Or was it the alcohol?”

You go ahead and walk her through the events of the night and how you two came to this conclusion. She was completely enraptured in the story. She was laughing at you through most of it. She would never believe something like this would happen to you. 

“I’ve met your friend Taehyung, you should never take his advice.” 

“Well… It was all heat of the moment I guess.” 

Vic shook her head, grinning ear to ear. "Oh, I’m sure! Just a casual weekend of wedding duties, speeches, and—oh, you know—sleeping with your mortal enemy to ‘relieve some tension.’ That’s totally normal."

“Well it’s never happening again.” 

“Oh sure that’s what they all say.” She laughed, throwing an arm around your shoulder and the two of you walk up the hall. Both of you glancing into patient rooms to make sure no one is needing anything. “Until the next time you two are in the same room, glaring daggers at each other, and—boom!”

You gave her a look and then burry your head in your hands. "Stop.”

Vic squinted at you, her grin growing wider. "Come on, YN. It sounds like you two finally found a way to stop biting each other’s heads off. Maybe instead of hating each other, you guys just needed a new... hobby?"

“Vic.” You shove her shoulder.

“I mean, what’s next?” she continued, clearly enjoying herself. “You two going to start a book club together? Go bowling on the weekends?"

“Can we let it go?” You sigh frustrated, dying to move on to something else. “I’ve never given you this hard of a time about your choice of partners.” 

“Mine are not half as interesting as this.” She wiggles her eyebrows at you. 

“I’m getting back to work. It’s still my first day up here after all.” You pretend to be doing something on your tablet. Vic and you both know you were caught up on work but you start walking as quickly as you can ahead of her. 

“I’m just saying! This is like a plot straight out of a steamy rom-com.” She calls after you, you spinning on your heels to look at her.

Lifting your head slightly, you shot her a look. “If this was a rom-com, it’d be the worst one ever made. Trust me, there’s no happy ending here.”

With that she leaves you alone, for now. You know this would not be the last time you would be hearing about it. There will be nothing to tell her though, there is no continuation of any of this in the future for you and Jungkook. You never saw the guy hardly ever so it didn’t matter. 

You weren’t the only one who had pushed it down to a far place of your mind. Jungkook had found himself back at work this week. Jungkook’s week had been relentless. Since coming back to work after the wedding, it felt like he was buried under a mountain of tasks. As an associate at the law firm, he was used to the pressure, but the past few days had been especially grueling. He was juggling meetings with clients, writing complaints, filing motions, and researching for a high-stakes case. It was enough to make his head spin.

Today was no different. He had barely sat down for lunch, only quick bites between phone calls and endless stacks of documents. His current focus was on one of the senior partners, Mr. Kang, who was preparing for a major trial next week. Being chosen to help him was a big deal, considering Kang was known to be a tough and exacting lawyer. Jungkook had been working late nights, hoping his effort would earn him the partner’s respect and maybe a spot on more of these high-profile cases in the future.

Jungkook had just finished organizing the evidence and compiling a detailed witness list. He had also prepped several key points for Kang’s opening and closing statements, which, to his disappointment, the partner had dismissed with a wave of his hand.

“Here is some of the prep I did for your trial, Mr. Kang,” Jungkook said, placing a thick folder of notes on his boss’s desk.

Kang, a no-nonsense kind of guy with sharp, calculating eyes, barely looked up from the file in front of him. “Good work, Jungkook. I’ll handle the opening and closing. But you’ve done well with the prep. You’re dismissed.”

Jungkook blinked in surprise. Usually, when you did a good job in Kang’s eyes, he’d keep you around for more work, even if it meant staying well into the night. But today, he was letting him go. Jungkook felt a mix of relief and pride as he grabbed his bag from his desk, quietly wondering if the partner had finally acknowledged his hard work.

Just as Jungkook was about to leave the office, Jimin, caught sight of Jungkook's rush. 

“You leaving?” Jimin asked, leaning against the doorframe with an eyebrow cocked.

“Yeah, I’ve got plans tonight, and I’m already late,” Jungkook replied, shoving his laptop into his bag with a little more force than necessary. The tension of the day was finally lifting, and the thought of being out of the office and away from the piles of paperwork felt like freedom.

“Mr. Kang actually let you go early?” Jimin raised an eyebrow in disbelief. “Man, he must really like you. That guy doesn’t let anyone out this early, especially not if they’ve got a big case coming up.”

“I’m just as surprised as anyone,” Jungkook said with a half-smile, throwing his bag over his shoulder. “I’ll take it, though. It’s late enough as is.”

Jimin chuckled. “Yeah, it’s a rarity around here. Have a good night, man. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Jungkook gave a quick nod and started walking down the hall, eager to leave the stuffy atmosphere of the office behind. But Jimin called out after him, making Jungkook pause for a moment, glancing back.

“Hey, you still coming out next week, right?” Jimin asked. “I already got you a ticket.”

Jungkook hesitated for a split second, then smirked. “Yeah, I’ll be there,” he called back, waving as he walked toward the elevator. “See you.”

As the doors closed behind him and the elevator descended, Jungkook took a deep breath. The tension of the office was still heavy on his shoulders, but the thought of a night out with Jimin and some friends gave him a bit of lightness. He was long overdue for a chance to unwind. After the wedding and the work this last week, he was burnt out.

Stepping outside, the crisp evening air hit his face. It wasn’t too cold, but the cool breeze was a welcome contrast to the stale office air he’d been trapped in all day. The city felt alive around him, the hum of cars and distant chatter of pedestrians making him feel momentarily free from the piles of work waiting for him the next day. Jungkook checked the time, 8:06.

Jungkook took the opportunity to just listen to some music and walk to a convenience store he knew was nearby. His brother was texting about something and he hadn’t had a chance to answer all day. He needed a moment of peace for himself before he needed to get going. He knew exactly what snacks he wanted to get, and maybe a ramen bowl for when he gets home later. Jungkook grabbed some water bottles from the fridge and turned to go to the snacks. Almost slamming into someone else coming around the aisle corner. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” you stammered, stepping back to avoid the near collision. Your eyes darted up, and surprise flooded your face when you saw who it was.

“Y/N?” Jungkook asked, surprised to see you. Especially not in a convenience store he frequented so often. 

“Oh.” You were feeling a similar feeling, this was the convenience store closest to your place. “What are you doing here?” 

He pulled one earbud out, his mind still processing the unexpected run-in. “I, uh, my firm’s just across the street.” He gestured vaguely behind him with the water bottle, realizing how lame that sounded. “I come here sometimes after work.”

You shifted the snacks in your arms, and Jungkook couldn’t help but notice how you seemed just as off-balance as he was. “I live right around the corner.” You said, filling the silence, your voice calm but your eyes wide with surprise.

“Oh.” Jungkook mouth hung in an ‘o’ shape. Jungkook had no idea you lived over here, maybe could have found a different place to go if he had known you come here. “What are the snacks for?”

“Uhh, Ash is coming over.” 

“Cool.” Jungkook paused, he really had no idea what to say. “Tell her I said hi I guess.”

“Yeah.”

You let the awkward silence hang between the both of you for a moment before you decided to brush past him. You had nothing to say to him really so you should just go about your business. It felt strange, you just talked about him today and now here he was. This last week has been the most you had seen him in years. You get a drink from the fridges, you eyes a little too focused on if you spot Jungkook in your peripherals. 

Jungkook just continued on his way and got a few snacks and the ramen bowl he wanted. Making his way to the counter where he lined up behind you. You knew he was behind you but said nothing as you paid for your items. Jungkook felt like maybe he should say something but what was lost of on. He hadn’t really thought about the wedding and what transpired at all but now it was at the front of his mind. Should he bring it up? Leave it alone? Would probably just cause a fight. 

You got the bags with your stuff step outside. A little shaken by the encounter, you fumble with your stuff making sure you get your keys out when Jungkook follows too soon out of the convenience store. You both look at each other simultaneously, both silent.  

You shuffled your stuff in your hands, unsure if you should say anything, but Jungkook beat you to it. “Do you need walked home? It's pretty dark.” His offer caught you off guard.

“Uh, I’m okay,” you said after a pause, glancing down the street. “It’s really close by.” You pointed behind you, in the general direction of your apartment, hoping that would end the conversation.

“I uhh…” He cleared his throat. “I also need to head that way to my car.” 

Of course he does, you thought. 

So you nod and just start walking. Jungkook comes up close to the next of you. He felt weird trailing behind but this also feels just as weird and uncomfortable. He was standing as close as he could to the edge of the sidewalk without stepping into the street. You almost instinctively kept your arms closely tucked to your sides. The walk to your place really wasn’t that far but it felt like an eternity now. 

What were you supposed to say in a situation like this?

“You work at a law firm?” The question erupted out of you.

“Yeah?”

“Huh.”

“What?”

“I just… I don’t know. I never pegged you as a lawyer.” Which was true, you never knew he went to law school. To be fair you didn’t care what Jungkook did at all most of the time.

“I changed my mind I guess.” Jungkook shrugged. He didn’t know what to say to that. The last time you really knew each other, back in college, he hadn’t planned on law school yet.

That was a decision that came later.

Silence fell between the two of you again. It got Jungkook thinking, thinking about what happened between the two of you. He didn’t feel guilty but he felt like maybe it needed to be brought up.

Jungkook sighed, “So, about last week…” 

“We don’t have to talk about it.” You cut him off with a bitter tone, harsher than you had intended. 

“And what if I wanted too?” Jungkook bit back, all too harsh. 

“You do?” You glance at him, and he seems to be genuine. “Oh you do.” You retreat back into yourself and feel somewhat bad now, not realizing that maybe he would like to talk about it.

Something in him did want to talk about it, it wasn’t how he normally acted and he’s been under so much stress lately. Maybe it would feel good to talk it out?

“I was just going to ask if you were okay,” he continued, keeping his tone softer. His thoughts churned, wondering if you’d even believe him, if you’d think this was just some routine apology or him trying to cover his tracks. “And to say, I don’t usually do stuff like that. You might think otherwise, but that’s not who I am.” The words felt heavier than he’d intended, but they were true.

He glanced at you, searching for something in your expression, anything to tell him how you were really feeling. All he found was that guarded look he’d seen so many times before—the one that kept him at a distance. 

“I’m honestly too busy for hookups,” he added, a bitter chuckle escaping him, “so it surprised me more than anyone. So I just wanted to ask if you were okay and get that off my chest I guess.”

You were silent, you actually look at his face now, he seemed to be serious? Sincere? You felt like crawling out of your skin because he was being so real. It was weird, and clearly your face was telling Jungkook the same thing. Your expression looked uncomfortable and confused.

“What?” he asked and raised an eyebrow to you. 

“You’re just being so… considerate,” you said, shivering in your spot. “I’m so uncomfortable right now.” 

Jungkook almost laughed, but it came out as more of a sigh. He wasn’t used to this either, wasn’t used to feeling vulnerable, and certainly not with you. But for some reason, it mattered more to him than it should. “Well, you can think whatever you like, I guess. I just wanted to get that out.” He tried to shrug it off, but the weight of the moment hung between you, making it impossible to dismiss. 

“Well…” You start, “I’m not thinking anything. If I’m being honest it’s not really me either and it felt really weird for me. I’m okay though but I would like to pretend it never happened. Umm… are you okay?”

Jungkook paused, “Yeah this is really weird.” He let out a small laugh, “I am okay and I also want to pretend it never happened.” Jungkook felt like he lifted a small weight he didn’t even know was on his shoulders. 

“Great. Now stop being so nice asshole, it’s freaking me out.” You glance and you had arrived to your building so quickly and you couldn’t be more thankful you couldn't take this awkwardness any longer. “This is me.” You point to the building next to you. 

“Nice.” Jungkook said it but it was more like he had no idea how to respond. Your building was right next to the parking garage he used for his car. “Goodnight.” 

“Yeah, goodnight.” You basically scurried up the steps and let yourself into the front door as fast as you could. You felt like you needed a shower to get Jungkook words out of your head. It felt so wrong, he was so nice and considerate about it. 

It would have been easier if Jungkook was a dick about the whole thing. 

Jungkook made sure you got in okay and then started his way to the parking garage to his car. He felt better but also so strange. Maybe he would have felt better if you two had made a whole scene. It was so weird being so... mature. Before Jungkook could think too much on it, his phone was buzzing in his pocket. 

The words ‘Mom’ were written across the screen, and he answered. 

“Hi Mom.” Jungkook barely got any words out before the other line erupted with sound. 

“Jeon Jungkook I cannot believe you are late! We have been waiting for you to arrive all evening and you are nowhere to be found!”

“I’m coming mom, just barely got off of work. I am on my way now.” he started to scurry because even though she was yelling at him now, he won’t hear the end of it in person. 

Maybe he should have been paying closer attention to his texts. 

。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭ Previous Chapter ||❥|| Next chapter Taglist!: @akkhddhfairys @njcxlewxrld @kooklovee @ericawantstoescape @pitchblack0309 @rpwprpwprpwprw @lanie97 @httpjeonlicious @jollis87 @oopscoop @rinkud @deepikhaprakash @chuuritoz @jkslvsnella @eisthv @bangatanily @smwhrinthehaze @jjkologys @nono13bnd @smoljjks 。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭

a/n: Honestly a touch worried about this chapter (not that it’s bad but just because like it the first step into the main story so the vibe is slightly different?? I hope everyone enjoys it 🩵😭

[peachesofteal]

Dead Disco / Chapter 13

Dead Disco masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader 2.2k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ brief sexual content. This fic contains mature themes. Simon POV. Established throuple, relationship issues, fighting. Feelings of anxiety, despair. Crying. Johnny comes home

The holster is snug.

Simon pats it affectionately, swallowing roaring nausea, trying to stay limber on his feet.

He’s fine. He’s probably just at the gym, or the down the street. He’s a big boy, he can take care of himself, he's working himself up for nothing. 

He sends another text, just in case.

>Getting worried now. Where are you? 

It’s not like him, not responding. Not like him to vanish when he said he was staying in, not like him to not text with an update about where he’s going and how long he’ll be.

He knows Simon. Knows he he’ll get twisted up, get caught up in a vicious cycle of memory and fear, knows he’ll be worried.

Doesn’t he know? 

It’s not like him.

What if he’s hurt? What if someone snatched him, drugged him, loaded him into a box somewhere? What if someone is hurting him right now, and he’s scared, while all Simon is doing is pacing around in this godforsaken flat that’s too big for him to be comfortable in alone, what if he’s de-

A key clicks in the lock.

Simon is on his feet and in the hall before the door gets a chance to fully open.

He can hear his pulse, the hammer inside his skull, ticking away like a bomb, a new brand of fear: sickly and infectious, spreads from his heart, leeching into his body.

Johnny is crying.

“What’s wrong?” Simon keeps him at arm’s length for inspection, like he's looking him over in tac gear, triple checking his plates, his straps, his safety pieces. “Are you hurt? What’s happened?” Johnny doesn’t speak, raw, serrated breaths coming in and out too quickly, and Simon holds him steady, firm grip on his shoulders. “Johnny, love. Look at me.”

Control this. Contain it. Fix it. 

“I-m- I-“ The words are stilted, too thick, getting caught in Johnny’s throat, and Simon repeats himself, switching gears, shifting. His tone is stronger, unaffected. Battle tested.

“Are you hurt?” It straightens Johnny. Snaps him to attention, and he blinks, still the beautiful, sweet boy with tears in his eyes, looking up in Simon’s face, wracked with despair.

“No. No, ‘m, not hurt, Si. Not hurt.”

Not hurt. But not okay. 

He can save that for another moment. Another day if he has to. He’s okay. He came back. He’s here. 

Johnny’s eyes dive a deeper shade of blue when he cries. They become shards of stained glass, a sea blue that holds a million miles worth of passion, of feeling, of love.

Their mouths touch. Seeking, hesitant longing, desperately trying to connect, and Simon jerks away, cradling his face, holding him still.

It’s dread that fills Simon now. Dread and fear, snaking together to form a hydra that never sleeps, never dies. You cut off one head, another two emerge, and he cannot control them. Cannot tamp them down.

“What’s happened, love? What’s wrong?”

“Si, I… I made a mistake.” Simon closes his eyes.

“What did you do?” It’s not a question, it’s a demand.

Confess your sins and be forgiven. 

“I went to see her.”

It’s worse than what he was expecting. Far worse.

He splits in two.

“You what?” The words sound far less devastated than he feels. “You… what?”

“I went, I know I wasnae supposed to, but I had to see her.” Simon steps away. He releases his partner, the man he loves, and looks at him through the eyes of a stranger. “I havnae been sleepin’ I cannae eat, or focus, and I know ye’ve been havin’ an easier time-“

“Stop.” An easier time? Is he really that blind? “You think this has been easy for me?”

“N-no, I didnae mean-“

“You think I’m alright, when our girl…” He bites his tongue.

Control.

“I’m not having an easier time, Johnny.”

“I made a mistake.” He whispers to the floor, and sympathy, love, cracks Simon’s heart, just a little. He’s been having such a rough go, Simon knows. Struggling. Depressed. And nothing can fix it, not Simon or anything else in this world except… you.

He reaches, but Johnny steps out of his grasp, eyes wide.

“I… I made a mistake, Si.”

“I know, but it’s okay, we can-“

“We had sex.”

Everything changes. The floor disappears beneath his feet. His knees go weak, watery, and he steps away. A chainsaw tears through his diaphragm, blood and guts dropping to the floor.

“You what?” 

“I didnae plan to, it just… it just happened.” Simon closes his eyes. He struggles for air, a thousand pounds sat on his chest. “She was cryin’ and then we just… we lost control. I didnae even realize what was happening at first, and then she asked me to kiss her and I couldnae say no, Si. Ye know I… it just-“

“Stop.”

“She needed me, needs us, wanted to, and I-“

“STOP!” He shouts, and Johnny jerks back, eyes wide.

“Simon.” He reaches, but it’s too late. Simon is already stepping out of reach. An ocean of despair, sadness, rage tosses him in a turbulent wave, knocking him side to side, stealing his breath. Agony wails between his ears.

“Don’t touch me right now.” How could he do this? Betray you like this? When you’re vulnerable? 

He knows why. His next words are a poison barb, aimed straight at the heart of the man he loves.

“You’re weak.”

“Si.” Johnny’s voice cracks, face soaked with tears. He calls his name again and again, but Simon hears nothing, broken vibrato bouncing off his back as he turns away, locking himself in the bedroom.

“So, you want to do this. For real.” You’re so skeptical. Still. A battle never won but fought every day. You chew on your lip, hesitance heavy in your eyes. “With me.” 

“Aye, darling. With ye.” Johnny sucks a mark into your neck, hands roaming across your chest. You wriggle between them, uneasily laughing, huffing and pushing at him, still overstimulated and coming down from too many orgasms to count. They pushed you to the limit tonight, twisted you between them and bent you under their bodies, filled you at the same time. He can still feel the clench of your cunt around his cock, your warmth engulfing him, setting him aflame. “Is it so hard to believe?” 

“Yes.” Your answer is immediate, and Johnny rolls his eyes. You glance at Simon. 

He wants to rip away all your layers. Burrow between your heart and ribs. Remake you in an image of love, help you feel confident in their affection, their near obsession with you. 

“We know it will take time.” He murmurs, stroking a hand across the back of your neck when you push up onto your elbows. “We know this is a lot, and it won’t be easy, but we can make it work. If you give us a chance.” Tears line your lashes. You try to look away, but he holds you steady, refusing to let you hide.

“I’m scared.” You whisper. 

“I know.”

He thinks about calling you. What’s a phone call, in the face of such a boundary broken already? He wonders for a moment, if you’re okay, before his stomach tightens, realizing that Johnny left you there, alone.

Did you tell him to leave? Did he run home afterwards, worried? Did he hold you, make sure you’re okay, kiss you and tell you how much they love you?

He aches for violence. Wants to destroy this room, it’s walls, this place they tried to build around you.

The bed is too big now. The flat is empty. He feels the hollowness left in your wake everywhere, in the bathroom, missing your shampoo and toothbrush, the closet, lacking most of your clothes. The comforter has been replaced with a tired bedsheet and a blanket from the couch, a quarter of the pillows that are usually piled in the middle, missing.

It’s not his home. Not without you.

He eyes his phone.

He shouldn’t. 

Why is he being punished, for doing the right thing? For listening to you, when you begged them to understand this is what you needed. Why is he the one in hell, when Johnny gets to drink his fill? 

He doesn’t understand. How could he have gotten this so wrong? 

Is this what you wanted all along? For them to come, pluck you from your escape back into their arms? 

He looks at his phone again. The black screen taunts him, begs him, tells him it’s alright. It will be okay if he does it. If he breaks.

What kind of man is he, if he can’t respect what you need? 

Johnny knocks on the door.

“Ye cannae shut me out.” It’s reminiscent of not too long ago, when Simon was on the other side of a different door, begging to see your face, dying to hear your voice.

“Johnny.” He croaks. His own cheeks are wet now, tears dripping down his jaw to his shirt.

“Simon, please.”

“I can’t see you right now.”

“I cannae let ye-“

“If you love me,” He raises his voice, not quite a shout, but something awful instead, a low pitch of anger. “You’ll leave me alone.” He can’t even look at him right now, can’t understand why he did this. Why he acted so callously, so selfishly. Simon hates himself, for thinking it, for allowing this anger to fester but he can’t feel anything else when he thinks about his sweet boy on the other side of that door, crying out for him. He’s so angry. He reaches for his phone. The impulse is too strong, the pain and want and the fear of not knowing if you’re okay eating away at him until he’s tapping your contact open.

The phone rings three times. On the fourth, the line clicks open, and he holds his breath.

“Simon?” You’re crying. It’s in your voice, thick with it, trembling across the connection with an intensity that could crack the earth.

“Darling.”

“It’s not ideal-“ 

“Not ideal? It’s… it’s about to be Christmas.” You take a ragged breath, and Simon’s heart aches. “You just got home.” 

“Ah know love, but we cannae control when we’re needed. Ye know this.” 

“We’ll try to be home before Christmas.” He has to stem this bleeding somehow, patch this wound. He wants to take you in his arms, bury his face in your hair and promise you a million things he knows he can’t. 

“It’s fine.” It’s not. And neither are you. But you’re shoving it away, pushing it down where it will stay buried, building and building inside you like a storm, a wild thing that will drive you to the brink. 

“Darling.” He tries to grab you, hold onto you, make you stay near him, where he can hold you, where he can try to fix it. 

It’s not fair. None of it is. And never will be. Not for you. 

“I’m fine.” 

“We don’t want to be away from you, you know that.” You focus on the dishwasher, but your hands tremble, small tremors that signify an earthquake on the horizon. 

“I know. It’s fine.” 

“Darling.” You ignore him, focusing on the silverware draw, tugging on the handle. “Darling, please.” 

Johnny flinches when it crashes to the floor. There’s agony in your face, pain and disappointment, and he hates himself for it, hates this job, hates this life they brought you into. 

You break with a sob. 

“Fuck! Fff-fuck. I’m so-sorry.” You try to turn away, to run, but he meets you, pulling you into his chest, reaching for the back of your neck with a steady hand. You’re crying so hard he’s worried you can’t breathe. 

“It’s alright. You’re alright. We’re here.” For now. We’re here for now. He can’t give you much more, even though he’d give you both the world. You and Johnny, tucked away in secret, forever his. To hold. To love. “It’s okay, darling.” You cry and cry, sobs shaking your shoulders. 

It’s not going to end on its own. And why should it? They’re the ones who do this to you. They are the ones who have to fix it. 

Control it. 

“Bedroom lights.” He directs Johnny with a glance. 

“Rog.”

“The mess.” You whimper, and he shakes his head, still holding you firmly.

“We’ll clean it up later, darling. Let’s take care of you first.”

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry I’m calling.” He’s spiraling. Unmoored. Uncontrolled.

“It’s… it’s okay.” You stifle a sob, and he wants to rip his hair from his roots.

“Are you okay? That’s all…” He pulls away from the phone to take a short breath, trying to breathe through his nose. “That’s all I needed to know, if you’re okay.”

“I’m…” You go quiet, and he doesn’t push. Doesn’t want to. He goes at your pace, letting you control everything now, just as he has been for this last month. “I’m not okay.”

His heart freezes in his chest.

“Did you call your therapist?”

“No.” You cry, and he pinches his brow.

“What do you need?” The pattern on the carpet is a dizzying spiral, swirls of brown and tan spinning around him, drawing him down until he’s sitting with his back against the bed. When you don’t speak, he tries, just a little, to pull it from you. “Tell me darling.”

Y-you. I need… you.”

[kingsoowolves]

birthday boy | hsh

pairing: idol boyfriend!seunghan x fem!reader

word count: 3.3k

author's note: idk if any of you know it, but Seunghan is actually my first bias in riize. since his hiatus, i miss him so much and each day that passes without his presence in the group, i want him to come back even more. i know there's a bunch of ot6 briizes and i honestly don't really care who everyone chooses to stan. we're all different and have different tastes and likings, i get it. but i'm still holding out hope for him to comeback and that feeling won't die down untill i see his beautiful smile while he's on a stage along with his members again. this work is to showcase my love for him, nothing else. and also for all the ot7 briizes and hongjjangus that miss him just as much as me. i hope you like it, babes 🐈‍⬛🫧🧡

contents: established relationship, aged up!seunghan. mentions of riize members. set in the future, on seunghan's 25th birthday. he is active in the group and riize has been in the scene for a few years. smut and fluff. seunghan wants to have his cake and eat it too, lol. fingering, sex in the shower. sex without protection, cumming inside (don't be like them).

you can also read this work on my ao3, if you’d like

Seunghan is needy and dramatic towards you on a daily basis. But on his birthday, it always gets worse.

He ends every request with a “Please? It’s my birthday”, pulls you to sit on his lap every chance he gets and asks for smooches and attention each half an hour that passes by. It’s adorable and charming, and you always find yourself a willing victim to his whims, kissing and hugging him whenever he desires.

However, in times like this, when you’re rushing to get everything done for the small dinner party you’re hosting for his 25th birthday, it does annoy you a little bit. You’re already preoccupied about failing this day for him because the cake wasn’t yet delivered by the bakery and you only remembered to put the wine inside the freezer twenty minutes ago. At least, there’s still forty minutes left until the time you set for his members to show up and you hope that the wine is cold by then and the cake is inside your fridge.

You’re thinking about all of this while you’re finishing setting the fancy cutlery on the table. Seunghan should be checking on the lasagna inside the oven, but instead he catches you midway through your task, rubbing his chest on your back and his hands on your hips as he starts to place kisses on the side of your neck.

“Babe, the lasagna,” you warn.

“I just checked it. It’s still cooking,” he whispers over the wetness his spit gathered on your skin, making you shiver. He runs his nose from the side of your throat to your ear. “You smell so freaking good.”

“No, I don’t,” you say, closing your eyes, letting your body sag a little against his and reaching a hand back to his neck, keeping his face still on your neck while he resumes peppering kisses on your skin. “I still haven’t showered.”

“You always smell good for me, baby,” he says before nipping your earlobe. You can’t help but sigh from the attention he’s giving you. “And I can help you shower.”

His obvious naughty intentions make you open your eyes and spin around, your hands going to his chest to push him slightly away from you.

“No way,” you shake your head. “I know you’ll be distracting me and not helping at all. Plus, you’re already ready and someone needs to answer the delivery truck when they bring the cake.”

Seunghan gives you his best puppy look and steps closer to you again, his hands going around you to encircle your waist. “Baby, please,” he whines. “We spent the whole day organizing this place. I haven’t been able to fuck you yet and it’s my birthday.”

You chuckle and look up at him, resting your chin on his chest and squeezing his cheeks. “Well, you should’ve thought about that before hosting a dinner party at our place, birthday boy.”

He whines again, pressing his forehead on yours whilst his agile fingers start bunching up the skirt of your old saggy dress, one hand pressing on the underside of your left thigh as if he’s preparing to lift you over the table. “I could just slide right in like this. I promise I’ll be quick.”

“No, Seunghan,” you say, voice firm and serious. He gives you a defeated look and steps back, his hands dropping to his sides. “I’m sorry, baby. But we’re already late as it is. We can do all the shenanigans you want later, okay?”

You get on your tiptoes and press your hands on his shoulders to drop a quick peck to his lips, but Seunghan holds you there, his fingers closing on the back of your neck to turn the kiss into a heated one. You wrap your hands around his neck to give him a little taste of what he’s been craving, letting him kiss you the way he wants, his tongue licking up every crevice of your mouth. When he pulls back, you have to blink your eyes open to wake up your hazy mind.

“Okay,” he whispers, a sly smile playing on the corner of his lips as he watches the reaction only one really good kiss pulled out of you. “Go get ready.”

You gulp and nod your head. “Finish setting the table up for me, please? And don’t forget about the lasagna, too. Oh, and–”

“And the cake should be delivered any minute,” he completes for you. “I know, baby, I know. Now go get yourself prettier for my day.”

You nod again, giving him one last peck on his lips and finally turning around. Seunghan takes the moment to pat your butt lightly and you laugh back at him while you walk to your bedroom. After getting to the en suite bathroom, you turn the water to the temperature you like and hastily slip out of your clothes. You sigh when you step into the shower and the warm water hits your head and shoulders, massaging the knots on the back of your neck.

After you shampoo your hair and begin to cover yourself in soap, you hear the door to the bathroom open up and spin around to see Seunghan a few meters away from the glass enclosure separating you both, his fingers quickly removing his denim jacket and tugging his black t-shirt up.

“Seunghan, no!” You exclaim, watching him slide the shirt out of his body and dropping it on the floor along with your clothes. “I told you, I–”

“Babe, I already turned off the oven and put the lasagna to rest on the counter. I also texted the guys saying they should come an hour later,” he explains, moving his hands to his belt buckle to unfasten it and then zipping down the fly on his pants. “Wonbin hyung agreed to pick up the cake. Already let the bakery know it, too.”

You open your mouth at him in shock and your pink sponge falls from your hand onto the shower tiles. “No, you didn’t.”

“Oh, but I did.” Seunghan laughs at you and resumes taking his jeans off, his briefs going sliding down his legs along with it. He steps out of the fabric and his semi-hard cock springs free, the head of it slapping along his thigh. You bite your bottom lip whilst he slides the shower door open just enough for you to see him in all his glory, perfect body exposed bare right in front of your eyes. “So what it’s gonna be, baby? Are we going to fuck or do you prefer to keep pretending you don’t want this as much as I do?”

“Come in,” you say through gritted teeth and he laughs again, stepping inside and sliding the glass door back on its place. You wind your arms around his shoulders and press yourself against him. “You’re a pain in my ass, Hong Seunghan. You know that, right?”

“Yeah, and you love me,” he mutters while he holds you, splaying both of his hands on your ass.

“Unfortunately, I do,” you whisper back, pulling him in for a kiss.

Seunghan’s lips have always been addictive to you. You love how full and beautiful they are, how his smiles come easily when he quirks the sides of them up just a bit and especially how soft and moist they become while he’s kissing you. You always get lost in the feeling, biting on his bottom lip and drawing pretty sounds out of him. You’re so lost in him at this moment that you don’t even notice how his hands snake down your body, gripping on your flesh until his fingers find the place in between your legs.

He spreads you open with his fingers and you moan, your lips disconnecting with his. He laughs darkly as his forefinger rubs on your clit and you hold onto his shoulders for stability.

“You tried to deny me like that but yet you get this wet from just a few kisses?” He says while he watches your face contorting in pleasure.

“I was trying to be responsible,” you reply, trying to keep your moaning to a minimum while it’s still so early in the game. “Instead of you, who only thinks with your dick.”

Seunghan smiles, fingers massaging over your hole and trying to coax louder moans out of you. “That’s just your effect on me, sweetheart. I can’t help it.”

“I don’t know about that. Maybe you’re just a horndo–” You get cut off because of course Seunghan chooses that exact moment to insert two of his fingers inside of you, making the words on your lips turn into a groan and your head loll back.

“What were you saying, baby?” He asks slyly over your exposed neck, pumping his fingers in and out of you with precision. How can he be so fucking good at this?

You gulp down the saliva that collects in your throat and scrunch your eyes while you bask in the feeling of him pleasuring you. “Nothing.”

“That’s what I thought,” he replies with a smile, moving you to press your back against the bathroom wall and reaching down to wrap a hand around one of your thighs, hooking it up around his waist. You press the arch of your foot on his ass to pull him closer to you and soon enough his dick is pressed in between your bodies and he’s rutting on your lower belly. “That’s it, such a good girl for me.”

You move your hand down to cover his pretty cock, pumping him in your fist the best you can while Seunghan distracts you by scissoring his fingers inside your cunt. You try to look down to see what you’re doing, but Seunghan’s head eclipses your visions when he starts dropping kisses on the valley of your breasts. His lips move to one of your perk nipples and you moan out loud when he sucks it into his mouth, flicking the bud with his tongue. Your pace falters on his length and he pulls your hand away from it to intertwine your fingers together, resting them on the coldness of the bathroom tiles beside your head.

“Hani, it’s your birthday,” you say, and he looks up at you with your boob still inside his mouth. “I should be the one pleasuring you.”

He releases your nipple with a pop, then sinks his teeth on the flesh of your other breast. “But you are pleasuring me, baby. Doing whatever I want with you is all I need.”

You sigh when he licks over your neglected nipple, his tongue tracing around the areola over and over again until he gets tired of it and suctions on that one, too. He keeps the unrelenting pace of his fingers inside of you and moves his thumb up your clit again to rub on it.

“But I want to do more for you,” you whisper, starting to thrust your hips up against his hand. Your head already feels dizzy and your vision starts to get hazy with how much he’s overwhelming your senses. You feel that any moment now you might snap.

Seunghan releases his nipple from your mouth t at the same moment the revolutions down your clit get faster, and you can’t stop your moans from echoing around the restroom anymore while he kisses his way up to your lips again.

“Then you can suck me off after dinner, okay?” He mutters, his natural foxy eyes glinting at you and his mouth drinking up your sounds. “You’re close, right?”

“So close, Hani,” you cry out, gripping his hand tightly on yours and tugging on his hair with your other one.

He smiles at you and presses his lips to yours two times. Then, he mutters, “Cum for me now, pretty girl.”

It’s ridiculous that that’s all it takes to get you there. But either way, your orgasm washes over you, the tingling forming in your belly spreading through your limbs and head while your walls convulse around Seunghan’s fingers. He still keeps his work in your pussy while you scream and drop your lips to bite on his neck to give you something to do.

“That’s it, my love. You look so pretty when you fall apart. I want to watch this for the rest of my life,” he whispers in your ear while you sink your teeth on his flesh.

Once there’s no energy left in your body and you’re babbling incoherently on his skin, he slides his hand up to lift your chin and press your head back on the wall. His fingers wipe the drool from the corner of your mouth and you smell your juices on them, your tongue instinctively darting out to lick at them.

“Shit, baby, you got me so hard already,” he heaves while you suck his digits into your mouth, limp hand searching for his cock again. “There’s no need for that.”

You only release his fingers from your mouth after pressing little kisses on the tips of each one, then you smile at him and wrap your hand around his dick, slapping it against your folds to share your wetness and his precum with each other. “You’re going to fuck me now, birthday boy?”

“Are you up for it already?” He asks, trying to convey worry through his little groans and expletives. “I don’t wanna do too much too soon.”

“I don’t care, you can overstimulate me all you want,” you reply back, hitting his dick on your clit to show him that you’re serious. “I just need your dick inside me, Hani.”

“Fuck yeah,” he groans at both your words and how you guide his dick to your entrance, your cunt sucking his fat head inside. “I’ll fuck you dumb, baby.”

“Be my guest,” you moan back, feeling him slide all the way in one go and bottoming out, your walls stretching to accommodate his heavy girth inside.

Seunghan slides out and inside of you slowly only three times. Then he sets a merciless rhythm, hitting you with smooth, fast and hard thrusts. You wrap your other leg around him and he holds you up with his strong legs and arms, hands grasping your back and ass cheeks. You tug on his hair, kiss his cheeks, nip on his lips and suck on his neck and chest while he keeps fucking you through it all. The wet sounds of his dick fleetly moving in and out of your cunt and your skin slapping together bounce around the walls, becoming the back tracking for the harmony of moans you voice out together.

He doesn’t falter for a minute, not even when you reach down to squeeze his balls. Instead of easing down his flow, he spreads one of your legs apart, securing it to the wall behind you while he scrunches his nose and gazes down to watch how your cunt clutches to his cock every time he pulls back and your hand fondles his testicles.

Seunghan is giving you his everything. Hoisting you up, holding you together, pining you to the wall and fucking you deliciously. Ruining you. His arms bulge and his legs flex while he does it and you can see sweat forming on his forehead. The water still falling from the shower hits his shoulder blades and splash warm droplets on your skins and the shower doors, like it’s painting freckles on the scene, covering you both in the marks of your lovemaking.

You think he never looked as beautiful as he does right now.

“Seunghan,” you call for him and he looks at you with lust and love swimming inside his eyes. You run a hand over the fringe that falls on his forehead, slicking it back and then rubbing your fingers on his cheek bone. Handsome as hell. You can’t quite believe this man is all yours. “I’m close. I want you to cum inside, okay?”

He nods fervently and presses kisses on your hand that’s still on his face. “Yeah, baby, you got it,” he says, his voice faltering slightly.

Just then he slows down the drive of his hips, moving his legs and balancing himself again in between your thighs until he finds the new angle he’s searching for. Your breath hitches when it seems like he slides even deeper inside your pussy. The head of his cock starts to hit that amazing spongy spot inside you and he smiles victoriously when you’re reduced to a blubbering mess. When his thumb rubs on your clit, joining his dick in his effort to make you mad, you’re done for.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” you moan out, squeezing your eyes shut. Your legs tremble and you try to hold it together, but your peak is coming at you faster and faster. “Baby, I think I’m gonna– I’m cum–”

You’re interrupted by Seunghan’s lips crashing on yours and his tongue being shoved inside your mouth. Your orgasm rips through your body like an out-of-control train flying off its tracks. It’s brisk and powerful, leaving your heart racing and your breath short, your mouth hanging open while you moan your boyfriend’s name until your voice feels raw.

“That’s it, baby. That’s a good girl, cumming all over my cock,” Seunghan says, his eyes locking on yours when your jaw clenches. “I’m right behind you, baby. Going to give you my cum now.”

“I want it, Hani, please do it,” you request with a hoarse voice, fighting your words out through the soreness in your throat.

“Oh, shit,” he groans, his hips jerking and stuttering, his cock swelling up and twitching inside you. “Yeah, fucking take it, baby.”

He spills inside your cunt and you moan deeply one more time before he slumps against you, his forehead pressing on your shoulder while your pussy milks him dry. He’s still holding you up, but the hand that was pining your thigh to the wall is now limp, and you move your leg back to wrap around him, tightening your hold of him to keep him inside you as long as possible.

Seunghan moans some more in your ear and you press reassuring kisses on the moles over his shoulders while you both calm down and catch your breaths. When you feel his gasps mellowing out, you press your fingers on his nape and pull his head back to look into his eyes.

“Hi,” you whisper and he gives you the sweetest smile ever, the lines around his eyes cracking and his whisker dimples appearing on his cheeks. “Happy birthday, Hani.”

He hums happily and rests his forehead on yours, dropping five consecutive pecks on your mouth. “Thank you, baby. I love you.”

“I love you, too,” you say, pressing your lips on his to give him a full kiss. He responds eagerly, tongue stroking yours and hands sliding to the back of your thighs to kee you up.

You feel his dick stirring inside you again when he pulls back and says, “You think we can go for round two before the guys show up?”

You laugh incredulously at him and unwrap your legs from his body, pushing on his shoulders until he pulls out of you. He whimpers pathetically at the loss of contact and you lift a finger to shut him up.

“Don’t you start, Hong Seunghan,” you admonish him.

He just pouts and catches your finger with his hand, puts it inside of his mouth and starts to suck on it, looking at you wickedly as he does so, all that while his cum starts to seep out of you. Your breath hitches at the scene and because his remnants now sticking to your thighs. But you keep your cool, withdrawing your finger from between his lips until it’s out with a pop. You give his chest a slap and then turn, moving to stand under the shower head to clean yourself.

However, before you can get the soap on your body, his arms are around you again and his lips are ghosting over the shell of your ear. “I’ll be quick, baby. Please, it’s my birthday.”

You roll your eyes at him. He’s insatiable. And he’s definitely going to be late for his own birthday party.

happy birthday, hani, i love you! If you liked this work, consider sharing your thoughts with me on the comments or my ask box. thanks for reading! 🧡