#f. finally some good fucking fo

[dilf-docs]

From This Time, Unchained

jackson!joel miller x younger fem!reader

summary: joel doesn't know why, of all the people in jackson, you've chosen him.

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), BIG age gap (20s/60s) (does it look like igaf), smut, begging kink, praise kink, oral (f. receiving), breast play, dacryphilia, hurt/comfort, soft!joel, insecure!joel, fluff bc my dying man deserves it💔 #joelmillerapologistclub

word count: 8,554 words

side note: joel miller widow club where u at??? i wish i could write a fix-it fic but my heart is too heavy even after a week lol and my ass too people pleaser-ish to write allat. (i haven't seen last night's ep yet bc this weekend has been ass!!) so, instead, have this piece because peepaw deserves love and a good fuck with his glasses on! (shout out to my joel miller playlist, u saved me girl) (also girl why did i battle with this like for four days lmaoooo not me posting it 9 seconds before midnight)

Joel Miller is a busy man.

All of Jackson seems to need him. Be it his neighbours, with a broken faucet or be the council, for his skills in construction, or even Maria and Tommy, when they wanted some time alone and he got to be the fun uncle for a couple of hours. Even Ellie, who didn't need him, as she liked to remind him, yet he still found himself in her garage, where she moved despite his reluctance, dusting off shelves or the forgotten guitar in a corner, all to feel useful for the one who he cared for the most.

That spot was debatable, thought. There was his brother, his niece, maybe Maria, Ellie, recently Dina and well, you.

You. Sweet you. Town's favorite girl. A complete dream. The girl next door embodied. Looks that aim to kill. It killed him. So damn perfect he can't help but wonder why, of all Jackson, you'd choose brooding old Joel Miller.

The one you'd give your smiles to, because even if you shared it to the world, your reserved your best for him only. His patrol partner, the beauty of the snowed-in landscape barely rivaling your own. Who you'd give your hours, always appearing when he needed you most, eyes open wide with that shine of theirs it was impossible to resist, not to trust. He had been a faithless man for too long, wandering in the dark. Eyes closed. Then came Ellie, and it was gone, coming back the days when Sarah was his babygirl. But it returned when she pushed him away, but you had stepped in, not as a replacement but as an oath. Something to hold on.

To believe.

In anything. In you. In the us, silent but strong. Watchful, like the stars shinning above in the sky, twinkling as the sound of your laugh when you and him would watch them, sitting on his roof. He let this things happen, let his guard down and allowed himself to be childish and soft, even if his joints ached when he got up and he could fall. But you were there, and falling... It didn't sound bad.

(He knew you'd be there to catch him, anyway. Even if you weren't that strong and he wasn't exactly... well, featherweight)

Right now, he's working. Not for Jackson, but or you. Furrowed brow and shoulders slumped over his table at the workshop, concentrated, his glasses perched on his nose. He hates them, another reminder of the time passed by, yet there's no option. At least not if he wants to give you the very best.

Ah, yes. His latest project. A little wood carving. Doesn't have a shape yet, like your relationship. He chuckles to himself, feeling silly. What where labels anymore in this world, anyway? Still, he can't fanthom the nature of it. It sounded more like a perverted old man's fantasy, if he's being honest, the glances thrown his way from townsfolk a little cruel reminder. You're no good, you'd jokingly sing that one song and, despite the judgment, he'd smile. For you, anything.

Like the figurine. Joel finally sees it take shape. And then there's a knock in the door. Sharp. Same as yesterday, and as the year before ever since he's had you like this.

"Come in" he says, not looking up as you enter.

He's too focused, voice sounding gruff for the long hours of silence since he sat down with an idea in mind; pounding heart, trembling hands.

"Hey, Joel"

He takes his glasses off, placing them on the table, before standing up to greet you. He crosses the short distance and wraps his arms around you in a tender hug, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. He smells like wood and sweat. His musk lingers, so does his tight embrace. As if you'd dissappear if he didn't.

"Missed ya', sweet girl" he mumbles, voice muffled.

You giggle a bit. "I was gone for an hour. Are you getting clingy on me, Miller?"

You loved to tease him. Bad habit of yours. He lets out a low chuckle that rumbles on his chest and against your skin. He pulls back from the hug, yet his arms now drop to your waist, because he's addicted to keeping you close.

"Too damn long" he protests, carrying his southern accent within.

"I love when that Texan drawl slips in" you sigh, poking his cheek. He leans into your touch, like a touch-starved puppy. You then look at him, pouting your lips with a small frown. "Hey, and your glasses?"

"Huh?" he looks at the pair, sitting on the table. Forgotten. "Over'ere. For?"

You shrug. Joel shoots you a suspicious look. "Darlin', why you so interested in my glasses?"

You avert his gaze. The floor is more interesting now.

"Honey... Look at me. S'okay if you don't wanna-"

"I like how you look when you wear them" you finally blurt out, too fast and too quiet.

He's taken back by that. Eyes wide, probably written all over his face. Yet you refuse to look at him. He tips your chin up, so you can meet his gaze. It's soft, making your legs wobbly.

"Is that so?" he asks, teasingly. He still can't believe you actually like them. "You like when old men wear them glasses, baby?"

"Hhm, yeah" you hum. "More if it's you"

His heart skips a beat at your response. Fuck. He's gone soft, too soft. He feels his face heat up, chuckling in an attempt to cover it. Then, runs a hand through his hair, letting it rest on the base of his neck, a tell-tale sign he's feeling awkward. Flustered, even.

"You gon' give me a heart attack, honey. 'M too old for ya' to say things like that"

"Aw, old man can't take a compliment?" you tease, wrapping your arms around his neck. Then, you stand up on your tiptoes to whisper on his ear. "You're cute when you blush"

Joel's sure his face has gone redder, breath hitching as well. Still, he manages to put his arms around your waist, holding you close.

"You're real bad" he grumbles, though there's no bite on his tone. He hides his face again in the crook of your neck. "And I'm not blushing"

You giggle, patting his head lightly as your fingers trace his now long hair. If it didn't drive you wild...

"Then stop hiding"

Joel relaxes under your touch. "You're trouble. I'm serious 'bout the heart attack"

"No" you exaggerate, rocking him slightly. "Don't die"

He looks up at you, smirking as he groans with fake annoyance.

"If you keep that up, I might do"

"Then who will I bore with my failed recipes and gossip?"

"Thankfully, not me"

You groan. "Oh, shut up you old man"

You're always calling him that. Not that he minds, he knows you're not doing it with malice, but sometimes it annoys him. For example, today.

"Well, you chose 'tis old man so don't go complainin', honey"

You huff. "Unfortunately, I love this old man with his old-man ways. Like your woodcarving"

After saying so, you take a small peek over his figure, still drapped over your chest and neck, to the table behind. "Speaking of, can I see what you're doing?"

He looks back, where he's left the figurine unnattended after your arrival. Lets go of you, taking a step back so you get a better look.

"Sure, darlin'. Go'head"

Joel thinks he's good at hiding the nervousness in his voice as you approach the table. He crosses and uncrosses his arms, anxiously.

"Your glasses" almost in a reflex, passing them to him before seeing what's on the table. "Can you wear them, Joel? Pretty please"

He takes the glasses from your hands, fingers brushing. It may be that or your request that make his heart jump. You can see some hesitation on him before he puts them on. Looking down at you, smirking, Joel smiles.

"There ya' go, sweet girl. Happy now?" he asks, a hint of huskiness in his voice.

"So much better" you tap them lightly, "and so is your vision"

Joel let's out a small chuckle, grinning like a fool. Honestly, he loves the attention.

(He's never going to admit it out loud, though)

"You do know how'da flatter an old man, huh"

You smirk, moving to the table again. "Oh, I love flattering him. Now, show me what you're working on"

There's a block of wood on the center. Cut sharp. Perfectly. He's been obssesive with it, maybe. There's a sketch, and the figurine only has been carved at the bottom, where a tail begins to take shape.

"I know am not an artist, but I tried"

You remain silent, making him a little nervous.

"S'a deer" he explains, gruffly, looking into your eyes for a reaction.

"A deer? Like, Bambi?" you ask in awe, softly tracing the wood. Your words get stuck, like honey. Sweet but sticky. "Joel..."

His heart swells a bit at your tone, expression soft as he recognizes admiration in your tone.

"Yeah, like damn Bambi" he murmurs, hands itchy. First, he shoves them on his pockets, just to take them out and place them on his hips instead, his jacket now open, the silhoutte of his tummy under his shirt showing, the flannel stretched on the middle. He watches you closel as you face him again.

"Is it- Is it for me?" you ask in that voice that, goddamn it, makes Joel want to give you the whole world if he could.

He slowly nods, a sheepish expression on his face.

"Yeah" he admits, voice uncharacteristically hesitant. "S' for ya"

Then looks away, feeling vulnerable for some reason. But your lips quiver, and before he can register, you throw yourself at him, hands around his neck, body practically swinging. He stumbles a bit, yet manages to catch you alright.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" you gush, peppering his cheek with kisses. "I know it's not even done but, wow. Thank you, Joel!" an adorable squeal leaves your mouth, and as soon as that is out, your lips find his to leave a sweet kiss on his mouth. When you calm down, your voice goes soft. "It's... No one had ever done something like this for me"

He's clearly taken by surprise by your affection outburst, his heart swelling at your reaction and giddyness. He's also a bit overwhelmed, kissed cheeks now a pretty flushed pink. There's something so warm and fond on his eyes as he looks down on you, cupping your cheek after your final kiss.

"S'nothin', sweet girl. You're welcome"

"You're so special, Joel. Did you know that?" you whisper, leaning into his touch while closing your eyes.

Good. He's probably a mess right now, his heart clenching on his chest, a mix of emotions washing over him. God, he hates getting compliments, but yours always stirred things he long ago thought dead.

"Special, huh?" he grumbles while sporting a half-smile. "I reckon that's you"

You smirk. "We can both be special, then. There's always room for two"

He runs his thumb over your cheek, chuckling a bit. "Deal. But you're a bit more"

"Oh, you want to compete?" you tease.

He smirks at the challenge, pulling you closer with a tight arm around your waist.

"Damn right I do. Y'know I like winnin'. 'Sides, 'm more than willin' to play if it means ya' get competitive 's well. You're cute when you challenge me, baby"

You feign hurt. "I'm always cute, how dare you"

"Oh, forgive me" he chuckles. "At this age I tend to forget"

"Don't worry. I'll beat your ass so bad, you won't forget it"

He archs an eyebrow, amused. "Now you abuse the elder? Bad girl"

Your face flushes and core pulses.

"I can be a bit of a brat if I want to" you tease, fingers roaming over his warm chest. "Will you punish me for that?"

Joel's eyes darken on an instant. There's a shadow of desire coating his brown when a low rumble escapes his throat. The air feels charged with a new found tension suddenly.

"Careful, sweet girl. You ain't know what you playin'"

He closes the gap between you, his body pressing against yours. His hands move from your waist to grip your hips, holding you against him.

"You're quite mouthy tonight, aren't 'cha?" he growls, his voice carrying a rough edge.

"Just to get what I want. Besides, your little project tug at my hearstrings" you quip. "And something else"

"Oh, yeah? You gon' tell me what's that?"

You smirk. "What do you think it is?"

He hums. "I'd rather hear you say it"

"That's not fair" you pout your lips.

He chuckles, "Nothin' ever is fair, I reckon. But you're a troublesome little thing, ain't ya'?"

You send him a little flirtatious wink.

"I am looking for some trouble tonight"

He's not amused by your words. You're a greedy insatiable little thing sometimes. So far, Joel's been able to deflect all of your attempts. The farthest you'd ever made it was when you straddled his lap on the old couch of his workshop, and even then, he limited his reactions to grunts and seeing you come. God. It had been tortuous waiting for you to go so he could piston his aching cock to the memory of your little sounds.

"Ain't that interesting?"

"Oh, but it is" you're quick to counter, "and I take you and your little friend are into it"

His breath hitches, eyes and cheeks burning alike with intensity. The heat travels down his spine, straight to his throbbing dick, the reason he's been caught red-handed.

"You surely are looking for trouble" his voice reduced to a rough gasp.

Joel's struggling to maintain the control he so prided himself in, you not making it any easier with your teasing. "Y'a temptress, doll. Know that?"

"Is my magic working?" you ask, batting your eyelashes.

He's resolve is quickly crumbling, self-control tossed to the bin in the corner. Joel loves as much as he hates your big innocent yet teasing eyes. No wonder he was carving you out a deer.

"Damnit, sweet girl. Y'know it's. You gettin' me all worked up in'ere"

"Take me upstairs, then. I'm sure we can find a solution"

He can feel the heat radiating off of you, eyes darkening at the invitation.

"Doll, you're playing with fire here" he warns, despite the obvious effect your words are having on him.

"It's fine. I don't mind the burn"

He knows he's done, Joel's growl an indicator of his control snapping completely.

"Damn it" he mutters before his lips crash against yours. It's heated. Desperate. His hands grip your hips, holding you tighlty against him while he devours your mouth like a starved man, as if you didn't kiss just this morning, before going on your patrol.

You moan into the kiss, Joel swallowing your sounds as if they were his own. Fuck. His mind goes fuzzy when you grab his face with both of your hands, deepening the kiss. He thinks he's backed you against a wall, by the small Thud sound. He's lost: on the way your lips move, on the way they taste, in the sounds they make.

You pull out first. Joel thinks you belong in a museum: with your lips, swollen and parted. It's too your dilatated eyes and chest, rising and falling. He can't resist and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, his calloused fingers tenderly brushing your soft skin.

"Aren't you the prettiest man in Jackson?" you blurt out, adoring.

He's not used to being praised like this. Not even by you, even after months of doing so. Always feels like the first time. And then, he feels stupid: for blushing too much, heart skipping too many beats, chest clenching too hard. Like a damn highschooler. Joel's as embarrassed as content that you make him feel all sort of ways.

"Easy, sugar" he mutters, voice gruff. "You gon' give 'tis old man an ego"

"No need to blame me when you can look at yourself in the mirror" you're quick to reply. "I believe that's enough reason to give you some ego"

He's smirking at your response. Yeah, he definitely loves when you stroke his ego. Especially as of late, where he feels... rather, old.

"Oh. Oh" you begin to tease through giggles, playfully hitting his chest. He huffs, catching where this is going. "Do you like it when I call you pretty?"

Joel's cheeks flush a little at your question, his stoic nature faltering a bit at your teasing.

"Maybe" he mumbles, eyes avoiding yours. "But don't let it get to your head, doll"

"Too late" you murmur, wrapping once more your hands on his neck. "You're pretty, Joel. Especially when you flush"

Pretty isn't exactly a word he'd used to describe himself. But when you call him pretty, out of that sweet mouth of yours, his name along as well? You can call him however the fuck you want.

He can feel his body reek out vulnerability, and he hates himself a bit for getting weaker. He tried, really did, but his walls had been down for a while. His defenses had crumbled. He was pathetic, lonely, and sad. Yet here you were, looking at him with your big adoring eyes like he was the only thing that mattered. Joel lets your words sink for a moment, letting out a small sigh, not being able to deny it feels good. Maybe it does matter.

"You're too damn sweet, sugar. Y'know that?" he mutters, finger tracing lightly your hip.

You smile, sickenly saccharine. "I'm aware. Trust me, I have a cute grumpy boyfriend to remind me so"

His expression softens even more at your easy loving. He's so fucking putty in your hands, Tommy would laugh in his face.

"Y'got me wrapped 'round your damn finger, sweet girl" Joel whispers in his usual gruff voice, but it's laced with affection.

You raise a finger, moving it in front of his face like one would with a bone and a dog.

"You mean this?"

Joel watches your finger with amused eyes, a small smirk tugging at his lips. It scares and excites him how easy it's to fall under your spell. With soft movements, he reaches and captures your hand, bringing it to his mouth. He then presses a gentle kiss to your finger, eyes never leaving yours.

"Yeah, doll. This one" his voice is husky, "All of 'em. Y' got me good"

You gulp under the intensity of his gaze. "Don't do that..."

He smirks at your reaction, finally feeling like he has some leverage. He raises an eyebrow, a playful glint in his eyes as he holds you even closer, your chest pressing against his. You even feel the soft curve of his stomach over your own.

"Don't do what?" he asks, playing coy. "We're not backin' down now, are we, sugar?"

At your lack of answer, cheeks bright, he huffs, hand moving to gently cup your chin. Joel's brown eyes lock with yours when he speaks again.

"So, what now? Or did y' just come by to check up on your ol' man?"

"No. That's not what I want"

His smirk grows as the dark shade on his eyes. He's not dumb, of course he knows what you want. Just wants to hear you say it.

"What'da ya' want, then?"

You pout your lips, whining.

"Joel... Just give me what I want"

He leans in a bit closer, voice gruff and filled with desire. His thumb strokes your chin softly.

"Depends" he grumbles. "You gon' ask nicely?"

"On my very best behavior" you raise your hand, "I swear it"

He smirks, letting go of your face. "Good girl"

You stand on your tiptoes, leaning against his ear. His heart skips a beat, a small shiver running down his spine at your lips ghosting his skin.

"I am" you kiss his earlobe. "For you. Just you" you leave a little bite on it. A low rumble escapes his throat. You lick the red little spot to soothe it. "Your best girl"

"My only girl" he's quick to reply. You're up in the air in a minute, his hands supporting you as he carries you, your legs dangling at his sides. It amazed you how strong he continued to be, despite his age. Strong men make good times, you suppose.

You giggle a bit. "Oh, Joel. I'm so lucky"

His heart races at your words. All this banter fills him with a warm fondness, making him feel young again.

"I reckon that's me, doll"

Your noses brush after his comment, in silence. You close your eyes, as so does he. You break the aphony first.

"Joel"

"Yes?"

"I want you to have me"

Joel's heart skips a beat at your words, his chest swelling with a mixture of emotion. No one has ever spoken to him with such tenderness, even with what your request implies. It's overwhelming.

"Ya' want me?" he asks gruffly, his voice hoarse with desire and emotion.

Fuck. It's happening. What he avoided so badly, but right now? His mind has gone blank, and when it starts working again, it's filled with lewd images of sweet you. Jesus. If he had doubts he was going to hell before, now he's certain. At least, he got heaven on Earth with you.

"Y' sure 'bout that, sugar?" he asks gruffly, his voice husky. "You're so damn young, deserve someone better"

You nod, slowly, caressing his cheek, your voice just barely above a whisper.

"I've never been more sure"

He takes a small moment to gather himself, his eyes never leaving yours. He's suddenly feeling incredibly vulnerable, and it scares him as much as it excites him.

"I mean, would've I done all this if I didn't?"

Joel lets out a small laugh. "You little devious minx. I'll give ya' that"

"Give me what?" you tease.

His lips crash into yours as your hands find his face, holding as you deepen the kiss. His fingers dig in your thighs, making you moan and a spark of electricity run through his spine. He lets out a low moan in response to yours, pulling away from your lips momentarily, his eyes darkening with want. Joel looks at you for a moment, taking in your flushed cheeks and parted lips.

He lets out a low rumble, his voice gruff and rough.

"Yeah" he mutters. "Keep talkin' like that, and you'll get more than a kiss"

"So, I'll keep talking then"

"Y' little brat" he grumbles, voice dripping with frustration. "If ya' don't stop, I'm gonna..."

Joel trails off, his eyes dark with promises left unspoken.

"Say it" you challenge. "Or are you backing down?"

He takes a deep breath, trying to regain some semblance of self control, despite loving your teasing and how it's driving him wild. He lets out a small laugh, his mind swirling with desire and frustration.

"Y' gon' pay for that later, darlin'" he threatens gruffly, his eyes locked on yours.

"How about now?"

Joel's heart skips a beat at your question, the idea sending a surge of desire through him. He can feel his self-control slipping away, your words pushing him closer to the edge.

He lets out a low, gruff chuckle, his hand tightening around your chin. His eyes lock onto yours, a mix of desire and anticipation in them.

"Sure you wanna know, doll?" he asks gruffly, his voice rough with barely restrained desire.

"All of it" too eager. He can't help but smile, resolve unraveling. "Don't spare any details"

"And you gon' be a good girl?" he asks, voice barely above a whisper.

"Didn't I promise so?"

Those simple words are all it takes for Joel's resolve to finally crumble. Fuck what other people think. Fuck his own fears. He can't resist you any longer, the desire within him reaching boiling point.

"Shit, doll" he rasps, voice rough. "With words like that I'm just gon' give y'anythin' you want"

"Please, Joel" you utter his name in a little whimper.

"Please what?"

Loves to see you beg. Has imagined you squirming, like you did when his fingers would drift too close to your aching cunt. Straddling feels so stupid now, when he could've have sweet you like this a long ago.

"Fuck me"

The sound of your whimper goes straight to Joel's throbbing dick. He's completely undone, powerless against your desires.

"That's right, good girl" he rasps, his voice gruff and rough. You let a little whimper at the praise. "I'll give y'anythin' you want, angel"

He carries you upstairs while you giggle at his huffs, teasing him when his knees creak like the old wooden stairs. Still, he insists on carrying you when you offer to walk, maybe trying to prove his strength to you or something. When his face turns a deep shade of red, you can't tell if it's out of shame or effort.

"Taking me to your bed? I've never seen your bedroom" you muse out loud, once he reaches the final stair.

Despite the intensity of the moment, a small smirk tugs at the corner of his lips.

"There's always a first" he rasps.

Your nose brushes against his cheek. "Can't wait"

The door opens when Joel kicks it lightly. It's very him, you think, as soon as it comes on view. There's a guitar in the corner, you notice too.

"It's very you" you say out loud now. He drops you on the bed, making you giggle. "It's simple and cozy"

He's still trying to calm his racing heart, but it's difficult when he's hovering over you, so close to your body, he can feel the heat of it. Can even smell your arousal in the air.

"'M not sure simple's a nice thing t' say 'bout someone"

For a moment, the room goes quiet. He hesitates to continue.

"There's just... somethin' I need to discuss with ya' before we get carried 'way"

Your doe eyes look up to him. "Yes?"

Joel takes a deep breath.

"I've... It's been a while, y'know, since... I'm just used to bein' alone. In that sense. And I... I haven't been with someone in a long time"

His voice trails off, a vulnerability settling in his expression.

"Joel..." you whisper, sitting as he backs up a bit.

"'M not good with people" he admits gruffly. "I tend to scare 'em off"

You extend your hand to softly trace over his stubble. Joel leans into your touch, his expression softening, your presence providing a sense of comfort. He takes a moment to gather his thoughts.

"You're not scaring me. I'm here"

His mouth tastes like sand when he swallows.

"Yeah, but I-"

"Yes?"

He pauses for a moment, a hint of vulnerability in his expression.

"'M not exactly young anymore, sugar"

"And what's bad about not being young?" you look at him, voice soft. "Are you afraid your knees will crack when you go down on me or what?"

He lets out a clipped laugh. The tension in the room lightens a little, and he's grateful for your attempt to lighten the mood.

"Oh, very funny, sweetheart." he grumbles, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "And no, 's not that. I can eat ya' just fine" Joel spits, making you laugh at his cocky demeanor. But then he goes quiet again. "It's just... 'M not as young and good lookin' as I used to be" he finally blurts out.

Why is he even saying this things out loud. He didn't care before. He thought about himself better before. Yeah, before. What is it about the now that he cares, worse, admits out loud his insecurities?

Your expression morphs into one of sympathy. God, he hates it. Looks away from your warmth and pity. No, not pity. Compassion, like Joel was some sort of wounded old dog.

"Joel" you close the distance, tracing his face tenderly, drawing little heart shapes over his stubble. "That's not true. You're as handsome as back in the day, baby. I didn't meet you then, I know that, and this may be biased, but I'll choose the old you always, my pretty boy"

Joel's heart skips a beat at your words, his expression softening even more. He's not used to such tender affection, and it's overwhelming.

He takes a moment to process your words, his eyes never leaving yours. He can see the sincerity in your eyes, and it touches him more than he can express. Words were never his thing, anyway.

"Y/n" he mutters gruffly, his voice rough with emotion. He even used your name. "You're too good fo' me"

"I just... I think it's because I love you"

He's taken back, almost falling in top of you, yet quickly regaining his posture. Still, his heart jumps into his throat, dangerously close to falling out from his mouth at your sudden confession.

It's been almost a year of being his and him being yours, yet those three words hadn't even been close to being said. Joel never thought he'd get to hear them again from the lips of a lover. Yet here you were, so damn young and sweet, letting them roll off your tongue in a soft echo of your loving. Safe. Like a home. You were his home.

He looks at you, his expression a mixture of surprise and vulnerability.

"Y'... Y' love me?" his voice rasping a bit as he questions you.

"It's okay if you don't say it back" you laugh quietly, probably to make him feel better. Always thinking about the others, you pure thing.

He looks you in the eye, his hand still cupping your cheek. There's a warm tenderness in his expression, despite his gruff tone.

"No. Don't think that" he goes quiet for a moment, as if the weight of your declaration was sinking him. He lets out a shaky breath, as if unsure if the world around him was real, his eyes locked on yours. "I... love you too"

Your eyes widen, a smile appearing instantly on your face as it lights up. His heart swells immediately at the sight of your happiness, and all he wishes for is to see it everyday. When he wakes up, to be first, and when he goes to sleep, your face the last thing to see. To be there, even as he closes his eyes and dozes off to sleep. Your giddy giggles are so fucking contagious, a rebellious smile creeps up his lips.

"You do?"

His chest tightens, vulnerable. Filled with an affection never known before.

"Yeah, sweet girl" he mutters gruffly. "I do. I love you"

Your smile is probably the most beautiful thing in the world, pleased and vicious like a cat's.

"Now, if you love me so dearly as you say, please" your lips part in a shaky breath, "have me"

So damn impatient. He may have spoiled you too much.

"Ya' want me t' have ya', honey?" he asks gruffly, his voice rough with desire as his hands slide down your thighs, tainting untouched skin.

You squirm, nodding eagerly. "Please. I want you so bad it hurts"

His voice, so soft and low, may have passed as a grunt. But you saw. Heard. Noticed. Like the way his face frowned, eyebrows furrowed as if you just told him you were sick. As if he wanted to be the cure to the disease he gave you.

"Tell me where it hurts"

Demanding in a tender way. Almost benevolent. Not even hurting you, but wanted to take every pain of yours away. You didn't deserve not even a scratch of this angry dirty world ruining your soft heart.

You point to the middle of your legs, parting them slowly open. His eyes turn glassy as he tugs your jeans down, and the first sight he gets, is your underwear, damp with your sticky arousal. He gulps, eyes darkening with desire.

"Please. There" you whimper.

"I've got eyes" Joel lets out a small, gruff chuckle. "You're impatient, know that?"

He cups your chin, eyes locked on yours. His breath is shallow, voice raspy and low.

"Don't worry. Lemme help"

He places himself in between your legs, fingers hooking into the waistband of your panties.

"Gon' show ya' what'a man with experience has to offer, al'ight? Now, spread y'r legs open for me" he commands softly. "Lemme see that beautiful, needy cunt"

He pulls your panties down, his throat dry when he peels the drenched fabric down your legs, revealing glistening folds. He can see how swollen and puffy they were. The sight makes his mouth water and his cock pulse with desire.

Joel lowers his head, knees and bed creaking, inhaling the sweet intoxicating smell of your arousal, his facial hear ghosting over your trembling skin until it tickles. Your nervous giggling get stuck in your throat when Joel buries his face between your thighs, tongue delving into your slick folds to lap up the sweet nectar that dripped from your cunt. He groans at the taste, as if savoring the best meal to exist on Earth.

"So sweet" he growls, voice vibrating against your sensitive flesh. His mouth latches onto your clit, suckling the throbbing needy bud as his tongue flicks over it. "Too damn sweet"

It still hurts. It's across your face.

"Gon' help with 'tis. Just wait" he thrusts two fingers knuckle-deep into your cunt, pumping them in and out, curling them to stroke a spot that reduces you to a quiet muffled mess. "S' right, sugar" he praises. "Wanna see you come f' y'r old man"

The feeling of having you here, so needy and responsive, is doing things to him. Joel's lost on the way you beg, his name out of your parted lips in a secretive manner, as if reinforcing the nature of your desires and needs. How this moment was only yours, a whole new world past his door, creeping up the sweaty sheets, making way to his lonley heart, poisoned by the infectious warmth of your own.

He could feel your thighs trembling around his head, cute cries and whimpers serving as a motivation to bring you to the edge. Joel devours you, sucking like a starved man, flicking and lashing at your gushing cunt mercilessly with his tongue. It's experience, he made damn sure you knew about that. He also pumps his fingers faster, plunging deeper into your clutching heat.

"Come on, doll" he urges, voice a low rumble against your sex, "wanna feel 'tis tight little pussy spasm 'round ma' fingers"

"Joel!" you moan out loud, hands clawing into his arms for support.

He can feel your body tensing, your tight walls fluttering around the digits plunging in and out of you. Joel knew you were close, so he sucks your clit with fervent intensity as he curled his fingers just right, stroking that special spot that made your toes curl.

"That's it, y/n" he growls, eyes flashing up to meet yours, dark and intense with lust. "Drench me, y' sweet thing"

With a keening cry, you feel your body burst. Your back archs as your body quakes and shudders, your orgasm washing over you. Joel feels your pussy clench and spasm around his fingers, hot liquid gushing out to coat his hand and drip down his wrist.

Joel's a gentleman, languidly licking and suckling as you ride out of your high. Once your breathing slows, he withdraws his fingers, bringing them up to his mouth to clean off your essence. He meets your gaze, eyes hooded with the same hunger as your own.

"Like I said" he praises softly, making your spent cunt throb. "You're too damn sweet, sugar"

You giggle. "You're insane"

He leans in, planting a soft fluttering kiss to your quivering lips.

"Just f' ya'"

There's only one thing left to do. You know. He knows. You both know. But the way he takes in your pause, as if you're going to discover the most powerful secret, makes you believe there is so much more. His expression turns curious at your deliberate choice of aphony.

"Tell me what ya' want now. I could give ya' the world if 's what ya' want"

You avoid his gaze, playing with the collar of his flannel.

"I need you"

He lets out a clipped chuckle. "That I know, dirty one"

You roll your eyes, playfully.

"We're both aware. But it's not that, it's just..."

"Yes?"

"Can I see you, please?"

His eyes meet your expectant ones. His voice is gruff but soft, his desire for you mixing with a hint of vulnerability.

"Y' wanna see me?"

You nod as he gulps harshly, mouth tasting like sand.

"Can I take off your clothes?"

Joel's heart skips a beat again at your request, a mix of desire and vulnerability warring within him. It's too revealing and intimate, but God knows he just wants to give you all you want.

There's a hint of huskiness to his vulnerable voice. Unsure.

"Yeah" a beat. "You can"

You start unbuttoning slowly, licking your lips with eager trembling hands and pupils blown wide. Like a child on Christmas, knowing they're opening what they asked for. What they wanted. What they wrote at the top of their list. Your slow, deliberate unbuttoning has him practically holding his breath.

"Joel..." you bite your lip, removing his final button. Finally. "You're...."

Joel's heart stammers at the sight of your eyes on him, your obvious desire heightening his own. Yet, he avoids your stare as you reveal his bare chest, pose faltering a bit as if his strength succumbs to your hungry stare. He gulps under the intensity gaze, feeling so fucking vulnerable. It shakes him to his core, foreign to all this fuzzy things that make him sick.

He watches you through heavy-lidded eyes, his voice gruff and raw.

"Yeah…?"

"Perfect" you whisper out loud, his whole world crumbling down.

Joel's heart skips a beat at your words, his chest tightening with a mix of vulnerability and affection. Despite it, he feels self-conscious.

"Perfect…?" he teases, a hint of a dumb smile tugging at his lips.

"Yeah" you hum. "So pretty"

A word that doesn't fit in Joel's world. Feels off-putting. He has never been called such, but once it falls past your lips, coated in adoration, it feels as if it's the only truth ever. His heart skips another beat, body responding to your words.

You can tell he can't believe you're saying those words about him by the hint of disbelief in his eyes.

"Joel"

He lets out a gruff huff in response.

"Look at me"

"Pretty" Joel repeats, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Don't you believe me?"

Joel's heart skips another beat, the vulnerability growing stronger. He's still not used to hearing compliments about his body by you, by anyone at all. It's making his head spin a little.

He can't quite meet your eyes as he responds.

"Take it easy on me, sweet girl. I ain't exactly in m' prime"

"Joel. Look at me" your voice a little firmer this time.

Joel takes a moment, his heart racing. He can't resist your plea, even if he hates feeling vulnerable. Slowly, he meets your eyes.

His voice is almost quiet. "I'm lookin'"

"Good. Do you want me to know what I'm looking at?" you extend your hand to reach his face, brushing a strand of hair that's fallen to his forehead. "Your greys" then, you tug his bottom lip down, "your lips", you circle the wrinkles around his eyes, "your warm eyes" and afterwards, your fingers dwindle on his nose, "just... all of your face: scars, spots and wrinkles. It leaves me breathless"

Joel's heart races as you speak, your words sinking in. He feels seen, in a way he's rarely felt before. Its messing with his mind.

"You describin' what you seein'?" his voice hoarse with emotion. It sounds far away, as if it didn't belong to him.

His lips part as your hand moves down, grazing his neck and his chest before landing on his belly. The sincerity in your eyes is making him feel even more vulnerable, and Joel can feel himself crumbling under your intense stare and firm hands.

"No, I'm describing what I love"

He looks at you, eyes filled with vulnerability and uncertainty.

"Y/n"

It was like being peeled, layer by layer. He hated how he was built now. Rough. Too sharp around edges. Soft on ones he wished he wasn't.

"All of you"

He chuckles, but it's a defeated dying sound. Almost bitter.

"That's impossible, honey"

"What's impossible is not to love all of you"

He gulps, throat raw but unable to say anything.

"Please. Let me love you"

As if he hadn't already hand you his soul. Swallowed all of your words with a feverish desperation, placed them inside a space that had gone cold with time, now feeling like a warm home where he finally belonged.

"My sweet girl..."

You feel Joel pressing you up against the mattress, his bigger body pinning you in place with a hunger that takes your breath away. His hands are everywhere, roaming over your naked curves with a fevered intensity, a low growl of frustration escaping his lips when you break the kiss to take some air.

"You can do with me anything you want"

Joel's breath stops. With a trembling but sure hand, he reaches out, his calloused fingers skimming over the swell of your breasts, teasing the sensitive flesh until your nipples strain against the cloth of your bra. You arch into his touch, a soft moan escaping your lips as you feel the hard length of him pressing insistently against your stomach.

Joel leans in, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he whispers. 

"Anythin'?" he murmurs, his voice low and rough with desire as you nod, desperate. 

But then, he's laughing, as if pleased with your eagerness. Amused.

"That much? Oh, baby, you that desperate for 'tis ol' man? That bad you want me?"

You whine, at loss for words, the throb too painful to think straight. Joel laughs again, but it's devoid of malice.

"No, don't just nod. I wanna hear you say it, y/n. Wanna hear ya' beg fo' me like the desperate sweet little thin' y'are"

You've never been one for begging, but something about the way he's looking at you, the raw, unbridled hunger in his eyes, makes you want to give him everything he wants and more.

"Please, Joel" you breathe, voice reduced to a needy tremor, "I need you so bad, Joel, please. I need you inside me. I want you filling me, claiming me, in every way possible"

"My sweet girl" he coos, followed by a flurry of heated kisses and desperate groping. You barely have a chance to catch your breath before he's pressing you up with more insistence, his body pinning you in place with a hunger that leaves you desperately aching for more. "S'pretty"

Joel's eyes darken with lust as he takes in the sight of you, drinking in every inch of your glistening skin. He smirks at the desperation written all over your face, something wicked and tender circling inside his brown eyes.

He leans in closer, his breath hot against your ear as he whispers huskily. "Ts' it, doll. Keep on beggin'. Lemme hear how much y' need ma' cock 'nside 'tis tight little cunt"

You gasp, your hips bucking involuntarily as you feel his fingers slide down to brush against your sensitive clit, a wave of arousal coursing through you.

"Please, please, please, Joel" you whimper, your voice high and needy as you grind yourself shamelessly against his hand. "I'm so wet for you. Please, I'm begging you, make me yours"

He growls. "S'eager, huh? Who would've thought ya' were such'a dirty girl for 'tis ol' dick? Just had ya' bein' all lovey dovey a second ago and now y'are beggin' fo' me to ruin 'tis pretty pussy, baby?"

He quickly sheds what's left of his clothes, revealing to your wide eyes the thick, hard length of his cock, springing free and bobbing heavily against his soft belly. Alright, you had some thoughts about dating a much older man, even if Joel seemed the type of guy to be doted, given his energy. You're glad to be proven wrong in the very best way.

"Fuck, Joel" you breathe, licking your lips as you imagine the taste of him on your tongue. "You're so big"

His cheeks color a pretty pink, sweat beads adorning his forehead. The heat of his body envelopes you like a furnace.

"Now I truly believe ya' like what ya' seein'" he chuckles, "such'a greedy little thing" a beat. "S' fucken hungry for ma' cock. Don't worry, baby. 'M gon' give it to you, nice and slow, until you're screamin' fo' me to let you come"

Joel settles between your thighs, the thick head of his cock nudging against your entrance as he leans down to capture your lips in a searing kiss, effectively swallowing your needy whimpers.

"M' gon' take real good care of what's mine" in that southern drawl that drives you crazy. Hungry. Poisoned with a ravenous desire to possess every inch he can reach of your body. For everyone to see. Know. For all the prying stares. Judgeful. To appreciate in secret under the watchful gaze of the weak sunrays that filter through the courtains of his bedroom.

He then leans to take one of your nipples on his mouth, suckling and teasing the rosy peak, lapping the sensitive bud with his tongue, his hand kneading and squeezing the soft flesh of your breast. You arch into his touch, a symphony of moans and whimpers falling from your lips as he works your body.

At the same time, Joel begins to slowly, teasingly push forward, the thick head of his cock parting your slick folds and sinking inch by tortuous inch into your tight heat.

"Joel!" you gasp, your nails sinking down on the soft expanse of his broad back as you take in his girth, walls clenching and fluttering around his size.

Joel's breaths come in harsh pants against your skin as he fights the urge to bury himself to the hilt in one thrust.

"Y'are so fucken tight" he grits out, his voice strained with the effort of holding back. "Don't wanna hurt you, my little fawn. But ya' feel s' good, sweet girl. S' perfect 'round ma' cock."

You wrap your legs tighter around his waist, using the leverage to rock your hips up against his, taking him a little deeper with each desperate roll. He's impressed by your hunger, your desire fueling further his consuming own.

"Joel" you mewl, voice breaking with need, "I can take it, please, I promise. I just need all of you, Joel. Please, fuck me hard and deep until I can't think of anything but the feeling of your cock inside of me"

With a feral growl, Joel surrenders to your plea, slamming his hips forward to bury himself to the hilt inside you. A scream that sounds like his name tears from your throat at the sudden, intense sensation of all of him devouring your from inside, your body convulsing with the force of his thrust.

He sets a brutal pace, pounding into you with deep, powerful strokes that shake the bed frame and echo through the room. The obscene sound of skin slapping against skin mingles with the sounds coming out of your mouths.

"Please, please. I wanna come, please"

Tears well in your eyes at the insistence that rocks your body. Joel's eyes widen, perhaps in surprise, this new and strange, yet, his cock twitching makes this all the more intriguing. Arousing even.

"S' you cryin' over my cock?"

You deny it, but the salty trails have started to pool down your cheeks, your prettu fluttering eyelashes damp. Joel gulps, feeling blood rushing to his cock again.

"Don't worry, little fawn" doesn't know why but his tongue runs across your tear-smeared face, the taste of your damp skin, musk and sweat strong, make his mind go numb. "I think ya' look pretty when ya' cry"

Joel feels your velvet walls starting to flutter and clench around his pistoning cock, signaling your coming climax. He doubles his efforts, slamming into you with a wild, primal intensity that steals your breath away.

"That's it, sweet girl" Joel growls, voice ragged with lust as he feels your body tensing beneath him. "Come for me, y/n. I wanna feel you comin' undone on ma' cock, screamin' ma' name as I fill you up nice"

You're a sight to savor in, like basking the first rays of sunlight on the morning. Like his bitter coffee on his favorite mug. But you're sweet on the inside and the outside, he thinks as his thumb finds your clit, rubbing merciless circles over the sensitive nub. Joel is lost on you, he's aware, as he leans down to capture your lips in a consuming kiss. He just wants to have all of you, day and night, body and soul, in and out, because just a taste, and he's gone down the deep saccharine trails of your neck and quivering heart.

Your back arches as the pleasure becomes too intense to bear, your body convulsing uncontrollably as your climax crashes over you. You scream his name, you think, lost in a sea of desperate pleas and incoherent whimpers spilling from your lips.

Joel hilts himself deep inside you as your walls spasm and milk his cock, your release triggering his own, followed by a grunt akin to surrender, perhaps. To you, now fully his. This is the end, he thinks. Now, he's truly yours. God help her, the townsfolk say when you tell them Joel's your man, but when a hoarse shout of your name comes out of his mouth, pulses hot and hard as he grinds against you, you think this is all you need.

Fuck it.

This is what it feels like.

Joel collapses onto you, his bigger softer body blanketing you as he struggles to catch his breath.

"My sweet girl" he coos, peppering your face with soft kisses, his hands roaming over your curves with a gentle, reverent touch. You can feel his heart pounding against your own, when he whispers, voice low and sated. "Mine"

You can't help but laugh in awe. "Yes, Joel. Yours"

He props himself up on his elbows, his brown eyes searching yours with a tenderness that makes your heart skip a beat. A slow, lazy smile spreads across his face as he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering on the delicate line of your jaw.

"I know I said I was scared, before. That I've tried to push you 'way. God, y'are stubborn, know that? 'M just glad you ain't a quitter"

He leans in closer, his lips brushing against yours in a soft, tender kiss that makes your heart leap. It tastes bitter like grains and whiskey, but sweet with love and devotion. It's not only a spark between your lips, another of many, but a promise, burning with the same intensity the old coffee pot heats his coffee in the morning.

"Y'are my everything, y/n" your name pronounced like never before. Now ever since.

A heart. A home.

"So are you, Joel" his name in a fervent whisper. Born to be said like a prayer.

And for the first time in so long, Joel Miller feels the same thing he felt when he held Ellie close. I've got you, babygirl.

Hope.

cr: divider @kodaswrld / gif @pedgito / dts: @joelscowgirl ⋆˚✿˖°

[leclerc-hs]

something blue - ln4

pairing: lando norris x fem!reader summary: in which you and your ex boyfriend see each other at a wedding months later OR lando misses the fuck out of you. warnings: angst angst angst, language, smut, duh smut, p in v, f!receiving oral, dirty talk, kinda sad, yearning??, NOT PROOFREAD (will fix any typos over time) word count: 5k+ author's note: hi angels!!! I hope y'all enjoy. xoxo. bad grip - op81 will be out next (on August 1)!!

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“You’re in my seat.”

You don’t bother to look up right away. Instead, you take another sip from your glass, unbothered. You already know who it is…because you’d recognize that voice anywhere. Cool, low, and effortless. 

When you finally lift your head up, he’s standing across the table. A single hand shoved into his pocket, the other holding a half-empty glass. His jacket’s long gone. Probably draped over some chair a few hours ago, and the sleeves of his shirt are rolled just enough to show the veins in his forearms.

His tie is half undone and crooked. Which tells you that he stopped pretending to be formal about five drinks ago. He walks around the table, standing at the empty chair beside you.

Lando.

You blink. “Didn’t realize seating was assigned by ego.”

He lets out an amused sound. Not fully a laugh. And his eyes drag over you a second too long. Slow and obvious. But there’s some calculation behind it. Like he’s daring you to flinch.

“If we were, you’d have to be outside,” he says, stepping forward. His shoe now nudging the leg of your chair. 

You give him a tight smile. “And you’d be in the valet lot, bothering someone else’s date probably.”

He falls into the chair beside you. Resting his arm along the back of it like he’s claiming space. Not just the seat, but you. He smells like something expensive. Musky, citrus, and the memory of someone who’s never been told no.

You don’t bother to look at him. Instead, you glance around the table. Littered in polished silverware, large centerpieces, and down at the very end….a pair of mutual friends who definitely knew what they were doing when they made the seating chart.

You make a mental note to return the favor. Maybe at their wedding. Or baby shower.

“Didn’t think you’d show.” You say, fidgeting with the napkin.

Lando leans back in the chair, posture relaxed. Careless. Like nothing bothered him.

“Thought the same about you,” he says, voice low. “Figured you’d come up with some excuse. Avoid me even longer.”

You arch a brow.

You finally run to look at him.

“I was promised free champagne and music,” you mutter. “Didn’t realize you were part of the package deal.”

He watches your mouth when you speak. He always did. And it used to be flattering. Now it just feels like some bad habit neither of you can break.

He shrugs. “Sounds like a bonus to me.”

“You were always overconfident.”

“And you always had a way with making things difficult.”

You turn your full body toward him now, elbow resting on the back of your chair. Eyes narrowed. “Is that what this is? Difficult for you?”

He looks at you. Like really looks. His tongue presses agains the inside of his cheek, like he’s holding something back. Like he’s already said too much to you.

“Not particularly.”

You laugh. “Right. That’s why you sat next to me.”

He gestures to the table. “It’s my seat.”

“It’s the seat you decided you wanted as soon as I sat in it.” 

He grins. “Y’make everything sound like foreplay.”

“Only because you’re used to losing.”

And that earns a small laugh from him. And then he shifts closer, forearms on the table, close enough that you can feel the heat of his body. 

“Still got that mouth, yeah?” He says, quietly. “Never learned when to stop.”

Your eyes narrow.

He leans in closer. Just enough to make your breath hitch.

“I’d say it’s nice to see you,” he mutters, “but I’ve gotten really good at lying.”

You tilt your chin up. “That’s always been your strongest skill.”

The clatter of food being brought out snaps the tension just enough for you to tear your gaze away.

He stays close.

Watching.

Plates clatter around you. The smell of food floats through the air, and conversations pick up at the table. 

You pick up your fork. He doesn’t move.

“Seriously,” You look ahead at your plate. “Go sit somewhere else.”

“Didn’t know you were so territorial.”

“Didn’t know you were desperate for attention.”

It makes him smile. 

“M’not the one picking fights at a wedding.”

“M’not” you say, cutting into your food now. Not even hungry. “You’re just the one who showed up four months too late to a conversation.”

He hums. “Conversation, hm? Is that what we’re calling it now?”

You don’t answer. Mostly because you’re chewing. Mostly because of the way he’s looking at you. Like he’s still inside of whatever memory he just thought of. And it’s making it very…very hard to swallow.

You finally glance at him. “You’re not allowed to look at me like that.”

He leans in, smirking. “Like what?”

“Like you remember.”

And he holds your gaze. And for probably the first time, he doesn’t shoot back some one liner. He just looks.

So you do what you always do when he gets too close to the truth.

Weaponize your mouth.

“You’ve always had a shit memory,” Your voice is soft. “Selective.”

His jaw ticks.

You cut another bite off your plate.

And his knee brushes against yours. Stays there.

“I remember enough,” he speaks. “Like how your cheeks get more pink when you lie. Or how you always change the subject whenever you’re scared.”

You scoff. “M’not scared of you.”

“No,” He hums. “You’re just scared of what you’ll say if you aren’t careful with your words around me.”

You reach for your drink. And he watches your hand.

“Still an asshole,” you say.

He grins. “Still into it.”

You face forward again, refusing to leet him see the way your thighs press together. The way your pulse spikes.

But he knows.

-

He doesn’t ask. He never did when it came to you. Not really, at least.

He just appears. Hand out, gaze unreadable. Waiting.

And you consider ignoring him. Because you should.

But your pride is bigger than your bitterness, so you slip your hand into his without a word.

The palm of his hand is warm. Familiar.

And you hate that your hand still fits in his like it does.

The music shifts. Slow. 

His hand slips along your waist like its never forgotten. Possessive. Confident. Not polite in the slightest.

And you hate that your skin still burns beneath the pads of his fingers like it used to. Like it always did.

And you focus on the space over his shoulder. The warm lights. The movement of other couples. Anything that isn’t the way his thumb starts to slowly drag small circles across the skin of your back. Anything that isn’t his mouth.

“You’re quiet,” He mutters. Low and close.

You hum. “Trying to enjoy the song.”

“Funny. I don’t remember you ever being someone to pretend.”

You glance at him, “I don’t remember you always being this desperate for my attention.”

His mouth twitches. No teeth. “Always mistook interest for desperation.”

“No,” You shake your head. “I just learned the difference.”

He doesn’t answer right away. Just lets it sit for a moment. And then his grip is tightening around you. Not much. Almost like a reflex.

“Still cruel,” he mutters. “Sharp.”

“You always liked that about me.”

His eyes drag to your mouth. “Unfortunately.”

The music is the kind of slow that feels like a heat creeping under your skin. You move too well together. You hate that he still fits. That nothing in your body except for your brain seems to recognize that you’re supposed to be over this. Over him.

“I really thought you wouldn’t come,” He says. Voice casual.

You lift your chin toward him. “Didn’t think you’d notice.”

He looks at you. Like really looks at you. “I always notice you.”

And you hate the way it lands. Hate the way it makes your heart spike. Your stomach clench.

So you roll your eyes. “You’re exhausting.”

“And yet…” He leans in just enough that your noses are practically brushing. “You’re still here.”

You don’t respond.

Instead, you shift closer. Enough to make your chest graze his. Your thigh brush his.

Two can play at this game.

And his breath catches. You feel it. Hear it.

But he maintains the same cool and collected face you always used to fall for.

“M’not falling for it.” He says.

“For what?”

“This act of yours. The one where you pretend you don’t still want me.”

You smirk. “If I wanted you, you’d already know.”

And then he’s grinning. Slow. Dark.

“That’s the thing,” He mutters. “I think I do.”

And your stomach twists. Sharp. Hot.

You roll your eyes. Try to take a step back. But his grip on you doesn’t loosen.

“Let go.”

“I will,” he says. Voice low and dangerous. “When you stop pretending.”

If anything, his grip gets firmer. 

And you’re about to say something, but he cuts you off with movement.

Fast. Smooth.

Dips you without warning.

And the world tilts as you go with it, back arching in his hold, hands catching you with practiced ease.

The lights blur around you, but all you can really see is him. Framed above you. 

“Still a brat,” He mutters. 

And you smirk.

He drags you back up. Slow. Until your chest to chest. And then his lips are ghosting your jaw, your ear.

“I miss this,” he breathes. “Miss you. Mouthy. Mean.”

You try to laugh, but all that comes out is a breathy sigh. “You miss the idea of me.”

“I miss you,” his voice is firm. “Not the fucking idea.”

Your fists tighten around his neck. 

“Is that supposed to fix this?”

His fingers flex against your waist. Like it was hurting him to have you this close and not actually have you.

“No,” his voice is quiet. “But I never stopped thinking it.”

So you pull back enough to look at him. To look at the freckles on his nose, the lines under his eyes from lack of sleep. And he still looks at you like he wants you.

So you smile. Aching.

“Thinking about me was never your problem.”

And you don’t wait for a reply. Just step out of his arms.

Try not to look back as you walk away. Reaching the doors to the balcony and push them open. 

Cool air instantly greeting your skin.

You press your hands into the railing, pulse thrumming. 

And you’re barely there for a minute before you hear the door slam harder than it should’ve. Footsteps.

You don’t bother turning.

“You’ve got some fuckin’ nerve coming out here,” you say, arms braced on the railing, staring out into the dark like it might keep you from falling apart.

Lando’s voice snaps back instantly. “I have nerve?”

You spin to face him, anger bubbling in your chest. 

“Don’t act surprised. You always come chasing after me whenever it’s convenient for you."

His jaw tightens. “I came because you walked away in the middle of something.”

“No,” you bite. Eyes stinging. “You left in the middle of something. Months ago. When I was still holding everything together while you were in fucking Brazil or Australia or wherever the fuck you needed to be that week.”

He flinches, but you don’t stop. Can’t.

“You think this..this moment..means anything? That you can just show up, say you miss me, and everything you put me through will magically fade the fuck away?”

“And you think it was easy for me?” He grunts. “Y’think I didn’t feel it? Every timeI woke up in some hotel bed in another city with no one beside me? Every time I opened my phone and didn’t see your name because you stopped trying?”

“I stopped because I had to!” You shout. “I couldn’t keep waiting for scraps of you. I have a life too, Lan. A career.”

His hands fly into his hair. “I never asked you to give everything up!”

“You didn’t have to!” You yell back. “You just made me feel like I was the selfish one when I didn’t!”

Lando’s breathing hard now. Hands clenched into fists at his sides.

“Y’think I didn’t want to choose you?” He spits, eyes burning. “You think I didn’t want to fucking stop everything? The races. Media. All of it. Just to stay in one place with you?”

You flinch. But he isn’t done.

“I was trying to be enough for the sport and you.” His voice cracks. “But every time I blinked, it was like you were pulling further away. Like I wasn’t trying hard enough.”

“You were never there.”

The words land like a slap. Honest.

“I gave you everything I had to give.”

You laugh. Tired. Cold. “No, Lan. You gave me leftovers. Gave me what was left of you after everyone else took.”

“I was trying to make it work.”

“And I was trying to hold it together while you vanished into every fuckin country on the map.” 

He’s in front of you now.

But you keep going. Shaky. “I had to start pretending I didn’t miss you just to function. Had to smile and tell people that we were fine and so in love when the reality was I hadn’t even heard from you in five days some times.”

Lando flinches. “And you think I didn’t notice? That it didn’t kill me too?”

“You didn’t even act like it did.”

“I didn’t know how to fix it!” He explodes. “I couldn’t be everywhere at once. And I knew…I knew if I made you choose, I’d lose you!”

“Well, you lost me anyways.”

And that’s what finally breaks him.

Has him reaching out to grab you. 

And before you can so much as blink, his mouth is on yours.

Hot. Unforgiving. Fucking stupid.

But you don’t push him away. You kiss him back like its some punishment. 

And his hands slide to your hips. Your fingers twist against his collar, dragging him down harder  into your own mouth.

And when you break apart, your breath is ragged.

His forehead rests against his. You’re still angry.

“This doesn’t mean anything,” you whisper. Trying to convince yourself that you’re over it. That this is just a lapse in judgment.

“Don’t lie.”

And his eyes stay on you. Dazed. And you go to speak but nothing comes out.

So you turn. Fast. Like if you don’t turn away, you’ll let him do it again. Say the wrong thing.

But you barely make it a step past him before he says it.

“Wait,” he breathes. Hand around your wrist. Loose. “Please…just wait.”

You stiffen.

“I shouldn’t have kissed you,” he says. “Not like that…Not… uh, here.” He scratches the back of his neck.

You look over your shoulder. His tie’s half undone. Lips swollen and slightly wet. Hair a mess. And for once, he kinda looks wrecked. 

“I have a room upstairs,” He admits. “I’m not trying to pull you back into anything,” His voice soft. “I just…I need to talk to you. Somewhere quiet. Without this….noise.” He gestures to the crowd of guests, the music, the laughter. 

You hesitate.

You want to walk inside, finish your drink, and pretend. Pretend he’s someone you used to know. Pretend he’s someone you didn’t kiss. 

But he’s still looking at you like he means it. Like you mean everything.  Like he’ll drop down to his knees and beg you if thats what it will take.

“Five minutes,” he says. “That’s all I’m asking for…five minutes…please?”

You hold his gaze for a few moments. Let it stretch. Contemplate. And then you finally nod.

“Fine,” you whisper. “But you better mean it this time.”

He exhales with relief. Like he can finally breathe properly again.

“I do.”

And then you’re walking down the hallway. Past the ballroom. Past the noise. Until it’s just the two of you again. 

The elevator ride is short. Land steps out first. Not hurried or anything…just quiet. Like he’s scared if he’s too sudden you’ll run off.

The hallway is empty. And you follow him a step behind. Arms crossed over your chest. You feel flushed. Almost too aware, too alert, of everything. The kiss still at the forefront of your mind.

When he stops outside the door, his hands fumble with the keycard. Just slightly. Just enough to show how uneasy he is also feeling. 

He doesn’t say anything either.  He just pushes the hotel door open, steps inside and waits for you. Hoping you won’t change your mind and run off.

You walk in. The room is softly lit, just the bedside lamp and the light from the bathroom steaming out. Bottle of something on the dresser. And the bed’s made, but not really. Evidence of him lounging on it was clear.

He stands a few feet away. Looking at you like he doesn’t know what to do. Where to begin. How to start.

“So?” Your voice is a little too harsh. Out of protectiveness. “You’ve got five minutes.”

And he flinches. Breathes loudly.

“I didn’t come to the wedding to fuck with you.”

You blink. Caught a little off guard.

“I knew you’d bet there though,” He says. Honest. “Knew it would hurt. But I couldn’t stay away.”

You look at him now. His face is flushed. Lips slightly parted like he’s been holding this in all night. Like the cocky face he put on all night has completely vanished.

“All these past few months,” he continues, “I kept thinking it will get easier. The distance. The silence. I thought if I worked harder, did more training, more media, all of it….I thought…I thought if I buried myself in that I’d stop thinking about you every single time I opened my phone.”

Your stomach twists.

“But it never fuckin’ stopped.” He says, voice lower. “Didn’t matter where I was. Spain, Canada, China…you were always in my head. Always.”

Your throat tightens. And you feel the goosebumps form on your skin. 

He steps closer. Carefully. A single step. Slow.

“And I hated it.” His eyes flick to you. “Hated that I couldn’t even be mad at you…well I was mad. Fucking livid, all the fucking time. But not reasonably…because you had every right to leave.”

You exhale a deep breathe. Pressing your lips together. Trying to keep yourself composed.

“I wasn’t trying to punish you, Lan.” Your voice is soft. “I just couldn’t keep putting myself second.”

“I know,” he says almost immediately. “I know that now. But I didn’t back then. I thought I did everything I could. Giving you time that I didn’t even have to give.”

You shake your head. “Making time didn’t mean you were present.”

“And I get that now.”

He’s closer. Not touching, but close enough that you have to tip your head back just a bit to hold his gaze.

“Y’think I didn’t want to choose you?” His voice breaks a little. “That I didn’t spend nights wondering and pleading what it would be like if I could just stop everything? Just be with you.”

You don’t answer. 

“And the truth is…I thought if I even asked to you wait longer, you’d hate me for it.”

“I didn’t hate you.” Your voice is quiet. Soft. 

His gaze drops to your mouth. “I know.”

Silence.

Your skin is buzzing. Heart thrumming against your chest.

“I just…I missed you.” He mutters. “And I…I don’t know how to say it without sounding like a completely selfish prick.”

“You don’t sound selfish, Lan.”

Your eyes are stinging.

“You’re the only person who has ever made me want more than all of this.” He admits. “And I fucked everything up.”

You try to swallow the lump that’s sitting in your throat. “Yeah,” you mutter. 

And the words sting to say. Sting to hear.

But he nods. Doesn’t argue.

“I just thought…if I kept going…kept chasing everything, that I could fix it later,” he shrugs. “Like you’d just be there..when I finally figured it all out.”

You breathe. Exhausted. Sad. “You always said timing was everything.”

And his lips twitch. “Yeah, turns out I’m shit at that too.”

You don’t answer. Just look at the slope of his shoulders. The tiny wrinkle in his collar. And the way his hands keep opening and closing like he doesn’t know what to do with them. 

“I still think about you. Every night.”

You shut your eyes for a moment. Trying to stop the tears from forming in your eyes.

“Still reach for you in bed like a fuckin’ idiot.”

He leans in closer.

“And I know…I know that I don’t get to ask this, but…” his voice lowers. “Can I please kiss you again?”

Your breath hitches. Eyes sliding back and forth between his. And he looks wrecked. Devastated.

And this time…you kiss him first. Not because it fixes everything. Not because everything is magically better now.

But because it feels right.

It’s fast. Like you’re mad at yourself for even giving in. Like you don’t even want him to feel satisfaction of knowing just how much you need it too.

He groans into your mouth, hands cradling your jaw, holding you there.

And he’s no longer hesitating. No longer asking.

And you let him.

Let him press you against the wall of the room like he’s fucking starving, like he’s been imagining this for months (he has).

“Still know how to shut you up,” He mumbles against your lips, nipping your bottom lip.

Your hands fist into the collar of his shirt. “Y’still talk too much.”

And he’s already sliding one hand up beneath the hem of your dress. Greedy.

Gasping when his thumb brushes against you right where you need him. Teasingly.

“Still get like this, yeah?” He laughs. Darkly. “Worked up. Just from fighting.”

You glare, but it means nothing. Because you’re already moaning and gasping into his neck as he presses again.

“You’re not special,” you bite. 

But he laughs. Confident. “No?”

He drops to his knees in front of you like he’s done it thousands of times. He has. Like its muscle memory. It is.

“Yeah well tell that to your cunt,” he mutters, pushing your dress all the way up and licking a slow strip over the damp fabric.

Your body shakes. Your hand flies to his hair, weaving it in between your fingers as you grasp it tightly. And he’s fucking grinning when he feels you tremble.

“You used to beg,” He remembers. “Used to say my name over and over like it was the only word you knew.”

You squeeze your eyes shut. “And you used to listen.”

He pulls your panties down with his teeth. “Still do, baby.”

And then he’s tasting you like a staved man. Slow. Messy. But thorough. 

And you moan loud when he curls his tongue just right. Groaning into you like he’s the one who’s fucked.

“You feel the fuckin same.” He grunts, looking up at you. “Fuckin fuck. You feel exactly the same.”

You grab his collar. Desperate.  Pull him up towards you.

And his mouth is crashing into yours again. Then somehow you’re both stumbling toward the bed. Half-laughing, half-mad, half-clothed.

He’s fumbling with the zipper of your dress, cursing under his breath when the zipper gets caught. And you’re tugging at the buttons of of his shirt, only making it halfway through before your fingers give up. And you just shove the fabric open instead, buttons popping. 

“Christ,” Lando mutters, lips dragging along your throat, hands freeing the zipper. “Still so fuckin’ impatient.”

“Y’love it,” you breathe. “Always did.”

And his eyes darken.

“I did,” he agrees. Voice low. “Still do.”

You kiss him again. Hard, open mouthed. Because there’s just no point in pretending anymore. Not with the way he fits against you, not with the way your skin is buzzing from his touch. 

And he kisses you back like he’s missed this more than anything in the entire fucking world. Like the memory of your mouth could never be enough for him.

He pushes you back onto the mattress, his mouth dragging down your stomach like its a map he’s memorized.

“You’re shaking,” He grins against your skin. “Missed me this much?”

You nod, biting your lip. 

“Say it.”

Your voice breaks. “I missed…God I fuckin’ missed you.”

He groans, head falling against your thigh. “God, we never should’ve broken up.”

And then he’s burying his face between your legs like a starved man. Licking you like he needs to memorize every inch, sound, and twitch of yours. Moaning against you, mouth slick and open.

His tongue works over you slowly at first, deep. Dragging. And then he’s moving faster, meaner, teasing your clit and then backing off. Again and again.

Your hands fist into his curls, “Lan, please…”

He groans, rutting his hips into the mattress like he’s the one being teased. Then, pushing two fingers into you. Curling them just right. 

And your hips buck off the mattress with a loud moan.

“God…fuck..Lan, please don’t stop.”

He doesn’t.

He eats you through your orgasm like he needs you more than air. Popping off when you lay limply, before slipping up to hover over you. Lips shiny, eyes glazed.

And then he’s groaning hotly into your mouth when your legs wrap around his waist, grinding against him for some friction. 

“Fuck,” He groans, voice raw. Dragging his hips against you. “You always knew how to drive me fucking insane.” 

You arch up into him. “Then stop wasting my time.”

His hand wraps around your thigh, pulling it higher up his waist as he pushes into you. Slow. Like he’s savoring the feeling. 

Your lips part in a soft gasp and his forehead drops against yours.

“Fuck…” He groans. “I’ve thought about this almost every night.”

He pulls his hips back and thrusts again. Harder.

“Every time I shut my eyes…this. You.” 

You moan, loudly. Nails digging into his skin. 

He fucks you deep. Fucking filthy. One hand wrapped around your throat as he leans over you.

“This what you’ve been thinking about, hm?” He grunts. “Late at night, fingers buried deep in that perfect cunt…pretending it was me, yeah?”

Your face flushes as you nod. 

And he’s losing his rhythm, groaning.

“Been jerking off to the thought go you like this,” he confesses. “Fucking my fist and wishing it was you.”

He presses his fingers into your clit, and you jolt with a loud cry.

“Fuck…you’re gonna make me,”

“Then do it,” he snaps. 

And you do.

You come shaking as he fucks you through it, still muttering absolute filth against your ear. Still chasing his own.

And when he finally comes, it’s with a loud groan of your name. Cock buried deep as he spills into you.

He collapses on top of you for a moment, breathing hard.

You don’t know how long the two of you lay there like that.

But you feel Lando shift slowly. Like he’s scared if he moves too fast it will break whatever spell you’re both under. 

“You okay?” He whispers, voice hoarse. His lips grazing your shoulder.

You nod.

“I meant what I said,” he mutters. “About missing you.”

You let your eyes close. It would be so so easy to pretend that nothing mattered. To stay here and forget all the pain of the weeks you both spent apart.

But it did matter.

He rolls off of you, just to the side. Skin still touching. And when you finally face each other, his curls are damp, cheeks flushed, and eyes so so soft.

“You okay?” You ask.

His throat works itself before he nods. But he doesn’t take his eyes off of you.

“I don’t know what this means,” you confess. “I still don’t.”

And he looks at you like he’s reading your fucking soul. “Me neither.”

He drags his fingertips lazily along your skin. Trailing your shoulder, to your collarbones, before slipping them up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “But I know it’s not nothing.”

You don’t speak. Your throat and chest tight with emotion.

Eventually, your fingers start tracing light shapes along his ribs. Thoughtless.

“You used to do that all the time,” He mutters.

You pause. “Do what?”

“That thing with your fingers. The little shapes. Lines. Especially when you couldn’t sleep.”

You feel your heart in your fucking throat. But you keep tracing.

“I never stopped thinking about you,” he says quietly. “Even when I tried to…it would..it would just have me thinking about you all over again.”

You swallow. “You didn’t have to try.”

“But didn’t I?” His voice is rough, hoarse. “You wouldn’t take to me. I didn’t even know what I was allowed to say to you anymore. If I was even allowed to say anything.”

“You could’ve,” you whisper. “I just….I didn’t want to be the one holding us together by myself anymore.”

“I know,” He says. “And I hate myself for making you feel that way.”

You blink hard, trying to stop the tears from falling.

Lando reaches for your hand, linking your fingers together. Bringing it to his lips, pressing soft kisses to each of your fingers, then your knuckles. One inside of your wrist. 

Slow. One by one.

“I think I was scared,” He admits. “That if I actually gave you all of me, and you still left…” He trails off. His jaw clenching and eyes shutting at the thought.

Your heart thrums. “I was never asking for all of you, Lan.”

“Maybe not with words,” he says. “But you deserved it anyways.”

He drops your hand, to bring it to your cheek. Thumb catching the single tear that manages to slip free at the corner of your eye. 

“I miss us,” he smiles sadly. “Not just the sex. Or this. Just I miss your stupid coffee orders that changed every week. And your laugh when you were too tired. Or the way you used to fall asleep on my chest.”

You bring your face closer to his, breathing him in.

“And I miss your terrible excuses for missing calls,” You joke. “And oddly enough, how you always left your fucking socks everywhere.”

He smiles. A real one.

And then he’s leaning in. Kisses you again. 

Soft.

Slow.

Sweet.

“Can we…try again?” He asks quietly. “Not tonight..not like this of course. But maybe…”

You squeeze his hand, a soft smile on your lips. His smile mirroring yours.

“One step at a time.”

And for now…it’s enough.

[starryjake]

all yours | p.j

in which you make jay feel better after he gets into a fight.

pairing: jay x fem!reader

includes: m and f receiving oral sex, mention of fighting, big dick jay, unprotected sex, cumming inside (lmk if i missed anything).

“i can’t believe you, jay,” you said in dismay, pulling out your first aid kid from the closet.

“he was such a fucking asshole,” jay ranted. “douchebag had the audacity to say the shit he was saying and didn’t expect me to beat the shit out of him.”

you huffed, forcing him to sit on your bathroom countertop. you stood between his legs and started wiping the blood from his face while he continued talking.

“he was such a pussy,” jay scoffed. “could hardly fight for shit. needed his friends to back him up since he couldn’t throw a punch for the life of him. and i still beat him in a three versus one fight. embarrassing. honestly, i feel bad fo—”

“jay,” you interrupted, finally getting him to stop talking. “what did the guy even say?”

jay’s jaw clenched as the words repeated in his mind again, the words that made him angry enough to punch the guy right across the face in front of everyone at the party he was at.

“it doesn’t matter,” he grumbled.

“yes, it does,” you argued. “if it was bad enough for you to get in a fight then it does matter.”

jay sighed, speaking quickly when he said, “he was talking about you. disrespecting you. making comments about your body and how since you put out for me, then you’d put out for anyone. i couldn’t just stand there and not do anything, y/n.”

your eyebrows raised. you hadn’t realized that it even had anything to do with you.

“oh,” you said.

you rubbed some ointment over the spots on jay’s face where he was bleeding. he looked up at you in awe, still in dismay over how someone could say such nasty things about you when he knew that all you were was just a sweet, perfect girl.

“no one talks about my girl like that,” he said softly, reaching out to plant his hands on your hips and pull you in a little closer.

you laughed softly through your nose, placing a bandaid on his cheek.

“i’m not your girl,” you reminded.

sure, you weren’t officially dating, but it sure felt like it at times like this. you and jay were…something. not dating, but definitely not just friends.

in a perfect world, you would be dating, but it didn’t seem possible right now.

“i don’t care if you aren’t my girlfriend,” jay said. “you are my girl. you’re mine.”

“okay,” you whispered, your breath fanning his face.

“say it,” he demanded.

“i’m yours,” you said shyly. “all yours.”

jay pulled you in even closer and connected his lips to yours, completely melting at the feeling. he considered himself a strong, tough man, but if there was anything in the world that made him weak, it was you.

he entangled his fingers in your hair, lips moving slowly and carefully against yours, feeling you and tasting you.

you brought your hands down to his firm thighs, resting them there and slowly feeling the fabric of his jeans grow tighter and tighter.

he wrapped his arms around your waist, pressing you against him. he disconnected his lips from yours, moving down to your chin and to your neck. he sucked on the sensitive skin there, leaving bruises right for everyone to see without a care. he needed everyone to know who you belonged to.

you gripped the fabric from the back of his t-shirt and started pulling it up until he pulled away from you in order to take it off all together, leaving him shirtless on your bathroom counter.

unashamed, you took a good look. you shouldn’t have thought he looked good like this. he’d just gotten in a fight but fuck, he looked hot. his lip was split and there was a cut on his upper cheek. he looked all around bruised and it was turning you on more than you would like to admit.

he suddenly stood up from the counter and picked you up like you weighed nothing, easily scooping you into his arms. you buried your head in his neck and inhaled his musky scent as he started walking to your bedroom.

once there, he laid you down on your bed carefully and pressed his half naked body down against yours. you slithered your arms around his neck, pulling him back down to your lips.

he was warm pressed against you, but you needed more. you needed to be even closer to him.

you trailed your hand down his bare torso before landing at his bulge, palming him over his covered erection.

jay sighed into your mouth, pushing his cock into your hand to get more pressure. you squeezed it, feeling the outline clearly from how hard he was.

it didn’t take long for that to not be enough, so jay sat up on his knees in order to unbutton his jeans and pull them down his legs, leaving him in just his black boxers.

you tugged down the waistband enough to release his cock, so hard that it stood straight up. it was long and absolutely the perfect fit for your mouth and hole, like you and jay were truly meant to be.

just looking at his cock and feeling it pulsate in your grip, you craved it in your mouth. plus the way he was looking at you starting to jerk it off made you want to suck him off even more.

you leaned down, holding the shaft as you brought the enlarged tip in your mouth, pressing it against your tongue.

“fuck,” jay grunted, immediately bringing his hand down to your hair to pull it back into a ponytail, keeping it out of your face so considerately for you.

you pushed him further down your throat, squeezing your thighs together at the comforting feeling of having him in your mouth. this was exactly you wanted, to be this close to him.

as you hollowed your cheeks and began gliding your mouth up and down his shaft, he started sliding your sweater up your torso until it was bunched around your neck. you were wearing a thin little lacy bra that barely covered your tits.

jay squeezed your breasts as he stared down at your sucking him off like it was your job. never in his life has he gotten a blowjob even close to the way you gave blowjobs. you seemed like you actually enjoyed it, sucking his cock. you put your all into it while the other girls he’d been with barely sucked it for five minutes, desperate to just get fucked by him.

but you were everything. you enjoyed having the tip of his cock nudge against the back of your throat. you enjoyed the taste of his salty precum dripping down your throat.

you looked up at him through your lashes, moaning around his length like it was pleasuring you to suck him off. this is why you were his favorite.

“shit, baby,” he moaned.

he pulled you by your hair off his dick, caressing your face with his thumb while you caught your breath. he looked down at you in awe, feeling so undeserving to have you treat him so good.

he laid you down on your back and tugged you pants and underwear down in one go. he spread your legs, staring at your pussy which was already wet just from giving him head. he couldn’t resist it, he just had to have a taste.

leaning forward, he licked a stripe up from the bottom of your pussy to your clit, gathering all your wetness on his tongue as he went.

“fuck, jay,” you moaned so prettily.

he lapped at your cunt, his tongue making a wet sound every time he flicked your folds. your body felt like it was engulfed in flames from the sensation of him eating your pussy.

jay gripped your thighs, keeping them from closing in and squeezing around his head. he looked so fucking good between your legs, you couldn’t believe it. his sharp jawline was accentuated as he used the muscles to lick your folds up and down.

he brought his clit into your mouth, sucking on the pretty little nub before releasing it with a pop and going back to licking up and down your soaked slit.

the bruises on his face were more evident now with the time that had passed and you felt bad, partly feeling like it was your fault. you tugged on his hair, pulling him away from your pussy and forcing him to look at you. you traced your fingers over one of the bruises.

“what’s wrong?” he asked, noticing the way your demeanor changed.

“does it hurt?” you wondered.

“no,” he lied.

his face was pulsating. you knew he was lying too.

he sat up on his knees and you joined him at his level, leaning in to his face to plant a soft kiss on each one of his bruises. he absolutely melted, leaning into your touch like you were healing his wounds with just a kiss.

“my sweet girl,” he whispered in utter dismay.

how you could go from getting head from him to kissing his bruises in less than a minute was beyond him.

“please fuck me now,” you whispered back.

and now you were back to being dirty.

jay smirked, pushing you back down onto your mattress. you two rid yourselves out of your remaining clothes until you were both entirely naked.

jay slid his hand up and down his cock a few times before deeming it ready to be inside you. he lined his dripping tip up with your eager hole and slowly pushed inside, feeling your warm walls envelope him.

your eyes were clenched shut from the same pain you always endured when jay first slid inside. he was just too big, but it was one of your favorite things about him. by that point, you two had been fucking each other long enough that you were used to the pain. it didn’t last long anymore.

once he was bottomed out inside of you, he rubbed your stomach, feeling the tip of his cock bulge against your pelvis.

“please,” you whimpered, raising your hips up in desperation.

“i know, sweetheart,” he cooed, caressing your soft skin.

he pulled out slightly before pushing back in, starting his thrusts slow. you threw your head back as he fucked you deeply. you could feel it so much, every time he pushed his cock in and pulled it out, the friction against your walls.

as his thrusts sped up, he brought his fingers down in between your bodies and started rubbing your clit, adding to your pleasure. you clenched around him already.

“feels so fucking good,” you cried, looking up at him above you.

“i know, angel,” he replied deeply. “you’re always so tight for me. so tight and so warm for me, yeah?”

“yeah,” you nodded pathetically, clenching around him again just from the way he was talking to you.

his pace was much swifter then, fast enough that the sound of his legs hitting the back of your thighs echoed in your bedroom. plus, you were moaning like it was your first time getting fucked by him, but it just felt too good every single time. his dick was too good, good enough that you wished you could be his girlfriend.

“you’re so fuckin’ wet,” he grunted. “i can barely keep my fingers on your clit.”

your arousal was literally spilling out around his cock, making your puffy clit almost too slippery to keep his fingers on. you wrapped your hand around his wrist and kept it against your pussy so they wouldn’t slip. jay groaned out at that, at how effortlessly fucking sexy you were.

jay started fucking you as hard as he could then, needing to make a complete mess out of you because you made a complete mess out of him without even trying.

he pounded into your pussy, drilling you into your mattress and all you could do was take it and whine like a cock slut. you did feel like at times, you were a slut for his cock.

“fuck yes!” you cried, nails clawing into his abs. “fuck me! harder, jay!”

he gripped the top of your headboard and fucked you impossibly harder, your entire body jolting with the effort he was giving. your tits bounced right in front of him and his cock twitched, warning that he could cum soon.

“fuuuuck, baby,” he growled, grabbing one of your tits in his hands and squeezing harshly. “love this dick, don’t you? tell me you love it.”

“yes, jay!” you yelled. “shit, i love your dick. oh my god, i need you to fuck me for the rest of my life.”

jay felt like he could black out. you were so perfect.

his abs clenched and he felt it coming fast.

“i’m gonna fucking cum,” he warned, his hips still slamming into you. “where do you want me, baby?”

“inside me!”

jay thought he actually did black out then.

he felt you clench around him suddenly, reaching your orgasm without even telling him. your eyes filled with tears from the mere pleasure of it.

“that’s it, baby,” he cooed, still furiously chasing his own orgasm.

“i love you,” you moaned out as you came around his cock.

jay let out a deep moan, felt his cock twitch one more time inside you, and then he was dumping his big load right inside your pussy.

“i love you,” he replied, holding you close to him as he released everything he had into you.

he came for what felt like a lifetime, intense and exhausting. as soon as he finished, he felt like he couldn’t even keep himself upright anymore.

he pulled out of you, watching the cum spill from your pussy and onto your sheets. he then laid down beside you, pulling you into his chest and kissing the top of your head.

“you’re perfect,” he told you, squeezing you tight and keeping you close. “i love you so much.”

“i love you more,” you mumbled tiredly against his chest.

a few minutes passed without either of you saying anything. he wasn’t sure if you fell asleep or not but he spoke up again anyway.

“i wish you really could be mine.”

-

wait the lore tho?? like why can’t they date!!! idk lowkey thinking of making this a series IDK GUYS!!!

thank you for reading <33

[dixongrimesgirl]

Devour

Daryl Dixon x fem!reader

Content includes: oral sex (f recieving), fingering, nicknames(babygirl)

word count: 273

"Daryl" you gasp as your husband's face is between your legs. He' three fingers deep in you and his lips are suctioned around your clit. You try to squirm but he holds your thighs in place.

"Taste so good" he mumbles before diving back in for more.

"The best fuckin' pussy. Could you stay here all day"

You groan and throw your head back. One of your hands comes to push his head even closer to your center and the other is gripping the sheets so hard your knuckles have gone white.

He curls his fingers causing a particularily loud moan to fall from your lips.

"Dar... gonna cum" you manage to get out before a hard thrust of his fingers and sharp pull on your clit send you into your orgasm.

You don't have a chance to come down from your high because your husband hasn't stopped his assault on your pussy. He's removed his fingers and is now slurping every last stop of your orgasm.

"Too sensi... sensitive" you moan.

"I know babygirl, I know. Just one more fo' me okay?" he asks.

You nod your head and gasp when starts rubbing circles on your clit.

"That's ma girl" he praises before burying his face between your legs again.

It doesn't take long and your cumming again, chanting his name over and over again. When you finally catch your breath Daryl is laying beside you.

You look at him too exhausted and fucked to even form a sentence.

"You did so good fo' me" he tells you and kisses your forehead.

"Get some sleep babygirl" he whispers and you drift off.

[softpascalito]

I To Dig a Grave I Chapter 1 I

Summary: Twenty-one years after the outbreak, you come to Wyoming looking for something and end up in Jackson after a stranger saves your life.

But he doesn't stay a stranger.

Turns out Joel Miller is looking for something too. It feels like a fresh start. But when bad luck seems to follow you, Joel is the only one to turn to, forcing both of you to confront your feelings about your pasts- and each other.

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader Rating: Explicit / MDNI Word count: 7k+ Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Age Difference, Smut, Explicit Content, Grief/Mourning, Mental Health Issues, Canon-Typical Violence, Chose not to use Archive Warnings, Tags to be added

AO3 LINK // Series Masterlist // Playlist

notes: this work has been quite a while in the making and im very excited to finally share the first chapter! a huge thank you to the wonderful josie for being my beta reader and listening to all my rambling <3

this fic will deal with heavy topics. please note that it doesn't use archive warnings and tags will be added as we go in order to avoid spoilers. each chapter will have detailed warnings in the end notes on ao3.

Chapter 1 - The Before

‘‘I will be very sad to leave here’, Yves said, suddenly. ‘I have never been happier than I have been in this house.’ ‘I have been very happy too. I wonder if we will ever be so happy again.’’  - Another Country, James Baldwin

You’d been on the run for what felt like weeks but could only have been days when you found the gas station next to an abandoned mall. It had looked promising, the half-rotten advertisements plastered to the walls, reminding your stomach that it had gone far too long without a proper meal, or any meal for that matter.

Maybe if you hadn’t been so starved or so tired, you would’ve heard them coming, the Infected that stormed through the back door practically the moment you slipped into the building. A yell escaped your throat, your hand instinctively reaching for the knife you kept buckled to your leg. You didn't even get the chance to pull it out of its makeshift holster before the creature was on top of you, pinning you to the floor with what felt like inhuman strength.

“Fucking- get off-” you grunted, but even if the thing on top of you had been one that listened to commands, your thin and shaky voice likely wouldn’t have impressed it.

So this was how you were gonna go out. In a town you couldn't even name, somewhere in the snowy mountains of Wyoming, after finally escaping the life you’d been stuck in for so long. You hadn't even made it a month.

For a second, you considered trying to reach for your gun, still tucked into your pants and pressing into your back uncomfortably. You could feel its outline against your skin, a pain shooting through your spine as the Infected seemed to double its effort to reach your neck with its mouth, half-rotten teeth close enough that you could recognize the foul smell of death.

Then, the gun went off. Or you thought it did. The unmistakable sound of a gunshot rang in your ears as the Infected collapsed on top of you. But the feeling of your pistol pressing into your back was still there. It had been a gun. But not yours.

“I got her!” a voice above you bellowed out, an unmistakable southern drawl. “Tommy, give me some cover here, goddammit!”

You hadn't even noticed the second man, who was now aiming his gun at another runner storming towards him. He fired, once, twice, and the Infected let out a howl before its body hit the tiled floor with a thud.

“Hey, you with me?” The man above you leaned down, shoving the Infected that had been on top of you to the side unceremoniously. He was dressed in a worn jacket, jeans and boots, the latter two splattered with blood. His right hand, covered in a weathered leather glove, was stretched out towards you, an invitation to, well, you weren't exactly sure.

“She good?”

The second man approached the pair of you, your eyes flying over to him for a split moment. He was dressed similarly, except that he looked a little younger than his partner. He shouldered his rifle and tucked a loose strand of hair behind his ear. Your gaze flew back to the man in front of you, to the brown eyes that carried an unexpectedly gentle look, not quite matching the gruff way he looked. Shaking slightly, you placed your hand in his, and the next moment, he was pulling you to your feet.

“There you are.”

You nodded, a motion that looked more like your head was jerking on its own accord. But the man seemed to accept it. As the other one stepped towards you, the taller of the two men spoke again.

“You clean?” When no response came, he pressed on, his tone getting a little more impatient. “Did it bite you? Scratch you anywhere?”

The other one gently placed a hand on his chest, forcing your attention onto himself. “Can you walk? Our horses are two houses over, we've got a place where you can rest, get some food-”

“I'm not going anywhere with you,” you blurted out. You'd had your fair share of people, of men offering you ‘help’ and it never stopped there. There was payment, always. In this world, it was stupid to think there wouldn't be, that anyone would help you out of the kindness of their hearts.

“You're not going anywhere else by the looks of it, either,” the man with the gloves muttered, more than loud enough for you to hear. “You won't last a week.”

“I've lasted longer, asshole,” you shot back, suddenly angry at the stranger in front of you. He didn't know you, he didn't know the things you'd gone through to get here. So what if he had saved your life? It didn't give him the right to predict your death.

The other man nudged his ribs, extending his hand to you as well, though it was more of a formality this time. 

“Name’s Tommy. The asshole is my brother Joel.”

He paused for a moment, clearly thinking about how to approach this the right way. “Look, I'm sure you've been traveling for quite some time. We can give you a place to recover. You can leave anytime, I promise.”

You eyed him carefully. It did sound too good to be true. But it also did sound- good. A roof over your head, warm food in your stomach- two things you'd been craving for quite some time.

“Okay.”

The man who had introduced himself as Tommy gave a short nod and led the way to the horses, following tracks in the snow the two men had left while coming to your rescue. Joel pulled up the rear and you had a feeling that his eyes were trained on you, watching carefully, maybe for a twitch or anything else out of the ordinary. Again, you weren't sure why, but it made you angry.

“I told you I wasn't bit,” you repeated in his direction as Tommy began untying the horses. 

Joel raised a brow, clearly surprised by the attitude in your voice. “‘ts what they usually say.”

“Well, I'm not,” you replied, turning your back on him and focusing on his brother instead. Tommy pretended not to have heard either of you but somehow you were certain he had.

“C’mon, you can ride with me. It's not too far.”

Not too far turned out to be a good hour, the crisp autumn air making you shiver, and you were thankful for the warmth of both the horse and Tommy. But what the ride lacked in temperature it made up for in views, the sun coming out just as you passed the first sign that read ‘Jackson County’.

You didn't even mind Joel's occasional glances towards you as much, finding that with the sunlight playing in his brown curls, his look screamed less of danger and more of concern. Whether it was concern for Tommy or you or something entirely different, you weren't sure.

The answer came to you in the form of your housing arrangements. After getting over the first shock of riding up a busy mainstreet in what looked like an actual, functioning town, a thing you hadn't thought possible anymore, you had made use of what must have been the first functioning toilet you'd seen in months. You felt like a child being steered through the crowd at a busy carnival, if the food hall, the functioning plumbing and electricity and the music drifting from one of the smaller shops was any indication.

“You know we ain't got any unoccupied places and Maria and mine’s no good with the baby screaming all night,” Tommy muttered urgently and you frowned a little. The two men were standing a few feet away, clearly unaware that you were already back and you awkwardly shoved your hands in your pockets, considering going back inside for a moment. But then Joel opened his mouth and you couldn't help but listen in on their conversation. The older man seemed as much a mystery as the entire scene around you.

Tommy piped up before Joel even had a chance to argue. “It's just for a couple of nights. I’m sure Ellie and you will manage. You take her in, explain the basics and as soon as we got a place, you can go back to shutting yourself off from every goddamn person in this town-”

“I don’t-” Joel interrupted before shaking his head, a low grunt leaving his throat.

“Fine. Until Thursday, no longe-” He broke off at the look on Tommys face, one that was aimed directly at you. You shyly nodded in his direction and closed the distance between you in a few quick steps. 

The younger man cleared his throat, giving you a reassuring smile. “Find everything okay?”

“Yeah, thanks,” you replied politely. You hated how forced the conversation felt, already regretting listening in on it at all.

“Joel here’s gonna get you settled for the night, you let him know if you need anything else. I'll stop by in the morning and introduce you to Maria, she’s-”

“The boss,” Joel finished for him, earning a small glare from Tommy. 

“One of our elected leaders,” he corrected, another smile playing around his lips at the mention of what you assumed must be his wife. “Well, I'll leave ya two to it.”

Joel took you home. He still gave you that look, and with Tommy gone, you could be sure that it was actually aimed towards you. It was like he was still on guard but whether it was of you or something else, you couldn't tell.

“Here's how this is gonna go,” he started as he fumbled with the front door of the house clad in white. “You get a quick check-up, a shower, some fresh clothes- you get the idea.”

“I get the idea,” you repeated as he led you into the hallway, unable to keep yourself from glancing around for a moment, catching a peek of the dining room. “You live here by yourself?”

“Why?”

His question hit you out of nowhere and you stuttered for a moment, racking your brain for a good response, “Just- I was making conversation. Jesus.”

“Right,” Joel nodded, his gaze softening a bit. He placed his bag onto the floor and tapped his right thigh absent-mindedly. “Come on, follow me.”

He took you into the upstairs bathroom that smelled faintly of soap, reminding you that you hadn't had a proper wash in more days than you cared to count. There were a few small containers, mostly re-used mason jars, that were labeled ‘shampoo’ or ‘body wash’, sitting orderly on the small shelf next to the tub.

You felt more than heard Joel shift behind you and turned to meet his gaze. He was still watching, arms crossed, seemingly waiting for something.

“Do I- shower?” you asked softly and he sighed a little at that. 

“I need to check you for bites.” His voice was low but still carried a small note of sternness in it. 

Oh, right.

“I didn't agree to that.”

You could see his hand twitch, the handle of his revolver still sticking out the back of his jeans. “You're bit.”

It was more of a statement than anything else, like he already knew what was waiting for him under your clothes, maybe a bite on your leg, a scratch on your stomach. Joel had dealt with enough people that had been marked for death like that to know the signs of it. The thing was, he was wrong.

“Is this what it is?” you asked, quietly, trying to keep your voice from shaking.

“Excuse me?”

“Is that why you go outside, save people? So you can bring them back here, get them to take their clothes off for you-”

“Whoa-” Joel held up both hands, shaking his head very slowly. “I think we got off on the wrong foot here. I need to check you for bites, it’s protocol.” His voice was still deep, that southern drawl you heard earlier in the gas station still present but somehow softer. His features had shifted, seeming genuinely surprised by the turn of your conversation.

“Now, if you want someone else to do it, I can get a lady and let her look you over. We just want to be sure we don’t bring Infected in, that's all.”

“That's all?” you asked as he kept his eyes trained on you, his hands still up in the air and his expression soft.

“I swear, that's all. If you can show me you're not bit, I'll get you that shower, some food, you name it.”

You gave a small nod at that, your body deflating a little. It had been an incredibly long day and the man in front of you seemed genuine. If he wasn't, you could still try and bail.

Joel turned slightly under the pretense of grabbing a towel from below the sink but you knew he was attempting to give you a bit of privacy- even though he clearly didn’t trust you enough to fully turn his back on you. With shaky hands, you began to strip, holding back a wince as you forced your bruised body to move. The fabric of your shirt clung to your skin, dry blood forcing another whimper out of your throat.

You felt Joel's head snap towards you at that but ignored him, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of showing quite how uncomfortable you felt about going through this with him next to you.

He was quick and professional, his large hands brushing over your skin as he made sure you were clean.

“All good,” he commented shortly when he was satisfied, his shoulders relaxing a bit as he reached for a stack of folded towels. Then, his gaze rested on your head again, more specifically, on your matted hair.

“You want me to get someone to cut that for you? Might be easier than-”

“No,” you quickly piped up. You knew your body was malnourished and likely had a dozen other things wrong with it. You didn’t want to lose your hair too.

Joel nodded, his hand absent-mindedly trailing over a particularly nasty knot. “I think I got some soap conditioner in the closet. You want to give that a try?” 

“Yeah, that’d be great,” you responded curtly and Joel disappeared from the room for a few moments. He came back, as promised, with a soap smelling of jasmine and cotton. 

He didn’t seem as hesitant, now that he knew you weren’t bit. At least that’s what you assumed had caused the shift in him. It didn’t occur to you that it might be the fact that you were sitting on his bathroom tiles, shivering, assuming the worst in him, in men, hell, in society. That you looked like a wounded deer, ready to take off at the slightest notion of danger, no matter how badly you were already bleeding.

Joel was a lot more gentle than you would have expected a man of his build to be. He seemed to know exactly what he was doing, reaching just far enough to cover your entire hair, but never letting any conditioner run down onto your face. It made you wonder if he was a father. Then you remembered his brother had mentioned a girl earlier, Ellie. Still, you knew better than to ask. You’d likely be gone in a few days anyway.

But, there was one question that you couldn’t keep from slipping out of your mouth.

“Why did you think I was bit?”

Joel paused for a moment, his fingers slowing down ever so slightly as he seemed to think about his words.

“You weren’t fighting hard enough. To stay alive, I mean. You were acting like someone who knows that their time is up.”

An uncomfortable silence settled between the two of you. You felt his hand brush over the crown of your head, lathering the matted mess that was your hair with soap in small, circular motions.

“I thought it was,” you whispered, honestly. You couldn't bring yourself to lie to him. But you couldn't bring yourself to explain it either.

He didn’t ask.

Neither of you spoke again until you were curled up in his bed, him insisting to take the couch for the night. He’d fed you some soup, relieved when he saw that your stomach could handle that. He’d warned you that it might not, after getting so used to going days without food. You’d gotten some worn but warm clothes to wear after the shower and now your body was sinking into an actual mattress. It was more than you’d dreamed of just that morning.

Joel paused in the doorway, his hand tapping against his jeans, a habit you had already picked up on. It was like he didn’t know what to do with his hands when they weren’t holding a gun.

“You don’t have to leave,” he said quietly. “You know that, right?”

Your mouth went dry as you tried to keep your tone nonchalant. His expression told you that it wasn't exactly working. “Who said I was leaving?”

“You look like you will.”

Again, a quiet fell over you and you shook your head softly. “What, you were a psychologist before or something?”

He smiled weakly. “Contractor.”

After a short pause, he went on. “I know it's hard to- to trust. When ya first get here. I felt the same.” 

You felt a small breath leave your throat at that. “But it gets better?”

“There's hot water, three meals a day, fair working conditions. I don't think it gets much better out there,” he pointed out softly before giving you a small nod.

“I'll be downstairs if you need anything. Good night.”

27 months later

The almost-empty soap sits on your bathroom shelf, the one that’s screwed to the wall just above the worn-out bathtub. You’ve gotten it refilled every few months, sometimes sooner if you wanted to allow yourself a little treat. It still reminds you of your first day in Jackson, of the safety that you so quickly felt in every room of Joel's house.

You still have some time before you have to head to work and the blue sky promises a cold but clear day so you decided to go and check if you’re in luck with any available refills today. Stock always changes throughout the week and while there’s usually something available, you prefer to get your chosen products if possible.

No such luck.

“Sorry, we’re all out. Think patrols cleared out the store that had these a while ago,” the woman behind the counter says apologetically. “We have some others if you’d like to try a new one, there’s-”

“I’m good,” you quickly insist, giving her a small smile when you notice you may have sounded a little harsh. “I’ll just wait and see if some more comes in.”

In one quick motion, you turn around and head towards the door- only to run face-first into a broad chest draped in a thick, brown coat.

“Whoa.” The deep voice above you immediately sends a gentle warmth through your body and you take a small step back to be able to squint up at the man you bumped into.

“Sorry, Texas, didn't see you there.”

“I told you to stop calling me that,” Joel mutters weakly, fumbling with the small bag he is carrying before handing it over to the woman behind the counter. She thanks him and quickly begins to sort the items he has brought back from patrol. He’s wearing the thick coat you see on him whenever it drops below freezing, his dark boots leaving small pieces of wet mud on the floor of the small store. He’s been doing the creek trails then, most likely.

You’ve rarely been on patrol yourself, focusing your energy more on tasks inside the community. If it hadn’t been for Joel, you know you probably would have taken off in the first few days, maybe stolen some food and been on your way. But he’d gotten you to stay. With him, for a few days. Then they had found space for you in a small guesthouse close to the mainstreet, to be shared with a young woman not unlike yourself that had offered up her vacant bedroom.

You’d taken an instant liking to Lane. Joel had dropped you off at your new home, with the few things you owned, and you and her had both stood in the small kitchen in awkward silence, racking your brains for a good conversation starter. Of course, you’d come up with the one she probably heard every other day.

“I like your hair.”

It wasn’t a lie. Her hair was cut short but thick, and most importantly, it was blue. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d seen colored hair. It seemed to fit her though. The roots were brown and the overall color a little less vibrant than you’d seen in magazines of people before the outbreak. If anything, you liked this more.

“Thanks,” she said lamely, twisting her hand around the small cup she was holding. “Fuck, I’m sorry, I’m the worst at social shit,” she finally blurted out and it looked like she was half glad to admit it and half afraid of your reaction.

“Don’t worry. Me too,” you admitted, a grin spreading over both your faces, the silence seeming a lot more bearable now. She shrugged towards the counter, half a dozen muffins sitting on it. “You like blueberries? A friend let me nick these.”

She paused for a moment, brushing a strand of blue hair behind her ear. “I mean, technically they’re not real blueberries, the ground here is too dry for those. I think they’re called juneberries, but we never call them that.”

You figured she’d be a solid roommate if she’d just met you and was already sharing her sweets. Half an hour later, when you had vomited the blueberry muffins back up in your shared bathroom, Joel’s warning about solid food still ringing in your ears, when she was standing beside you, holding your hair back and handing you a washcloth when you were finished, you knew she’d be more than a roommate. She’d be your friend.

She had also been the one to get you into teaching. You’d been fascinated when she first told you about her job in town, teaching the children of Jackson practically every subject she could. Neither of you had been in school before the outbreak so it was all the more impressive, the way she managed to control a class without the need to get loud or hand out punishments.

You’d taken a liking to the classrooms of Jackson as well, reminiscing on the last summer before the world had gone to shit and the way you’d looked forward to being in school, learning all the things big girls did. Not getting to sit in a classroom, and you didn’t count those at FEDRA as actual classrooms, had been only one of so many things you felt you had missed out on.

So it felt even more special now when, after you got Maria to assign you as teacher alongside Lane, you spent your days in the colorfully decorated classrooms, teaching a variety of subjects and a variety of ages. It was similar to life in Jackson, not without its fair amount of challenges. But, just as Joel had promised the first night, you learned to trust and the more you did, the easier it was to let yourself be. Above all, to let yourself be happy.

Joel steps outside alongside you, his head jerking back towards the small supply store. “Did ya get everything?”

His voice is soft, and you like to imagine that he sounds a little more gentle when speaking to you compared to the others. Not that you see him talking to a lot of people either way. You're pretty sure it's why he prefers the patrols, less people to bother him and less voices to listen to. Even though you had a feeling, about a year after you arrived in Jackson, that he also preferred being paired up with Esther, a pretty woman who took care of the horses and frequented the patrols. Especially those with Joel.

You had almost hoped for them to end up together, to drive the images of Joel alone at his too large dining table out of your head. But they didn't and the images stayed. You had him over for dinner, every other month. It started as a thank-you for helping you through your first days and quickly developed into a rare but regular thing. Ellie or Lane joined you occasionally, happy to get a nice home-cooked dinner and some of the wine Joel usually brought along.

You didn't see too much of him outside of your little gatherings, only the normal occasions that presented themself around town. But it was nice to know that he was there, that he would bring his wine and compliment your cooking and make small-talk and listen to the new developments of your life.

“It makes sense for you to be a teacher,” he’d agreed after you’d updated him on your new position, causing you to raise a brow. 

“What is that supposed to mean? Think I can’t handle myself out on the group patrols?”

His face slowly changed at that, Joel urgently shaking his head, “I didn't mean-”

You cut him off with a small laugh, no longer able to stay serious at how panicked he looked. “I’m messing with you, old man. I know what you meant. I think it makes sense too. I like it.”

His shoulders relaxed slightly as he leaned back against the kitchen counter, grumbling a little under his breath.

It's Joel's voice that brings you back to the present. “I asked if you got everything?”

You shake your head to get rid of the thoughts, then it turns to shaking your head no. “They’re out of conditioner. But it’s fine, I can stretch mine a bit longer and maybe they’ll get some next week.”

“Ya still using the same one?” Joel asks, shoving his hands into the pockets of his coat and you nod. It's sweet that he remembers. It's been over two years, after all.

“Yeah. Liked it, never saw a reason to switch,” you explain lamely. He only gives a short nod, motioning for you to follow as he starts walking. 

You do, though perplexed. “School’s in the other direction.” “Thought your class didn’t start until ten today,” he points out. It never appears to you to ask how or why he knows this. When your steps slow down and your thoughts speed up simultaneously, he nudges you along.

“You want your soap or not?” he grumbles and your face lights up a little at that. 

“You got some?” 

Joel gives another quick nod. “Brought them back a few weeks ago. I would’ve given them to you if I knew ya still used them.”

You trot beside him like a puppy, making your way down Rancher Street and up the flight of stairs that leads to the small house clad in white. The noise of the wind chimes tied to a beam above his front porch drifts over to you, the gentle breeze creating a slow melody.

You haven’t been in his upstairs bathroom for years. It’s odd and it feels too intimate, seeing the place where he brushes his teeth in the morning, where he washes himself after a long day. You don't belong in a space this personal. You don't belong to him.

It felt different when you were curled up on the same white tiles, letting him check your bruised and battered body for signs of Infection. For a split moment, it did feel like you belonged, in a way.

Joel's hand brushes over yours as he hands you the soap, the one smelling of jasmine and cotton and safety. 

The rest of the day is a blur of lessons and grading, but the smell of the soap seems to linger, the comforting feeling in your stomach getting you through the work day. It doesn’t end until seven with you staying behind to tutor some kids for an upcoming exam and then to finish preparing said exam. The smell of food fills the air as you open your front door and you smile as you poke your head into the kitchen, “Smells good.”

Lane is seated at the table, a few papers in front of her. Likely an exam of her own, you think to yourself. Even after the world has ended, finals season still exists.

“My mum made that pasta you like so much today. Figured I'd save you some,” she says, nodding towards the tupperware sitting on the counter.

“You're an angel.” You whistle as you head deeper into the house, putting away your jacket and bag, fishing the soap out of the latter and placing it on the bathroom shelf. It makes you pause for a moment. You give a nod to yourself at the sight of the refilled container and make a silent vow to treat yourself to a nice bath today.

An hour later, your stomach is filled with warm pasta, the bathroom damp with steam and your hair soft, smelling just the way you like it. The clock in the small hallway reminds you that it's already past twelve and the knowledge that tomorrow is another day filled with teaching makes you want to crawl into bed fairly quickly. But you're thirsty.

Lane is still in the kitchen, her blue hair a little messy and crowned with a pair of headphones. The music spills out a bit, enough for you to be able to hear the low, steady humming of a song that seems mildly familiar.

You do remember a few songs from before the Outbreak- mainly the ones they played on the radio. But you know that Lane doesn’t, being a few years younger than you, meaning that she barely has any memories of the before.

You're already in your pajamas, shuffling to the sink to pour yourself a glass of water. Somehow it always tastes better at night. Or maybe your brain is playing tricks on you.

“Hey, you remember Joel is coming over for dinner on Sunday, right?” you ask with your back to your friend. When no response comes, you gulp down the last bit of water and turn around, giving a small wave in the air between you. 

Lane sits up a little more, pushing one side of her headphones back just enough to free her ear. “Hm?”

“Dinner with Joel, Sunday,” you repeat, a yawn escaping you. 

After a moment, she nods. “Right, I remember. We’re out of blueberries again, by the way.”

“I’ll make sure to restock this weekend then,” you agree, already halfway across the room. You give another small wave and finally head to bed. It looks exactly the same way you left it this morning, the blanket tucked into one side, the pillows arranged against the headboard.

“It's so good to be home,” you mutter to yourself as you crawl under the covers, stretching your body a little. Your left hand reaches for your nightstand and finds the book you've been reading, hoping to get just a tiny bit further tonight. With all the work and the winter festival coming up, you’ve barely made progress, the wooden bookmark still sitting near the front. You put it aside, glancing down at the finely carved piece of woodwork for a moment. Joel gave it to you for your first birthday in Jackson. Then you open the book properly, the worn-out spine cracking slightly. Just a couple of minutes.

But your eyes start to droop after just a few pages. After half a chapter, you're in a deep slumber, the book slipping out of your hands and onto the wooden floor below just as the front door slips shut.

if you enjoyed the chapter, please consider reblogging/sharing and commenting <3

[ariscats]

Jameson analyzes part 2: Traumas (or a very long rant against Emily Laughin, who I cant be bother to learn how to spell her last name)

“Cause I've made some real big mistakes/ But you make the worst one look fine/ I should've known it was strange/ You only come out at night/ I used to think I was smart/ But you made me look so naive/ The way you sold me for parts/ As you sunk your teeth into me, oh/ Bloodsucker, famefucker/ Bleedin' me dry, like a goddamn vampire”

So there is this girl, who comes at his house every summer and has a heart diesse. She cant live so everyone has to do whatever she asks to make it up for it. Then one day she gets a surgery and now she gets to live, and who is her ticket to living? Jameson and Grayson.

Emily is his first kiss. However, 3 seconds after SHE KISSES HIS BROTHER WHO HE ALREADY INSECURE ABOUT BECAUSE OF HIS F. GRANDFATHER. And you have to be pretty dumd to not realize that what emily really wanted in the scene is Grayson to kiss her and she just used Jameson because she could (I still can’t believe that Emily did “loved” Gray more than Jameson).

Then she moves to his city and goes to his school. And, as far as a bitch she is, she must have been rl something because she became the most popular girl at school.

(Now, this is where things get tricky. I’m going to use the version fo what I believe happened. If you have another version you can picture like that)

Then they start dating. They borh want to live and do things because they can rather because they should. She got her golden ticket to freedom and he got the attention he’s been craving his whole life. They do everything together because she wants more and he wants more and nothing is never enough for them. So Jameson takes her to do everything they have the right to because Jameson is, at te end of the day, a good boyfriend.

But, its still not enough for Emily. Because she goes after fucking Grayson AND HE DOES THE SAME TING AS JAMESON BECAUSE THEY ARE THE OPOSITE SIDE OF THE SAME COIN.

Then they start fighting. Best friends for their whole life, but they slowly start to hate each other because fucking Emily turned everything INTO A GAME, MAKING LOVE A GAME THE SAME WAY TJEIR FAMILY HAS BEEN TRAUMATAZING THEM THEIR WHOLE LIFES. AND SHE KEEPS A FUCKING SCORE OF WHO HAS MORE POINTS, BY VOICE RECORDING.

Then one beautifull day Rebecca decides that betrayl by both ends doesnt hurts and tells Jameson about the scores and sends him the audio Emily made.

Jameson Hawthorne had to listen the girl he ruined his life for for over a year sumarize him and his love as some points. He breaks up with her, and she decides to go after Grayson. And then she jumps. But he is also there, because love and family are never that simple and jameson is a tiny bit (read in the level of therapy) of a masochist. And then SHE BLINKS AND LAUGHS AT HIM AND WHEN HE FINALLY MANAGES TO GO AWAY SHE START HAVING HEART PROBLEMS. BUT SHE HAS PLAYED HIM SO MUCH THAT HE DOESNT KNOW WHAT REALITY IS ANYMORE, and she hadnt had any heart problems for the past 4 years. So he leaves and she dies, and hell breakes lose.

He lost a girl he has know his whole life. He just “learned” that his love arent worth more than some points, he just got out of a increadibly toxic relasionship that ruined his life. The healthy thing would have been if he had some safe space to talk about what Emily did to him and have a strong support system. But everyone he knows is muroning her. They see her as an angle, so everything she did to him goes under the traps because how do you even dare to say something about dear angle Emily. And he has to live with the fact that he belives he killed her. And he cant also talk about anyone about that, for obvious reasons (but his grandfather knows and uses that against him).

Remember what I said about him being a masochist? Now is the era of his great self destruction (with an almost suicide attempt there, that his grandfather was present again and used that agaisnt him, *again*). Its all buttom up in him and he feels angry and sad and nothing. And between these 3, he chose anger. Also, Thea blames the Hawthorne for a death they didnt cause because who dares to say something bad about angles emily? So she puts the whole school agaisnt him and makes school unberable to him. Everyone likes to joke about Jameson missing school but has anyone ever wondered why he hated there so much? He didnt skiped class because he was a rebel 😝🤘but because everyone f. hated him and made his life hell.

[godihatethiswebsite]

Desert Oasis

✽ Johnny "Soap" Mactavish x f!reader (The Mummy AU)

Main Masterlist ✽ Ao3

✽ Part 9 - A meeting with ghosts

This is my longest one yet folks (don't ask, I have a problem). Was going to chop it up and make it into two, but then reasons...

Also it always bothered me that the only bits of Hamunaptra we ever got to see were the couple pillars up top and a handful of creepy caverns below. It's the fucking City of the Dead - resting place for royalty. Forgive me if I fix that oversight.

Some of this I had to look up. Some of this I'm just a nerd ^^;

The first four years of your life were spent in the fields of Buckinghamshire. 

It was an easy existence given your age, only knowing the worries of a toddler, ignorant to anything outside the little sphere your parents raised you in – until your father’s business partners convinced him to take up stakes in northern Africa. With the big archaeological boom in the early 1900’s, it made sense to cash in on the amount of trade flowing in and out of the country. 

If you thought back about it hard enough you could faintly recall the frayed edges of a memory where your father argued with your mother behind closed doors about the change, her not wanting to leave society behind and especially not wanting you to grow up away from all that in the ‘wild, bandit-infested gutters’ of lower Egypt (an awful sentiment she eventually got over after experiencing the bountiful culture firsthand).

You knew from the following years that some sort of arrangement had been made that the family would travel back and forth to England often enough that would allow you a ‘proper education’ and keep your name in good standing for your eventual launch into the matching market as a teenager.

You’d been a bit too young at the time to truly understand the move, only knowing that one day everything went from mild and rainy to suddenly everything was far too sweltering and uncomfortable. Your mother plied you with all sorts of cold sweet treats at first until you inevitably adjusted to the foreign climate. But besides leaving your newly beloved cousin behind, it hadn’t really affected you in any sort of considerably extensive way. 

You longed for the meadows of your cousin’s backyard, but found beauty in the tropical fauna that now grew in your estate. There were new rules to abide by – different boundaries and regulations your parents put in place for your safety in unfamiliar territory – but once you’d learned that goats replaced pigs and that you began conversations with 'As-salaam ‘alykum' instead of 'Hello' it had been a smooth transition.

The biggest change came in the form of the towering architecture that was visible in the distance even in the middle of the city. Once you’d taken an interest as a youngling, your father allowed you to venture with him outside the walls of Cairo to see the massive monuments in person.

It was a normal occurrence to glance outside and gaze upon the remnants of Ancient Egypt. Locals hardly batted an eye at the things that dazzled the imaginations of foreign tourists – not unfeeling towards their history, merely conditioned to register it as background noise. All you had to do was travel minutes outside of Cairo proper to come face to face with the marvels that were the colossal pyramids of old. In some areas of the country you couldn’t even walk five feet without stumbling over some ancient piece of civilization or another. Sometimes they were integrated into the newly built infrastructure, others torn down and cataloged to make way for industrial progress.

This was different. These weren’t just any old dusty ruins. 

This was Hamunaptra.

Riding into the courtyard of the long forgotten city, you felt the air get pulled from your lungs as if some higher force desired this to be your final resting place.

Patting the camel’s neck in appreciation of its well fought efforts, your eyes bursting with wonderment couldn’t take the sights in fast enough to really process them. For as ancient and run down as it was, the majority of structures still standing were in impressive condition – the result of millennia hidden from the prying eyes of thieves and foreign kingdoms. The secrets of the New Kingdom were here – preserved intact – and ripe for exploration.

Replacing the pyramids of old, Hamunaptra was a sacred place where only the dead and those who kept them may enter. By all rights and customs, your head would be promptly removed from your shoulders for even daring to set foot on holy ground.

How many figures of vast importance were lying in rest less than ten meters under the topsoil? 

Ahmose I? Amenhotep I, Tuthmose II, Ramesses VII? Nefertiti?

Long have they remained hidden. Countless expeditions with thousands of pounds invested and archaeologists were still no closer to unlocking the secrets of their whereabouts than they were since we’d first learned their names.

You were yanked out of your inner musings by the clopping feet of a large animal that heralded another's arrival, adjusting in your saddle to peer over your shoulder towards the entrance and the figure that crossed over the threshold.

Johnny hadn’t even brought his mount to a full halt before he was suddenly vaulting off his camel, hardly wincing at what must’ve been a jarring impact for his knees as he quickly crossed the distance between and came up next to yours. 

Windswept hair and wardrobe; tanned skin flushed and glistening even under the newly born sun. Ocean blue orbs dazzling with mirth as he reached up with outstretched arms, fingers wiggling seductively beckoning you into his hold.

What was it that was stealing your breath again…?

Swinging a leg over the saddle, you allowed yourself to start sliding far enough down for him to securely grasp onto your waist with meaty well-worked hands, your own landing on his shoulders for a bit of balance. You wrongly assumed he’d place you back on your feet - a blind mistake, caught up in the logistics of getting down and missing the obvious moment his wide grin turned puckish. 

The two of you twirled as he kept you lifted high above his head, squealing in surprise before your own sounds of crowing delight mirrored Johnnys in both volume and excitement.

“Brilliant, lass! Pure brilliant! Left ‘em all in the dust, ye did! Thatta girl!” 

It was hard to tell if the ensuing lightheadedness was the outcome of all the spinning he had you locked into or if it was the result of something else entirely, lowering you down with powerful biceps as he planted an obnoxious kisser right on the side of your face. He was over the top with his fawning, playful in his affection in a way that felt oddly comfortable and left you in girlish giggles. “Gonna be hackin’ that outta their lungs fer weeks and spend even longer nursin’ their bruised egos. Christ, hen, ye should’ve seen yerself go.”

You pulled back from him just enough to give yourself some more breathing room, head tilted up as you responded to his praise with an insinuating remark. “Might’ve had something to do with the sudden bout of speed my camel caught on the back half. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you Johnny?”

“Eh, poor thing was jus’ as excited tae reach the city as ye were is all.” The way he shrugged his shoulders and cocked his head with a devil may care grin couldn’t disguise the way he spoke with all the innocence of a sweet toothed toddler in a cookie jar.

“Causin’ trouble over there, MacTavish?!” came the teasing call of your cousin as Kyle rounded the corner of the ruins and brought his camel up to graze alongside where the others stood in the shadow of a crumbled wall, getting down with far less hurry than the two of you had. “Gonna give poor dolly there a conniption if you keep that up.”

“Och! Haud yer wheesht, Garrick! Or ah’ll gie ye a skelpit lug fer yer troubles!” 

That may not have been the King’s English, but you’re fairly confident you understood the sentiment just the same. 

It also hadn’t passed your notice that Johnny’s arm was still firmly snaked around your waist, holding you to him with an iron grip you had no care in the world to escape.

Part of you was almost disappointed when your cousin tugged you away from him, afraid for a moment that Johnny wouldn't relinquish his claim and feeling the possessive strength in his arm up until the last possible second when he finally turned you over to Kyle. 

Swept into your cousin’s arms this time and far more delicately than his predecessor, Kyle raised an eyebrow at his friend, head perched on top of yours. “Laying it on a bit thick there, dontcha think?”

Johnny shrugged, making eye contact at where you were glancing over your shoulder at him and offering you a little wink in return. “Jus’ givin’ our girl here some well earned praise s’all.”

That shouldn’t have pleased you as much as it did. His words sent a shiver of something sinful down your spine, distracting you from the hug your cousin had you currently encased in and forcing the blood in your face to travel southward.

You missed the look Kyle gave him in response, gone and replaced with one of concern as he held you at arm’s length and gave you a thorough once over in order to better ascertain your condition. “And you, dolly? Came out unharmed?”

They had witnessed Graves lashing out at you a few minutes ago, your outcry shocking them into action that toppled him off his horse and sent him rolling hard along the packed earth. Thankfully you hadn’t been the intended target. 

You weren’t sure they’d have let him walk away without a red stain in his gut if that had been the case.

“No, he didn’t get me. The only thing he wounded was his pride.”

As if summoned by your thoughts, the man in question slunk his way along the perimeter of the city, giving your posse a wide berth as the three of you simply watched Graves meander along past with a wobble to his gait. 

Still… he kept his head held high with all the arrogance of a man too stubborn to know when he had been humbled. Grasping the reins of his horse and leaning against the animal in a weak attempt to mask his minor limp, he avoided eye contact with your group except to briefly cast you all a scathing glower tinted with defiance. There was a bite to it aimed especially at your Scottish companion, something that held the promise of things to come that Johnny gladly returned until Graves finally averted his gaze and kept on trudging.

You kept tabs on him until he wandered too far out of view, a gentle hand on your back prompting you to start walking as the rest of the rival entourage slowly trailed into the courtyard.

As the sun climbed ever higher in the early morning sky, the atmosphere amongst the gathered crowd steadied. Now that coin was no longer on the table and the winnings had been begrudgingly handed out (though not without a few snarky comments that simmered under a powder keg of explosive personalities) it was all back to business and barking out orders. 

It was clear the Americans had well funded their endeavors. The amount of workers they’d secured to excavate the site was a bit much in your opinion, but considering the mostly empty saddlebags left hanging from their mounts you imagined they hadn’t felt like dallying around longer than necessary. No, these were the types to come in and seize as much as they could with as much haste as possible in a shoddy get rich quick scheme before telling their associates back home how to make out like bandits with their own weight in gold.

The only one who seemed to actually give a damn about where they were was the older gentleman in a well tailored suit whose image didn't quite seem to gel with the scraggly unkempt mess of salt n pepper hair – their scholar, Klaus Fisker. Danish by the accent; voice as gruff as gravel. You weren’t surprised to see the chain of cigarettes attached to his lips, dropping butts on the ground and lighting another as if he hadn’t had the last one in ages. 

He felt out of place even in his own skin, but you could at least appreciate his attention to detail as he spit out commands in abrasive Arabic from behind an impressive beard, unwilling to let the hired hands do things that could jeopardize the items they were tasked with handling. 

They might be trying to rob this place blind, but at least you were assured their plunder would all make it to the auction blocks in one piece.

They’d set to sprawling out on the north side of the courtyard whilst your group took up camp in the south – enough distance between you lot that the thirty or so of you could play nice for the duration of your visit.

Johnny had moseyed off a few minutes back after assisting your cousin with the task of setting up camp, a luxury you hadn’t previously been afforded in an effort to arrive at your destination before the others. You saw to the camels' needs during that time, making sure they were well fed for their labors and removing their saddles to give them a chance to more comfortably lounge in the shade. 

Once that was done, you took to unpacking the scant items the two of them had previously procured for you, your cousin perched nearby after you’d smacked his hands away from your things to do it yourself.

“Soooo… this is the fabled city, huh?” Kyle leaned against one of the tent posts with his arms crossed, taking stock of all the hired hands clattering about doing this and that. It was obvious the Americans were wasting no time roaming around the site in search of shiny things to pawn back home.

You paid them no mind as you tended to your belongings, already mentally cataloging major structures of importance to explore and document later.

“Well, it’s called a city when in fact it’s actually a large necropolis – a burial site for the pharaohs of the New Kingdom as well as all their worldly treasures. The only living people who were allowed entry were the high priests, their acolytes, and the soldiers tasked with guarding them. Even the slaves they brought in to dig grave sites and haul antiquities were promptly beheaded upon completion so as to be sure the exact location of Hamunaptra was kept an absolute secret. Walk about two hundred paces westward outside the city walls and I’m sure you’ll find an unmarked mass grave where all their remains were dumped.”

“Sounds charming,” came the dry response as he uncorked his waterskin and took a few needed gulps, splashing some on his face for a quick reprieve from the heat, the droplets rolling down his neck to disappear under his linen shirt.

“Well, be glad you’re coming here three thousand years in the future then instead of me digging up your own grave from the past.”

“You’d miss me being your cousin too much, dolly.”

“Perhaps then the Lord could’ve instead seen fit to bless me with one a bit less reprehensible.”

“Oi!”

You couldn’t help your little grin at your own quick wit and his indignation. Unfortunately for him he didn’t get a chance to fire one back, the small banter interrupted by the return of your other companion as he sauntered his way over to stand next to Kyle.

“‘Right.” Johnny clapped his hands together, motioning over his shoulder towards a group of six workers who were starting to haul some equipment further north. “Looks like they’ve started in on clearin’ out the rubble blockin’ that great pylon o’er there. Any idea where ye’ll be wantin’ tae start, lass?”

It caught you off guard to hear yourself being the one addressed, turning your head to find the both of them staring at you expectantly as the voice of leadership. At this point you were so accustomed to them being the ones taking control and calling all the shots that you completely forgot it was you and not them who was the technical expert in this part of the operation. 

They were the ones out of their depths.

It was a realization that was equal parts terrifying and incredibly satisfying after so many days feeling like a chicken strutting around without its head.

You put yourself back in the familiar headspace needed for something like this, standing up and brushing the dirt off your palms as you briefly cased the surrounding points of interest. “I wanna take a look around on the surface first before venturing into the catacombs below. Let’s focus on getting a brief overview of the layout that we can then narrow down for later. Most of these temples and buildings should be untouched and I want to get a glimpse of them first before our ‘friends’ start ransacking everything.”

“Yer the boss, hen.” 

It was said so matter of factly and without any sort of veiled ribbing in his words. This time you were the one in control. And damn if that didn’t make you feel ten feet tall.

It felt good to finally be back in your element after days spent floundering for something sturdy to grasp onto. While you’d been growing ever more comfortable in the situations foisted upon your trio simply through trial by fire, you were finally in a happy medium between the covers of your books and the world beyond. 

It was nice not having to share the space as you made your way deeper into the city with your two self proclaimed bodyguards, unencumbered by gleaning eyes only interested in how much profit they could obtain from pocketable treasures rather than the breadth of history ripe to be storied. You could walk the worn limestone at your leisure, piecing together clues from the golden age of architecture and art. 

The perceived idiocy of it wasn’t entirely lost on you. Here you were in the grandest monument to the wealthiest peoples of both upper and lower Egypt – a discovery that could grant you as much worldly renown and untold riches as was possessed by the very kings concealed below your feet…

...and all you wanted to do was step through time into a piece of ancient history for the chance to waltz with the ghosts who haunt these hallowed halls.

It wasn’t some giant leap to surmise whose temple stood tall next to the towering height of the statue of Horus, not much alike in its design to the one located miles away in Edfu. Of course that one was built in the Ptolemaic Empire between ten to twelve hundred years beyond this one. Nevertheless, the structure of buildings hadn’t changed much in the ensuing millennia and you’d done enough research on both periods to be able to navigate a temple without much fuss.

You’d needed the boys' assistance to scale up the side of a toppled pillar blocking the entrance, getting a much needed boost from Kyle at the bottom as Johnny hauled you up over the top with a firm grip and steadying hand on your waist. The buildup of drifted sands on the opposite side kept you from needing any further help from them, sliding down the small slope and hesitating at the bottom in front of the main entrance. 

Gods, this was a moment to take in. 

You were almost afraid to look inward; to take that next step into untouched territory that felt more sacred than the importance you had allotted it. The first to do so since it was lost to the shifting desert hidden within a mirage. Everything was so real now there was no mistaking the gravity drawing you in – the weight of all your decisions until now leading you to the steps you weren't sure you were brave enough to take.

But remembering the tales recently come to light of a secret courage you’d discovered you’d always possessed, you allowed curiosity to lead you forward through the doorway of the temple.

…or was that the steadfast hand ghosting over the small of your back? The heat of a corporeal body stood close behind, the soft whisper of ‘go on, m'eudail…’ breathed so delicately against your ear you’d barely heard it murmured?

Who was the last man to walk through this same threshold you found yourself now stepping over? Be he priest or slave? Medjai or king? Perhaps a close relative come to pay homage to Horus before they bid a final farewell before the forever stilled body of their dearest loved one glimpsed its last at the shimmering veil of starlight above.

Your hand was shaking as you brought it to your gaping mouth, enraptured eyes pulled in every direction as you gluttoned yourself on the near perfectly preserved views. The amazed utterances of ‘steamin’ jesus’ and ‘bloody hell’ of the men were mere wisps on the wind compared to the pounding of your heart in your ears.

In your opinion one of the worst misconceptions about the Romans and the Egyptians was that they avoided the usage of color like the plague. Just because time had eroded the polished white marble and beige sandstone did not mean they hadn’t once been just as full of life as the vibrant cultures who created them. It was unfortunate that the elements washed away their former grandeur and such an important part of society's understanding of their craftsmanship.

There was no mistaking as you entered through the courtyard and into the hypostyle hall, surrounded by rows and rows of wide stone columns of staggered heights that supported the sloped roof and allowed the hall to be lit by clerestory windows. Every inch is elaborately decorated with colorful displays of pharaohs and gods and ceremonies for worship and life and funeral arrangements. They were reminiscent of the ones famously carved at the Temple of Karnak, but upon seeing how detailed and dynamic these were up close you realized just how lacking you thought the former truly was.

You weaved between pillars raking your gaze up and down, some motifs familiar while others spoke of things you hadn’t learned in your books. Perhaps they were rituals held only within this necropolis, or maybe the other outside temples had them at one point, but were lost to erosion and vandalism…

All paths lead further into the inner sanctuary – the heart of the temple and what had at the time been considered the home of the gods.

The room was deep and narrow, a beautifully preserved statue of Horus with his sacred boat placed at the end of the hall. The walls were decorated with mythology, weaving the tales of his birth from Isis and Osiris. The murder of his father by his uncle Seth and the ensuing battle between the two gods. His triumph and aftermath of their bloody escapades. The healing of his left eye by Thoth. 

If you closed your eyes you could almost smell the incense left burning at the altar, threadbare tapestry fluttering with the draft held in place by instruments of worship. There would have been chanting as high priests read from sacred texts, prayers for the dead and celebrations for their deity. 

“You wanna tell us what the hell we’re lookin’ at here, dolly?” There wasn’t any mocking in Kyle’s tone, just pure inquisitiveness at the unique carvings on all sides of the chamber.

“I could spend a very long time educating you on the importance of where we are, but I don’t think you’d appreciate it enough to spare the proper breath.” Your eyes hadn’t strayed from the intricate bas reliefs on the wall for a moment as you addressed his remark, the awe of the sight prominent in the breathiness of your vibrato. “What I will tell you is that we are in a place of great importance and that you will never find a more perfect specimen of what life looked like three thousand years ago than you are right now.”

Johnny was oddly quiet as he observed your surroundings, scrutinizing them with an eye that suggested he was giving them far more attention than someone like your cousin afforded them. Curious for a soldier and treasure hunter to take such an interest in the ancient world considering it wasn’t anything of monetary value. 

Kyle was the one who eventually spoke up about moving onto the next site, lingering back in the doorway to the chambers as you stopped in front of the falcon at the end of the sanctuary. Clasping your hands in front of your chest, you bowed your head in reverent respect for the god of the sun and prayed to him for safe passage and good fortune, thanking him for letting you all enter into his domain and promising to do no damage or harm.

Once you’d finished with your silent parting, you were surprised to lift your head and see Johnny doing the same to the right of you, eyes still closed for a few moments longer than yours until he straightened up and glanced your way, a gentle hand on your shoulder turning you towards the exit where your cousin patiently awaited.

You could’ve sworn you felt someone’s eyes on your back, watching as you made your way from the chambers and back out into the heat of the city.

Horus was not the only one you visited. There were temples of worship to most of the major gods; Anubis, Osiris and his wife Isis, Amun-Ra, Hathor, Thoth. You’d even located Ptah amongst the structures despite him having no relation to anything regarding the Egyptian life cycle as the others did. As the god of construction and craftsmanship, perhaps he had been placed there to honor the vast array of noble architecture. Or maybe the occupants of whatever nearby temporary housing complex was erected somewhere outside the city walls created it first to honor their patron deity and bring them good fortune in their hard labors. 

Whatever the reason, you’d stopped inside and paid your respects just the same.

Empty boat pits lined up alongside the major temples. Whether for the gods themselves or the ones buried beneath you couldn't say. You hadn’t expected to find one still intact unless they were buried somewhere. There were surprisingly still traces of their remains at least, Johnny lowering you down gently into the depths as you gathered small fragmented pieces of wood so brittle most of them fell apart as soon as they met the warmth of your hands.

With each new place visited the more overtaken you were with each new find. There were long stretches where you were stuck silent in reverence and others you couldn’t stop going on and on with enthusiastic exuberance, pointing out important symbols and phrasing on the walls, the significance of an animal statue or the items left discarded by the last priests to visit centuries ago.

Truthfully you were glad to have been so lost in the moment that you were incapable of giving even half a care to the well meaning snickering of your cousin as he watched you halt every few paces to gawk at the glory of a bygone civilization laid out in front of you like an open banquet. But really who was he to judge when you’d seen him turn stupid at the sight of a tall glass of expensive amber brandy?

Your infatuation was far more dignified than his liquor cabinet full of rare imported inebriation juice.

But it was all in good fun, carrying on for the majority of the morning bleeding into mid afternoon until your tired legs humbly requested a small reprieve. The boys continued to entertain your chirpings long after returning to camp, smiling at you over their cooked portions of lunch, completely enamored by the way your eyes lit up to match your grin now that you were free to be unabashedly passionate to your heart's content.

The city itself was comparable to an iceberg; for how much there was on top to explore, the real meat of Hamunaptra was underground in the vast unexplored catacombs winding miles long and spanning the full breadth of the walled area above. 

It was by mere happenstance that you stumbled upon a way down into the area beneath – quite literally. You’d felt your foot slip with a rather ungraceful startled squawk of surprise, your stomach dropping as a piece of the stone path crumbled out from under you and tried to drag you down along with it. It was only due to the quick reaction of Kyle’s hand latching onto your bicep and dragging you backwards to hold securely against his chest that you hadn’t had an untimely discovery of just how far down that rabbit hole goes.

Once you’d calmed your racing heart from the unexpected fright, you’d been ushered back away from the opening as the two of them prodded the entrance for any more structural weaknesses that might cause it to further collapse. Besides a small chunk that had already looked iffy, they deemed it safe enough to stand near as Johnny got on his hands and knees to peer into the blackness.

“Jus’ a blank void. Cannae see shite down there.” He rolled back onto the balls of his feet, resting his forearms on his knees as he turned his gaze upwards again to where you and your cousin stood. “Dunnae think this is the place tae go down, Garrick. Might have tae try somewhere further south.”

The problem was that the actual entrance to the catacombs was currently occupied by the Americans. They’d hadn’t been unwelcoming so far, but none of you necessarily wanted to test that considering the real prizes were waiting down there. And even though you were fairly confident your boys could take on more than you thought they could, you didn’t want to press your luck or ruffle any feathers – especially when said birds were equipped with firearms.

But for all you knew, there was only one way in.

The two of them debated in the background as you took a gander around the area, trying to put together why that hole was even there in the first place. The structural integrity up until now had been solid, having walked a decent chunk of the grounds in the past few hours since you’d arrived. For there to be a sinkhole when it was so impor–

Something catching at the corner of your eye had you swiveling your head, a sparkle in the sands pulling your feet in its direction while your companions remained oblivious. Tucking your skirts under your legs as you kneeled, you wiped away the sand to reveal what looked like polished hammered metal, silver glinting in the sunlight as you brushed away more and more from its surface. 

You started to gather you had a pretty good idea what this thing was doing over here.

A large round disk – heavy too as you tugged at the newly revealed edge in an attempt to tip it upright with little success. Too stubborn to ask for help, it was only once you got back onto your feet that you were able to haul it up into a position it could be balanced on its own. 

You chortled quietly to yourself as you figured out exactly how it was you were going to accomplish your task, feeling good in your cleverness and turning to see your companions still at odds with each other on the direction you all should take next. The discussion appeared to be getting rather heated from what you could tell, the two of them standing toe to toe as arms gradually became more and more animated.

It entertained you just how unaware they were of anything outside their own minor argument, watching in growing amusement as they failed to notice you and your find that would ultimately put an end to their incessant babble if they only stopped to pay attention. 

But you were burning the daylight required for this and frankly you didn't have the patience to wait for them to finish.

“Oh booooys…” You called over with a sing songy lilt, watching as they came to the sudden realization you were no longer next to them and mildly panicking before their eyes fell upon you a few meters away, leaning the large mirrored object against your legs and knocking your foot against the winged falcon at the bottom. “Would you be ever so kind enough to cease your incessant yapping and come give me a hand with this?”

While Kyle got to work securing a hefty length of rope to a nearby obelisk, you’d located another one of those mirrors a few feet away, dragging it over to position it opposite the first and tilting it in a way that the sunlight would catch on the other as well. Thankfully you had made this discovery with a few hours of daylight left to spare. Otherwise your ancient party trick would’ve had to wait until tomorrow to be shown.

Once again Johnny had wandered off unannounced, leaving you and your cousin standing around waiting for minutes longer than you would've liked only to reappear holding a pack of smokes in one hand and a bundle of cloth in the other.

Hands perched on your hips, you found yourself mildly annoyed at his little disappearing act when he was supposed to be helping out here. These mirrors hadn’t exactly been light. “That’s the second time today you’ve trotted off to nowhere without prior warning.”

Tossing the cigarettes to your cousin who gave a grateful nod, Johnny stopped a few feet away to watch you clean the dirt off the reflective surface. “Apologies, lass. Had tae take a leak.”

Ugh. Men.

You scrunched your nose up at the vulgar thought. “I did not need to know that, thank you very much.” 

Johnny shrugged, unbothered. “Ye asked.” 

The slight offense was forgotten as he held the bundle out to you, your ruffled expression dropping to one of doe eyed curiosity. 

“What’s this?” You asked even as you took it from his hands and started unravelling the cloth.

“Didnae jus’ empty mah bladder while ah was away. Took a stroll o’er tae see our American friends fer a wee chat. Bartered fer Garrick’s cigs and ah…” Johnny rubbed at the back of his neck, gesturing with his free hand at the parcel. “Ah dinnae ken how helpful it’ll be, but ah thought it couldnae hurt tae ‘ave ye be well prepped jus’ in case.”

By the time he finished speaking, you’d been staring at the items in your hands for a few seconds, dumbstruck at the professional quality of the archaeological tools you’d unwrapped. You’d had a set with you in your original belongings, but it had been old, worn down, and incomplete. Now they were mere toys for the fishies at the bottom of the Nile.

Blinking up at him, your tongue felt like it was stuck to the roof of your mouth, keeping you from speaking until you forced yourself to swallow. “Thank you… truly.”

He didn’t say anything in response, just a subtle nod and a quirk of his lips before he turned and strode over to Kyle to finish helping sort things out. You watched his back and shoulder muscles untense, a swagger in his step that gave you the impression of a man content with his own workings. You couldn’t help but bite your lip with a small smile, a giggle under your breath as you examined the gift again before rolling it back up and securing it with the provided buckle.

Kyle went ahead underground, rappelling down the rope and leaving you and Johnny on the surface to eventually follow behind once it was deemed safe enough. The shadows swallowed your cousin like a hungry maw, quickly out of sight from your spot peering down despite the light being bounced into the chasmic pit. It was a few moments before he reached the bottom, the sudden jostled thudding of his boots the only indication he’d landed roughly on the ground.

“It’s bloody dark down here!” You snorted at Kyle’s muffled proclamation, Johnny joining in with his own chuckle a heartbeat later.

“Ye’ll be alright, lad! We’ll come rescue ya from the boogeyman in a jiff!”

Your cousin muttered something too faint for you to hear from above, but you had a pretty good idea as to the contents of it.

Once he got the green light from Kyle, Johnny gave the rope a quick tug to confirm it was no longer attached and began reeling the length back up so that you could go next, Johnny following up at the rear.

“Ye certainly seem tae ‘ave found yer footin’.” Having recovered from the earlier lapse in his usual personality, he was back to sounding his normal self.

You felt good about the compliment, far more at ease than you had been given the past few days. It was nice to have your countenance acknowledged as something positive for a change. 

“That’s what happens when you take a fish out of a river and toss it up a tree. It starts gasping for air and questioning its worth until it returns to its home in the water.” Stepping away from the pillar you were leaning against, you met him halfway as he approached you with the length of rope. “Survivability and exploration are part of your repertoire. This is mine.”

Johnny stepped in front of you, taking up far more of your space than was proper or necessary for him to secure the slip knot around your hips. Fronts barely brushing up against each other, round buds hardening at the teased contact. Eyes kept locked in place by the enchantment only he seemed to wield over you. Deft hands worked to tie the rope, taking special care for your safety as he gave them a harsh tug to ensure they stayed put while the two of you shared the same breath. The unexpected movement sent you stumbling into his chest, face warming at the contact mirroring the spike of heat in his eyes.

“Good tae finally see ya, m'eudail...” Fervid pools of oceanic blue scorched your insides raw until you were sure white hot flames were licking up your throat and parching your mouth dry. The twinkle in his eyes telling you he knew exactly the effect he held over you.

You’d barely managed to eke out, “...thank you for seeing me.”

There was a sort of pleased rumble in his chest before he took a step back, smothering the pyre he’d lit in your bones and tilting you off access to the point of almost stumbling forward without his presence to keep you standing. He laughed at your reaction, motioning with his hand towards the gaping pit at your feet.

“Go on then, lass. Let’s see wha’ the desert’s been hidin’.”

It wasn’t the most graceful entrance you’d ever made in your life, but eventually once you’d lessened the death grip you held on the rope and allowed gravity to assist in your descent it hadn’t taken much to get you at the bottom. Kyle had been there to keep you from landing in a haphazard heap, unlatching you from the knots so that Johnny could have a turn. 

You’d halted him from moving as you peered into the shadows, hardly able to make out anything beyond vague shapes and blindly reaching out in the very dim light. Damn thing had to be nearb–

Hands met polished metal just as expected, brushing away the cobwebs and tilting the mirrored surface to catch on the beam filtered down from up top. You smiled over at your cousin, positioning it just– “And then there was…”

Suddenly the entire chamber was awash in stolen sunlight, illuminating the room without the need for candle or torch and leaving you with a smug satisfaction at the impressed look on his face. “...light.”

“Well I’ll be… MacTavish! Get your ass down here and have a look!”

Johnny wasted no time in jumping off the edge at the urging. It had startled you to see him drop so quickly, his prior experience in the act evident with the casual confidence he rappelled down the line. Practically puffed up like a peacock once he’d straightened and saw you gawking at him, tossing you a wink that had Kyle rolling his eyes and giving you a small shove onward as the three of you began to explore your new surroundings.

“Well this is certainly what we signed up for, wasn't it?”

“A whole surface full of colorful architecture and you’re most thrilled by an embalming room?” you shot over your shoulder at him from where you examined the small animal heads on a few nearby jars.

“Embalming?” came the quizzical response from your cousin, retracting his hand from whatever container he’d been poking at on one of the nearby shelves.

It hadn’t taken much sleuthing on your part to deduct that conclusion. The tables arranged in rows throughout the chamber, large earthen pots along the walls smelling of faint rot, rolls of fragile linen stacked on shelves. The scent of palm wine and salt masked under all the muskiness.

“For the afterlife, dearest cousin.” There was a small smile on your face as you spoke to him with mild patronization. “This was the preparation room.” 

Pointing over at one of the stone tables closest towards him, you could almost make out the dark splotches of bloodstain hidden under the thick layer of dust.

“If you’d have died three thousand years ago and were wealthy enough to afford it, a chief embalmer wearing a mask of Anubis would have laid your corpse atop that table, gutted you like a pig, scooped out your insides, scrambled your brain with a hot poker, and then placed your internal organs inside one of these,” you held up an empty canopic jar you’d been inspecting that would’ve held a liver, “before smothering you in natron for forty days until you were a dried out husk of a man ready to be wrapped up in linen and packed away in a pretty colored box.”

“Mummies, Garrick.” Johnny gave him a hearty slap on the shoulder, softening the sting with a gentler one as he brushed past. “Good ol’ mummies.”

“It’s a wonder your mum ever let you study this shit in the first place...” Kyle remarked as he glanced down at the same spot you’d been looking, sidestepping the table as if there was fresh viscera still dampening the stone.

“I won’t tell her what was in those books if you don’t,” you added with a little dark humor before placing the container back where you’d found it, gaze raking over the rest of it as you moved through the room and out into the hallways beyond. 

Away from the clever structure of the mirrors there was at last a need for torchfire, your two companions holding one alight each as they took up the front and rear of your little group, sandwiching you between with Kyle taking up the lead. The air was stale down here, a constant itch at the back of your throat that travelled into your lungs with every breath. The corridors were sloped at the sides, thick cobwebs dangling like vines covering almost every inch of their surface. You made sure to keep your footsteps in the middle of the path, not wanting to accidentally back up into one and getting them all over your skin.

It impressed you how the pair of them communicated, speaking reminiscent how they might’ve clearing a battlefield rather than exploring ancient caverns. They parroted directions back and forth to each other, somehow keeping track of where you were long after you’d been able to keep up with the twisting path ahead. You passed by small antechambers filled with various supplies, assuming wherever you’d popped in was less a part of the tombs themselves and more the storage areas for the priests.

Eventually the walls started looking a little less run down and a little more smooth, empty metal brackets for holding wooden torches poking out of the stone. Whoever put this place together seemed to have taken a little more care in this section.

You found yourself pausing in front of another entryway, staring down a dark corridor with sconces lining either side. For all intents and purposes it wasn't anything remarkable; it didn’t stand out really from any of the others you’d passed by this point. It was just the first to look like someone had taken more care with the cut of the stone.

“Spy somethin’, lass?” 

You were vaguely aware of Kyle halting up ahead, backtracking as you reached out for Johnny’s torch that he willingly passed over.

“I just want to take a quick look down this one…” Your feet were already moving even as you spoke, lighting the sconces you passed with the weight of something in your chest tugging you forward. The walls were bare save for the oil lamps, but there was a subtle slope to the floor that led you downward and piqued something in the back of your mind.

About fifteen or so meters later, you found yourself standing inside an antechamber that was sparsely lined around the perimeter with only a few tables full of valuable artifacts. 

“More storage?” asked Johnny, skimming over the objects laid out on a table shaped like a…

…wait.

That wasn’t a table. It was a curved bed frame made up of the elongated bodies of two lionesses. 

Suddenly, everything clicked. 

You scrutinized the objects more closely, the cogs turning rapidly in your head as your eyes widened further with every new find. A painted wooden chest. A stool overflowing with sandals. Shabti dolls tossed haphazardly onto a thin lumpy mattress.

You bolted through the open doorway to your right, the other two shouting after you as you came to a halt inside the next room, torch clattering to the floor at the sight you took in. 

It wasn’t as grand as the pictures you’d seen of others like it elsewhere – certainly not possessing the same majesty or opulence as that of King Tut or Ramses IV. The room itself was small by comparison, not surprising considering the size of the annex you just exited and its meager furnishings. There hadn't been as much thought or care in the scenery depicted on the walls. But there was still a subtle elegance to its design that hinted at someone more important and incorporated all the way down to the large stone sarcophagus in the middle of the room.

“Fuckin’ hell!” Johnny might as well have not said anything for all the good it did reaching your ears, drowned out as white noise as all your attention was pinpoint fixated on the large box in the center.

You couldn't believe it.

You could not believe it.

Forget every moment that ever came before this because there was no way in hell it could ever live up to the overwhelming well of emotions bubbling up to the surface threatening to overflow from your tear ducts.

Was this how Howard Carter felt the first time he laid eyes on the burial chamber of Tutankhamun? Did he have to remind himself to manually breathe so as not to pass out? Did he yell and rejoice or just stand there in abject shock the way you did now? Was this figure nobility or just of high station? 

Whose golden death mask laid in wait inside the coffin housing it?

On newborn foal limbs you slowly approached the stone sarcophagus, ignoring the babble going on between the others and the questions being lobbed your way. Your vision was blurry enough from unshed tears that you were having a hard time making heads or tails of the hieroglyphics adorning the box, eyes frantic for the cartouche that would reveal everything.

You at last found the oval, tracing over every symbol until your brain supplied you with the accurate translation.

“Hatshepsut.”

This was Hatshepsut.

Wife of Thutmose II. Fifth Pharaoh of the Eighteenth Dynasty. Egypt's second queen regent.

Six inches in front of you.

Johnny stepped up beside you, making his own assessments from the various artwork sprawled across every corner of the room. “Gonna take a gander that’s someone important?”

That was a massive understatement. “Ruler of Egypt for twenty two years, one of the most prolific builders in all of history, responsible for the Temples at Karnak, Pakhet, and the masterpiece that is the Djeser-Djeseru. Peace and prosperity flourished under her rule and she was lauded for re-establishing vital trade routes previously lost to war and conflict.”

It was the first time since entering the chamber that you looked somewhere other than the coffin, meeting his gaze with the still wide eyed one of your own. “Yes, Johnny. She’s important.”

“But we already found her husband, yeah? So why wasn’t she buried with him in the Valley of the Kings?” Honestly you were going to have to give your cousin more credit for all the things he picked up on through the sheer osmosis of growing up in your vicinity.

“There were rumors that her stepson Thutmose III held resentment for her after the two of them became co-regent towards the end of his father’s reign. Politically he would have been afraid of being seen as the lesser candidate to succeed his father’s throne considering his young age. There’s documentation of how he tried to belittle Hatshepsut’s accomplishments throughout his life and many believe he was the one to deface and try to destroy most records of her from the history books.” 

The destruction of her statues, the erasure of her name from chiseled walls; there was a great deal of work that went into trying to keep her from being remembered. “He must've honored her enough as a ruler to bury her with dignity, but not enough to place her somewhere she would be found.”

Here amongst the other hidden kings of old.

“Makes you wonder who else is buried down here…” Kyle motioned over to another doorway on the eastern wall of the chamber, already inching towards it in curiosity. “Think we’ll find another one through here?”

“Unless there was a sudden fashion for corpses getting dipped in pure gold a few millennia back I doubt you’ll come upon one in the treasury room.” 

“No.” The way his eyes lit up was positively cartoonish, shaking his head with a cautious hurry to his steps almost as if he suspected you were pulling his leg, only to pause in the doorway not unlike you had when you’d first entered the burial chamber. The moan that left his lips was practically lewd as he supported his weight against the frame, taking in whatever he’d discovered out of view that had him practically buckling at the knees. “Christ, I'm about to be rich…”

Johnny rolled his eyes in exaggerated exasperation, the jovial smirk on his face betraying his fake ire at your cousin's inflated antics.

“Pump yer cock tae the trove some other time. Best be crackin’ on if we wanna keep makin’ progress before sundown.” Softer to you he added, “We’ll come back again, lass. There’s still plenty more explorin’ tae be had down ‘ere, aye?”

You knew you couldn’t linger here forever. And whether you’d return to this place or not she would have plenty of visitors soon enough. Now that you’d proven Hamunaptra’s existence there'd be historians and archaeologists flooding to the site in droves to get a glimpse of this lost piece of history and those inside it.

She wouldn't have to be alone anymore.

Resting your forehead against the cold stone lid of the sarcophagus, you imagined the person lying reposed within; the life she would have lived and the people who’d come to care for her even long past expiration. Closing your eyes, you allowed yourself to connect with the spirit on the other side, whispering words of gratitude and comfort to the soul at rest. “We didn’t forget. The world still knows your name, and we are all the more better for you having existed. May you forever find peace in the Field of Reeds, Pharaoh.”

It was only then that you allowed yourself to be led out of the room, casting one last glance over your shoulder to the figure sleeping peacefully in a tomb fit for a queen.

It was hard to shake off the emotions of witnessing the final resting place of such a great and powerful woman, constantly straying back to it as the three of you continued forward with your current venture. At this point you weren’t sure what discovery could possibly be better than rediscovering the body of a three thousand year old pharaoh, but far be it for you to call it a day when the other pair seemed so eager to continue.

Heads whipped upwards and the three of you froze, the sudden sound of dozens of chittering things scurrying overhead, torches raised to illuminate the ceiling in search of the source only to come up empty. You couldn't tell if that was a relief or if that only added to your paranoia.

“Must be movin’ inside the walls...” Johnny’s murmurings didn't do much to ease your nerves, not exactly a fan of creepy things with multiple tiny legs crawling around where you couldn't see. Hair stood on end and goosebumps ran the length of your spine, scooting just a tad bit closer to the Scotsman as you carried on with your journey.

The tunnels narrowed to an almost claustrophobic size, the lot of you having to duck your heads to avoid hitting them on the carved rock. Cobwebs dangled in front of your face, having to constantly bat them away to keep from accidentally inhaling them into your mouths. The passage went on and on without any sign of any other rooms, apparently having taken a wrong turn somewhere further back that led away from the royal wing and onto wherever the hell you’d ended up now.

“Maybe we should turn back?” you suggested at one point, only to be shot down by the others.

“Don’t worry, dolly.” Kyle placed a placating hand on your arm, a warm smile helping to ease the worries of your mind. “We’re not gonna get lost. Got the way out right up here.” He tapped on the side of his head for emphasis, apparently confident in his abilities to get you back to the embalming room safely.

“And when he inevitably screws it all up then ye have me who actually remembers.” The cough you spluttered wasn’t enough to hide the chuckle from Johnny’s words, laughing in earnest as your cousin walked up to him and tried to wrestle him into an easy headlock. It warmed your heart to see them so spirited and boyish with one another, a gentle reminder that there were still kind souls within that hadn’t been completely hardened by a life of brutality.

It took a few more turns until you finally arrived at an area big enough for you all to stand in at your full height. It was a bit surprising when you realized the carved bottom half of a human was completely obstructing the way forward, a thick stone platform embedded in the floor from where the statue must’ve fallen through from the world above.

Kyle recognized it the same time you did, bringing his torch up to inspect the dark coloration of the stone that matched the upper portion in the courtyard. “Huh. The legs of Anubis. Well it looks like we’ve found where the rest of the statue went.”

“Was wondering why the Bembridge scholars said it was a full body sculpture...” You were fully aware of the contents supposedly held inside the base, recalling the conversation you’d had with Johnny on the boat a few days back when he’d wrongfully accused you of only being out here for the money. 

“Well, here you go, mister treasure hunter.” The hem of your skirt flared out as you turned on your heels to face Johnny, one hand on your hip with the other pointing behind and a grin on your tilted head. “You wanted something for your troubles? Here’s your chance - the Book of Amun-Ra. Should be a secret compartment somewhere in there if you want to take a whack at it.”

He flashed his canines at you, a sweaty arm brushing up against yours as he walked up to the base and started reaching for the bag slung over his shoulder. “Dunnae mind if ah do.”

The droning of garbled voices from somewhere nearby gave you all pause, already on edge from the mysterious bug encounter earlier and the overall eerie quality of the catacombs. The atmosphere in the group shifted as Kyle motioned for you to press up against the statue. Handing over his torch the same time Johnny set his on the ground, both reached into their respective holsters and withdrew their firearms, hammers pulled back and pistols at the ready.

The droning grew louder and louder, breaths steadying in anticipation of whatevers approach. Johnny giving Kyle a quick nod of unspoken agreement as the two darted out from behind the statue–

Ten loaded pistols aimed right at each other's faces from both sides as the two groups found themselves engaged in a standoff. The hired workers squirmed antsily behind the American’s, you holding out your own torch as if it would do anything against a loaded gun.

Roze was the first to cut the tension, a wobbly frustration to her voice. “Sweet Jesus, you tryin’ to turn us into mummies too, gents?”

Guns lowered slowly to their owner's sides as everyone breathed a sigh of relief, all of you apparently on the same wavelength that this place was starting to mess with your heads.

“Maybe don’t make a habit of sneakin’ up on people and you won't get shot,” Kyle snarked back with a quiet huff.

A greasy pit dropped in the middle of your stomach upon noticing Graves amongst their team, mood turning sour as he opened his mouth with that stupid patronizing tone of his. “Well maybe if you boys learned to keep your noses out of where they don't belong you too might find yourselves living a little longer.”

“Hey,” came the confused voice of Hutch from the back, stepping forward from the group as he gestured towards the bundle of tools wrapped in your arms, “hey, that’s my toolkit!”

Johnny didn’t let him any closer than that, raising his pistols again which immediately prompted the other trigger happy morons to do the same. “Think yer mistaken there, lad. That there’s hers.”

Hutch was smart enough to retreat back to his spot, taking one look at your Scottish friend and rethinking his life choices. “Must be... my mistake...”

“Enough of this!” shouted one of the others, Oz motioning with his head to move out of their way. “This here’s our territory. Go run along and look somewhere else.”

“Claimed it first, mate.” The toothy smile on your cousin’s face was a mask for the slithering creature under his skin preparing to strike, given away only by the deadness in his eyes. “Might want to reconsider your next move if you don’t want to join these poor sods here in the afterlife.”

Graves was more than happy to take the bait, a mocking sneer hidden behind an amused chuckle. “Would ya look at that. Pretty boy Garrick here thinks he still has the guts to go toe to toe even after high tailing it away from that fight in Turkey.”

“Ye shut yer mouth, Graves!” Johnny barked straight venom, raising his voice as the muscle in Kyle’s jaw jumped, grip only tightening on his loaded firearm. 

“Woah there!” Graves continued to antagonize from behind spiked teeth. “Down, boy! Someone outta put a leash around your neck and remind you of your place.”

The tension in the room was growing exponentially at a rate you weren’t sure could be interrupted anymore, mind scrambling for anything to diffuse the situation before someone pulled a trigger that couldn’t be undone. Twenty five of them against three– two of you. Those weren’t odds you were willing to chance.

It was by sheer luck you heard the shifting of sand under your feet, daring a glance down at the floor to watch a pebble disappear through a crack and revealing a chamber below. If the statue of Anubis was wedged deep into the floor… then maybe…

The next thing you did was possibly the stupidest move of your entire life.

You walked out in front of ten loaded guns.

“Gentlemen, gentlemen. Please.” One by one you began lowering the barrels, the shaking in your hand the only thing giving away the nerves underneath so eloquently masked by the English charm of your disarming smile, the perfect picture of ladylike decency in a room full of missing manners.

Ignoring the heated looks your companions sent your way in favor of focusing on the unruly Americans, even Roze seemed to fluster from such a rapid change in atmosphere. “There’s no need for such excitement. You’re all men of intellect here. Surely you wouldn’t let yourselves be overcome by a bit of schoolyard slander.” 

They all glanced between each other in conflicted confusion, not sure what was happening but unable to summon the emotional intelligence to deal with the situation. The secret to breaking a man - fluffing their egos while simultaneously giving them a dressing down. 

“Now,” you continued, satisfied when their postures relaxed and their weapons were no longer facing each other, “since we all learned how to share when we were younger, I don’t see anything wrong with letting you fine folk get to work on this statue here.” You finally met the stern gazes of your companions, secretly pleading with your eyes for them to go along with what it was you were saying. “There are other places to dig…”

A few tense moments passed before Johnny lowered his pistols and offered you his hand, sending one more scathing look at the others before leading you from the room with Kyle at the rear.

“Happy digging! And best of luck!” You shouted with a good natured wave to the other group, flashing them one more smile before being tugged out of view around the next corner. It wasn't until you were far enough out of earshot that he relented his tight grip.

Your back met the wall behind you, startling a gasp from your lips as Johnny suddenly crowded you against it with a simmering expression and a finger in your face. “Donnae ever do that again, lass! Do ye have any idea what would’ve happened if one of those triggers slipped?!”

His anger had never been directed your way before, just as intense as every other emotion he’d always expressed. Johnny didn’t know how to do things by halves and that was evident in the way he processed feelings as well. It tore at your chest, the rage in his eyes burning holes in your heart that left you aching and blind to see it for what it really was. 

The cool confidence you’d pretended to exude earlier fell away under his harsh judgment, the girl underneath who’d been terrified for her friend's safety and only wanted to help revealed underneath. You tried to shrink back from his gaze as far as the space would allow - which in reality was practically nothing. The stinging behind your eyes, the flood of emotions rising to the surface from the earlier threat of confrontation combined with this unanticipated lambasting left you shaking.

You tried to explain. “T-There’s a chamber underneath that room. If we can find a way down then we can try to bust our way up from the bottom. W-We can steal the treasure right out from under their noses.”

“I dunnae care what yer reasonin’! That was naive and foolhardy and ye know damn well better than tae put yerself in harm’s way like that! Ye could’ve been shot! You could’ve–!” He cut himself off with an infuriated growl, hands slamming into the wall beside your head as his own bowed forward. For a moment you thought Johnny would continue with his admonishing tirade, huffing out a breath like an enraged bull as fingers dug into the stone.

You held as still as you could, unable to turn away from the penetrative orbs searching through your soul. Something must’ve shone in your watery eyes that brought him out of the ‘what ifs’ and back into the here and now, stare softening into weariness as he leaned the last bit forward to rest his head on top of yours with lidded eyes.

You didn’t know what to make of it as you stood trapped between him and the wall, listening to his soothing baritone as he began murmuring something soft in his native tongue. You weren’t sure if he was speaking to himself or to you, but it had the effect either way of settling most of your nerves like you would a frightened animal. Gentle lips pressed a kiss to the top of your head, pulling back to look you in the eyes with a grounding weight before quietly uttering, “C'mon, lass. Let’s go find ye that room.”

Where Johnny was a flintlock, Kyle was a smoldering ember.

He said nothing as Johnny led you all through twisting catacombs, following some unknown path he’d mapped out in his head that he assured should lead you all to the level below. The silence from your cousin was deafening, hurting just as much as Johnny’s earlier explosion but cutting far deeper. The fact that he hadn’t spoken up when you were being manhandled only confirmed to you how pissed he must be.

Keeping your voice low despite the close quarters ensuring the conversation wouldn't be private anyways, you finally summoned enough courage to address the man following behind you.

“Are you just going to keep being mad at me?”

“I’m not mad.”

The breath you exhaled was loud as you halted your movement, forcing Kyle to come to a quick stop so as not to run into your back. “You could at least have the decency not to lie to me.”

“Not lying. We need to keep moving…” It wasn’t ‘dolly’ he said at the end there. It was your real name.

That’s how you knew you fucked up.

Turning on your heel, you instantly hated the unphased expression he wore, wishing he would just snap at you the way Johnny did so that you could get it over with already. But no. That wasn’t Kyle’s style. He let his anger fester under his skin and rot away at his internal organs until you could see the decay in his eyes.

You were gonna have to push him. 

Thankfully your other companion had sensed the impending conflict and kept moving farther down the hall to grant the two of you a bit of space. “Over two decades of hanging around each other and you think I don’t know just how much you want to throttle me for what I did back there?”

“You’re a grown woman who can make her own decisions.”

“And as we’ve already established it was a stupid one and I deserve to get a scolding.”

“Johnny did just fine with his version.”

“You’re not Johnny.”

“The accent give that away?” 

Damn it, this was getting you nowhere. “What gave it away was that he has enough emotional intelligence to get his rage out instead of letting it systematically destroy him.”

A vein twitched in Kyle's forehead, the only tell you’d hit a nerve. Perfect.

“If I had a problem I’d say something about it.”

“If that was the case then you wouldn’t have spent all these years burying your problems at the bottom of a bottle!”

That hadn’t at all been the sentence you'd meant to say, immediately regretting the spewed out words as soon as they left your lips. Kyle's eyes narrowed down to slits, his jaw clenching and muscles bulging in his arms where hands formed into tight fists. God, this was not the time nor place for this conversation.

“How I choose to spend my time is none of your business!”

Hurt mixed with outrage as you took a step toward him and shouted right back in his face, rare tempers flying on both sides. “It is when I have to sit and watch my cousin waste away every night in a bar because he refuses to open up to the only family he has left!”

His scoff was mean, but the red bleeding into his dark brown eyes wasn't from anger. “You think I'm gonna subject the person I love most to every terrible thing I've ever done? The horrors I've had to witness? You think I'm gonna willingly tell you just how much of a fucking monster your cousin has become?!”

“Yes, you asshole! Because I fucking forgive you!”

There was stillness in the corridor. Chests heaved with shallow breaths; words hung suspended between you. Droplets fell to the parched earth beneath your feet as you shed tears enough for the both of you.

Too long had you watched your cousin suffer under the weight of his own choices. 

No more…

“Just because I didn't have to fight in it doesn’t mean I went untouched by the war! None of us did!” Arms spread wide as you bore your own grieving soul in hopes he’d finally let you see his. 

“We were the ones keeping things afloat while the men in our lives left to serve king and country. We were the ones bent over the toilet violently shaking and throwing up every time the postman came, never knowing if the next letter we received was going to begin with the words ‘we deeply regret to inform you’. We were the ones who had to deal with the aftermath of our soldiers returning home from distant fields - changed, violent, distant men. I saw the boys I danced with take their own lives because they couldn’t stand the nightmares that plagued them even years later and hundreds of miles away from the trenches!” 

You would never know what it looked like to see a man with his intestines pouring out of his gut or a decapitated body from where a canon blew it clean off. You would never have to look a man in his eyes as you became responsible for the way the light slowly left them. But that did not mean you didn't know suffering in your own valid way.

“So I don’t care what you had to do over there to come back home to me. I don’t care that there’s blood on your hands that will never wash away. Tell me you strangled a man with those bare hands. Tell me you relished in committing heinous acts of torture. Tell me you stayed in the military far past your original enlistment date just because you realized you found something you were both good at and fucking enjoyed. I don’t fucking care! It was war, Kyle! And whatever it was you had to do was done in order to stop the other monsters – the real ones who didn’t feel remorse for the countless lives they've destroyed – from reaching our shores and doing far worse to people like me than you did to them. You think you don’t deserve to be here for what you’ve done? You think you’re beyond forgiveness? Well guess what? I forgive you! Be a monster for all I care! Just fucking let me in!”

It was the first time your cousin cried since the death of your parents, standing there like a marble statue as it poured over his face like rivers. You could tell he grappled with the vulnerability of your words – the permission being granted to share his pain and trauma with an understanding soul.

You reached out for Kyle the same time he did, crashing together in an embrace that left you even more raw and torn open than before. His iron grip on the back of your head and banded around your waist kept you locked against him, hair dampening with tears matching the ones you were leaving on his shirt, face buried in his chest with your arms clamped around his broad torso.

You’d tried to have this talk with him in the years prior, but each attempt ended in failure either with him shutting you out from the start or you were just too scared to dredge up feelings in the first place. You promised yourself never again would you stand by while the people most important to you suffered - whether by their own actions or any outside force, including you.

“Supposed to be brave for you, dolly…” The strained voice came muffled against your scalp.

“And I was a stupid little girl who didn’t want to see her two favorite people in the whole world end up with bullet holes in their heads. We’ve both made mistakes. No more pushing me away because of them, got it?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He squeezed you extra tight, pressing a firm kiss to the side of your head before finally relinquishing his grip to smooth away the tear tracks from your cheeks. You returned the favor in kind, your fingers lacing with his as the two of you turned to glimpse the last of your trio waiting patiently at the opposite end of the hallway.

Johnny hadn’t said anything the entire time the two of you were duking it out. He merely stood watch as a silent sentinel, his added presence a not uncomfortable witness to the long overdue confession. His gaze lifted from the floor at your approach, heavy with understanding and weighted with something glistening of his own. It wasn’t until you got close enough that it was replaced by a familiar sparkle that spoke well before his mouth did, pushing off from the wall he’d been leaning against and coming to stand directly in your way.

“So… ah’m one of yer favorites now, eh?”

The loud groan of annoyance from Kyle was echoed by the exasperated sigh from you. The playful shove you gave him had you grateful for his constant ability to so easily lighten a heavy mood, feeling like everything would eventually - in time - be alright again.

“Shut up, Johnny.”

Something you hadn’t anticipated in your ‘brilliant plan’ was the fact that the ceiling above would be so damn high, the tools the boys brought with just barely out of reach even for their six foot something statures. The idea was briefly put on hold as they went off to search any nearby rooms for something that could support their weight, returning a short while later dragging a couple decorative jackal statues on small platforms. 

You didn’t want to know whose tomb they’d raided for those, hoping you weren’t offending the dead too terribly badly.

“The statue of Anubis should only be a few feet above us now. So long as we’ve landed in the right area we should come up right between his legs.”

Dirt rained down on the group, the loud clunk of mining tools a steady beat chipping away at the sand and stone above. It was a real effort to keep your eyes on the ceiling so as not to be constantly admiring the flexing of a certain Scotsman’s beefy biceps and corded hairy forearms every time he swung his heavy hammer.

Johnny paused in his endeavors for a quick breather, glancing in your direction and accidentally catching you in one of your rare moments of weakness. Tossing you a quick wink with a knowing smirk, he rolled out the stiffness in his joints from craning his neck before resuming the task at hand. 

Meanwhile you had to act like you weren’t ready to spontaneously combust from the mortification of having been found practically drooling.

“Ye sure we’re gonna find this secret compartment this way?” Johnny coughed as a dusting of sand accidentally fell into his mouth.

To be honest: you weren’t. But at the very least it gave you a chance rather than letting the others be the only ones having a go at snatching it.

“Don’t worry, MacTavish,” chimed in your cousin, grunting with the exertion of swinging his pickaxe. “We’ll get to it before those beastly Americans do and then we’ll have even more riches to rub in Grave’s ugly mug.”

The pair took out their aggressions for the next few minutes, pausing only briefly here and there, driven by the need to reach the golden book before the team up top. The item in question hadn’t been the reason you’d started this expedition – that honor still belonged to the discoveries you’d made thus far – but you couldn’t deny there was a certain allure to it now, whether because of the knowledge it might contain or some sense of competition evoked in you by the two men banging away at the ceiling. 

A loud rumbling drew your eyes upward, the boys halting their movements with quizzical brows as they glanced between each other and the spot they’d been carving away at, hesitant to take another swing. The noise went on for a few moments longer, sounding far bigger than it had any reason to before disappearing a few seconds later.

Even still, everyone remained on edge. “The whole thing isn’t gonna collapse down on top of us… right?”

“Nah. Ah’m sure it’s jus’–”

Johnny didn’t get to finish that sentence before the sound came back with a thundering vengeance, clamorous enough to make you flinch back and reverse your steps in the opposite direction of the now growing crack opening up in the ceiling.

Kyle’s eyes were the size of dinner plates, violently smacking his friend’s arm as dirt rained down on top of them and something started to violently burst through. “Back up, back up!”

They dove off their platforms just in the nick of time, barely avoiding a deadly catastrophe while you stood stunned pressed against the far wall of the chamber as an enormous stone box broke through with a resounding CRACK and crashed to the floor in a heap, taking up almost the full width of the room.

“Steamin’ Jesus…” Johnny groaned out from the dirt, bringing himself to his feet and assisting Kyle in doing the same from where the two of them had rolled out of the way to keep from being pancaked.

Once the dust kicked up had settled, you slowly approached the box, recognizing it for what it was and glancing up at the sizeable hole from where it’d fallen through. “A sarcophagus… buried at the feet of Anubis…”

“The hell they do something like that for?” Kyle was still gawking at the exposed stone on the ceiling, partially to check if anything else was about to topple down with it.

You could only imagine the reasoning behind doing something like this. After all, the ancient Egyptians weren’t exactly known for this kind of unorthodox burial. 

“I honestly don’t know. I can only assume that this person was either someone of great importance, or alternatively…” and you were really banking on it being the former, “they did something entirely unforgivable.”

The whole thing was covered in a thick layer of dust and sand, settled after millennia of being buried and obscuring any and all writings. Using your hands only seemed to smear it, forcing you to pull out your new archaeological equipment as you began brushing away the film coating every inch of its surface, searching for any kind of markings that could be used as an identifier for the figure inside. 

But there was nothing written along the sides as one might see on the tombs of pharaohs and high priests. Why give a man the honor of resting at the feet of a god for all eternity only to tell us nothing about him?

Whistling for your attention, Johnny pointed to a small section he cleared away at the top of the box with his hands, visible indents still obscured by tiny grains of sand. You moved your brush over the area, sweeping away the dirt gathered in the cracks keeping you from reading any of the rather roughly carved hieroglyphics. You’d expected to find a cartouche at the very least, but this… this was not that.

“He… that shall not be named.”

But… but that didn’t make any sense. If they weren’t going to tell us who he was then why even bother giving him a title in the first place? Who was this man to be hated so much that the high priests reduced his very existence down to unspeakability?

Something wasn’t right here.

Your arm bumped against a raised texture just below the symbols, glinting metal embedded in the sarcophagus that once cleaned out revealed an eight pointed star with a scarab at the center.

Kyle ran his fingers over the serrated edges, glancing over at Johnny as the two of them tried to work the problem. “Feels sturdy; built into the container, not just slapped on top. Some sort of locking mechanism?”

“Could be. The hell kinda key looks like that, though?”

An enraged voice shouts from the recesses of your mind, flashes of glinting metal threatening your neck and impatient eyes belonging to a man you encountered not three days past: "THE KEY!"

That's when it hit you. The robed men, the attack on the boat, the key, the eight sided container burning a hole in your mind.

The box.

You scrambled for the bag you carried with you, digging around in one of the exterior pouches before emerging with the little metal box that started this whole adventure in the first place.

“Thought that’s empty.” Kyle looked at it with a tilted head and a raised brow, wondering if you’ve by chance gone off your rocker in your current frenzied state.

“It is,” you confirmed, flipping the item around in search of that tiny pressure plate, “but that’s not the point, dear cousin. The point is… Aha!”

The box sprung open with a click, the top unfurling into a recognizable shape as your two companions eyes flashed in understanding.

“...that I have a better memory than you.” You gave him a cheeky grin overflowing with smugness as you tipped the box upside down, placing it against the symbol where it slotted in perfectly into the eight pointed star. 

Johnny squeezed you against his side in a one armed hug, an enthusiastic kiss to your temple that had you giggling. “Lookit our clever lass, aye Garrick.”

Kyle didn’t get a chance to respond. 

Agonized screaming filled the air, blood curdling and twisted and gripping into your very core. It was a primal sound of torture, cutting into your soul and filling you with abyssal dread that left you feeling white as a ghost. 

The boys made haste in rushing out the open doorway, you trailing along behind them as Kyle held an arm out to block you from potential danger. You weren’t prepared for the sight of a man you didn’t recognize flailing about and crashing down the corridor, nails clawing into his bald scalp leaving rivulets of blood soaking his skin. 

His brutal screams of everlasting torture rang out like a cathedral bell as he ran headlong past you, unseeing or uncaring as he flailed violently, repeatedly bashing his head against the wall and leaving a red gory mess in his wake. 

Johnny almost moved to stop him until the stranger suddenly collapsed in a heap on the floor, back cracking and arching off the ground in an almost inhuman way as his fingernails dug deep scratches into the earth. Eyes bugging out of his head, mouth open in a garbled choked off scream, limbs twitching and spasming until - eventually – they moved no more.

You were getting far too used to seeing corpses.

No one fought Johnny when he made the executive decision of being done for the day, the sweet taste of discovery turned to rot in your mouth at the unexpected turn the evening had taken. 

You'd seen men struck down right in front of you that night on the ferry, blood staining the carpet of your stay rooms and the polished wood of the upper deck. But they had been bad men doing horrible things and deserved not one ounce of pity for their fates. This however had been on the other end of the spectrum. That man hadn’t suffered for any crimes he’d committed – he'd merely suffered. And that to you was more disturbing than watching the man who tried to cause you harm take a bullet between the eyes.

Your trio emerged from the darkness of the catacombs up into star speckled nightfall. Kyle stayed behind to fill the other team in on the details of what just transpired with one of their workers while Johnny escorted you back to the opposite side of the courtyard. 

He sat you down on the laid out rugs in front of the blackened firewood, striking the kindling with a match as the dry pieces of timber quickly set ablaze. Digging into one of the nearby bags, Johnny carefully draped a blanket over your shoulders before quietly taking a spot at your side.

“Thank you...” The voice that came out from your lips was smaller than you might’ve liked, very telling of your current delicate psychological condition. Even with the added heat it wasn’t enough to take the chill off your bones.

It took you a few breaths to bring up the question you didn’t really want to know the answer to. “What do you suppose killed him?”

The arm that had been around you earlier for your cleverness returned now for your comfort. “Dunnae ken, lass. Must’ve been somethin’ with his head the way he was holdin’ it screamin’ like that. Seizure maybe?”

It was at that point that Kyle rounded the other side of the tents, an unlit cigarette already wedged between his teeth as he struck a match and raised it to the tip, tossing it somewhere in the sand before joining the two of you on the rugs.

“Got confirmation that the man was indeed one of theirs. Going back to retrieve the body now. Poor buggers just can’t seem to catch a break.” Kyle muttered with a tired groan as he sunk into the blankets next to you, leaning back on his elbow and exhaling a billow of smoke skyward.

Seemed like there was an awful lot of that going around since this whole trip started. “More bad news?”

“Only if you were one of the blokes that went and got himself melted today.”

Johnny scoffed, tossing another piece of kindling on the flames. “Yer bum’s oot the windae.”

“Swear to god, mate. It’s true. You can go ask them yourself.” He motioned over to the north where the other party had taken up camp. “Lost three of their workers opening up that compartment we almost had our own hands in. Soon as the lid was popped, poof!”

You flinched away from his animated arm gestures miming an explosion, the mental image that brought to mind combined with the screams of the deceased man from earlier making you shrink inward on yourself and pull the woven blanket tighter around you as if the thin barrier would protect you from the outside world.

“Hydrochloride then,” your Scottish companion muttered, a soothing hand beginning to rub large circles on your back at your obviously perturbed expression. It helped even if only a little bit.

Your cousin made a small hum in agreement at Johnny's conclusion before taking another drag. It was painfully obvious you were out of the loop concerning that information, wondering what it was they apparently knew regarding the matter that you didn’t.

“I’m afraid I’m not familiar with that term…” You trailed off, looking between the two of them for some sort of explanation.

Kyle piped up with the answer. “Salt acid, dolly. Pressurized salt acid. Would’ve dissolved the flesh right off their bones. Bit old fashioned, but we’ve seen it used before.”

Part of you wasn’t surprised, either at their familiarity with the substance or the fact that the statue of Anubis had apparently been booby trapped. It made sense that the guardians of the city would’ve had a host of implemented deterrents they used to ward off plunderers. The fact that you hadn’t considered that as a possibility earlier weighed heavy on your heart with guilt.

Christ, if either of them had been the ones to pry open the compartment instead…

Your depressing ruminations were interrupted by the horses whinnying in the background, the boys turning their heads towards the sound with focused eyes as if sensing something that you weren’t. 

You almost made fun of them for being so antsy. After all, it was only a bunch of animals talking amongst themselves. Just as you were about to open your mouth with a quick remark, you heard the disturbance again – only to realize the shuffling of hooves was coming from the opposite direction of where the other team's horses were currently grazing along the hillside. 

So then who…?

Movement pulled your gaze back to your companions, furrowing your own brows as the boys began grabbing for their nearby rifles in a hurry. “Wha–?”

“Stay here, lass,” came the harshly barked order, wasting no more breath on you as they turned in tandem and sprinted off in the direction of the commotion, expecting you to remain obedient.

You weren’t an idiot. You knew if they were headed into something guns blazing then you stood no chance against whatever it was they might face. You trusted your boys enough to stay right where you were, scooting backwards on your butt to further conceal yourself in the shadows of one of the tents. Curling your legs up to your chest, you could only sit and wait for whatever outcome might befall.

The first echoing gunshots rang out in the courtyard, multiplying quickly as gunsmoke drifted upwards into view from your position. Distant screams and grunts and foreign battle cries told you everything you needed to know about the situation your friends now found themselves in; flashbacks to the only other fight you’d ever witnessed as your imagination supplied you with pictures of damp crimson earth and bullet ridden corpses. You’d have covered your ears to muffle the cacophonous sounds if you weren’t trying to remain on alert in case the fighting veered any closer.

The camels grew restless and frightened by the loud echoing bangs, yanking on their ropes in blind panic as their distressed bleats joined the horses whinnying. You tried in vain to calm the spooked animals without moving towards them, but they were all but deaf to the gentle hushes and calming words sent their way. It wasn’t until the one tugged hard enough with a reverberating snap to free itself from its confines that you bolted upright from your hiding spot with a sharp curse, following along after the panicked beast as it started to run in the wrong direction of safety.

It was easily outrunning you, charging away at speeds your tiny human legs could not compete with until you were forced to abandon your mission of bringing it back. Its path led you right towards the fighting, something you realized far too late until you had to dodge out of the way of a horse galloping past, nearly tripping over yourself to turn back in the direction you just came from. It was your turn to panic as you were finally met with the sight of your aggressors - men in familiar black robes directly blocked your intended path back to the far end of the courtyard, frantically searching for another way through when a gunshot rang out in your vicinity, startling a high pitched shout from your lips as you cowered away in terror.

It gripped you with the force of a thick iron chain, wrapping around your torso and snaking its way up around your delicate neck. Your airflow was constricted, the metal slipping inside between shocked parted lips to paralyze your windpipe and slither down to form a dense weight deep in your gut. 

It was pure pandemonium as lit torches were tossed onto thin linen canopies, men who’d been hiding within running out shrieking in pain as fire licked across their blistering skin. Those closest to the exit tried to flee in alarm only to be halted by reinforcements trampling through the gates and turning them away. Those who could defend themselves were doing so, casualties on both sides as the Americans fought back against the foreign adversaries, cheering as each shot knocked an enemy clean off its saddle. But there were too few of you in comparison to the number of intruders spilling down into the city.

All around you, faces of the men you’d encountered throughout the day contorted in agony as they were cut down like rotted trees, blood coating the blades of their enemies and bubbling up from the gruesome gaping wounds in their chests. You heard their cries to mothers and wives they would never see again; their prayers to gods that would not arrive to save them. It broke your heart to turn away from outstretched hands, looking to you as if you were their savior when in reality you’d never felt more useless in your entire life.

It took someone nearly bowling you over for your brain to finally drag itself out of freeze mode, the deep rooted need for survival powering your legs to seek cover elsewhere. 

In all the chaos you could not find either of your boys, hoping they were not amongst the bodies you rushed past as you swerved between tents towards a crumbled obelisk, hefting yourself over the side to crouch down hopefully out of view. Your hands trembled and your head felt dizzy, breaths shallow and ragged as you fought back nausea from the taste of copper soaking the air. 

Clenching your eyes shut, you begged whatever higher power might be listening to please… please not let this be the end for you. Please let Kyle and Johnny make it out of this alive and unscathed. Please don’t take away your chance at living now that you just discovered what it felt like to live.

A deep gravelly call to halt came from somewhere to your left, first in Arabic and then again in English as the clattering of swords stilled and the shouting quieted. Risking a glance, you raised up onto your knees to peek over the stone structure for whatever seemed to bring the fighting to a temporary pause.

It wasn’t hard to pinpoint what had captured everyone’s attention.

Dark clothing intermixed with light, everyone turning to face the same area awash with burning firelight highlighting two figures amongst the chaos.

And there in the middle of it all stood a man in black faced in a tense standoff opposite the familiar form of Johnny, a lit stick of dynamite the only thing keeping him and his forces at bay.

The stranger didn’t cower from the sight in front of him, keen eyes taking in the situation with careful calculations that told you he was weighing all outcomes – well aware of the destruction in Johnny’s hands and the promise in his gaze that dared them to call his bluff.

The man in black straightened to an imposing height, a deceptively bored stance with a calm aggression sparking in his gaze. He didn’t flinch away from the harsh glare of your friend, meeting it head on with one of confident arrogance. It was hard to tell his full expression, a black cloth covering the bottom half of his face that he had yet to lower. His sword swung limply at his side – dripping dark blood onto the sand below – but the muscles in his arms tensed as if they were prepared to strike at any moment.

You weren’t sure you’d ever met a more dangerous man.

“We’ve spilt enough blood tonight.” The rough bass in his voice rumbled through your bones even at a distance, the surprisingly silky timbre cutting through the undertone of lethality. “This is the only warnin’ I’ll give you so best listen carefully.”

He took a step forward as if unbothered by the sparkling wick counting down in front of him, eyes narrowing down to slits above the black fabric of his mask. 

“Leave.” The singular word sent an ominous chill down your spine. “Leave this place, or else we'll be sendin’ you to meet your heathen god.”

You didn’t doubt it, not for one minute. It briefly flashed across your mind that this might just be some elaborate trick to lower your guards, but you somehow trusted the man to keep his word. You were only grateful the killing had ended for the time being, glad to be given the opportunity to leave with your heads still intact. 

One of his men came up beside him, holding out the reins of his horse for him to take, head dipped in a reverent bow.

“Shabah.” Ghost.

The stranger's gaze swept over his surroundings as he made to turn away, halting his movement as he picked you out amongst the sea of faces. Dark brown eyes pierced yours as he came to a sudden stop, something brewing within that once again pulled at the back of your mind the same as it did that night on the ferry. There was something staring you right in the face and you were too blind or traumatized to see it.

He held you captive a moment longer, a hidden message within those orbs that he granted you no time to decipher. Breaking eye contact to mount his steed, he turned his harsh glare back to the others present, yelling out again in English for everyone to hear. “You have one day!”

Calling out to his men, they all took to their steeds and scattered with the wind back the way they came, funneling out through the city gates to disappear out into the darkness of the night. They may have gone, but their chilling warning remained.

You hoped that would be the last you ever saw of him.

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[angelicniah]

Euphoric

pairing | Daemon Targaryen x Black F!Reader

Warnings: Nudity

summary: You catch the eye of Daemon Targaryen.

word count: 1.4k

A/n: This is my first series I have every done. Also is the second thing I gave written in a long time so please try to be patient with me. I will take any feedback you can give me. Anyone can read. Other than that, enjoy :). Divders by @firefly-graphics

If someone told you three years ago that you would be working at a strip club to get through college, you would've laughed in their face. But sometimes life has a way of putting you in situations you would have never thought you'll end up in.

 You worked at one of the most popular strip clubs in all of King's Landing and was one of the top dancers there.

The Pink Paradise.

The club was owned by Jacqueline and Anthony Carter. Anthony handle the money and Jacqueline keep the girls in check. And together they ran the club as one big happy family. You started working there after one of your college friends that worked there told you about it. Even through things can get out of hand sometimes, you loved it there and plus the pay was good...most days.

"Alright ladies." Jacqueline announced to everyone in the dressing room, "We got some important people coming tonight, so I need you guys to do your best out there. Don’t fuck this up."

Before she leaves out, she turns to you and points a manicured finger at you, "You're on in 10."

As you are trying to finish putting yourself together, your friend Imani, who goes by Jinx on stage, comes over and leans against you vanity.

"Did you hear who is coming tonight?" She questions as she look at herself in the mirror checking her lip gloss.

"Don't know and don't care." You said, making sure your hair was good.

"Cmon. You're telling me, that you're not a little bit curious." She nudges your shoulder.

You look up at her, " I just came to get my money and go home, that's it." You told her.

She rolls her eyes, "Well I'm going to tell you anyway." She says, "It's Daemon Targaryen."

Even through the name sounded familiar, you couldn’t place as to why. Before you could as her who he was, your name is called fo you to go on stage.

"Alright, alright settle down everyone." You heard the Dj say, " Next coming to the stage is a crowd fav. Welcome to the stage Miss Luna!"

The crowd starts cheering and you take one final deep breathe before walking out.

Don't walk in here with the bullshit look up on your face. Mad about some argument from yesterday, yeah Cause tonight, no need to fight, I can ease your mind

As the song starts playing, you strut towards the pole in the middle of the stage. You grab ahold of the pole and wrapped your legs around it, twirling and pulling your body around it. You moved your body to the beat of the music.

Everyone's attention was on you.

When I put this cake in your face I got that shit that you're cravin' (ah, ah) Boy, come here Eyes rollin' back of my face And I got you feelin' the same, yeah 'Cause I want it

Your eyes scanned the crowd and locked on a pair of eyes in the VIP area. You twirled around the pole and swung your legs around it. You blocked out the sound of the crowd and kept eye with the man. It was you was dancing for only him.

Got you curling your toes While you're deep in my throat

I want it I'll be the six and you'll be nine I want it

As the song comes to an end, you put your legs out in the air into a split, doing one final spin before dropping down onto the stage still in the same position. You leaned back from the pole a little and let the money fall on you and on the floor around you.

" Everyone gives it up for Miss Luna!" The Dj says.

As you grab the money from the floor, you could hear the disappointing groans from the crowd because you had to leave.

After putting your money up, you walked out the dressing room and you changed into a different outfit.

You put the bag of money into your locker and went to grab a drink from the bar. You could see Imani sitting on one of the stools flirting with Xavier, the bartender. Once she sees you, she smiles at you.

"Girl you did that. Had they asses on the edge of their seats." She tells you and gives you a high five.

You chuckle “I mean… I try.” You said an gave a little shrug and took the drink Xavier hands you. You thank him and down it, before you hear someone calling your name and looked behind you to see Jacqueline waving you over to her. Wanting to see what she wanted, you got up and went over to her.

"You need something boss lady?" You questioned her.

"I need you to go to one of the private rooms. One of our special guest paid for a dance." She says and tells you the room number.

You had never really been to one of the private rooms, always choosing the safe option to dance out in the open. Even through you were nervous, you were also curious as to who was behind the door.

You stood in front of the door of the room you were told to go to before knocking on it and heard a male's voice behind the door.

"Come in." The voice says.

When you walk in, you see the man that was making eye contact with you sitting on the couch with a drink in his hand. He beacons you into farther into the room with the flick of his hand. Nervously, you look around the room to see a pole in the center of it and a stereo in the corner of the room.

The man clears his throat and your eyes snaps to his figure. Your eyes scan up his body as he does the same to you. You could tell just by looking at him, he was someone important. When your eyes got to his face, you see that he is already looking at you. There was something about the way he was looking at you though. The look in his eyes was intense but it also did something to you.

You went over to the stereo in the corner of the room and grabbed the remote and turned it on. As you walk over to the pole, the music comes on and fills the room. The liquor in your system gave you a little courage to be a little less anxious. You listened to the lyrics of the song, letting your body move to the beat of it on the pole.

Drip too hard, stand too close Fuck around and drown off this wave This go hard, it's the most You ever make sounds, girl, behave

The man leans forward to sit his glass on the table in front of him. He pulls his hand back and places his arms on the back of the couch, spreading his legs wide. You twisted and turned your body in different positions on the pole.

There's no limit, yeah I'm a master with the P Once you in it, yeah Disaster with the D You won't last in it

Getting down from the pole and onto the floor, you seductively crawled over to him with your ass high in the air. You leaned up and slide your hands up his legs. He stares down at you with those intensive eyes of his. Standing up, you leaned forward, putting your breast in his face. You felt him let out a breath against you and it sends a shiver up your body. You straddle him and sit down in his lap, reaching behind to unhook your bra. The both of you held eye contact with each other as you threw it somewhere behind you.

Moving your hips to the beat of the song, you felt him harden underneath you. He lets out a groan and tries his best to not touch you without your permission. He tipped his head back on the couch, giving a full view of his neck. You licked your lips and bit on your bottom lip.

He puts his head back up when you turned your body in his lap, putting you back to his front. You laid your head back on his shoulder next to his and grinded your ass back against his crotch.

"You're so beautiful." He whispers in your ear.

Hearing him says that makes you squirm in his lap. You grabbed one of his hands and laid it on one of your breasts. He squeezed it, making you let out a whimper as his thumb brushed over your nipple.

As the song comes to an end, you slowly get up out of his lap and bend down to grab your bra from off the floor. He says something as you are walking out of the room.

"See you around." He shouts over the music of the club as you open the door.

You looked over your shoulder to see he has a smirk on his face. Without saying anything, you continued out the door.

Taglist | @avalyaaa, @simbaaas-stuff, @thirteenth-fangirl

[tears-of-boredom]

oh my god this fucking tumblr dash i frogort aobut it already and my figner are fucking freezing so i cant tyoe for shit

anyways so i was browsing like you know one of those websites that streams a bunch of shit for free, and i saw a show called BEEF, just BEEF, it wasnt an acronym or anything. so fo course i had to see what was up duh?? so i finished the first episode. and i fucking love it. i mean the whole time i was lowkey chanting "kill someones kill someone kill someone" but you know how good media does that to you right. but yeah so when the episode finished, i noticed that my heart was beating really fast, like as if id drunk coffee. like lowkey i wouldnt have been surprised if i had passed out onto my desk. but so if my bodys reaction to the show is anything, i enjoyed it. im going to watch the next episode when i either A: feel like i can handle my pulse rising like that again without freaking out or B: i wanna get an adrenaline rush because im really depressed and need to feel something. but yeah this is totally just like that time i watches thor ragnarok, and it took like multiple weeks for me to get through it because i just couldnt handle tom hiddleston. but thsi time i refuse to believe that its any of the actors. i am trying to convince myself that im not that shallow. tbh i just loved the last scene where uhh,,, hold on whats her name okay its Amy. so i loved that scene where she got to fuel all her anger into running after Danny and yelling shit at him. like i know its not for a good reason but i feel like my girl really needed just some way to let some steam out. anyways yeah i am going to go read something that i give zero shits about now because my body is still on alert from that. it feels like im planning on having a voluntary social interaction with someone, which i am not. aka i am anxious as fuck but in this way where i kinda dont want to be, but my body just reacts so strongly that i really cant fight it. ya know social anxiety. except sometimes its triggered by just a good tv series.

honestly its probably just that im excited, because that episode was good,, but because this jittery and kind of stressed feeling isnt really like, often present in my life in a positive way, i just can't tell excitement apart from anxiousness. ya know. normal " i have awful social anxiety" things. or more like "i am severely mentally ill and am not getting the treatment i need" kind of things. pick one. or both. tbh the adults suggested uhh like occupational therapy, and i got a list of therapists from my doctor. but my trust in any kind of help the adults try to give me is so fucking deteriorated that i cant imagine it ever actually helpoing me. and if i told that to an adult i know they would say some shit like " well i f you go in all negative of course its notgonna work!! you gotta want to heal for it to work" and oh my god im drviing myself into abreakdown here so haha i wish that the adults would fucking understand that i fucking have severe anxietyy and trust issues. and that not believing a form of therapy is going to help me, isnt the same thing as not wanting to be helped. do you fucking know how badly i jsut want someone to finally give me some type of actual support or aid or help oh my god. okay my fingers are getting really aggressive on the keyboard. im gonna go fr now. i fucking hate adults. and im tired. and i have trust issues. and i ahve anxiety. and while my medication does help me to go about my day a bit easier, because i dont find myself digging mental holes for myself. it doesnt help for shit when im in a situation that in and of itself is anxiety inducing for me. and i dont fucking like how i cant tell the difference in my mood between the lighter and stronger dose. because i cant fucking say that its not heloing. because i dont know that. oh my god i am so horrible at stopping myself from venting. going now. okay. bye.

[xfgpng]

𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 —

[ i was listening to this when i thought of this fic ]

— : [ nsfw ] masturbation (f), referenced one night stand with eren, smut, unprotected sex

— : wc : 966

a one night stand, that was all it was supposed to be. you knew his reputation and you had no intentions of getting involved with him but you had just broken up with your boyfriend and once you got a little liquid courage in you, it was easy to let loose, if only for one night.

mikasa warned you against it. she had messed around with him before and he wasn’t the type to take relationships seriously past the sex. he ghosted her almost immediately, evening claiming she was too clingy and he didn’t want to date anyone seriously.

he was so fucking hot and it infuriated you because eren knew exactly what to say to get you upstairs to his bedroom and into his bed. you could barely walk the next morning and he offered to take you out for breakfast which is something he didn’t do.

it had been exactly 3 weeks since the party. you wanted to blame jean for hosting it and forcing you to go because you were supposed to be his best friend too.

point is, eren was not boyfriend material and you shouldn’t be thinking about him or anything relating to him.

you tried going on a date to get your mind off him and his dick but it didn’t go as planned. the guy was boring and he didn’t even last longer than 4 minutes, you’d know, you counted.

it was okay if you entertained yourself, no one needed to know your business. you were home alone, hitch had gone out with mikasa and you weren’t in the mood anyway.

laying on your back, pillows laid out comfortably, you reached for the hem of your skirt. you teased the soft mound of your pussy, not yet touching your clit. you could hear his voice loud and clear in your head.

“feels good, doesn’t it baby?”

“shit, you’re already this wet?”

“fuck pretty girl, you think you can take all of me?”

you bite your lip, middle finger teasing the tip of your clit, moaning softly at finally being able to get some alone time. no one had ever made you cum as hard as eren did and he didn’t have to touch your clit, he filled you up so good that you could almost feel him deep in your throat.

“fuck” you moan, spreading your legs wider as you slide your finger lower, slowly breaching your entrance. you couldn’t believe how wet you were just from thinking about him. you’d be embarrassed if you weren’t so into it.

“best pussy i’ve ever had”

you weren’t even sure if he was just saying shit to get you going but you wouldn’t even complain, it worked and you ended up pushing him onto his back and riding him until someone, you think it was jean, banged on the door to ask you to keep it down. the party already over.

slipping your finger inside your pussy, you use your free hand to squeeze and pinch your nipples. you regret not taking up their offer to go out, hoping to get laid again because you felt so frustrated.

“i’m so deep baby, fuck”

he whined in your ear and no one had ever whined or moaned so openly for you. you had a feeling it was because of toxic masculinity or whatever but he sounded so good.

you never really realised how sensitive your nipples were until he had them between his teeth, sucking and biting hard enough to cause you to cry but not enough to want him to stop.

you were mad at yourself the next day, once he dropped you off at your place. not only did you go against what you’d said about fucking him, you let him fuck you raw, more than once in one night and he came in you. that wasn’t something you even allowed your ex to do and it was so reckless, so stupid that you wanted to do it again.

“eren” you moan, frustrated at not being able to reach the places his longer fingers can. you had no problem with masturbation before eren but after having him finger you so hard you squirted on his lower chin and chest, you just couldn’t scratch that itch alone anymore.

his lips were soft too, kissing your forehead, cheeks and jaw, leaving butterfly kisses on your lips every time he’d press deeper into you. you wondered if it was possible to fall in love with someone just from getting dicked down so good.

| yeager : why aren’t you with mikasa and hitch?

the sound of your phone vibrating momentarily throws you off your rhythm. usually your phone wouldn’t bother you during your alone time but but you were feeling frustrated and hot.

your eyes widen when you read the name on your screen, debating on whether or not you should answer his text. you two weren’t even friends, not really so why would he bother texting you.

| you: wasn’t in the mood

you go to lock your phone when you see him typing again. you hate how excited seeing his name makes you but you could easily blame that on sexual frustration.

| yeager: wanted to see you

| yeager: we should hangout sometime

| you: you still out?

| yeager: why? you wanna see me right now?

you can almost see his smug face bar you don’t care about stroking his ego, you needed him to do what he did to you that night and then some.

you grin and open your camera, angling it so your spread legs are showing with your skirt bunched up near your waist. it shows enough for him to get the idea pressing send.

| yeager: fuck baby

| yeager: i’ll be there in 15 minutes

| yeager: don’t finish until i get there

[pussypinkdoll]

hi!! i absolutely love your fics, would you mind doing another Connie fic where he’s a plug.

boys need love 2.

summary: connie took you with him to all his drops stop by stop, things lead to another/ just know he needs to blow off steam and your there for him.

warning: oral, black y/n, messy y/n, a bit of mean connie, slighy rough, throat goat, mature scenes, etc.

I’m

swiping on your phone looking for outfits you’d purchased later on while sitting in a curled up position in the passenger seat waiting for connie to finish the trade. turning your to look at him approach the car and smile, finally seating down on the drivers seat and giving you a quick kiss he pulled off and went to the next destination. this has been going on for a while, him taking you to his drops but making sure your not seen he just loves when you were next to him.

“what’s you looking at so intensely on your phone mariposa?” he spoke so low with that accent that made you want to jump out your seat and su- “I’m looking for new clothes but these are not giving what they’re supposed to give.” rolling your eyes at those ugly ass options. “uh huh well when you’re done show me it and I’ll buy it fo you, and it better not be something that’s gone rip because of that fat ass.” laughing at the memory of that previously happening but yelping at feeling a squeeze in your ass from him slipping a hand behind you to grab on it.

“con- move your hand and focus on driving !!” smiling and moving his hand and went back to focusing on the road. stopping the car at some house connie reached over you to grab the last bag left that was in the glove department. fixing your glasses and giving your head a kiss like he always did before he left he went and got up walking up to the house. this time the drop took a while causing you to be a bit worried, reaching under your seat to grab the glock so you can go walk up to the house but was stopped by connie storming out the house with a mugging face.

“you good-” “-not right now y/n.” taken aback but not only his rudeness but him saying your government name. rolling your eyes and going back to your phone ignoring him the whole ride. “tell me you don’t know a javon y/n.” finally stopping the car at the drive way and tilting his head to the side staring at you. “nigga what- who tf is a ja- ohhh” you knew that house looked familiar! it was one of your bitch ass ex’s house. “he’s just an ex con” you answered but that didn’t seem to matter to him.

“an ex who asks me all sorts of questions like ‘is her pussy still good?’ ‘she like when you hit from the side’ ‘tell her hit me up when you done alr?’” after saying that sentence connie stopped the car and headed towards the house reaching into your guys shared bedroom. following after him trying to get his attention to which he would ignore, finally after reaching the room and standing up in front of him as he’s sat on the bed. “con he was trolling you, he doesn’t know shit about me fr, it doesn’t even matter anyway he’s a bum.” trying to relieve the conversation by reaching your hand to rub at connie’s curls to which he moves away.

sighing you went to the last resort by putting your body wave 30 inch into a ponytail and fixing your glasses to stay on sturdier. getting down on your knees and sliding his joggers off along with his boxers and taking his dick into your hands. “y/n the fuck are you doin- fuckkkk~” rolling his head back when you slid the tip past your throat and sucking sloppily while jerking the rest of the length off. rubbing at his balls while you started to deep throat it all the way to the bottom and started shaking your head causing bubbles to erupt and cover the whole bottom half of your face not caring if it looked messy.

curling his toes and groaning out loudly connie was paralyzed on the bed with his eyes rolling back, yes he’s gotten head before but you, you weren’t ordinary bitch you were a leech!! “ohhh shittt~ mamii~ that feels so good~” bring his hand onto your head to find something to give a bit of a tug on. letting out a slight whimper and bite his lap as you took it out your mouth and slapped the tip on your tongue repeatedly while flicking your tongue in a rapid motion against the tip. “you like that papi~” you said as you went down to start licking at his balls while looking up at him. “you know I do mami~ fuckk just like that~” kissing his teeth while reeling his head back connie didn’t know if he was in heaven or just dead overall by the way you was taking his soul, nigga had his toes curling, back arching, lip bitten, eyes rolled back, whimpers,and high pitch ass moans.

slipping it out over and over again as a way to tease him but rubbing his tip on the pad of your tongue letting him shoot his cum down your throat which you gladly swallowed. rubbing in his thighs to calm down his rapid breaths and minor leg shakes you leaned up and laid your head on his clenched stomach “you feel better pa~?” “yess~ you did such a good job mariposa~”

[mino-diabolik]

Just My Type

A nearby group rattled their horns with laughter as Mystic stumbled out from the rowdy crowd, barely catching himself against the wall before his legs gave out beneath him. He properly propped against it, leaning back as he waited for the world to stop spinning. He shifted slightly, casting an icy glare at the demons through messy inky locks. They continued to find humor in the situation, but had the decency to turn away and act oblivious.

Mystic closed his eyes and took a deep breath, hoping some fresh air would be enough to breeze out all substances from his system. It was all futile, of course. He defeatedly straightened back up and marched out into the sidewalk. Passersby rushed by his sides through the nightlife, all beginning to search for a place to get screwed up. Mystic on the other hand, was just ready to call it quits.

It had started as such a peaceful night. How could a simple letter have ruined it entirely? Perhaps it was the natural reaction of his body from reading that goddamn name, or even the thought of how absolutely vile he had been while knowing Mystic would be forced to pick up the letter and read it.

Something warm slipped down the side of his face and deep in his throat brewed an itch he desperately wish he could reach for and scratch.

He staggered out into the alleyway, running a pair of sluggish hands over his garments in search for the keys of his car.

Was it a good idea? Probably not. But it wasn’t like he had someone on speed dial to come rescue him from his misery. Nor was he quite fond of the idea of having someone see him in his worst state possible.

“Mystic?”

As it would appear, god found his misery entertaining.

The Founder looked over his shoulder—much annoyed than surprised—to meet the outrageously gorgeous figure of a known friend.

Dear lord, those words had not just been formed in his head. Both alcohol and drugs were truly drying out whatever brain cells remained after the mayhem he had just left.

“Just my luck,” Mystic huffed, bringing a hand up to harshly swipe away the trickling tears. He grew increasingly irate as his vision blurred repeatedly. No matter how many time he wiped his eyes into his sleeve, they would always return.

“You don’t seem too pleased,” Ruki commented.

“Thanks fo’ noticin’, Sherlock,” Mystic hissed back, refusing to face the other. “‘The fuck ‘re ya doin’ here?”

“Looking for Kou. He called me and the others to come get him, but never received a specific location.” Ruki explained. “Who would have thought we would run into each other at such place.”

Mystic found his keys in a pocket on the inside of his jacket at last and sighed. “Well, good luck with that. There’s a sea ‘f idiots outside tonight.”

Just as he tried to walk away, a hand swiftly picked the keys out from his grasp. He jerked around in an attempt to snatch them back, but Ruki lifted them away form his reach. “You weren’t thinking of driving yourself home in that state, were you?”

“What’s it matter to ya?” Mystic snapped. “Give me my keys!” He pounced forth once more, but was unsuccessful a second time.

Ruki staggered back from Mystic’s aggressive attempts. “I’m not letting you be behind the wheel when you cannot even speak coherently.”

“And just why the fuck do you care?!” Mystic wailed, tears dripping down a long his face once more. He suddenly weakened under his own shame and rushing thoughts. The drunken Founder quit his tantrum and collapsed against the Vampire, holding onto his shoulders and plopping his forehead against his chest. “Just leave me alone…”

Ruki watched the pitiful display in silence, finally thinking it safe to lower the hand with the keys in them. “Are you done?”

No response.

Mystic felt his feet be swept off the ground first, before it settled in his entire body had been picked up. He hadn’t noticed just how heavy his limbs felt up until that instant. He didn’t fight the gesture, as he was too far gone to even care. “Thought you’d come to find your brother.”

“I’m sure Yuma and Azusa can handle Kou on their own,” Ruki responded, scanning the cars lined up along the side of the road in search of Mystic’s. “Do you still drive the same vehicle?”

“Same old Bentley,” Mystic mumbled in response, drying off his cheeks into his sleeve. “Don’t say ya thinkin’ ‘bout drivin’ me yourself?”

“I still recall some of the lessons from that time you offered to teach us.”

As Mystic had said, an older model Bentley awaited for its owner’s return; faint scratches and subtle dents adorned its obsidian paint and silver bumpers.

Ruki carefully settled Mystic on his feet, wrapping an arm around the other’s waist to hold him upright. He tugged at the door’s handle and propped it open, aiding the drunken one into the front-passenger’s seat. He assured the door was properly closed, then walked around the front the other side.

Ruki felt slightly out of place sitting behind the steering wheel. He fumbled around with the pedals, stick, and wheel as the memories of Mystic’s lessons returned to him.

“Ruki,” Mystic suddenly spoke; eyes gone into a void as he gawked forth. His voice seemed incredibly loud inside the enclosed space of the car’s inside.

The Vampire paused and turned to look at him.

“Was really thinkin’ of gettin’ fucked silly tonight,” he chuckled drunkenly. “Was just on my way to meet up with someone. Caught me before I did somethin’ very dumb.”

Ruki agreed in his mind, but said nothing.

“I assume you ain’t willin’ to drive over to their place.”

Ruki unwittingly gripped the steering wheel. “Absolutely not.”

Mystic chortled. “So, now what?” He rested back against the seat and rolled his head to meet Ruki’s gaze. “Ya ain’t got a clue where I live.”

“It could always be as simple as you telling me,” Ruki replied, knowing well just where the drunken man was trying to stray the conversation.

“Don’t wanna go home, though…”

“Mystic, we are not discussing this right now.”

The Founder exhaled through his nose, clearly dazed. “Just for tonight?” He reached out to grip the elbow of Ruki’s blazer.

Ruki glanced down at the fingers clinging onto the fabric of his garment, then up at Mystic once more. His grip on the steering wheel tightened further. “Mystic, we cannot keep—”

“Ruki,” he pleaded, moving his hand up to wrap it around his arm.

The Vampire couldn’t help it as his eyes moved over the Founder’s figure. He inhaled once more, shocked at how quickly the enclosed space had filled up with his scent. He turned away, flexing his fingers over the steering wheel. He turned the key on the engine, but didn’t move from the spot for a while.

Mystic leaned out to peek at his expression. “Ruki?”

Ruki gave him a quick glance and shook his head. Whatever spell the Founder’s words could cast, he had been entirely enthralled. He moved the stick shift and turned the steering wheel, driving off into the street.

“You are…” Ruki muttered, “the absolute worst.”

[sunatoru]

cherry popper.

⇒ suna x f!reader

summary : three months after the heart breaking murders within the hyogo prefecture, suna comes to realise he really was his best friend’s hero.

warnings : mentions of virginity / loss of virginity, mentions of oral (m. receiving), murder + death, lowkey a breakdown at one point

genre : angst , mentions fuck to survive type trope, best friends to lovers

a/n : this is just a short part two to clear up any loose ends about v.k. you can headcanon him as suna if you want, but this is kinda who i imagined v.k would be!

w.c : 2.5k

m.list part 1 : pop! goes the cherry.

“atsumu, usually your ideas are bad but this? this is the worst idea you’ve ever had.” osamu has his hands on his hips, eyes glaring down at his twin and his best friend who continue to mimic the cursive lettering broadcasted on screen.

“shut it samu, you’re just jealous i came up with it first.” atsumu’s gaze never leaves the inked paper, watching with excitement as suna finishes writing the last few letters down. his knees bouncing with excitement while his friend's knee bounces from the built up anxiety.

after finishing the note, suna pulls himself back, taking in the words from afar. his lip is pulled between his teeth, pen clenched in one hand while the other grips the table tightly. this is such a bad idea…

“tsum… maybe samu’s right. i don’t think this is a good idea, i don’t want it to seem like i’m forcing her to do anything.”

“pfft, you’re not forcing her. giving someone a little scare to encourage them to confess isn’t forceful.”

suna and osamu shared a look, surely this wouldn’t be as problematic as their conscience is making it out to be. with a defeated sigh, suna slips the note into the envelope and gets up from the table, leaving the twins to bicker about atsumu’s latest and greatest plan. the walk to your locker is long and painstakingly tense, his fingers shaking from the guilt and nerves that have settled within him. he was definitely going to hell for this.

finally managing to get to your locker without throwing up or passing out, suna unlocks it, carefully placing the envelope down. he looks around, making sure no one was around to catch him in the act before gently shutting the locker, not checking to see whether it was fully closed or not. his only priority now was getting out of there before someone could spot him.

and as he ran off, all he could do was pray for forgiveness and hope this wouldn’t backfire.

—

“suna rintarou, i need you to have sex with me.” you slam the gym doors open, shocking the rest of the volleyball club members and surprising suna. his heart pounding in his chest at your loud and bold request, in front of his whole team nonetheless. he drops the ball he’s holding and rushes over to you.

“yn what are you talking about, why the fuck would you need me to have sex with you!?” you grab rintarō by the arm shaking him desperately as your lips begin to quiver. “he’s gonna kill me tarou, i swear he’s going to kill me.” suna felt his heart drop, the guilt of going through with the petty little plan finally began sinking in. the look fo terror written so plainly onto your face could never be erased from his mind. his mind was reeling, the letter wasn’t supposed to lead to this. you were supposed to tell him you loved him and he was supposed to confess to you that he wrote that note because he was too much of a coward to confess to you himself.

“holy shit…” atsumu comes in close, eyes trained on the note that the two of them spent at least half an hour on. “y know, if sunarin won’t fuck you id be down.” suna holds back a scoff, as if you’d want to lose your virginity to a loser like atsumu, who came up with the idea in the first place. suna grabs the note and crumpled it up.

“that-that won’t be necessary.” he wasn’t about to let you lose your virginity to someone like atsumu, under the pretence that you were about to be murdered by some weirdo with a hatred for people who didn’t have sex. suna grabs you and pulls you out of the gym after telling atsumu he’d walk you home, the burning inside him flaring up as he thought about how scared you were and the way you looked like you were contemplating atsumu’s proposition.

suna was never listening to any of atsumu’s ideas. ever again.

—

three months after receiving that threatening note and finally losing your virginity to your best friend, you wouldn’t have ever expected things to be so… boring? suna wouldn’t do so much as hold your hand on most days, and on a good day he’d let you kiss his cheek.

his lack of physical interest in you began taking its toll on you, were you not good enough? was he really only with you out of pity or maybe fear that the v.k was still going to come after you?

sitting with atsumu and osamu on one of the benches in the gym, the three of you watched suna intently as you explained your worries to the twins. “it just seems like he’s not into me… i mean, i tried giving him head last week and the minute i got down on my knees he was jumping up, saying he needed to pick his sister up from school. ON A SATURDAY.” you groaned into your hands, dragging them down your face to try and relieve some of the tension that’s been trapped inside of you for the past few months.

“ya can’t really blame sunarin though,” tsumu shrugged his shoulders, leaning back against the benches behind him. “i mean, if i wrote a note to my crush, pretending to be a serial killer just so that she would confess to me, i’d feel pretty guilty about doing things with her too.”

you froze in your seat, eyes still glued to suna, who had no clue as to what was going on in the stands. “he… what?” your mumble was almost inaudible, so quiet as you tried your hardest to process what atsumu just said.

osamu was the first to realise that you still had no clue about the plan. he smacked the back of atsumu’s head, mumbling ‘idiot’ under his breath before he excused himself. this wasn’t his plan nor his problem and he was not about to be caught in the crossfire because of his twin.

“what the fuck samu- where are ya going!?” osamu flipped his brother off as a response, hastily making his way down to the court before you could blown up on either of them. atsumu turned to look back at you, brows furrowed and his hand gently rubbing the spot osamu hit.

“can you believe that guy? what a dick- yn?” it was only then did atsumu realise you were silently crying, your eyes never leaving the court where your boyfriend was practicing. “oh no…” atsumu began panicking, suna was gonna kill him, and you were gonna kill suna. “yn, t-trust me he had good intentions! you know sunarin, our lovely rinnie! he’d never do anything intentionally harmful, plus it wasn’t totally his idea, i helped!”

“you helped?” your nose was stuffy, and your eyes were glistening as you finally turned away from eyeing suna, glaring coldly at the bleached haired idiot beside you. atsumu gulped, fighting back his nerves as he slowly stood up and walked backwards towards the stairs, hands up in surrender as he gave you a nervous smile.

“well, it’s not like i wrote the letter or put it in your locker or anything… i just, made a couple of suggestions. and if anything, it’s really suna’s fault for even going through with it!” atsumu ran down the stairs, tackling into samu and suna as you slowly made your way down behind him.

you stopped in front of the three of them, tear filled eyes trained on the floor, you couldn’t bring yourself to look up at your best friend. “i’m going home, don’t worry about walking me.”

suna took a step forward, hand reaching out to hold yours, but you could only step back and pull your hand away. his heart faltered, confused as to what had made you so upset that you wouldn’t even let him hold your hand.

“yn, what happened?”

“i don’t know, suna. what would you do if you found out your boyfriend wrote a fake threat just to get you to confess to him?” you finally looked up at him, angry tears flooding your waterline and slipping past the barrier. suna felt the air leave his lungs. you knew it was him, and he couldn’t escape the truth.

“how cruel and cowardly do you have to be t-to write a note, pretending to be a serial killer just so you wouldn’t have to confess? i thought i was going to die! and you just let me believe that!?” you shoved him, glaring at him as he stood in silence. “what? you have nothing to say now? is this why you’ve been so distant, and why you were so hesitant to help me that day? because you knew all along that i was fine, and that i wasn’t in danger.”

“yn, we should talk about this outside… the others are listening.” suna made a move to grab your hand again, but all you could do was slap it away and take another step back.

“fuck you, suna. you let me believe i was going to die. do you know how traumatising that is? to be so afraid of going to sleep at night because you don’t know if you’ll wake up the next day? you let me live through that, just because you were too much of a pussy to tell me you liked me!?”

you scoffed at his silence, pivoting on your heel and walking out the gym doors.

—

knock, knock, knock. “yn, rintarou’s here…”

you pulled the bed sheets over you and sink yourself into the pillow when you heard your mother turn the doorknob. you didn’t want to see him or speak to him, and you definitely didn’t want to be left alone in a room with him.

the door closed again, silence taking over the room's atmosphere as neither of you made a move to speak. part of you was convinced he never even walked into the room with how quiet it was, but with the sound of shuffling feet and the feeling of the bed dipping, you realised he was in fact with you.

“yn?” he placed a hand where he assumed your knee would be, “i was wondering if maybe i could talk to you? give you a proper apology…” he waited for some form of acknowledgment, looking at the lump under the bedsheets expectantly. and when you finally grunted, kicking your leg to get his hand off of you before turning to face the wall, he took that as a sigh to continue.

“it was a dumb idea, and i shouldn’t have listened to atsumu, or gone through with it… you’re right, it was cruel and it was cowardly and you didn’t deserve to go through that or have to live in fear during those three days…” he took a deep breath, facing the wall opposite of him, taking in all the photos of the two of you. “i don’t have a valid reason or excuse as to why i went through with it, i guess i was scared that if i confessed first and you didn’t like me back…then you’d stop being part of my life? but that wasn’t a good enough reason to put a fake v.k letter in your locker, and i’m so sorry for not telling you sooner.”

he glances down at his hand, fidgeting with his fingers and biting his lip as he pauses, trying to figure out how to word his feelings better.

“you could’ve told me you liked me…” your muffled reply surprises him, as he turns to look back at you, you’re already beginning to sit up in the bed, red eyes and tears staining your face, your nose was red and your eyes were puffy. “you should’ve been honest, we’ve been best friends for years. you know me better than anyone else, and you really think i’d leave you just because you confessed to me?”

you huffed, before leaning forward to give him a harsh flick on the forehead, which he immediately began nursing with his hands. your laugh was quiet and a little awkward, you leaned back against the headboard not ready to look at him yet. “i'm really mad at you, and i don’t forgive you, but i’m not going to break up with you or never speak to you again, if that’s what you thought was gonna happen…” at that, suna let out a relieved sigh inside.

“‘m sorry, i really am… if i could go back in time and stop myself from putting that envelope inside your locker, i would.”

“there’s no point in reminiscing about what you could’ve done, rin. just, promise you’ll communicate with me more, and do better so that nothing like this happens again.”

“i promise.” he grabs your hand, biting back a smile when you don’t slap his hand away or rip yours out of his grasp.

“i do have one question though, why’d you keep up the act for so long? i mean, the coincidences were weird, like the numbers counting down on the victims… but the note on the fridge the next day?”

“what note?”

“the one that said congratulations? and that i won?”

“yn, i don’t know why there were numbers counting down on the victims, and i don’t know how you got a note on your fridge but…i only ever wrote one note and that was the one with atsumu.” the two of you sat in a tense silence, were you really in danger at some point?

“holy shit, tarou did you accidentally fucking save me?”

—

“the news hyogo has been praying for has finally arrived, the notorious ‘virgin killer’ has finally been caught. 28 year old yamakawa haru, was found and caught by hyogo police after his ex girlfriend went to police about his odd behavioural issues. authorities believe his next and final victim was going to be the 27 year old woman, who had been dating him in high school insider reports state that the young lady had refused to sleep with him on multiple occasions and had eventually broken up with him after he began exhibiting strange and concerning behaviours. yamakawa is now awaiting a trial date.”

six months after all the killings had started, the main perpetrator was finally caught. you’d like to believe the notes you submitted to the police station as evidence helped, but you knew ultimately he was caught without your minuscule help.

suna continued to apologise and beg for forgiveness, even after earning it, and he kept his promise of properly communicating with you no matter what the issue was. forgiving him was difficult, but it happened eventually, and now the two of you sat in the living room watching the news, just like the morning after you slept together for the first time.

“still can’t believe i basically saved you, and i never got a thank you! you think he heard me call you a virgin when we were walking to school that one time?”

“you saved me after putting me in danger, you don’t deserve anything.” you flicked his forehead, smiling triumphantly at his pained groan.

[heartidylla]

lover — i forgot that you existed

javier peña x f!reader

summary : after getting hated on by rumors spreading around the office, javier confronts you for the first time.

caution : language

speaking color coding

“” — javier

“” — you

“” — other

you took a deep breath before you stepped into the office for the first time in which seemed to be days, even though you were just sitting at your eloquent desk yesterday. a rumor — which stated at you had been involved with another coworker spread around like wildfire.

as the head of an entire squad, this news was impactful in questioning if you're suitable for such a privileged position.

the shade everyone had been throwing at you had gotten so extreme that they'd go out of their way to put you down, taking away all of the built up sunshine you were storing within you to barely make it past each day.

the worst part is that you couldn't get away from such immense hatred you had been attracting. this alone caused an increasingly amount of resentment for yourself, even a falsely accused rumor had impacted your mental state to such extreme lows.

you don't know the reason behind not standing up for yourself to your coworkers, perhaps it was due to the fact the entire situation had completely gone downhill to an overly critical state. you felt tongue-tied, even when you were going to argue on your behalf against such horrible people.

what irked you more was the fact javier peña, a man who has countless intimate relationships with coworkers, never got criticized for such 'outrageous behavior', but if it was you — or more so a woman, everything was blown out of proportion. that alone lived rent free within the realm of your mind.

however, everything changed that day. as you stepped into the office, a new confidence had taken over your movements. after months of consistent torment, you had finally been pushed over your limits which contained your nasty comments and inner thoughts.

walking through the crowed halls it was magical how they seemed entirely empty to you. it was so much easier to ignore everyone that surround you than to put up and try and defend yourself.

you have always desired to people on people's good sides, happy to help everyone who needed it. you made it your goal to treat others how you'd wanna be treated, and you stuck to that, apart from the darkness that came with your job.  

your worst fear, since youth, has always been people hating on you or talking behind your back. it always cause a tightness in your chest whenever you thought someone didn't like you, and you'd always seek their approval in everything. the idea that someone who don't add anything to your life, nor knew who you truly were, despising you made you physically nauseous to think about.

however, in this instance, you didn't feel like you were passing away. you felt at ease as you finally accepted that not everyone is going to like you, and people are going to talk their shit and you're going to have no control over how people view you. honestly, being alone made everything so much more peaceful and quiet. even if they didn't like you, they still had to respect how great of an agent and leader you were and follow your orders without hesitation.

you sat down at your desk with the biggest grin on your face that you had in weeks as you instantly put on your noise cancellation headphones and dived into the depths of files you had racked up over the course of your mental health spiral.

you could feel the eyes on you, but you couldn't give less of a fuck about it. you didn't hate your coworkers, nor did you love them as you once had: it was just simply indifference.

as you watched your reputation which you had strongly built from the ground up tumble in front of you, you got out some popcorn and watched it burn.

it almost seemed as if all your work friends were laughing at you as you had tripped and collided with the ground in the schoolyard during high school. 

worst part is, you were always there for each and everyone one of them. when they needed help, you'd stick around for extra hours and assist them with what they needed. hell, you'd fight the entire town if one of them were getting picked on. you'd be supporting them in their front row, even when nobody else would. 

lost in your work, you were pulled out of it by a tap on your shoulder. you looked up with an empty expression as you met the mist of darkness that consisted in javier peña's eyes. the light which reflected off of them shined like stars in the deepest hinted skies. his lips curved into a smile as his pointed finger signaled to his ear, motioning for you to take off your headphones. which you did...at an awkward pace, unsure as to why he was trying to talk to you now.

"yes, mr. peña?" your voice came off lightly and questioning as to what he was doing so far from home. his department and yours are the same job, but a considerable amount of distance for someone to make such a casual trip here.

"oh, i wanted to check in on how you were doing." he stated, putting his muscular forearms on his desk as his mended muscles began to reveal themselves. your eyes drift onto them for a slight second, before turning your gaze back onto him, raising an eyebrow at question since you didn't fully grasp the meaning behind it.  "you're not bothered by the talking anymore?" he clarified.

"oh!" you nodded before leaning back into your chair, "no, they sent me a clear message, and taught me some hard lessons." your words made javier frown. he realized the double standard more than you knew, and was disgusted as to why they were critiquing you so severely for something that's clearly a lie. "honestly, by this point i forget what they were..." javier looked back towards your amused expression, "it's all just a blur." beginning to slightly chuckle at your own stupidity of a joke, and was delighted as javier joined in as well.

"well, i'm glad that you finally forgot that they existed." he says as the laughing fit had eventually died down. you send him a simple smile, not expecting him to carefully, slide his hand into yours and lift it up to his mouth. he held you with such genuine affection that it bewildered you since you always saw him as a playboy who was unable to hold such compassion for someone within his eyes. "hopefully you hadn't forgotten about me?" he places a soft kiss onto the back of your hand, sending goosebumps to rise on your arm due to the electric warmth that flowed throughout your body immediately after the contact.

"i think you'd make that impossible to do." you lightly chuckled, retracting your hand from his grasp; unable to withstand anymore flirtatious behavior coming from javier in general. you'd only just had a sip of it, and it was already too much for your own heart to handle. he does have such immense power over people's feelings, and you figured he'd surely use it as a way to break you down.

he sent his signature smug smirk at you as your sights drifted back onto your work, not paying him another thought. he'd always liked that about you, how you knew what he was up to and when to space him out once he had gotten too close to you. "maybe so, cariño." he watched as your body tensed at such an intimate nickname, but you didn't say anything furthermore to him. "hopefully i'll see you around, maybe i'll start making more trips here." he noted as he looked around your bigger office, noticing how much care you put into the place you work. you had a space all to yourself due to your position, and decorated it to seem more homely.

"do whatever you want mr. peña, but i have a lot of work i have to do — and i'm sure you do too." you offered him once last look at your face, before it was forever glued to the shrinking pile of papers.

"yes ma'am, then i'll definitely be seeing you around more." he reassured you before walking out of your office to leave you to it. sadly, he didn't get to witness the helpless and bashful smile that was plastered on your face the moment you heard the door shut.

"idiotic peña." you softly whisper to yourself, putting your blood-rushed cheeks into the coldness your palms had to offer, praying that they'd chill down your face.

next javier peña song chapter

[thefanficmonster]

Interesting Encounters

Corpse Husband *& Reader (Female)

Warnings: Swearing, Mentions of Paranoia and Fear of Invasion of Privacy

Genre: FLUFF, Humor, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Corpse has an interesting run-in with his regular delivery girl, having the chance to talk to her for the first time despite her having been delivering to his door for months. It’s a big step in overcoming his anxiety and paranoia when talking to strangers.

Requested by Anon. Hi darling! Thank you so much for your wonderful request! Hope you come across the final product of your request and give it a read and if so I hope you like it! Sorry for the wait, I hope it was worth it though! Love, Vy ❤

It’s a regular Monday morning, close to 10AM and Corpse’s face is practically glued to the sound editing app he’s downloaded, playing around with some cool effects to add to his voice in the background of the new song he’s been working on. He hasn’t been able to sleep a wink thanks to the immense excitement, not that he would’ve been able to regardless, but the tune and the lines have been stuck in his head all throughout the weekend and he knows they’ll be bothering him until he turns them into something other people will be able to listen and give an opinion on as well. So far he’s done plenty of work but there’s plenty more to go until it’s done. He’s at that point he usually needs feedback and wants to ask for it but would rather not to avoid either too harsh judgement or fake praise.

He slides the headset off, deciding to take a break for the sake of his sanity before he drives himself to insanity with the intensity of his focus on this new piece. His brain just so conveniently sends him a reminder that his groceries are probably waiting for him outside the door. He has, as of the last half a year or so, had someone deliver his groceries to him to avoid trips to the grocery store with both the whole pandemic situation and the growth of following which translates to growth of the risk of him getting recognized. That’s the main reason - and maybe the only one - as to why he doesn’t interact with the people who deliver to him either. He always gives his delivery person the instruction to leave whatever he’s ordered at the doorstep and if it’s not takeout to not even ring the doorbell. 

That being said, the deliverer of his groceries doesn’t ring the doorbell to give him the kind reminder to be responsible, but luckily he hasn’t forgotten to collect them yet in the six months he’s been practicing this delivery technique.

Going to the front door and looking out of the peephole, he confirms there are several full plastic bags waiting to be picked up on the mat. With the person who brought them not in sight, Corpse unlocks the door and steps out to bring in the groceries for the week. Taking them to the kitchen, he unpacks the goods in the three bags. At first glance he would’ve been fooled, seeing as how it seems that all he has ordered is there. But, each Monday, he receives exactly four bags of groceries. One is missing. He rolls his eyes thinking he didn’t see it outside and left it there while he was hurriedly collecting the rest so he gets up to go grab it real quick.

While in the meantime...

Y/N looks through the remainder of bags in her minivan, making a route in her head for what roads and shortcuts she can take to deliver the last of the groceries to the respective homes they need to be taken to. Upon looking through them, however, she sees a bag labeled ‘MM’ that she uses short for ‘Mystery Man’, aka the guy who never opens the door to greet her whenever she delivers him anything. She works for several delivery services such as takeout, groceries, clothes even and has delivered to that apartment hundreds of times but has never met the resident, giving her the right to call him Mystery Man, aka ‘MM’.

“Ah, shit.“ She mumbles under her breath, realizing she failed to grab the fourth bag when on her way up to MM’s apartment.

Coming to terms with the fact that she’ll have to lose another five minutes going back up to his floor, she grabs the bag and takes off running back inside the building and up the stairs, deciding it would be quicker than taking the elevator.

Just as she arrives to the floor, heading straight for the door, it opens, freezing her in her tracks as her eyebrows shoot up.  At the doorstep stands a guy with an eye patch who looks more surprised and maybe even a little terrified than her. Taking in that Mystery Man is not such a mystery anymore, she returns to her professionalism, remaining at a distance and outstretching the hand holding the bag towards him.

“Sorry, forgot to drop this one off as well, I’m a bit all over the place today.“ She says in her most professional voice.

Corpse too regains his composure and takes the handed bag from Y/N gloved hand. Before he can think twice about it he says, “Thanks, uh...”

“Y/N.“ She says, “I’ve delivered to you countless times, it’s funny you don’t know my name but it’s to be expected since I’ve never seen you. This would be a good time to tell me your name so I don’t have to call you Mystery Man anymore.“ She laughs, cutting her own laughter off barely a second later when she realizes what she’s said, “Oh, fucking shit...”

Corpse chuckles, clear amusement in the sound, “Mystery Man? Interesting, interesting. If I ever become a superhero I’ll make sure to pick that name.” He fails to even pay mind to the fact that he’s spoken a lot more than he’d usually feel comfortable with.

Y/N laughs a little awkwardly, rubbing the back of her neck, “Yeah, sorry about that. I promise to come up with a better one if you’re not willing to tell me your real one. Like....Pirate, for example?” she suggests, raising her shoulders.

He can’t help but let out a laugh, “You’d be surprised, but my name is not so far from your mark. It’s, um....” He’s not looking forward to the judgmental look or the questions he might receive in response to his statement but he succumbs to the expected disappointment, “My name’s Corpse.”

Surprisingly, she just smiles - a smile he cannot see due to the surgical mask she’s wearing but the crinkle at the corners of her eyes gives it away. “Cool! Well, I better get going then.”

Just as she turns to head for the elevator this time, seeing as she’s still out of breath from the run up the stairs, Corpse gets an idea he’d probably not be too fond of if he gave himself time to think it over. Which is exactly why he didn’t.

“Hey!“ He calls after her, gaining her attention immediately, causing her to turn around, “You got a minute? I need a little help with something...“

Y/N’s eyebrows raise a little, a moment before she shrugs her shoulders, “Meh, I’m already behind schedule, what’s an extra minute gonna do?” And just like that, they strut their way back towards his apartment.

He can’t help but chuckle, taking the opportunity to crack a joke, “This is how people often get killed. You don’t just walk into a stranger’s apartment like that.”

She scoffs as she passes the threshold, “Believe it or not, you can learn a lot about a person based on the groceries they buy. And trust me buddy, you’re not a murderer.” Earning herself a laugh and a nod with that remark, she continues, “You do appear to be an artist with all the cheap food you’re buying though.”

Corpse laughs yet again, a hint of nervousness is sensed in his laugh this time around though, “Yeah, well, I don’t know if you’re still gonna call me an artist when you hear this song I’ve been working on. Not even out of the box yet.”

Y/N stops in her tracks, “Well, well, well, aren’t I honored to be one of the lucky people hearing this before its release.”

“The first hearing it before its release.“ He corrects her with a pointed look, not missing the excitement that arose in her eyes.

“Let’s hear it then!“

Of all the friendship stories that exist, no one can say this ain’t a unique one.

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[bump1nthen1ght]

I’m Still Hurting (F!Reader/M!Orc)

Pairings: Fem!Reader/Male!Orc

Genre: Urban Fantasy, Angst

Warnings: (Almost) Infidelity

Word Count: 3376 words

Summary: Your boyfriend does something he’d never thought he’d do, and you’re left to try and pick up the pieces.

Request: can I make a request? About an angst story between an m!orc and f!human. I like the idea of like maybe the orc sorta misses being with other orc women or like she can't fulfill his needs and she hears this. I like the idea of almost infidelity

A/N: Surprise bitches! I’m alive! And back with some delicious angst for y’all!! I really loved doing this request, as I don’t often write full on angst. I am also working on a fluffy request  at the moment, if some of you would like some nice comfort after this haha. Hope y’all enjoy!

Honey ❤️: Babe

Honey ❤️: Babe please answer the phone I need to talk to you

Honey ❤️: I know you’re angry, you should be angry, but please talk to me

Honey ❤️: Baby please

“____? Is that my phone?” Brynn yells from the kitchen, already mixing another cocktail for you to down. Her bright red horns peek over the living room divider, bouncing back as she grabs the alcohol from the fridge. Still looking at your bright screen, you don’t even have the energy to respond.

“____?” You throw your phone away as she peaks her head over, giving her a shameful look. Brynn furrows her brow, pulling away from the kitchen island and putting one hand on her hip. “Was that him?” With your eyes darting back and forth from the pillow you shoved your phone under and Brynn’s face, you nod.

“Y-yeah, it was him.”

Brynn sighs, fiddling with her hands.

“Listen, I don’t want to tell you what to do, especially not tonight, but I just think-”

“No, no, it’s alright. You’re right, you’re right.” A jolt hits you as your phone vibrates, the vibrations rumbling through the fabric and stabbing right into your stomach. You force yourself to look away, fiddling with your fingers. Brynn shoots you a pitiful look, you’re sure of it, even as your efuse to meet her gaze. “I shouldn’t talk to him tonight. Not right now, not when I’m like….this.” A slow, tired breath escapes you. “I’ll make him wait, just like he did.”

The coach cushion bends as Brynn sits next to you, rubbing your shoulder as she leans in for a side each. You accept it, your body like a deadweight as you let yourself go slack in her arms.

“Do you want anything? Chocolate, maybe a movie? I’ve got some leftover cheesecake?”

“A movie sounds nice.” You murmur, nodding against her chest. Brynn hums, her tail coming up and massaging your lower back as she kisses you on the forward.

“Of course, your choice. Do you want me to get your drink?”

You nod once more, letting Brynn untangle herself from the hug and laying back on the couch, grabbing the comfiest blanket and the remote. You quickly flick through you and Brynn’s ‘most watched’ section on Netflix. You need something new tonight, something to get your mind off.

All your regular comfort movies are romances, after all.

By the time Brynn comes back, a rum and coke and a carton of ice cream in hand, you’re already snuggled into a blanket burrito. She hands you a spoon and the glass, which you wordlessly accept. She sits down and throws a hand over your shoulder, trying her best to massage the left over tension in your neck. You sink into the feeling, pressing on your movie of choice.

“Mad Max: Fury Road, huh? I’ve heard this movie’s great.”

“Yeah,” you whisper, “It is.”

And chocked full of shitty men getting what they deserve.

As the opening title plays, the deep voice of Tom Hardy kicking the movie off, you snuggle into Brynn’s side. Your phone buzzes again, but it’s drowned out by screaming men and loud engines. Just how you like it.

Honey ❤️: Could you call me in the morning?

Honey ❤️: I’ll leave you alone for the night, I’m sorry

Honey ❤️: I love you

--------

Waruck sighs, his fingers shaking as another small ‘message delivered’ shows up on his screen. No response, just like the last 15 texts. He finds himself typing out another anyway.

I love you so fucking much

It reads, but is quickly deleted. Waruck clicks off his phone, but it stays in his hand, taunting him. The black mirror shows a sad, pathetic boyfriend, getting the silent treatment.

He falls back onto his bed, exhausted from a day of doing nothing. Nothing but worrying and feeling guilty, with the occasional flicking through TV channels and texting his girlfriend.

It’s getting late, his bedside clock cutting through the dark of his room to remind him he’s been up for almost 16 hours now. Waruck slides a hand through his hair and gets up. He’s going to have to camp out in front of the TV, because he knows he won’t be able to sleep tonight.

Not after what he did.

--------

He had gone out with friends. Friends from highschool who he still occasionally chatted with, friends he didn’t even really like anymore. But the past two weeks had him feeling oddly...nostalgic, like something was out of place. So when his buddy Simon had invited him to the bar, he had eagerly accepted.

He remembers grabbing his coat, you sending him a text to have fun, and him not replying. He didn’t know why he didn’t respond, he still doesn’t. The two of you had been going strong for almost 8 months now, with only the occasional hiccup that most couples have. So why didn’t he respond? What made him casually throw your sweet remark to the side like that?

Waruck shakes his head, trying to focus on the movie in front of him. Now isn’t the time to get existential over tiny shit like that, not with how the rest of the night went.

When he met up with the group, Waruck immediately knew that tonight was going to be different. His current group of friends are quite different, less rowdy, than his old posse. At only 10 PM, three of the guys we’re already halfway drunk, saving a spot in line from him outside the noisy bar. The electronic music that thrummed through the concrete and out onto the street reminded him of how much time has passed, how different his usual party-scene is now, and he revels in that feeling of former good-times.

Simon greets him with a hug, the guys shouting his name as he joins them. From the corner of his eye, he sees a gaggle of girls giggling.

And that's where it started.

An orc woman, dressed in a beautiful black dress, winks as she passes him at the bar. Simon nudges his side as Waruck takes a drink.

“Dude, that chick is totally sending you the look”

Waruck furrows his brow, stirring his drink.

“What’s ‘the look’?” He says, taking another sip of his scotch.

Simon rolls his eyes. “The ‘come hit on me’ look dude! That’s the sign you need to go for it!”

“I have a girlfriend, Simon.”

Simon scoffs, throwing his hand out dramatically. “What, that human chick?”

Waruck has half of mind to set down his drink and ask Simon what he means with that sarcastic tone of voice. It pisses him off, but he says nothing, just rolls his eyes.

“No offense, bro, she looks cute and all. But is she really worth missing out on some great ass?”

Waruck grimaces and shoots Simon a dirty look. “Jesus, Simon, are you serious?”

“I’m serious! When was the last time you had fun, y’know? Everyone knows an orc chick can throw down, wild-style.” Simon nudges him in his side, playfully, but it only serves to make Waruck more annoyed. “C’mon, you seriously don’t miss it?”

Waruck should tell him a firm ‘No’, finish his drink, and leave. He should call a cab and go home, call you and rant about his gross misogynistic friend from high school.

But he doesn’t.

The part of him, the part of him that feels slightly off, wonders if this is it. It had been a long time since he had been with another orc. You were a great girlfriend, but so different from in so many ways. Is that it?

Maybe relieving the old days will satisfy whatever longing he has, and then it will leave forever. Would that be so bad, to let loose for one night?

Waruck feels a tap on his shoulder, and turns to see the orc girl from earlier; The one who sent him ‘the look’.

“Hey handsome, can I buy you a drink?”

Between the boosted bass of the music and the orc woman pressing up against him, Waruck doesn’t notice Simon slip away, giving him a pat on the back.

Leave, say no, tell her she’s got the wrong guy, you fucking idiot. His consciousness yells.

“U-uh, sure.” He stutters.

She introduces herself as Naz and says she noticed him the minute he walked in.

“Hard not to notice the best-dressed guy in the room.” She flirts, pressing herself closer and up against him.

He has a thousand little moments like that, to say something; To pull back and apologize, but he doesn’t.

Instead, he slips into a corner booth with her, purposely ignoring the texts you send to check up on him. You had remembered that he wasn’t sure how much fun this night would be, and routinely checked in if he needed a convenient excuse to leave early. You’re sweet like that.

Naz is sweet too. She's a great conversationalist, with a good head on her shoulders and an interesting career in zoology. Waruck could see the two of you being good friends.

Is that why she seems so alluring? Because she’s so similar to you? Waruck’s mind does mental gymnastics to try and justify his hesitance, his compliance in believing that maybe she has something different after all, even though he knows that isn’t true.

The two of them talk for a solid hour and a half, Naz slowly inching herself closer and putting a hand on his knee. His body screams in resistance, his stomach tying up into knots, but he doesn’t push her away.

“So, I’ve got a room not too far from here. What do you say we go make ourselves a bit more comfortable?”

This is his final chance to find an excuse and say goodnight. To run back home and forget this ever happened. But the words are caught in his throat and he’s further silenced by the nearby whooping of his asshole friends.

“Yeah, Waruck! Get some!”

Naz chuckles and mistakenly reads his seething anger at himself with embarrassment for his friends. She leans in, grabbing his jaw, and whispers.

“Let's give them a show, huh?” Then, she kisses him.

The noises of the bar, his friends, and Naz all drown away as her lips mold into his. Waruck’s body goes rigid, terrified as time seems to freeze as he kisses someone who is not his girlfriend.

But all of that stops when your ringtone begins to blast in his pocket. It should be near silent when compared to the pounding bar music, but that familiar jingle seems to cut deep into his skin and skewer his heart. Waruck pulls away with a quick jerk, Naz almost falling over as he pushes himself into his seat and away from her body-heat. Every nerve is a light with tension as he quickly pulls out his phone.

There on the screen is a picture of you, your contact name, “Sweetie❤️”, shining through the dimmed light of that bar. Waruck breathes heavily, feeling like he’s just run an emotional marathon, stuck in his own head until Naz slides away from him.

“Wait, hold on, do you have a girlfriend?”

Waruck looks at her, then looks at his still-ringing phone, then back to Naz. He nods.

Naz's face curls up into obvious disgust, quickly directing her body to be as far away from him as possible. “Fucking hell, dude. What the fuck?” She grabs her handbag and stomps out of the booth, not before throwing her drink in his face and telling him to go to hell.

He almost watches her move across the bar, most likely to go complain to her friends about the asshole she just wasted the last 2 hours chatting up, but all he can focus on is your picture on his phone.

--------

Waruck practically runs out of the bar, his whole body covered in sweat and his mind racing a mile a minute.

What the hell was wrong with him?

He felt like a 15 year old, goaded into another shitty prank just because he wanted to look cool in front of his friends, buying into their weird bullshit about humans. Was he seriously going to throw away your wonderful relationship over one night, over one urge?

Naz had been strikingly beautiful, in all the ways he was taught an orc like himself should look for. She could probably get any guy in that club tonight, but she wasn’t you. You’re different, but in so many cool, inconsequential, uniquely-you ways.

Waruck doesn’t know how long he walks before he sits down outside a cafe, trying to collect his racing emotions. He feels gross, sticky with the kind of sweat you only get after too much alcohol and too many people. The screen of his phone seems to reflect every smudge and finger-print as he swipes it to unlock it, finally getting the courage to read your text messages.

They start off normal, spread out over several hours. The occasional “How are the guys?” and “Hope you are having fun! Just let me know when you get home safe.” before dropping off into nothing. Right up until 20 minutes ago, where you send a short and curt text that has his heart dropping to his stomach.

Sweetie❤️: Can you call me right now?

Sweetie❤️: Waruck, I need to talk to you

Sweetie❤️: Are you still at the bar?

After that is a notification of your missed call from earlier and Waruck can’t help but feel  guilt stir in his gut.

It could be nothing, something unrelated to what he almost did tonight. But the notification he gets from his Instagram says otherwise. It says a mutual of his tagged him in a photo 30 minutes ago.

Waruck feels like vomiting when he opens up Simon’s story and sees a shaky picture of Naz, draped over him in the corner booth, with him looking all too happy to have her there. The caption reads

“At least someone’s getting lucky tonight 🤣🤣 #BoysNight20XX”

But what comes next is even worse; An even blurrier photo of Naz kissing him, both of their eyes closed as she almost sits in his lap.

Waruck can’t even look at the caption, quickly exiting out of the app and calling you.

He needs to explain himself.

But what will he say?

The phone rings, rings, rings….

Waruck waits with bated breath, thinking you’re going to let it go to voicemail, but you answer. There is no cheerful “Hi Babe” or even a tired and drawn-out “Hey.” Instead all Waruck hears is a shaky sigh, waiting for an explanation.

The words stay caught in Warucks throat, trying to find a way to maneuver and swing around to a solid excuse, a lie he hopes you won’t catch.

But he can’t, he can’t. Not to you.

So you make it easy for him, like you always do, and start the conversation off instead.

“Were you flirting with that girl?”

Waruck’s mind doesn’t give him a choice, the truth already spilling out like a tidal wave.

“Yes.”

Waruck hears you suck in a breath, before you shakily ask once more,

“Did you kiss her? Did you kiss her back?”

“Yes.”

There's 15 seconds of brutal silence as Waruck sits with his confession. In the moment, Waruck feels like he can hear your pounding heartbeat through the receiver.

You hang up.

---------

You hate the weather outside for two reasons.

One: You had far too much rum last night to enjoy any amount of sunlight. And,

Two: On a terrible morning like this one, it feels unfair that there aren't any dramatic thunder storms.

The bell rings on the cafe door as you walk in, causing you to wince as you pull down your sunglasses.

Thank god for the low lighting of these cafes.

You rub your brow, eyes scanning the menu above the bar. Some caffeine should do you good, at least with your headache.

But when you spot him, tucked away at a table, tapping his foot, all that aching pain seems to fall to your subconscious. Before you can meet eyes, you look away, forcing yourself to re-read the menu and blink away your tears.

You face the inevitable when you put in your order, turning to walk towards Waruck. He’s locked his gaze into the wood grain of the table, his large body hunched up and small, like he wants to sink into the shadows. He looks like shit, with large bags under his eyes and a nervous tension in his face.

He startles when you pull out a chair, sitting down across from him, but quickly curls back into his ball of shame. He looks so guilty, a small part of you wants to comfort him and tell him it’ll be alright.

You punch away that part of you with a baseball bat.

“Why did you flirt with her?”

Waruck says nothing. He looks at you with his tired eyes, big and racked with guilt.

I don’t know. They whisper.

Your fingers dig into your jeans, anger boiling up and through your nerves.

That’s not a good enough answer.

“Were you,” You suck in a breath, trying to control your volume, “Were you going to sleep with her? If I hadn’t called you, would you have-”

“No!” Waruck nearly shouts, shaking the table as his knees bang against the bottom, but he recoils once he sees the way you flinch. “No, I wasn’t going to.”

Those pesky tears press against your eyelids once more. You can feel your nails digging indents into your thighs.

“I don’t know if  I can believe that.” You whisper, failing to catch the crack in your voice.

Waruck’s brow furrows as he nervously chews his bottom lip. He tries to meet your gaze, but you seem to look right through him.

“I know.” Waruck sighs, bringing his hand up to rub the back of his neck.

There's a tenuous silence; Waruck tries to find the words to fix things  while you focus on the details of the cafe walls, examining every nook and cranny as you try not to sob.

“I-I understand if you don’t trust me. I understand if you hate me, or you want to break up. But please, please know that I love you, and that I’m sorry. I never wanted to hurt you. I’ve been kicking myself over flirting with that girl because I love you so fucking much. I-”

You hold up your hand, stopping Waruck in his tracks. He realizes how loud he’s been talking and that people are beginning to stare. He huddles back into his corner, tucking his hands into his lap. You let out a long breath. Waruck takes the risk and looks up.

When his eyes finally meet yours, he realizes just how sad you look. A treacherous tear has begun falling down your cheek, sending a lightning bolt of remorse into Waruck’s chest.

You take in another deep breath, wiping away the tear with the back of your hand. You look at Waruck, exhausted.

“I don’t,”  You falter, but catch yourself, “I don’t want to break up with you. I just don’t know if I’m ready to forgive you yet.”

Waruck nods, fiddling with his fingers.

“Of course, I get it-”

“I’m not done.” Waruck quickly shuts his mouth. “You hurt me, Waruck. Hurt me in a way I don’t think I’ll ever forget. So I need time. Time before I can even see you again without thinking,” You hiccup, but this time you let the wave of emotion hit you, full force.  “Without thinking about that night.”

A lady calls out your order, but neither of you makes a move. You sit in each other's presence, trying to wrap yourselves around the mess of emotions, trying to read the others mind without seeming too obvious.

You both sit here, in the presence of something that's been broken, damaged in a way that’s cut the heart of your chest and slams them on the table. There’s a crack that runs down between you two, inching open more and more with each breath.

But somehow, somehow, you both think you have a chance of fixing it.