#family reunions are my personal hell | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

itsharleystuff · 1 year ago

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↳ I. 𝘞𝘖𝘙𝘓𝘋 𝘊𝘓𝘈𝘚𝘚 𝘚𝘐𝘕𝘕𝘌𝘙

Gif not mine! | Read part two here.

— 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dbf!Joel Miller x afab!fem reader (no outbreak au)

— 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 7.4k

— 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: After two years of absence and finally graduating college, it’s time you go back to Texas; to come home with your dad. But the prospect of facing the Joel Miller, your dad’s best friend and your secret crush, has your mind scattered.

— 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬/𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: 18+ content (minors dni!), smoking, alcohol consumption, age gap (reader is twenty four, Joel is late forties), oral sex (f! receiving), fingering, spitting, mentions of masturbation, pet-names (sweetheart, darling), moral conflict, semi-public sex, slight dirty talk, pussy-drunk Joel, no use of y/n. I think that’s it, let me know if I missed something:)

— a/n: I honestly have tons of ideas for this particular universe, so I might make more parts if y’all like it<3 btw, reader is a fashion designer in this. Thought it might be important to mention, lol.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏

You had never met him before. Not in person, at the very least.

Up until a while ago, you'd only seen him in the pictures your dad kept hanging around the house. And he had plenty of those: both of them in college, a road-trip with other friends or even after a hunt. Of course, you'd heard a lot about him too, but whenever you visited Texas your dad would dedicate his whole days to you exclusively. No time to visit his best friend-slash-neighbor, despite all the opportunities presented.

So the first time you ever saw him face to face was two years ago, in a Fourth of July barbecue he hosted.

Joel Miller.

Joel mother-fucking Miller.

Tall, broad, rugged looking, moody and with a seemingly stern exterior. An absolute dilf.

You always found him rather appealing— nothing but a silly little thought from whenever you would stare at the photographs. But meeting him personally was a whole eye-opening experience, like getting glasses after discovering you’ve had astigmatism your entire life.

"He liked you, y'know?" your dad had told you the next day. "Joel isn't usually that nice."

"Maybe it's because I'm your daughter," you joked. "I bet that helped with my impression."

"No," said him, laughing and shaking his head, "it was something else."

You didn't interrogate him on the matter. Whatever it was, you sure were glad to be in his grace.

That summer you saw a lot of him— specially since it was the longest you had spent in Austin ever since your mom passed away. You were twenty two at the time, right in the middle of your college studies. But the amazing thing about Joel was that he never made you feel patronized, neither did he treat you like you had to fit in the 'best friend's daughter' box. He was nice and made you feel comfortable in all ways possible.

Frankly, deep down you wanted him to be an asshole. If that were the case, you could've had the perfect excuse to push him away. Instead, your crush simply grew stronger.

Because, fucking hell, the man was hot in a striking, yet brooding manner. Joel Miller was attractive in the way a man is supposed to be attractive. Which was quite a contrast compared to the boys that usually neared you, who had no sense of themselves and were always fooling around with no idea what they were doing.

It was so bad that even now, after two years without seeing him —or your dad, for that matter— you feel anxious and eager at the thought of a reunion.

You're now officially graduated, and after a lifetime of traveling the states to visit both your parents, added to four years of college in New York, it's finally time to settle down for a while. To move in with your dad and make up for the lost time.

"Are you really going to stay in Texas?" Sophie, your best friend, asked through the phone speaker. "After all these years in the big city?"

"Yeah, I ought to stay with him. After all, we're the only family we've got," you replied, staring out the window of the cab. "When I told him I was coming he got so excited, you should've heard him. He said he'd throw me a homecoming party, can you believe that? Who's even going to attend?"

You hear her giggle on the other side. "What about that Mr. Miller you always brag so much about?"

"What about him?" you wondered with half strained voice.

"Oh, don't play coy, honey," she mocks. "We both know how much you want him to give you a sweet old Texan welcome."

"I have no idea what that is," you respond, smiling.

"I just made it up. No idea what they do in the south. I'm from Brooklyn." Of course she made it up. "But I meant it's pretty obvious how much you want his head between your legs..."

"Okay, yeah- I get it." You interrupt, starting to see familiar houses from your dad's neighborhood. "You're right. But he's... Righteous. Apparently."

"Sweetie, let's be honest," Sophie talks softly, "no man is righteous. Just show them a bit of skin and they'll be wrapped around your finger forever."

"I'm not sure I-"

"Try it. And keep me updated," she mumbles hastily. "I've got to go now. I have an appointment with the Ralph Lauren executives in ten minutes."

"Treat them nicely, Sophie. Don't waste my recommendation letter," the girl laughs.

"Yeah, yeah... I'm serious about Miller, though. Be sure to wear something low-cut. Bye, bye!"

She hangs up right when you're outside the house; the one you knew so well and at the same time felt so unknown. The one where you spend each summer and occasional holiday in. Your childhood home. Oddly enough, the door is open but you can't see your dad anywhere near. You hoped he'd be around to help you with the luggage, though it didn't seem like it.

"Dad?" You call for him from the entrance, carrying both heavy suitcases. "Anyone here?!"

The faint noise of footsteps is barely audible before you see him leaning against the kitchen door, arms crossed over his sturdy chest.

Breathtaking.

"M'not your old man but pretty sure I can help you with that," he says with that characteristic Texan drawl of his, gesturing towards your cases.

"But if it isn't Joel Miller in the flesh," he tilts his head with a faint smile, approaching your side. "You haven't aged a day since I last saw you."

It was true. Perhaps his skin looked a bit more tan, his hair somewhat longer and curlier, his beard starting to gray. But everything else remained the same. He smelled just like you remembered —fresh soap and musky cologne—, and still held onto the same mode choices: flannels, boots and dark jeans.

"Quite the opposite to ya," he says, taking both your suitcases from your hands. "I like your new hair."

"Are you implying I look old?" Joel grins smudgily.

"None of that, darlin'. I'd say mature." His words manage to make your pulse raise. "Shall I take this upstairs?"

"Yeah, I- I'll walk you to my room," he chuckles as he steps on the stairs. "What?"

The man shakes his head as he makes his way to the second floor, followed closely by you. Nothing about this house seemed different. Nevertheless, you felt different.

"Nothing. S'just..." he takes a deep breath, but changes the subject quickly. "Your dad went to the store to get some beers. He'll be back any second."

You nod, opening the door to your dorm. It was exactly the same as it was two years ago, simply tidier and with a poster that read 'welcome home and happy graduation' in messy, colorful handwriting over your bed.

"He made that himself. Though, I've gotta say, I'm glad he didn't pursue an artistic career." You both laugh at the comment.

"A for effort." Joel sets your luggage next to the doorframe, being monitored by your keen eye. "Will I see you tonight? I know you're not a big fan of social gatherings."

"Your dad'll kill me if I'm not. He's got me here since ten o'clock to help him out." You look up at him, feeling vaguely nostalgic when watching your surroundings. "But I'm also hoping we'll catch up. I'd like to hear all about your adventures in the big city, aight?"

"Oh, I'm not sure you'd like that," you retort. "I'm afraid you'll see a side of me you might disapprove of."

Joel's brows shot up in a cocky expression. "And here we were all thinking you were such a nice girl. Forget 'bout me, sweetheart. Your old man would drop dead if he gets the news."

You can't hold back the smirk that spreads across your face as you look him dead in the eye. Truth be told, you had wished for him to change, in any sort of way. Maybe if he had gotten a couple more wrinkles or grey hairs you'd be able to not find him attractive anymore. But age suited Joel. Maybe if he stopped being so warm to you, so kind, it might be able to fade away.

'Righteous', you'd called him.

But he isn't so much. No man ever is.

In your last visit you weren't bold enough with him, but each time you'd say something slightly suspicious, every occasional brush or brief skin to skin contact during a shared moment, had an effect on him. He reacted to you, even if he thought you wouldn't know. Sure, he was well restrained and you probably wouldn't have noticed if you weren't actually looking for any signs. That didn’t change the facts, anyway.

"I've never really been much of a nice girl, to be honest," you retaliate, dragging the words. "But I bet you can keep a secret, can't you?"

Something in your voice causes him to unconsciously stop breathing. His brows knit together and it takes him a second to regain composure. However, he doesn't get to say a thing, your dad's voice suddenly floating from the floor beneath.

With your blood rushing, you practically flee downstairs, seeing his face change completely at the sight of his beloved daughter.

"You're here early, what the heck?" The man mumbles with a kindhearted smile, embracing you in a tight hug.

"Figured I might surprise you." The boxes of beer he bought were quickly discarded when he saw you. "So, are you surprised?"

"Very. But I was supposed to pick you up at the airport. Did you take a cab?"

"Don't worry about that," you reassure with a gesture. "It was included in the airport bill."

"Oh, man..." your dad turns to see his friend, "you leavin' already?"

"I have to pick up Sarah," he explains, peeking at his watch. "She had soccer practice today."

"Can I expect to see her later, too?"

Joel nods at your question, faintly beaming. "F'course. She loves you."

⩇⩇:⩇⩇✧˖°

Shortly after Miller's departure your dad sent you off to bed, arguing that you were probably tired. And even if you wanted to stay and chat with him for a while, you had to admit he wasn't mistaken. Either way, you still had the rest of the day —and plenty more ahead— to do that. Besides, he still needed to sort some things out before the party.

So, without unpacking or undoing your bed, you slept for hours, dreaming about how your new life was going to be.

(...)

When you finally woke up, night had already fallen. Your dad mustn't have wanted to wake you, but it made you feel in a rush to get ready. You took a cold shower and kept your makeup neutral in order to be quick. Furthermore, Sophie's advice to wear something low-cut was taken under consideration.

Judging by the noise coming from the backyard, you guessed the guests had already started to arrive. You heard talking and music, aside from smelling the hamburgers your dad was preparing. There were kids running around and a couple of people chatting in the living room when you entered, setting all eyes on you.

You knew most of them, neighbors and friends of your dad's. They immediately monopolized your attention, asking questions regarding your career life, reasons why you chose your major and saying how much your dad loved and missed you. It wasn't bad, you liked the courtesy and praise; nonetheless, in the back of your mind you were solely expecting the Millers' arrival.

After a while, you excuse yourself and decide to join your dad outside, stepping onto the fresh air.

"How's everything here?" you ask friendly. "Need any help?"

He was surrounded by some other of his pals, all of whom you'd met in your last visit, except for one– still, you couldn't help but think that he had a familiar air.

"We're alright, honey." You greet them all with a smile as your dad hooks an arm over your shoulders, offering a beer that you decided to decline.

"My niece was right," said the man you didn't know. "You're quite beautiful." He spoke subtly and on the right lines, giving you a affectionate smile.

"Ah- I don't believe you've met Tommy," your dad chimed in. "He's Joel's younger brother."

"Oh, yeah..." you remembered, "he mentioned you last time I came. It's nice to finally meet you."

Now that you saw him up-close, he did resemble his brother in a certain way. There was something very emblematic that all the Millers had, a sparkle in their eyes that you picked-up on Sarah, but that enchanted you in—

"Speak of the devil..." your head jerked to the side, watching as your most expected guests come to join you.

"My goodness!" you speak in surprise, sharing a hug with Joel's daughter. "You've grown so much in the last two years... You're even taller than me now and I'm wearing heels." The girl giggles, charming as always. "Didn't you just turn seventeen?"

"A month ago," she answers. "But let's not talk about that, it makes dad feel old."

"Joel?" You look behind her, locking glances with him. "But he's in his prime!" he rolls his eyes sardonically.

"Come on, sunshine," Tommy says, "you know it's not polite to make fun of the elderly."

They laugh and you can vaguely hear your dad scolding him, but don't really pay attention to it as they go back to their conversation. In the corner of your eye, you catch a glimpse of his smile.

He looked handsome. To you, he always did. Tonight, however, he decided to change the flannels for an olive button up shirt and a black leather jacket. His curls seemed carefully styled and he smelled of sandalwood.

"By the way," you address Sarah, "I brought you something from New York. It's one of my designs..."

"Seriously?" Her whole face lit up at your words. "You know how much I love your work!"

"Yeah, thought you might like it. But I'll give it tomorrow. I haven't unpacked and my things are real a mess."

"That reminds me." The girl turns to Joel. "Did you bring it?" he nods and takes a small box from the pocket of his jacket, handing it to her.

"What's that?" you question out of curiosity.

"I got you a lil' present," Sarah answered.

"You, did what?" Joel countered with a reproachful tone.

"I mean- I chose a present..." the man clears his throat and she rolls her eyes. "We chose a present, which he payed for. Buuut, it was my idea so-"

His dad snorts and shakes his head, turning to chat with the rest of the men. The younger one drags you away to have some privacy, taking a solitary spot under the big apple tree. During your conversation, you discuss the details of your so called 'highlife' and open the tiny box they gifted, finding a shiny ring sitting on the bottom.

"Do you like it?" You grin and nod in response, deciding to put it on in that same instant. "Dad noticed you like wearing lots of rings.”

Joel noticed.

"I love it," you remark. "Thank you. Both."

Your eyes drift to the crowd gathered around the grill, men laughing and sharing beers. The surprising part was that when you finally found your target, he was already staring at you. If he was expecting you to notice or not, there was no sign. But the older one held your lingering glance and everything else seemed to fade away, suddenly becoming white noise in the background. There was a challenging fire behind his brown orbs, kind of like he was saying 'I know what you're doing and I can do it too'.

"So," you turn back to Sarah with a strange, thrilling sensation in the pit of your stomach, "what's up with you? How's high school?"

"Boring. You know the drill."

"And the boys?" she almost looks flustered at the question.

"Complicated. Bet you know all ‘bout that." Your brows furrow slightly.

"What gave you that idea?"

"Just an impression," her fingers fidget nervously.

You shrug, deciding to change the subject. "You're graduating soon... Have you decided on any universities yet?"

"Not quite," she sighs. "I'm worried about my dad, really. I don't want him to feel alone if I move out."

A sly smile parts your lips. "He won't be. There's my dad, your uncle and... Me. I'll make him a Tinder profile. He'll be fine."

Sarah chuckles and shakes her head. "He talks about you, y'know?"

"What, Joel?" you ask in a sarcastic tone, cocking an eyebrow at her. "Hard to believe."

"It's true! I think he admires you, in a way..."

With a hand gesture, you stop her. "Are we talking about the same man here?"

"Ask him. He might deny it, but it's often your name is brought up in conversations," she unfolds. "When you got that internship in Ralph Lauren, the articles you've written, magazines you've appeared in..."

"It sounds extremely rare for someone like your dad would be interested in the fashion industry. Even if it's just for me, cause I'm certain my own dad is the one forcing all this information onto him."

"Maybe," Sarah agrees. "Whatever it may be, I'm sure he'll be alright if you're around. At least happy, I think."

⩇⩇:⩇⩇✧˖°

The kitchen was a good shelter from all the gossip and noisy kids that turned out to be overwhelming after some time. No one came in there unless they needed to; and as of now they all seemed more concerned with other sorts of business. Besides, it was pretty late and most people had already headed home.

A bottle of wine was opened and poured into a glass, accompanied by a Marlboro cigarette from the depths of your purse, enjoying them while watching the night sky through the window. All your mind could think about was him and his odd behavior: Joel picking up on details, Joel talking about you with Sarah. Him. Just him.

"Am I interrupting somethin'?" you shake your head without looking back, recognizing his voice.

He walks over to you silently. The man is somehow very silent for someone so big, to the point where you didn't even listen when he opened the door. He leans against the counter, his body so close to yours that you can feel his warmth even if you're not seeing him.

"Want some?" you ask, raising your half-empty glass of red liquid and whipping your body to face him, standing shoulder to shoulder, closing the curtain in the meantime.

"Thanks," he mutters, showing his can of beer, “m'not that fancy." You titter, taking a short drag from the dart. "I'll have one of those, if you can spare."

With the fag between your teeth, you take the pack of smokes from your bag and hand it to him, shooting an inquiry expression.

"What?" he asks with an arrogant beam.

"Nothing..." your voice comes out weird from holding back laughter as you take the lighter in your fist. "I just didn't know you smoked."

He takes one to his lips, keeping close eye contact with you all the while. The action sends a rush of excitement throughout your whole body as you duck forward to burn the unlit end, staring back at him with hooded eyes.

"I rarely do," he admits, setting the package aside.

If he wasn't hot enough already, the practiced mannerisms he had when smoking simply added to his sultriness.

"Why you hiding?" you wonder, ashing the cigarette over the sink.

"Not hidin'. Just sent Sarah home, but I wanted to catch you before leavin'."

It didn't surprise you, they lived across the street and, after all, he did say he wanted to talk.

"Did I mention how handsome you look today?" He sneers shortly.

"Well, my daughter was very clear 'bout not wanting me to wear flannels around a fashion designer." Joel takes a sip from his drink, holding the cig between his fingers.

"She gives me too much credit," you say, a bit embarrassed.

"You deserve it," the man replies grimly. "And you look absolutely beautiful, too. One of yours?"

His eyes briefly set on your chest, for such a short second that you actually believed you had probably imagined it. The dress you chose for the occasion was one of your first designs; pearl colored, cinched from the waist above and slightly loose over your thighs.

"Yes," you gulp, diverting your gaze to the glass on your hand. "So how's everything 'round here?" Joel shrugs his shoulders with indifference.

"'S alright. Same as always," he meditates on it. "Boring without you to keep us entertained."

You utter a mocking snort. "Do my silly little experiences really entertain you?"

The older one tilts his head to blow some smoke. "You always talk so freely about your dreams and the goals you've accomplished. And your dad's enthusiasm is contagious, I might say." He licks his bottom lip, thinking. "I don't know... I'm glad someone close is doing all 'at. Feels like you ain't afraid of anything."

His words put a bright smile on your face. "Life's a risk, isn't it? Better be bold if you want to end up somewhere."

He huffs a laugh, nodding in agreement. A comfortable silence veils between you as you enjoy the alcohol and cigarettes. It was always nice to hang out with him like this.

"By the way, how are you holding up?" the question clasps his curiosity. "Parenting a teenager can be quite difficult, I've heard."

"Jesus," he grunts, "it's driving me insane. Not her per say, but the whole 'boy talk' 's just too much."

"I bet," you chortle, "although, I wouldn't worry too much. It's just a phase."

"Yeah?" Joel scoffs. "You gon' tell me you ain't got tons of guys chasing around ya' anymore?"

"Oh, they're there," your tone matches his energy. "All these old ladies kept trying to introduce me to their sons a couple hours ago. Nevertheless, I gotta say..." He leaves the empty can on the bar across him. "Boys make me sick."

His eyes widen in surprise, but the rest of his face remained in composure. "How so?"

The atmosphere swiftly changes, a kind of heated tension rising to the top, palpable in your fingertips and waving in his chest.

"I've had my fair share of them," you explain playfully. "Guys my age never know what they want or what they're doing. I've decided to change my focus to men, instead."

He knows what you're up to. You can tell he does.

The question is: will he take the bait?

"Meaning?" Joel's lips curve around the orange filter in a smug smirk. You jerk your head to the right, setting the glass of wine aside.

"I'm not sure..." he laughs dryly at your hesitation.

"I think you are, sweetheart."

The abiding silence that followed that statement was nothing but electrifying. Clouds of burning tobacco linger around as you share an intense gaze, creating a solemn, intriguing ambience.

"Well, how am I supposed to tell you, out of all people, that I'm looking to get attended by an older man?" you rag. "Don't you think it's inappropriate?"

"Mhm," his grin is still visible under the dim, warm lights in the kitchen, "clever girl. I see what you're tryin' to do."

"I don't know what you mean," you murmur, scowling and intending to sound clueless.

He doesn't buy it.

"No-uh. You're many things, darlin', but dumb isn't one." He leans forward, his face barely inches away from yours, eyes scanning your features. Eventually, he decides to keep playing your little game. "Why's that, anyway?"

"See, Joel," you blow some smoke right under his nose, "boys I've been with always take. Everything's gotta be about themselves. I've never been the type to believe in relationships, but if they're gonna suck at that too, the least they could do is make you cum, not leave you drier than a fucking desert." Your words daze his mind and he finds himself pending for something that he wasn't supposed to. "Shit- I'm sorry... I shouldn't talk like this."

"Damn right you shouldn't," he rasps out, "what would your dad think if he heard you?"

Joel Miller never considered himself a weak man. Not once in his life. It's not who he is.

But right now, under your curious, passionate gape, he's slowly crumbling.

"Good thing you aren't my dad, then."

His heart is pounding in expectation and confusion. He keeps thinking 'this can't be happening'. He tries to convince himself that it's all in his mind, like he did last time you were in Austin. But you bat your pretty eyelashes at him an it feels like you're begging to be taken away.

"Sweetheart, I don't think you know what you're asking for," he talks strictly, like you wouldn't actually understand. "Say this things to the wrong person and they might take advantage of you."

You laugh under your breath. "Are you the wrong person?"

He remains silent for a couple seconds, contemplating your question, meditating this whole parade in order to keep his head cold and ignoring the increasing heat that soared all around.

"M'not sure," he huffs.

It's true. He doesn't know anymore.

Your cig has burned out.

"I think you are, Mr. Miller."

Oh, such a clever girl indeed.

Suspense is killing him, like he's walking on the edge of a blade. Your closeness is intoxicating, the smell of your perfume gets him dizzy and his skin burned there where your limbs brushed against each other's. His lungs felt like crushing under the weight of anticipation.

"Quit beating around the bush," he downright demands. "Tell me what you want."

Honesty is a virtue; one you didn't lack with him.

"You," his chest puffs with a shaky breath. "Ever since we first met, you've been the only man on my mind."

Dangerous. This whole situation is dangerous.

But Joel would be lying if he said he didn't feel the same. That was the worst part of it.

For little more than a decade he had been perfectly content with his singleness; the sole thought of going on a date being absolutely terrifying. His best friend did try to set him up with a couple of his female acquaintances multiple times; yet he declined or merely accepted out of sympathy, never taking things further than a one night stand. Joel never expected that the one woman that would grasp his attention would be you.

He had never been into younger girls, at least not that young. But there was something enchanting about you. Whether it was your charming smile, your cunning eyes or your confident, determined nature that made all heads turn in your direction when you walked into a place.

Something about you bewitched him.

Perhaps it was none of that and he was simply depraved. Perhaps it was all of that and more.

For all he knew, you could've put a spell on him. Since your last visit, you had been on his mind like a mist that fogged his senses. He felt torn apart by his morals and desires, trying his best to get rid of the ghost of you.

That was until your dad told him you were coming back to stay for an undefined amount of time. What kind of sick game was fate playing with him?

"You tryin' to get me killed?" he locks a snarl behind his teeth.

His cigarette has burned out too.

"I know I'm asking for much," you say, "that I put you in a difficult position. With my dad and all 'at." Swallowing hard, you muster enough courage to raise a hand to his jacket, just laying your palm flat there. He allows it. "So I understand if you say no. You can decline and we’ll just act like nothing happened."

If Joel were a better man, he would've.

He definitely should have.

"It's okay. I can always call the next older lad on my hotline," you joke. "Your brother Tommy... I think he'll be interested."

He'd be damned.

No. Joel was just a man, and like every other, he could only take so much.

Quicker than you'd expect, his hand catches your wrist and moves your arm away from his body, the other raising your head up with two fingers under your chin. His face is so close to yours that his breath tickles your skin.

"Is that so?" his voice drops an octave. "You disappoint me, sweetheart."

Your legs quiver, feeling suddenly weak on the knees and hot on your lower abdomen. "How?"

His thumb sweeps over your bottom lip, staring down at you as if he had you wrapped around his finger. Truth be told, he really did.

"Thought there was a bit more fight in ya'," he whispers, letting go of your hand and laying his palm flat on your hip. "I haven't yet given my answer and you're already thinking of fucking my brother?"

You lick your lips nervously, glancing at his own and then back at his eyes. Your breathing pattern is completely altered and the ache between your legs starts to grow.

"Or was that just to tease me?" he asks with a grin.

"I don't know..." your hands clench in fists, wanting to touch him but wallowing in this new power dynamic. "Maybe."

"That's rather vague, darling." He takes a step forward, eradicating the distance that separated your bodies. "I'll ask again..." his fingers curl around your throat, not applying pressure but merely holding you in place. "What do you want?"

It's too late to look back now. Though you wouldn't think of it. "I want you to fuck me, Joel."

Music to his ears.

He doesn't respond, eyes boring into yours intently. The unholy words that you spoke scatter his brain and all he wants to do is accept. But he wouldn't indulge so easily. If you wanted to play games, he'd teach you how to play better.

You tilt your head upwards, searching for his mouth with limited mobility. Your eyes briefly close at the feeling of your lips barely brushing against his own, waiting for him to kiss you. Except he does not, simply caressing the soft flesh teasingly.

Joel's body is flushed against yours, keeping you caged between the counter and him. The hand that rested on your hip gradually travels to your ass, splaying his fingers over your covered butt and giving a firm squeeze that makes you squeal. Every breath he takes is the very air you breathe. The proximity and his scent are slowly —but surely— making you lose your sanity.

"Such a pretty girl," he mutters hoarsely, "with such filthy thoughts." You look at him through heavy lids, gaining enough courage to move your hands to his broad chest. "What am I gonna do with you?"

"Please, just- kiss me." The plea is so desperate and pathetic that it doesn't even sound like you.

"Can't do," he says at last. "If you want to be treated like a slut, you'll get treated like one. Sluts don't get kissed." You feel yourself get wet with his attitude, trying to clench your thighs together in order to create some friction. "I can't give you what you want, sweetheart. Not tonight, at least."

His lips move to your jawline, tracing open-mouthed kisses along your bare neck and collarbones that have you panting in seconds, his facial hair scratching your skin deliciously before coming back up again.

"But don't worry, angel," he pours into the shell of your ear, "I'll make sure you cum, since you want it so bad."

"Fuck, Joel-" you stutter when he abruptly spins your body around, his growing bulge grinding against your lower back.

His face nuzzles on the crook of your neck as his hand roams over your thigh, leisurely making its way beneath your dress. You feel his teeth lightly scraping your flesh, the hardness of his crotch poking your ass and your own arousal pooling in your panties.

"Jesus..." he groans when his fingers reach the dampness between your legs. "I've barely touched you and you're already soaked."

"I meant it when-" your sentence gets muffled by a strangled moan that escapes your lips, "when I said I've been wanting you for so long."

His body vibrates with a laugh, ruffling your hair with his breath. He starts rubbing small circles on your clit, making your whole body shiver and squirm while he pushes the fabric aside, gathering your slick with his index and spreading it all the way back to your bud, repeating his actions until your arousal covered his knuckles.

"Wanna know a lil' secret?" his voice comes out soothing and husky as he eases two digits inside you, stretching you out in a way that makes both of you groan. "I felt the same."

His fingers are thicker, bigger and rougher than yours, adding to a new, unlocked satisfaction you had not yet experienced.

Joel took his time to explore the spots that provided more pleasure, that had your hips chasing him and biting your lip to refrain from making noise. His other hand gropes your breast, caressing your delicate nipple over the thin fabric, easily done due to the lack of a bra. He keeps altering his ministrations, collecting the wetness from your core and bringing it up to your bundle of nerves, prior to sliding into your cunt again. All that can be heard in the kitchen are the squelching, utterly pornographic sounds of your pussy and your pitiful whines, inaudible to everyone but him.

"You like this, sweetheart?" he hums, feeling your sticky arousal drip down your thighs, rejoicing in your responsiveness to him. "Being fingered by a man twice your age while your dad's just a few steps away?"

You squeeze his thick fingers, picturing just how big his cock must be just from the boner pressing your back. "Y-yes..."

He simply loves the way he's got you so needy, coming undone with so little. You were easy to please, so he wondered how awful your past lovers must've been if they couldn't get you wet. A primal instinct surges on Joel, wanting to erase all of them from your mind, as he wanted to be the only man you ever think about if you're having an orgasm.

"That's my girl," he coos, thrusting his fingers at a nice pace, curling them upwards to hit that soft spot that made your knees tremble.

You hold onto the counter for dear life, throwing your head back and laying it on his chest. He sighs every time your cunt tightens around his digits, mesmerized by your enticing cries and whimpers that had him painfully hard in his jeans. The sensation is overwhelming, adrenaline filling both of you at the prospect of getting caught.

A burning sensation builds on your lower belly, tiny beads of sweat rolling down your temple at the incoming crescendo. His thumb kneads over your clit with the right amount of pressure and your body gives in to him, all tension melting away as your muscles relax.

"Just like that, darling." His deep voice reverberates through you, holding you up by the grip on your waist. "Take what I give you."

"Joel, Joel, Joel-" he chuckles once again at your delirious state, biting down the sensitive skin on your neck as he helps you carry out your high.

He pulls his fingers out and you mewl in complaint, mouth slightly agape. You can't see his face but you watch as he takes both his sticky fingers to his mouth, your chest rising and falling while trying to regain composure. He licks them clean, savoring your sweet taste and feeling his cock twitch from the mere idea of his tongue exploring your folds, taking that same flavor straight from the source.

"I'm not done with you," he growls, swirling your body around.

He's fucked up now. He has found his own, favorite drug between your thighs and can’t seem to stop himself from getting it. He had a small taste and now craved for more like he was a famished man.

"Can I get a kiss now?" Joel finds your insistence amusing.

Those eyes of yours were driving him insane, staring at him wildly, sparkling with an etching desire. Your lips were plumped and glossy, cheeks flushed red and hands fisting his shirt. Seeing this side of you was like displaying one of his darkest fantasies, the kind that would randomly appear in his dreams and had him waking up guilty and needy.

"No," he grumbles, cupping your face in his hand and forcing you to glance up at him. "Open up."

You obligue without hesitation, parting your lips shamelessly— which further spurs him on—. Almost instinctively, you already know what he's going to do, catching that inquiring look in his darkened eyes. With a light tap to his chest, you give him the green light and he spits right into your mouth. You don't think about it twice; in fact, you can't even process what you're actually doing, unconsciously swallowing down while keeping eye contact.

"Good girl," he purrs, caressing the side of your face with gentle stokes of his thumb.

His voice and praise send you to oblivion, managing to give you goosebumps. But Joel won't allow you to catch a break, glueing his lips to the hollow of your throat and making his way down, down, down, until he's kneeling before you, feeling the way you tense and shake for him. He grips your body strongly, the pads of his thumbs dipping on your hipbones as he rests his forehead on your lower abdomen, taking a deep breath in. Your hands run through his curls, tenderly grazing his scalp with your nails.

The man feels as if he's wasted; your scent, all around him, on him, intoxicating every fiber on his body. He'd be haunted by it, by you, in the upcoming days.

He reaches beneath the hem of your dress, fingers skating along the band of your panties and tugging them down at a tortuous pace, meanwhile his eyes pierce your soul. Joel lets the drenched underwear pool at your ankles and drags the thin, satiny fabric all the way up to your tummy, inhaling sharply at the sight of your sticky slick covering your inner thighs.

"Fuck..." he touches you like you're sacred, like he was granted permission to do so but couldn't fully believe it. "Jesus Christ, you're beautiful," he mumbles when he coaxes your legs apart.

You blush at the comment, growing partially embarrassed. A shadow of pure lust covers his gaze as he stares at your exposed, wet cunt. He basks in the view of your damp skin and swollen clit, feeling his mouth water and his pants strain.

"Joel-"

"Forgive me, darlin'. Been a while since I..." he clears his throat, trying to regain hold of himself, "since I went down on a woman."

Your fingers tangle on his locks and you give him a reassuring smile. "You don't have to-"

"But I want to," Joel blurts out. "I need to taste you, sweetheart. Would you allow me to?"

Did he even need to ask?

"Yes- god. Please..."

It's all he had to hear. He leaves small kisses on your swollen lips, taking pleasure in your silent gasps as his mouth inched closer to your clit. Your hips buck against his face when his tongue finally landed on that sensitive bundle of nerves, making you moan a bit louder.

"Fucking hell," you babble, gripping his hair tighter.

He groans, his tongue flattening above your delicate bud and sucking on it. Joel can see in your face how hard you're trying to refrain from making any noise, your brows slightly furrowed and mouth partially open as you throw your head back. His chest swells with pride, knowing he's the one making you feel this good.

Then you have to hold yourself up when he suddenly hooks one hand around your calf and lifts your leg, placing it over his shoulder to keep you open for him. His face buries between your thighs, tongue sliding across your wet folds and savoring your arousal mixed with your previous release. He uninhibitedly whimpers, lapping up the slick that kept pouring out of you, devouring your pussy like he had never had anything as good.

The man can't take it anymore, he's reached his limit. One of his hands snake down to fumble at his belt, as he sloppily palms his bulge through the briefs, trying to get some relief. He's drunk, feral, when he eats you out most earnestly, finding your weak spots rather quickly— the ones that made you shiver, that made you shut your eyes from sheer pleasure or grind against his face, but specially the ones that had you tugging harshly at his hair.

"Joel- please, I'm so close..." you cry out lowly, the only thing that kept you standing being his hand on your waist.

His beard makes your skin feel feverish and it's nearly impossible for you to hold back a whine when his nose grazes your clit and right in that instant you're coming hard, nerves buzzing and ears ringing. You feel lightheaded, white spots appearing in front of your eyes as the orgasm rips through you intensely. He drinks you down, licking you clean as if it was a crime not to, and you gasp at the overstimulation.

He helps you steady yourself as he gets back on his feet, hovering above you. His lips were shining with saliva and your own juices, dripping down to his chin. You breathe rapidly, pulse still racing while you look up at him with glassy eyes.

It's right in this moment when Joel knows for certain that he'd do it all again, consequences be damned.

If he was going to hell for what he'd done, then he would gladly do it, knowing that he had seen heaven the moment his tongue was inside you.

"Did I live up to your expectations, sweetheart?"

Instead of replying, your hand shoots to his jaw, the pad of your thumb brushing over his bottom lip. He lets out a shaky exhale and you don't miss the opportunity to finally lean in for a kiss. And despite his previous declines to your wish, Joel happily corresponded. You taste him and yourself when his mouth explores yours in depth, feeling his unsteady heartbeat against your own chest.

It's madness; a blur of wet, messy kisses as your hand coasts down his pants and underneath his briefs. You swallow down his lewd moans when you grasp his throbbing length, a deep groan coming from his throat when you circle the tip with one finger, coating it with his leaking precome. He takes your wrist to prevent you from going any further.

"Enough of that," he grunts, still not pushing your hand away. "I'm too worked up, I don't wanna be coming in my pants like a goddamned teenager."

You respect his decision, drawing your hand back and guiding your fingers to your lips with a cheeky smile. Fucking tease.

"I think it'd be hot," you murmur, dragging the words and leaning next to his ear. "Maybe afterwards I can help you clean up the mess..." you carefully nip at his earlobe, delighting in the way his body jumped and a sigh escaped him. "With my mou-"

"Fuuuck..." the mental image you were describing was not helping his situation. "We- we’ll do that next time.”

And before you can move a muscle, he gives you a soft forehead kiss and rearranges his pants, asking you to say goodbye to your dad in his behalf as he sneaked out. You stand there for a couple of minutes, dumbfounded and completely blown away from your post-orgasm bliss, still processing that all this had actually happened and it was not just another of your sexual fantasies and daydreams.

Joel was in a similar position. In spite of taking a cold shower and fucking his fist in the meantime, tonight's events kept being relived every time he closed his eyes, making him yearn for you all over again. It was a tough night of not much sleeping.

He thinks he might feel guilty in the morning.

Maybe he should. But he honestly doesn't.

Not even when he faces your dad the next day and he tells him how happy he is to have his darling daughter back home.

Nor do you. There's not a hint of guilt in your body when you go to his house in the next few days, solely to spend time with Sarah. No shame in the looks you share, regardless of the little to zero time you could spend together, always being surrounded by other people.

None of that mattered. All the while, the only question that roams your minds is: when will you do it again?

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel the last of us #joel miller x reader #joel miller #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #joel miller x y/n #joel miller smut #the last of us hbo #dbf!joel

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lostintransist · 22 days ago

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This Bunny Bites - Part 2

The men sat down at a busy bar two buildings down from the strip club. Soap looked like he had taken a flash bang to the face. Eyes wide and unseeing and unable to hear anything going on around him.

“Soap,” Ghost took a tight grip of his shoulder, shaking him once.

He twitched and looked at his friend.

“What the hell is my baby sister doing a strip club looking like that?” Soap’s voice cracked on the last word.

“What I would like to know Soap is how you failed to mention a sister.” Price looked him over, searching for any other hidden secrets that might rise to the surface.

Price’s anger settled over him like a cloak. He couldn’t keep his team safe if they kept secrets like whole people from him.

“I haven’t seen my sister since I ran away from our dad’s house when I was seventeen Cap. I haven’t looked her up ever, I’ll give you all my passwords, you can check.” Soap pleaded his case, a hint of panic edging into his voice.

Price sighed. He had heard Soap lie, and lie well enough, to know this had to be truth. He could see the similarities between them, it happened in their smiles.

“I believe you Soap, but if any one else has a secret family member they haven’t told me about yet you need to speak up now or I will rip you a new asshole when I find out.” Price glared at Simon and Gaz. Simon shook his head and Gaz threw his hands up in a classic ‘don’t shoot’ pose.

Price pinched the bridge of his nose, focusing on breathing through the anger he still carried. “Soap, go and get our drinks from the bar, I need a second.”

“Coming right up Cap.” Soap scooted from tabled they had secured, heading for the bar.

“We need to find a way into Jeffrey Dutson’s personal bedroom, I don’t have time to be worrying about Soap finding his long lost sister.” Price moved on to rubbing his eyebrows, focusing trying to think through all the logistics that would be required to pull off their next job.

Soap deposited all four drinks on the table before sitting back on the bench seat.

“Seems like Soap’s long lost sister could actually help with that,” Gaz took a sip of his beer.

The comment caught Soap mid sip of his own drink. He choked on it, some of the burning liquid coming out of his nose.

Ghost thumped on his back with a fist. Once Soap could breathe again he glared at Gaz.

“We are leaving Bunny out of this.”

Price leaned back, thinking over the idea. “Why? She isn’t important enough for you to keep tabs on and she fits the profile of the women Dutson usually is drawn to.”

“And what is that,” Soap snaps.

Ghost replies now, “Tall, busty, legs for days, easy on the eyes, with enough personality to work a room.”

The glare Soap sent his best friend could have scorched the table between them.

“Donnae talk about her like that,” his accent came out thick when he got mad like this.

“Actually Ghost, research her. See what she has buried. Let’s reach out and see what her price would be to help on this project.” Price took a long sip of his drink, swirling the glass slowly on top of the table.

“Of course Captain. Are we trying to press her into working with us or asking nicely?” Ghost shifts up his mask enough to capture his straw.

“Price I am beggin’ you don’t drag her into this.” Soap glares down at the table as he pleads.

“We will ask her and if we can’t find an arrangement that works for everyone I will find someone else. But the party is in three months, we need a woman working for us now if we have any hope of getting our hands on his notebook.” Price stopped the swirling of his glass. He looked at Soap until the man looked back. “Right now because she’s your sister she is our best chance at having someone we can trust.”

“That’s the thing Cap. She isn’t going to trust us, she hates me.” His voice is bleak.

“Well what a good time for a family reunion then huh?” Price lifted a brow.

There would be no budging on this topic. Soap cursed into his drink, tossed it back and stood to buy himself another one. This would blow up in his fucking face and he didn’t want to be sober when it happened.

❋❋❋❋❋❋❋❋❋❋❋❋❋❋❋❋❋❋❋❋❋❋❋❋❋❋❋

Ghost started digging into the history of Johnny’s sister once they reached the hotel after the bar. He had nearly to carry Soap out of the bar. He didn’t find much, of anything really. She and Johnny shared a father and were two years apart in age. She had remained in the custody of their father after her mother died of an overdose. She had graduated high school a year early and had moved across the country on her own, ending in the port city the 141 had found themselves in. She worked at Hands Off Club and had for several years from the tax forms he had been able to dig up.

Ghost managed to crack into the local hospital records looking for anything, finding only flu shots and a tetanus shot from a few years back. So far no skeletons they could threaten you with. Good, Ghost preferred to make skeletons rather than rattle them. The last thing he found were several properties with your name listed on the deeds, but no accompanying mortgages. After digging through everything he could without breaking into anything truly classified he shut the computer down and settled into bed.

As he lay in the dark he contemplated his next move. A piece being moved across a board. Your turn.

Part 1 | Part 3

Masterlist

#fanfiction #cod #ghost x reader #cod x reader #simon riley x reader

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zoropookie · 4 months ago

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SWEET MELODY

☆ chapter five — tricky plans & schemes (🎂)

"I'm not going to make it out of here alive if I see him."

The simple, yet harrowing sentence repeated constantly in your mind. It held you like an anchor while you were preparing the multiple long tables with sweets you baked last night purely with anxiety running through your body. It was a surprise that you haven't succumbed to a heart attack yet.

It was wide in the air with your freshly baked pastries, a soft mix of vanilla, cinnamon, and chocolate wafting through the air conditioned room. Each of the tables you filled was adorned with lacey and delicate cloths, each sweet arranged with your care. Rows of colorful tiny cakes and intricately designed cookies.

Your hands trembled placing the final touches on the tiny treats, exhaling once it was finally all done. You stepped back to admire your work, but you didn't know what it was about it that made you feel slightly bitter.

Behind your weaker smile, your eyes betrayed you with how much resentment was behind your eyes. Which turned into a small sadness for the fact; you didn't want to do this. It was a blessing that Ei could see how uncomfortable you were being in her wedding as an 'addition to the family', because you definitely weren't par to Kunikuzushi by any means.

Nor did you deserve to be beside anyone other than Kazuha. And even at the thought that something harrowing happened to him, you cracked under pressure to keep your mind from overthinking. That would mean that you'd forget about him entirely. You couldn't be happier about anything, extreme emotions would betray your memories of him.

Or...lack thereof?

Your jaw clenched, tears brimming your eyes which you quickly wiped away. There was nothing behind your eyes except the worry that all of this baking you were doing was for nothing. You didn't feel particularly excited to bake anymore, nor show anyone. It was like the spark that Kazuha gave you was missing, along with him.

A small sound broke through your thoughts, your eyes half-lidded as you slowly turned to see the only person you wish you didn't, following by a few other male voices fading and their tricky plans and schemes. His piercing eyes met yours, and for a moment, his unreadable expression almost made it seem like he was taking a moment to think before he speaks.

But your own expectations failed you once he scoffed, expression hardening. "Fucking hell, you're a disaster." He couldn't help but laugh, but purely from the misery he felt as he turned his back towards you to walk out.

But as soon as he was about to head out again, another visitor came through the door. This time in a stunning white dress, and in a frazzled state according to her expression. It was Yae Miko herself, presence a relief from the harrowing tension.

"Wow. Reunion, or what?" Yae asked, tilting her head, before giving a wave to you. "Hi, darling~"

You hesitantly waved back. "Hi! H..ow are you?"

The pink haired woman examined the room before she said anything else, and even the most braindead person in the world could see that there was nothing here except aversion. You awkwardly shimmied behind the table filled with sweets to keep your distance.

As Kuni was about to reply, Yae held her hand up. "Nope. Don't want to know. This is my day, I'll be back in business in four weeks."

His eyes dulled, patience clearly wearing thin. "You shouldn't even be here."

"Yeah, I shouldn't, right?" Yae crossed her arms over her chest. "But it'd be too much to ask for one peaceful day. Listen," She leaned in, closing the door behind her. "The cake is still at the shop. Our extremely useless deliverer quit before the wedding."

Your eyes perked up. "What?" You blurted out.

"It's my fault for relying on people outside of my own family to pick up a cake. Mind you, the cake isn't even ten minutes away." Yae's eyes rolled. "Typical for this country, full of dimwits. Can you two go get it?"

"Don't really feel like hearing your little political tirades right now. I'll get it, but they're for fucking sure not coming with me." Kuni pointed towards you, which made you flinch. "I'd rather die."

Yae could only sigh dramatically at his incessant whining. "You are both adults now; you can handle a simple task without killing someone."

"Easy for you to say on your wedding day, I don't ever plan on being pleasant to a rat," He snarled. "Fine. But don't expect it to be brought back in one piece with them in the car."

"Sorry. I'll... try my best." You said in a low tone, avoiding eye contact with either of the very confident figure.

Yae looked in between you and Kuni again before lifting her lips up to give a small look of bewilderment. "I guess it's too much to ask for some chivalry from you, Kuzu," She sighed before handing you the details. "Here's the address and a copy of the order. Just tell them I sent you, I'll be getting everything ready still."

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THERE ARE not many things that can sway your interest ever since the "incident", but in spite of that, you pushed forward. you are now the owner of the biggest bakery chain in your city, consistently seeing couples and catering to them as such. you've been a big host at weddings, events for celebrities, and even a big support for your friends and family. you've even earned yourself a niche following as well by how sweet you are to everybody around you. but, even with your kindness, you don't have a particular spark that keeps you going anymore these days. that is until one of your employees starts suggesting you write love letters to customers who request your services. at first you thought it was a horrible idea that could easily turn into trouble, but that was until you were tasked with writing one to your own (very very famous) ex-boyfriend.

taglist ☆ — @seternic @chemiru @coquettemaiden @1kio0o @emiixuu

@agaygothicmushroom @yomishen @jingyuan-wife-real @toruscorpse @whoooismkeee

@sketcheeee @st4r4ngel @xionri @scaradooche @lightyagamifan

@pwushizz @alatusorrow @eutopiastar @magica-ren @slu7

@vaxmpi @theyluvkatt @kyon-cherri @suzydarling @mimi3lover

@auroratumbles @vxcmx @yourfavoritefreakyhan @kunimylovee

@czerwka @little-honey-the-third @featuredtofu @simonisferal @justpeachyteastea

@liuaneee @skyoverkill1 @mellowberrie @lalalaloveallmydays @mostlymoth

@mtndewbajablasted @vernith @lovekeychains @danhenglovebot @elizshade

@balladeersflower @kazumiku @bananasquash @neversore @yevurin

@franaby @vicslz @kamiboo @thegalaxyisunfolding @morgyyyyyyy

@feikyuu @tamikahoshiko @kissingkzuha

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thewidowsledger · 5 months ago

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Secret Behind Our Dreams

Chapter 10: Everything's Personal | 2.4k

Summary: You are a club dancer; a stripper. Natasha is a respected notorious mob boss. What would happen if your paths happened to cross one night? The only thing you knew about each other was your dreams, and neither of you knew what the other was.

Pairing: Mob Boss Natasha Romanoff x Stripper Female Reader

Tags | Warnings: 18+, bad writing, slow burn, angst, details of drugging, mean Yelena

Author's Note: This is my first time posting again after a year of abandoning this fic. I promise to post every week and expect 4 to 6 more chapters for this series, happy reading everyone!

Navigation | Masterlist | Series Masterlist

⧗

"I took a urine sample, you're right about drink spiking," he confirmed, his voice carrying a hint of concern. This isn't new to him or something of a big problem, but Strange felt that there is more to this situation and he couldn't help but to feel slightly alarmed.

"Yeah, I found her almost unconscious in the club," Natasha sighed, her eyes never settling, "What drug? Maybe I could identify the dealer or even the manufacturer, is it a party drug? M&M? Eccy? Something illegal here or no—"

Strange interrupted her gently, "Rohypnol, it's illegal for medical use." Strange crossed his arms and gave Natasha a concerned look, "In my line of work if I have my license it's called Flunitrazepam but in your world, well…our without license, it is known as a date-rape drug."

"What?" Natasha's jaw tensed as she absorbed the information. “Well I found her in a bar, these drugs can be commonly found in clubs so it makes total sense.”

Stephen Strange, known for his extraordinary medical skills, had earned a reputation not only among the general public but also among certain secretive circles. While he mostly focused on healing and saving lives, he had occasionally and secretly found himself providing medical assistance to individuals involved in criminal activities, including members in darker organized crime syndicates.

"I was shock she remembers a tiny bits of what happened to her, people who gets drugged by roach doesn't remember anything at all. She remembered mostly herself getting dragged and being thrown in a dark room," Strange then finally sat on the couch of Natasha's office, "She also remembers her shoulder burning like hell. And about that, I already cleaned and applied dressing on it. You should've brought her to me earlier. It's a 3rd degree burn, she could've gotten infections from and if she did I might have to perform wound debridement on her."

"I-I never saw it, Yelena did. She was the one who told me." Natasha slightly moved in her office chair, not comfortable as she shared the information.

"Family reunion, I see." Strange cocked his brow and once again took a glance at her.

Natasha huffed, "I'm way past that." She finally stood and made her way to a small corner of her office where she kept a personal stash of beverages. She poured a small amount into a glass, "I know you're a doctor and it's so early in the morning but care for a drink?" She slid the glass on her desk and gestured Strange to sit in the chair across her office chair.

"What's on her skin, the mark…it is something." He finally stood and grabbed the glass of whiskey before settling himself in front of Natasha. "Have you identified it yet?"

"No."

"You know you're in—"

Knowing what he was going to say, Natasha replied instinctively and immediately not allowing him to finish. "You don't need to remind me that, Stephen."

"You should know what you're going into, Natalia." Strange said, now they're both playing the game of using their real name, a gesture that reflected the seriousness of conversation. The air in the room seemed to grow heavier as they exchanged sharp glances.

"And I do." Natasha held her gaze on him, masking her frustration growing. "I always do, Stephen."

Strange sighed, his eyes never leaving Natasha's. He leaned forward to her, "This…" he circled the glass he's holding onto the table, "Whatever this is you're entering, it's dangerous and the stakes are higher than ever. I know you've faced countless situations before, but this…this is different. This is personal." He warned, he then reclined in his seat, both of his elbows were positioned at the chair's armrest. "You have to be careful, Natalia."

"Everything's personal, Stephen." She didn't flinch under Strange's cautionary words. There are only a few things Natasha resents: Being reminded of her vulnerabilities, being told of the things she's supposed to do and not to do, and on the top of her list, men. Natasha just nodded acknowledging Strange's concern.

"I'm just looking out for you."

"I know." Natasha replied softly.

"Well I think I'm done here, if something happened you know where to find me," he paused and finished his drink. "Well I do know where to find you too."

Natasha chuckled and apologized, "I'm sorry for making you go here without notice." But Strange waved it off, "I'll walk you out, Stephen."

As they both reached the door, they were surprised to find Yelena lounging on the couch.

"Family reunion, I see." Strange teasingly muttered against his breath. And his comment didn't go unnoticed by Natasha, who tried to maintain her composure despite her growing frustration for her sister once again.

"Hey, Doc." Yelena greeted lazily.

"Hi." He glanced at Natasha, noticing her stifled groans and huffs. "Don't kill her, I don't wanna overstay here." Strange jokes as he quickly puts on his suit.

"I'll try not to."

He couldn't help but chuckle at her response, he immediately shifted the topic not wanting to frustrate her more. "Clean and change the bandages every 4 hours, I already gave her some antibiotics and a pack of fine mesh gauze. It'll heal probably in 2 weeks or so."

As soon as the elevator closed, she quickly marched to the living room. "What the hell are you doing here?!"

"I said I will come in here whether you like it or not." Yelena replied groggily as she shifted herself in a more comfortable position on the couch.

Natasha immediately grabbed Yelena's tank top by the neck. Natasha glared angrily at her sister before focusing on the jacket she was donning. "Is that my jacket?" she questioned even more angrily.

"Well you didn't get most of your stuff when you left home." Yelena replied her shoulders slumped trying to move away from Natasha's hold. She raised both of her hands to her ears.

"Still doesn't explain the jacket." Natasha groaned.

"Woah!" Yelena mockingly exclaimed as soon as she saw you peeking, "She still here huh?" She glanced back at her sister. "Hiiiii!" Yelena looked behind Natasha's thighs and greeted you mockingly.

Once more groaning, Natasha roughly pulled her sister deeply in the couch before hesitantly letting go of her. Her piercing glare stopped Yelena from reacting as she was about to whimper in pain over her sister's harshness.

"This girl is always coming to my rescue." Yelena smirked as she muttered to herself. She threw a pillow on her sister's back testing her because she knows that she won't do anything now that you're there.

"You okay?" Natasha asks.

"Yeah, my wound feels so cold though. But yeah, I'm fine physically but not entirely fine…" You awkwardly chuckle as you get frustrated again because the whole situation hasn't dawned on you really.

"I ordered some food, do you eat Italian?" Natasha softly asks and you sheepishly nod, you look at Yelena sitting behind Natasha's standing figure; she gives you an uneasy smile before averting her eyes from you.

Natasha walked past you and went to the kitchen, you immediately followed her leaving Yelena alone in the living room. You sat in one of the chairs of the kitchen table as Natasha set up the food for you. "Here, krasivaya." She muttered under her breath as she handed you a fork and gently placed a plate of pasta in front of you. Of course you heard it, you never missed it.

"What else did you remember the other night?" She asked, "If you don't mind me asking. If you're not comfortable it's totally okay but at some point you have to tell me so I could help you."

"What does that mean?" You finally spoke but awkwardly.

"What?" Natasha blinked, momentarily caught off guard by your question.

"You called me something…I don't understand it." You murmured as you tried to avoid her eyes while you played with the fork in your hand.

"Beautiful." Yelena appeared from behind, Natasha scowled at Yelena who was slowly heading towards the kitchen. "Why?"

"Nothing." Your voice was so small that you were not comfortable with Yelena's presence. You looked down to your plate trying to hide the fear and discomfort forming in your face as you remembered what happened the other night.

Natasha sensed your discomfort as Yelena continued to linger around the room. She shot her sister a glare, hoping she'd take the hint and give some space. Yelena, though mischievous, could be sensitive to such cues when she wanted to be.

Yelena huffed, turning to look at her sister with a sinister smile, "Don't be flattered by it, Natasha calls every girl that."

Natasha's scowl intensified as Yelena continued to intrude on the conversation. She clenched her jaw and shot her sister a stern look once again, but Yelena continued to give her a playful smirk. She inhaled trying to calm herself and remembered Strange's joke-ish reminder not to kill her sister and right now she thinks she couldn't handle the urge not to.

You looked down at your plate, almost slamming your face on it. You felt a sudden jealousy and insecurity swirling in you, you gave her an awkward and sad chuckle. "Well I uhh, uhm t-the Maximoff lady…the Maximoff lady called me that." You managed to say before taking a bite of your pasta.

"Maximoff lady?" Natasha slightly clenched her jaw, she couldn't help but immediately ask.

"Oooh…" Yelena tilted her head as she eyed her sister with a smug in her face, "Wanda... that's interesting." She murmured something that you couldn't quite make out—was it because she spoke in such a feeble voice or was it because she spoke in a different language? "What else did she say to you, huh?"

"Yelena." Natasha warned. And you started to panic, tears welling up in your eyes.

"Or things you let her do to you?" Yelena methodically sifted through the pantry shelves, all aware of your growing unease but she still continued. She put her elbows on the table across you, she looked at you in the eyes and smirked, "I bet you let her fuck you."

"Enough!" Natasha glared at her sister and walked towards her, "Why is she still here Natasha?" Yelena asked angrily.

“I want you to fucking leave Yelena. And don't worry she's not gonna be here anymore because we're moving to the manor. And I want you gone.” Natasha's demand cut through the tense air. She looked at her straight in the eye with anger evident in hers.

Yelena nodded and backed down with a sad smile on her face. “Thank you for telling me that you're moving to that pretty property of yours. A new place to barge in.” She looked again at Natasha, the before sad smile turning into a grin before walking out.

“Sumasshedshaya malen'kaya suchka.” (Crazy little bitch) Natasha whispered to herself before turning to you. You saw her closing her eyes, inhaling as she tried to calm herself.

The tension didn't vanish when you heard the elevator ding, a sign that Yelena is already gone. As the tension thickened in the air, your appetite vanished, your stomach churning with unease. The clinking of cutlery against plates echoed in the silent room.

“The Maximoff twin...the Maximoff lady didn't do anything to…to me.” You broke the silence, but you felt that you just made everything worse. “I just served some drinks to them that night before—”

“You don't need to talk about it if it's not comfortable for you.” Natasha interrupted. Your heart sank. You knew you couldn't avoid asking any longer. "Natasha," your voice wavered slightly as she turned to face you. "Why—why are you doing this? I know we talked about it already but, why? Your sister’s right, why are you doing this?"

Natasha's gaze faltered for a moment, a shadow passing over her features before she quickly masked it with a composed facade. She opened her mouth to respond, but her words seemed to catch in her throat.

“I…” Natasha avoided your innocent gaze, she knows how much it will ruin her looking at those eyes of yours. “We're gonna leave now," She finally said, her tone clipped as she rose from her seat. The abrupt change in topic caught you off guard, leaving your question unanswered and your heart heavy.

Secret Behind Our Dreams: Masterlist

#natasha romanoff #black widow #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff au #natasha romanoff fanfic #black widow x reader

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luxthestrange · 1 year ago

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Avatar Incorrect quotes#1 Family Reunion

Imagen You Jake's younger sibling, with whom he lost contact long before arriving in Pandora given a feud, Basically all three sully kids went their separate ways in life...So When Norm told him someone had been stealing supplies and setting up traps for the scientists and such...hell this person stole a whole link lab and has managed to hide it...so what Jake, Neytiri, and some of the na'vi don't expect when they find the was a small human in a chair with some of grace old books about na'vi language...

Jake then stands back and kicks the door open with a loud slam. He was completely appalled when he found out about the scene before him

Jake*Angrily* Y/N!?!

Y/n*Confused for a second seeing a bunch of na'vi but notices familiar features in one disgusted*JAKE!?!

Neytiri's head peeked over, completely confused by the ordeal, and looked over at the door

Neytiri: You know this small demon?!

Jake: Do I know them? That's my sibling

Upon hearing that the human infront of the two,Neytiri face grew into total shock

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Neytiri notices you don't seem fond of seeing her mate in the lab. She stared at them with narrowed eyes while Jake and You were doing the same thing, but their arms crossed as if your such a disappointment

Y/n: What the fuck are you *gesturing to your brother* doing here, shithead?

Jake: I should be asking you the same thing! You check yourself out of rehab, no call, no note, and I have to track you down to this shithole with- what the fuck is this?...*Seeing all the research and many devices crammed in the lab*

Y/n*Rolls eyes putting your notes down*-Nothin, It's my stuff, and who's the Hunter goddess here?~

Jake: Eeeeh...My mate, She is with me

The family reunion is leaving the na'vi very uncomfortable...

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catsteeth · 6 months ago

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Hii, I love your writings❤️ Can you write Podrick Payne and the fem reader? The reader is a Jon's twin sister, the Queen in the North. And Podrick has been in love with her for years, from the moment he first saw her. The reader is aware of the situation from the beginning, and when they meet again in the North at the end of the road, she notices once again how Podrick looks at her, but the only difference is that he is not a child anymore.☆

Growing Pains🍎

A/N: Thank you sm angel baby! Now this is what I AM TALKING ABOUT!!! Girl hell yes I can… I love this concept but I am going to take some liberties with the timelines and when Podrick is introduced in the story but let's all just sit back and have fun. You didn’t specify if you wanted smut but girls just wanna have fun so I did it anyway (there will be a cut off so you know when it's coming if you wanna stop reading beforehand) Hope you enjoy it and thank you for the request!! CW: SMUT MDNI, fuff, pining, mention of prostitution, mention of alcohol, fingering, grinding,

You had a hard go of it in life.

Being the bastard of Ned Stark and the twin of Jon Snow. Having the last name of Snow swayed every person's opinion of you. Except for one, Podrick. A squire of little influence. When he and his Lord Tyrion visited the North with the rest of the Lannister and Baratheon family, he found himself enamored with you.

At first he thought it was because of your fair beauty. Your skin had a glow to it, your eyes as well.

As the Stark family lined up to greet the royal family you and Jon were standing behind them. An embarrassment to the family but an open embarrassment nonetheless.

As you stood there, you studied all the knights and kings guard that stood before you and your family. You thought some of them were handsome but none captured your interest really.

That was until your brother Jon nudged you.

“It would seem you’ve an admirer, dear sister.” He teased as you looked and saw a shorter boy with short brown hair. He was certainly a squire. As your eyes met his he looked away

nervously.

You looked back to Jon, “Merely a boy, Jon.”

“Aye, as you are merely a girl.” He said with a smirk. You nudged him harder and gave him a cold and hard scowl, making him struggle to hold in laughter.

As Lord Tyrion descended from his carriage he stood beside Podrick while he waited for Robert and Nedd to be done with their reunion. However when he looked behind Nedd he noticed Nedd’s bastards giggling like children until Lady Catelyn shot them a glare that shut them up quickly.

However he also noticed how Podricks gaze was fixated on you. His face reveals how pathetically enamored he was with you. Tyrion chuckled to himself and then tugged on Podrick’s sleeve a few times until his attention returned to his Lord.

“Yes, my Lord?” Podrick asked,

“You are appointed to serve me, not Ned Stark's bastard daughter.” Tyrion said to Podrick in a teasingly scornful tone. “Is that who that is?” He asked his eyes to stay put on you.

Tyrion nodded, “(Y/N) Snow…” Tyrion spoke your name and to Podrick it sounded like poetry. He looked back over to you as Podrick mouthed your name back to himself. “A beautiful girl,” Tyrion said matter of factly.

“Yes, yes she is.” Podrick nodded, still unable to tear his gaze away from you.

“You know what they say about Northern girls?” Tyrion smirked as he looked up at Podrick,

Podricks gaze finally looked back to Tyrion with a confused look, “No?”

“Perhaps you’ll find out.” He said with a raised brow, making Podrick swallow hard.

꒰ ୨୧ ─

Later that night during the feast you and Jon were turned away from the dining hall. It would be an insult to the royal family if you two were sitting in their field of vision. Gods forbid they were to see a bastard while they ate a meal that your family prepared for them.

You were content to go to your chambers and wait out the feast before you’d sneak into the kitchen and eat whatever was left. But the plum tree had recently bloomed and it was too tempting for you to wait until the feast was over.

Normally you’d convince Bran to climb the tree to pick you some but you were alone. So you did the next best thing, convince the next man you saw.

“Hello, kind ser. Could I trouble you for just a moment.” You said to a shadowed form nearby that was approaching. As it got closer you noticed it was the boy that was staring at you from the courtyard beside Lord Tyrion.

“Yes, yes, my Lady, no trouble at all.” He said, stammering nervously as he walked closer toward you.

“I recognize you… I saw you today. You’re not a Northerner.” You said with narrow eyes.

“N-no, my Lady I am a squire to Lord Tyrion Lannister.” He spoke softly and sweetly, but again, nervously.

“Huh, not a Ser then.” You furrowed your brows, examining the boy in front of you. Unsure if you could trust him or not.

He shook his head, “And you’re (Y/N)... Daughter of Nedd Stark.” He was careful not to use the last name of Snow.

“I am.” You said strongly.

“W-why are you not at the feast my lady?”

“Lady Catelyn thought it might insult the royal family for me and my brother to be seated in their midst.” You explained

“Why would she think that?” He asked genuinely, couldn’t understand you being hidden from anyone.

“I am.. unsightly.” You tried to find the right word,

“I don’t think that is the word to describe you-”

“A bastard… to put it simply.” You turned your mind back to the task at hand, unwilling to discuss the matter further. You looked up at the plums ripe on the tree behind you. “But nonetheless a bastard gets hungry just the same as anyone else.” You looked back at Podrick hoping he would get the hint. “Can't reach it though.”

“Yes of course,” He said quickly as soon as he understood what it was you needed from him.

You giggled to yourself as you watched him struggle to climb the tree. Just as he was about to pick the best one, his foot slipped and he fell out of the tree, with tons of plums following him. “Oof!” He grunted as he hit the ground and was covered in plums.

“Oh!” You shouted as you ran up to him. You couldn’t help but laugh as you kneeled beside him, “I am sorry, I do not mean to laugh!” You covered your mouth trying to conceal your amusement,

He looked up at you with stars in his eyes, that could have been the fall but he was sure that you looked like you were made by the Gods themselves. “That’s alright,” He said softly with a dimwitted smile on his face.

You kissed his cheek as a token of your appreciation, when you did he thought he might die. “I thank you.” You said as you grabbed a plum from his lap, making him blush,

“Of-Of course my Lady,” He stammered,

You bit into the juicy plum, “I’m no Lady.” You stood and walked away.

However, that wouldn’t be the last time the two of you crossed paths.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

When Jon left for the nights watch and was to leave for Kings Landing with your sisters, Lady Catelyn made it clear she wanted you gone. So you went with your sisters, however in KingsLanding you worked as a handmaiden.

But this did just give Podrick more of an opportunity to fawn over you.

When given the chance, the two of you enjoyed each other's company.

On one occasion you and Podrick got drunk off of his Lord Tyrion’s wine when you were alone. You threw cherries across a room while Podrick attempted to catch them in his mouth.

Tyrion walked in when he heard the commotion and drunk laughter from the hallway. He could see the love in the drunk Podricks eyes clear as day.

He felt slightly responsible for Podrick and offered him a gift of experience. He took Podrick to a pleasure house where he said “If you’re going to take that bastard girl's maidenhead, you might as well know how to do it well.”

“We are only friends, my Lord.” He stammered nervously,

“Unlikely it will stay that way.” He said as he left him alone with the three women.

That wouldn’t happen in Kings Landing however. After the execution of your father you traveled North to your Brother Jon.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

Years later however, after a long and hard battle, figuratively and literally, you were an adored and respected figure in the North. So much so that you were named Queen.

When you caught word that Podrick was on the grounds of Winterfell you felt an unexplainable urge to meet with him again.

You saw him sparring with a man on the training grounds. You watched as this once frail and inexperienced boy fought with honor and precision. It made you feel a tightening in your stomach. You felt yourself losing your trail of thought as you watched him, until he noticed you.

“(Y/N)” He said with wide eyes, and then bam! His sparring opponent knocked him down while he was off guard, “Oof!” He tapped out, “Enough for today.” He hopped off the ground and ran over towards you, smiling,

You smiled back, “You look different. Well, but different.”

“You look the same.” He said catching his breath

You narrowed your eyes slightly as you smirked, “I’ll take that as a compliment,” He nodded, “It is.” His smile was almost contagious.

“Who taught you?” You asked, trying to distract from the compliment. “Brienne of Tarth, I’ve come into her service after Lord Tyrion.”

“An improvement.” You nodded, “You fight well.”

He bowed his head slightly “Thank you, your Grace.”

“No need for such formality.” You waved your hand in dismissal,

“Your Grace-” Someone of little interest to you at that moment spoke. Rushing you off to your regal duties.

You couldn’t say your goodbyes before being rushed off. Just like last time.

The rest of the day you spent thinking of him. Of how different things were now, how different you and he were, how much a man he’d grown into.

It was only until that night when you had the opportunity to speak to him once more.

꒰ ୨୧ ─

As Tyrion, Jaime, and Brienne finished a drinking game, Tormund came in an attempt to court Brienne but of course was unsuccessful. As he faced the rest of the table in a defeated sorrowful look, Podrick smiled at him.

As the Giant man left the table, Podrick looked back and noticed you. Once he saw you, his smile grew into a bigger and genuine one.

“Walk with me?” You asked and he of course nodded. Leaving the table in haste, making Tyrion smirk.

The two of you walked around the grounds, that now with everyone in the tavern was empty.

As you walked around, he noticed the very same plum tree that he fell from all those years ago. The tree hadn’t bloomed yet but, he thought back on that memory so often he couldn’t have been mistaken.

“Last time we were here you were here because you weren’t allowed in the dining hall. Now you own it.” He smiled at you, proud of your accomplishments.

“And you were in the dirt covered in-” You said teasingly with a mischievous smile.

“Plums.” He said matter of factly

“You remember?” You asked genuinely surprised.

“Of course I do, I remember how you laughed at me.” He said teasingly as he chuckled.

“I apologized!” You giggled,

“It’s alright, I liked hearing you laugh. And seeing you smile.” He smiled at you in a way that caused a heat to spread throughout your whole body.

“You’ve grown.” You couldn’t believe how much more bold and confident he had become.

“You’ve grown as well.”

“People tend to do that.” You teased,

“That’s true, and yet after all that time I couldn’t ever get you out of my head.” He thought about his journey and how often he missed you, “On our journey we always heard murmuring about you. The things you were doing. The wars you and your brother won. The triumphs and lows of it all.” He looked down trying to contain himself, “I thought of you often.”

You felt a heat rush over your cheeks, “You were always a considerate friend.” You rationalized, and paused for a moment before you looked over at him, “I thought of you often…” you smiled “As well.”

“May I ask you something, and truly I don’t mean to offend-”

You raised an eyebrow. “Well this sounds interesting, go on.” You said smiling,

“What of any… suitors?” He asked awkwardly,

You huffed a laugh and then shook your head, “No.” You looked over at Podrick who was already looking at you with a dumbfounded look, “What?” You giggled. “I apologize, I just find it hard to believe that.”

“Well I’d not lie.” You smirked,

“No, of course not. It’s just that you are…” He looked at you, “Mesmerizing.” He studied you for a moment, and then felt content to do what he had been meaning to do for so long, “You’ve always been mesmerizing.” He took your hand,

“What?” Your eyes narrowed as he kneeled in front of you.

“Ever since I saw you, I’ve never been able to release myself from this feeling. The way your hair shines, the way your eyes glow.” He looked up at you, at how beautiful you looked under that plum tree, in the moonlight. “Ever since you kissed me, even though it was just-” He reminisced on the memory for a moment, “A peck on the cheek,” He shook his head, “I couldn’t feel satisfaction from anything else. And what's worse is that- I don’t want to, I don’t want to feel satisfaction from anything but the satisfaction you bring to me. And ever since I have been back here the feeling is so much worse.” His grip on your hand tightened as he searched your eyes for a hint of your own emotions.

You shook your head, “I’m sorry.” You said, not sorry for not feeling the same but for not understanding your own emotions.

“I-” He looked down, confident he was defeated, “Forgive me.”

“No,” You shook your head again, “Forgive me.” You held his face in your hands,

“For what?” He asked, his brows furrowed in confusion, and concern that he’d just ruined whatever relationship you two had had for good.

“For ignoring my own feelings for you.” You held his face closer to your own, “I’ve been doing it for so long…” Your eyes were filled with a pining that you didn’t know you had, “Far too long” He leaned in even further, your eyes drooping slowly but not losing contact with him. Your noses brushing against one another. Your lips finally meet softly, hardly even touching. his hand came to cup your jaw as yours carcassed the back of his head. As you closed your eyes your lips parted slightly allowing him to kiss you deeper.

nothing had ever felt so right. You knew then that you were born for him and he was born for you.

♥️

he gripped your waist, pressing you closer to his own body. He walked you back into the tree so he could lean into you even more.

“Gods” You whimpered into his lips, “You’ve gotten strong-“ your hands gripped at the muscles of his arms over his chainmail.

“Is this alright,” He asked to which you nodded and continued to kiss his lips.

The kiss somewhat restrained at first was now unhinged and desperate. His tongue met yours and you did not fight it, no you welcomed it.

His hand traveled down your jaw to your breast, gripping at it through your bodice with hunger. He groaned into your mouth but soon enough he couldn’t restrain himself and his mouth traveled from your lips to your neck, to your breasts. They’d been a weakness of his for too long. “Gods” He groaned

“Tell me to stop and I will,“ His hand traveled up your inner thigh. His fingers, now rougher than they were before, stopped just before they reached your silk small clothes. His eyes looked into yours waiting for your que.

You looked at him, you ran your hand through his hair once more. His eyes met yours, desperate and hungry, no starving. You nodded at him, which made him smile and breathe a sigh of relief as his face returned to your breasts and his fingers began to run up and down the sensitive slit of your clothed cunt.

“Mmphm,” You moaned into his ear as his lips traveled over your cleavage.

His middle finger pressed against your hot damp entrance while his thumb moved in circles around your sensitive clit.

Your fingers dug into his shoulders as you whimpered from the pleasure. A pleasure so new. You’d used your own fingers or relieved yourself on a pillow before but this was different, a different game entirely.

You felt him grinding his arousal on your thigh as he moved your small clothes away, pushing one finger inside of you, slowly. “Ah!” You jolted towards him, grabbing ahold of his back pressing him closer to you.

He inserted another finger, pressing them deeper and deeper until they met your maiden head. His eyes found yours, and once again you nodded.

He kissed you deeply as he sunk his fingers into you. You gripped onto his hair and moaned out. As you moaned he bit your bottom lip. You held onto him tighter as the pain flashed across your body but was replaced by pleasure. “Are you alright?” you nodded, unable to find the words when he was pumping him fingers in and out you, “You did so well,” His eyes filled with love and adornment for you. But soon his lips returned to your neck and your breasts.

“Podrick,” You said breathlessly, “Pod?” You had to pull his face away from your breasts, though his lips wants to immediately latch onto yours, “I can’t,” You whined,

He pulled his fingers out of you and your hand away immediately,

“Not here,” You shook your head still trying to catch your breath,

“You’re the Queen, you can do what you please.” He said, half serious, wanting to rid you of your skirts and prove his love and himself there and now.

You giggled holding his face as he restrained himself for kissing you, “I want you to bed me in my chambers. Not here.”

“As you wish it, my Queen.” He smiled at you, and kissed you once more before rushing you off to your chambers.

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dyaz-stories · 2 months ago

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'You smell nice' — Day one of Inukag Fluff Week

Just a fun lil one-shot for day one of @inukagfluffweek! There is a hint of background SessKagu too because I love them.

Mild warning for Inuyasha's potty mouth and that should be it.

Public transportation was the bane of Inuyasha’s existence.

First of all, whichever human had come up with the idea that half the population would stuff themselves into tin cans to get themselves to and from places, following the same precise and regular schedules every single day, deserved a trip straight to hell. It was easily the dumbest fucking concept known to man, and no self-respecting demon would have agreed to it.

Then there was the fact that there were people everywhere on public transportation, and man, did Inuyasha hate people. Gross, stupid bastards with no self-awareness and no regard for others. There were the students who’d bump into you without even noticing, the women recounting their day far too loud over the phone, and, the worst of them all, the gaggle of salarymen drunk off their asses after some reunion at work. Those ones were rude, entitled, clumsy, and, what was by far the biggest offense, they fucking stank.

And that part was what took the public transport experience from shitty to downright awful. The smells. Inuyasha was no fan of cities in general, their pollution, the sheer amount of things everywhere, whether restaurants, stores, or, of course, public toilets, and, well, the people. It wasn’t always the lack of hygiene, though that was an issue for sure, but the sweat after a day of work, the deodorants, the perfumes, they all came together to produce the foulest of stenches. He hated it here.

The train veered sharply to the left, and Inuyasha tightened his hold on the overhead bar he favored using. Fewer human hands had grabbed it, and since his height meant he had no issue reaching for it, he preferred that to other solutions. In front of him, Kagome hadn’t been so lucky, standing right against the door with nothing to hold onto. With a squeak, she stumbled backwards on her kitten heels, her back colliding with Inuyasha’s broad chest — not that there was really anywhere else for her to go, with how tightly packed the train was.

His free hand closed around her hip, stabilizing her. It came naturally, just instinct, no need to think about it or how nicely her body slotted against his.

She tilted her head back, pretty eyes looking up to him pleadingly.

“Sorry, Inuyasha,” she apologized, lips forming a cute pout.

“You’re good,” he replied, voice gruff. He sent a nasty look to the man on her right, who’d bumped into her. People usually steered clear of him, so the closer she was to him, the better. “You’re getting off at the next stop, right?”

“Yeah,” she beamed, and as always, he marveled at how easy it seemed to be for her to smile and distance herself from the mess of the world around her. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t shut down the noises, the smells, the flashes of people’s screens — well, unless he had her to focus on. “I can’t wait to get home.” An eyeroll. “Today was the worst.”

A smirk tugged at his lips.

“Really? You didn’t enjoy Kagura making a scene?”

He knew he had. His sister-in-law was probably his favorite person in the family, actually, with his nieces a close second, and watching her strut into her asshole husband’s office to yell at him about him cancelling their anniversary dinner had absolutely made his day. They could never stay mad at each other very long, so he was sure a very expensive reconciliation was coming, but he’d had his fun for sure.

“No, I like Kagura,” Kagome replied. “But I got cornered by Hojo at the coffee machine and he wouldn’t stop talking about some miracle diet he thinks would cure my allergies and it took me forever to free myself.”

“Want me to do something about that? He never bothers me with that shit.”

“That’s because you terrify him,” she sighed, “so no, that’s not necessary, don’t—” Another turn, but this time he kept her pressed against him, clawed hand on her waist, and her voice barely wavered. “—worry about it. And thanks for that, Inuyasha.”

A knot formed in his throat at the way she leaned back into him without hesitation. He swallowed around it. Where most people cowered away from the hanyo, Kagome had never acted like he was a threat. Sometimes, he felt she was even a little too trusting. Made him feel and think all sorts of things he wasn’t very proud of.

“’s nothing.”

From how he stood behind her, he couldn’t help but catch her scent, especially when she moved and her hair were right under his nose.

And, fuck, she was a breath of fresh air. He’d known that from the first day she’d strolled into the office, of course, gust of wind blowing through the open door and sending her smell throughout the whole office. He didn’t know what it was, if it was the reiki he could guess at under her skin, that gave it such a pleasant flavor. Either way, it could become overwhelming even in the wide open space. Here, on the other hand, it was the perfect distraction against everything else, and it took more willpower than he’d like to admit to not just sniff at her.

“Everything okay?” she asked, catching him off guard, her big inquisitive eyes staring up at him.

“Yeah, it’s—” Damn it, he’d known she was always noticing things no one else cared about. “That’s— You smell nice,” he blurted out at last, and immediately, he wished he could slap himself in the face. What a fucking weirdo. Turned out, everyone who had told him his mouth was too big for his own good, usually before they got their asses handed to them, had been right. Couldn’t he have kept it shut this one damn time?

“Oh,” Kagome said, and her expression turned thoughtful. He waited for the inevitable judgment to fall down. “I read that demons often find perfumes difficult to deal with, so I haven’t worn any since getting hired at Taisho Inc. Is that really better for you?”

There was the knot again, but this time it wasn’t embarrassment, and rather another, deeper emotion. Of course she’d pay attention to that kind of stuff.

“Yeah, it is,” he answered, clearing his throat. “Makes it hard to be around too many people.”

“That’s good to know,” she said with a nod. “Let me know if I can do other things to help you, alright?”

He would not be telling her anything about the thoughts that were running through his mind at her proposal. Nuh-huh.

“That’s my stop,” she grinned up at him, grabbing the hand at her waist and squeezing it gently in hers. “Thank you again, Inuyasha. I’ll see you tomorrow!”

She waved at him, and a second later, she was lost in the crowd, and his world was just a little darker, duller, blander. He let his hand fall back to his side, flexing it reflexively as if to remember how it had felt, touching her.

Keh. He couldn’t believe she was making him look forward to another day in the office.

As a lot of you know, it's been ages since I last wrote for this pairing that's still near and dear to my heart, so I'd love to hear your thoughts on it! Don't hesitate to scream at me about it in the tags, in the reblogs, in my askbox... anywhere your heart desires lol. Thank you for reading!

#inuyasha #kagome #inukag #kagome higurashi #inukagfluffweek #my writing

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thelovelylolly · 4 months ago

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Silver Screen Sweetheart

Summary : You were just his co-star, even if you both wanted to be more, and he thought he lost you to the wasteland. - Warnings : we got some angst, we got some yearning, we got reunions, all your favs, fem! reader (she/her pronouns used), mentions of drinking, canon-typical violence, not rlly proof read (let me know if i missed anything :)) - Word count : 1.17k - Notes : i know i havent posted an original fic in a while, but why not bring them back with cooper howard bc I LOVE COOPER HOWARD AND FALLOUT RAHHHHH this is basically the storyline of my fallout oc lol (also, divider by @saradika-graphics they're so good)

Cooper Howard wasn't supposed to live this long, especially after the bombs dropped. He was a man with a long history. He had fought in a war, became a movie star, got married and had a daughter, became the inspiration for the poster-boy of the company selling the end of the world, divorced is wife, lost his family, became deformed from the radiation. He could go on and on about his past.

However, there was one part he always skipped around.

His old co-star, you.

You walked into his life one sunny afternoon, and he didn't know it then, but it was the start of something he shouldn't want. You were his co-star and played the love interest in one of his movies. Your chemistry on-screen together was amazing, causing fans to want you to return and you quickly became a staple in Cooper Howard movies.

Then, the chemistry bled into real life.

You both knew it, but you both refused to acknowledge it. Cooper was married, and you were a rising star. He couldn't risk his wife and family, you couldn't risk ruining your budding career. So, you danced around each other. Your on-screen characters were the only time you two could lean into the feelings you had, but it was pretend. Acting.

Still, the two of you were close friends off set, so it wasn't uncommon for you two to be spotted together. He'd invite you over for dinner with his wife and daughter, you'd invite him to a party with other movie stars. Everything was simple, easy. It was good.

But all good things must come to an end.

Cooper didn't know where you were when the bombs dropped. He had seen you the night before. He came over to your house for drinks, something he started to do more often now that the divorce was settled and he saw his daughter every other week.

"What are you up to tomorrow?" You had asked.

"I'm picking up Janey, then we're going to a birthday party. Got hired to do some tricks and stuff for the birthday boy."

"Sounds more exciting than what I have on the agenda. My agent wants to talk to me about doing ads, like you and Vault-Tec."

"Want some advice?"

You nodded.

"Don't."

Maybe you had gotten to a vault, or maybe you weren't that lucky. The only thing that helped Cooper with the loss of you was one thought: you wouldn't see him as the deformed ghoul he became.

Cooper's bounty was allusive and turned a usual 2-day hunt in 5. He was getting tired and fed up, rudely asking anyone he came across for directions before shooting them and taking anything of value. One person gave him directions to a small home and said that the person living there had plenty of information and supplies.

Cooper thought 'what the hell' and set off, grabbing a few bottles of chems from the person's dead body.

He found the house pretty easily, having the only green grass and lush trees in the dusty desert around. He readied his pistol at his side as he started to approach the house. He took a few steps onto the property before stepping onto a trap and getting caught up in a net that was hung on the tree.

"Shit!" He hissed, trying to figure away out in the cramped area. He lost his grip on his pistol and he couldn't reach for his knife, leaving him helpless until someone could find him and cut him down.

A horse's neigh caused him to look up where the house was, only to see a person on a sleek, black horse riding towards him. They pulled the horse's reigns and stopped a few feet away from Cooper and got off, a shotgun in hand.

"If I get you down, you gonna shoot me?" The person asked, a feminine voice coming through a black bandana obscuring half of her face. The black hat sitting on top of her head obscured her hair and shaded her face from the beating sun.

"No promises," Cooper replied, grunting as he struggled against the rope net.

"Then I can just leave-"

"I just need some information, I heard you were the person to come to," Cooper quickly cut her off, "I'll leave after that."

He was good at lying. He was an actor after all, as soon as he got what he wanted, he'd raid this woman's home and leave.

The woman in front of him tilted her head to the side for a moment, then raised her shotgun and shot the rope holding Cooper up. He hit the ground with a thud, but quickly untangled himself from the rope. He pushed himself to his feet, but before he could reach for any of his weapons, a lasso was wrapped around him and pulled tight.

"What the hell-"

"Shut it," she said sharply, "I know what kind of a person you are. I know what you really want, many have tried and failed."

Cooper laughed dryly. "Really, sweetheart? You think a little rope would stop me?"

The woman studied him for a moment, her eyes fixed on his face. He didn't know what she was looking for, the radiation took away most of his features.

"Cooper...?" The woman asked after a few moments, shocking him. He opened his mouth to answer, but any words he had were lost as she took off her hat and pulled the bandana down.

You. You were still alive, you still looked like how you did centuries ago. Of course you recognized him, only you could tell it was him after all the radiation and harsh conditions of the wasteland.

His said your name weakly, not believing that you were standing in front of him. He thought he lost you, he thought you were dead from the bombs or lived the rest of your life in a vault. "How are you here?" He asked.

"They froze me in my vault, woke up a few centuries later, and left," you answered, stepping closer but not letting go of the lasso. "I'm surprised you haven't gone feral."

He smiled, the same classic smile that had given you butterflies all those years ago. "I figured out how to survive up here, seems like you have, too."

You nodded, glancing over your shoulder at your home. You looked back at him and stepped closer, pulling the lasso off and hooking it onto the side of your belt. You looked up and met his gaze, noting how close you two were.

"Would you like to stay for a bit?" You asked.

Cooper thought back to his bounty, how long he'd spent chasing this guy and how much he was worth. But seeing you alive and well, not appalled by his appearance, was worth so much more than any stupid bounty.

He reached for your hand and intertwined his fingers with yours. "Sure would, darling."

You smiled and turned, grabbing your horse's reigns before leading Cooper towards your home.

#cooper howard x reader #the ghoul x reader #cooper howard x you #the ghoul x you #fallout fanfic

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prince-liest · 2 months ago

Note

tbh I'm not even one hundred percent sure if my favorite thing about Alastor and Rosie's relationship is fully intentional? But I'll say it anyway: I love the very subtle hints we get to why Alastor is so drawn/attached to Rosie.

Rosie herself and Cannibal Town are designed after the Edwardian era, 1900s to the very early 1910s; when Alastor would have still been a child and before he hits his prime 'home era' of the Jazz Age. And the little squeak he makes when Rosie grabs him? That's a Happy Fawn Noise; specifically, it's the sound they make when they see their mother.

So. I... think Rosie might remind Alastor of his mom? And that's part of the reason why he confides in her specifically and her opinion means so much to him, even compared to his other female friends? Not sure if I'm imagining it though bc I don't think I've seen anyone else point it out.

I really like Rosie and Alastor as having found family vibes, but I think similarly how I occasionally see Alastor made out to be Niffty's dad, I don't really enjoy them put in the framework of a literal family.

Which is not to disagree with you: I think Alastor should definitely get to deal with his own childhood nostalgia and low-key mommy issues in hell in the form of his friendship with Rosie, I just have lately been pondering how I really enjoy found family and platonic relationships but get frustrated when it feels like they're required to be pigeonholed into the framework of a nuclear family.

Anyway, I personally tend to see Alastor and Rosie as kindred spirits. They seem to be the kind of friends that have a lot in common and thus get each other - and I'm not just talking about the cannibalism, but also the way they navigate their friendship by offering each other favors and opportunities while carefully not overbalancing the tightrope walk that is a relationship between overlords, because they both know the importance of that station. Rosie is a nice, nosy person who helped Charlie out a lot in the battle against heaven, but she's also fully on board with Alastor's ominous little "full of potential that I can guide!" bit about Charlie. Alastor brings Charlie's relationship drama to Rosie because he knows she'd get a kick out of it. Rosie knows he's ace even though he doesn't even know what that means. They're both violent, dangerous cannibals that wear and value the veneer of being a lady and a gentleman.

I just think they're really good buddies that are on the same wavelength (their silent little reunion at the overlord meeting is delightful), and that means a lot when your wavelength is one that most other people would judge you negatively for or just plain not understand. Some of that absolutely comes from the fact that Rosie is from an era that helped build Alastor's values. A lot of it also comes from the sheer well-matchedness of their personalities!

#ask #personal #Anonymous #hazbin hotel #alastor #rosie #hazbin hotel rosie #radiorose #meta #hazbin hotel meta #op meta #why do I have so many organizational tags for this ugh

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madschiavelique · 11 months ago

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˖𓍯. 𝐌𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐂𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐬. ★. ₊ ⭑

⟢﹒ pairing : matt murdock x audhd!reader x frank castle

⟢﹒ summary : your family is an ordeal to endure, full of disparaging remarks that make for a horrible evening. fortunately, Matt and Frank come to keep you company during the family diner and take you home to look after you.

⟢﹒ content warnings : hurt/comfort, extremely self-indulgent, reader's family are degrading, audhd reader close to breaking down, reader having sensory issues, reader getting overstimulated, the guys in this are so lovable and sweet boyfriends, afab!reader, no use of Y/N

⟢﹒ word count : 9,3k

⟢﹒ note : had quite a shitty christmas ngl, so i thought writing this piece of comfort would be helpful ! if you only want to read the comfort part, i'll place a separation by using a black divider between the hurt and comfort part. a huge thank you to my bestie @sunflowersandsapphires who proofread this <3. have a good read lovelies!

You passed a q-tip close to your eyes in the hope of correcting the curve of your make-up, trying with that scatterbrained perfectionism that accompanied you in even the most minute tasks to ensure that everything was symmetrical.

Nothing too extravagant, just something elegant, neutral, but that would do. The standard was just to look presentable, from the face to the rest of the body. Jeans, an oversized hoodie, nothing special.

This lack of personal distinction was undoubtedly due to the rejection of perception, the insistent stares, the embarrassing compliments that could suddenly put you in the spotlight tonight, an idea that made you feel profoundly uneasy.

You stepped back a little, checking to see if the much-desired symmetry had been achieved, and no sooner had you put down your utensil than you were asked to do the little cousins' make-up.

Tonight was an annual family reunion: Christmas, where aunts, uncles, grandparents and grandchildren got together over foie gras, salmon and dubious discussions. Where guests who have just left are criticised, where disparaging remarks are exchanged, and where the meal always ends up drifting into politics with more or less heated debates at the table.

You anticipated the evening, an anxious knot already forming in your stomach. You had a particular link with your family, of which the affection was strangely displayed if at all in a way you despised entirely. Every year was a different pain, a different bitter taste that lingered in your thoughts like poison, and you were not delighted to participate in this celebration when you would’ve preferred staying home.

Only one thing held you in place and convinced you that the night wouldn't be a constant and unrelenting hell: Matt and Frank were coming over.

This winter, it was the first time you would’ve been accompanied by them, and by anyone in fact. Knowing the rather strong opinions of your family, the simple idea of saying that you shared your life with two men in a more than platonic way had been dismissed a long time ago. A trouple? If that fell in the ears of one of your family members, you could be sure that you'd become the next freak of the night.

So you talked it over with the boys and came up with a plan to make sure you could bring them both along and not make a big deal of it: one of them would pretend to be your boyfriend, while the other would just be your friend that had nothing better to do for the celebration.

The choice of boyfriend fell on Frank, and friend on Matt.

He had asked why, and you had explained that it was obviously in no way because of favouritism or anything of the sort, but rather the simple fact that he would get more compliments behind his back if he wasn't with you than if he was.

He'd frowned, but you'd had to explain to them how your family was sometimes built on clusters of shrill gossip, talking behind others' backs and later making remarks to their faces in tones of passive aggressiveness and wicked irony.

You also had to educate them, that no matter what was said about you tonight, not to react. They'd probably be itching to, it would be like a thread sticking out, but they were forbidden to pull on it.

You looked at the clock, seven past. You'd texted Frank to ask where they were and when they'd arrive. Eight thirty had been their reply, and you took a deep breath. An hour and a half to go.

You looked at yourself in the mirror, assuring yourself everything was alright and that you were presentable enough. You can do it, you kept telling yourself, this night knows an end.

The first complications arose sooner than you thought.

First of all, you'd managed to find a decent seat in an armchair and not on a sofa. However, this seat was very close to the fireplace, where a blazing fire licked the brown logs with appetite. Very close, too close, close enough that it felt suffocating.

You moved your chair back slightly as best you could, trying not to disturb the conversation that was already well underway.

You tried to take a few snacks, perhaps some cashews, crackers or cherry tomatoes might ease your boredom and distract you from the growing heat.

You pulled out your phone, hoping that Frank and Matt would get here sooner, and would've sent a message to that effect. Or perhaps was there a notification from any of your friends, a reel, a meme, anything-

"Put your phone away, we're with the family."

You looked up, your mother watching you and taking her glass in hand with a look of dissatisfaction. In a single instant, your cheeks heat up all the more as the fire in the fireplace presses against your skin, and you gulped.

"I just wanted to check if I had any news about Matt and Frank's drive," you explained simply, gently stuffing the phone into your pocket.

"They'll arrive when they arrive, but for now, be with us."

You nodded, discreetly biting your cheek as one of your only escapes for tonight went up in smoke. You would have much preferred to be able to escape a little and block out what was going on around you, even sorting out your gallery and deleting useless pictures would have been a more pleasant and less stressful activity.

But you couldn't, and you said nothing when it was your mother's turn to pick up her own phone and connect to the speaker to play her Christmas playlist.

The children played together, which should’ve been a joy, but their overexcited screams, incessant movements and all that noise were enough to make you feel the headache setting in.

There were easily three different conversations going on around you, and your mother turned up the music in response. You waved, putting your hand in front of you as if you were lazily dribbling an invisible ball to indicate her to lower the volume, and she turned the music down a notch.

You clenched your jaw, thinking to yourself that this was a good start, even if everything else was getting harder to hold on to.

Choosing to wear a hoodie became almost a regret as the ambient heat from the fireplace worked its way up your spine to the nape of your neck, creating an unpleasant feeling. Soon enough, you had to take it all off as the first signs of nausea began to make themselves felt.

You weren't particularly comfortable with the idea, but everyone's attention was obviously diverted enough to take no notice of your actions. Except perhaps for one.

"You could have made an effort on your outfit, it's not very festive." Your mother sighed before taking a sip from her glass of champagne. "Hadn't you lost weight? It would be a shame to spoil the occasion."

You swallowed, the ground looking awfully interesting at this very moment. You knew what would have been said to you if you'd worn something more in the spirit of it, "You've got a nice body, you should wear that more often," and other remarks falling into the famous "you should insert-disobliging-action more often" category.

You should wear that more often. You should smile more often. You should come more often. But none of these requests were of the taste to be fulfilled by you tonight.

So you simply shrugged, having nothing in particular to say, and feeling your heart clench. You were stuck in this contradictory place where if you made one move slightly changing from your usual self to them, you were reprimanded on it, but if you didn’t do anything in particular, they highlighted the fact that it was disappointing you hadn’t done anything.

"Well, we're delighted to have you with us tonight!" chuckled an uncle, raising his glass to you.

"It sure makes a change from knowing she's in her cave," chuckles an aunt.

You smile, but there's no warmth behind the gesture. By cave, they mean your bedroom. Your habit of isolating yourself had brought you a certain reputation within your family, and for years now it has been a recurring joke. They laughed about it every time, but you saw it more as a broken record replaying the same snippet of music... speaking of which, your mother turned up the sound again, thinking you wouldn't notice.

"Could you turn it down please? It's really loud." you ask politely, in the most calm, composed and polite tone you could produce at the moment.

"Oh come on," your mother grumbles, rolling her eyes, "we're allowed to have fun."

She turned up the volume once more, and finally someone other than you told her it was too loud. Reluctantly, she lowered the sound slightly, but it was still not enough for you. Your hands lodge over your ears, hoping with all your heart that this would ease the strain on your eardrums.

Conversations sought to drown out the music, each member pushing their voice for any discussion. Kids were still running around, chasing one another by screaming at each other, and adjusting your eyes on anything without the certainty of getting a headache felt like mission impossible.

Your hands on your ears helped slightly, and it was only then that your mother looked at you with a surprised expression.

"Does it really hurt?" she asked, raising her eyebrows.

"Yes," you nodded, "it really does."

Finally, she turned it down, and you exhaled as the others resumed a more appropriate though still higher volume of discussion than you'd prefer. The kids had been changed of room, making it more bearable for you to live through.

"So, what have you been up to lately?" asks one of your grandparents, "how's work?"

Your cheeks heat up, the discussion now turned towards you, prompting you to take your glass in hand just to have something to quench your throat suddenly arid as the sahara.

"Very well, business is good." you smiled falsely, forcing your face to display the features they might normally expect to see.

"Great, and those two guests coming tonight, do you know them from work?"

How could you say that the circumstances in which you had met these two men were in a situation that included Frank and Matt falling into your flat, bloodied, and asking you for help?

Karen, who you’d known through college, had advised them of your address, and when the first opportunity came up, they had taken the chance to make the most exceptional introduction you'd ever had in your life : stumbling at your place with cuts all around

"In a way, yes," you replied, pressing your lips into a thin line.

"One of them's her boyfriend, and the other's a lawyer," your mother informed the others, who seemed delighted by your seemingly noble company.

It's a good thing the flames in the fireplace were dying down and that it wasn't so hot anymore, because both your cheeks felt like you were resting the back of your hand on hot embers. It was a never-ending embarrassment to have such behaviour around you, saying aloud everything regarding you without you consenting to any information to be given. Wherever ridiculous actions or the slightest subject that was even a little new and out of their boredom-inducing daily lives occurred, they swarmed.

Nevertheless, the conversation drifted away to your delight, and at the mention of your loves, you couldn't stop thinking about them. You would have liked to check the time, to see if they had any problems on the way that might have delayed them, but you knew that such conduct was likely to earn you an additional remark about the use of your telephone. After all, she could find openings as easily as water in a colander.

Just then, a dance song began to play which, objectively, had nothing to do with the Christmas spirit. So everyone stood up, moving the chairs to get more room, and you helped in this cacophony of moved furniture.

You stood to one side as everyone got to the centre of the room, their dance steps resembling a veritable collective epileptic seizure of which you had no desire to become another member.

You took the opportunity to take refuge in the bathroom, carefully closing the door behind you and sitting down on the toilet to take a deep breath. The after-effects of all these mixed sensations were beginning to make themselves known.

Your body was as taut as a bowstring, as if every muscle had contracted from a high fall, and it felt as if releasing all the tension would break you in thousands of small pieces. Your heart wasn't beating particularly fast, but it was beating hard, and you couldn't ignore it.

You took a deep breath, letting your head fall back as you closed your eyes. Your throat and chest were tight, so tight that you felt like crying right now. But you couldn't, it would be too noticeable once you got out of here, and you didn't want to give them the pleasure of having an extra subject to talk about at the end of the evening once you'd gone. It would do them too much honour, and you couldn't afford to give them any.

You were so tired, you couldn't take it any more, the fatigue coursing through your body like you'd run a marathon of shame. You breathed in again, feeling your previously tight chest slowly relax as your body was jolting a bit from the unease.

This wouldn't last forever. By the end of the evening, after dessert, you wouldn't be in this house surrounded by all these people, all these eyes, all these mouths, all this noise.

That's when your phone buzzed, and without missing a beat, you pulled it out of your pocket. On the screen was a single message from Frank that gave you tremendous reassurance:

We're here.

You bit your lip, nodding slowly. One last breath for courage and you stood up, opening the door of the bathroom. Without anyone noticing, you grabbed your hoodie and stepped outside into the cool of the night.

The sudden chill brought you unparalleled comfort, biting your cheeks hot with frustration and embarrassment. Perhaps the night would heal you, that its cool caress would apply its balm of softness to all that pressure and relieve you of your tension.

You turned your key ring to find the one for the gate a little further on, trying to walk and not sprint to it. Inserting the key almost frantically but controlling your excitement and relief at their presence, you opened the game.

And there they were, smiling at you.

"Evening sweetheart," Frank smiled when he saw you.

"Sorry we took so long," Matt apologised, pressing his lips together.

You looked behind you to make sure no one had followed you outside, closing the gate slightly so that you wouldn't be seen. You knew that even from here, your group of three could be seen as a pile of meat around which the vultures would circle, and you didn't want to risk being their next meal.

You hugged them both, relieved to have them close to you, and the suddenness and desperation in your gesture almost seemed to surprise them. They hugged you back, kissing your temple.

"Your cheeks are warm," Frank chuckled, pressing his face harder against yours, making you giggle.

"Is everything okay?" asked Matt, stroking your hair, "you're all tense."

Of course, Matt noticing every microscopic detail as usual, couldn't help but pick up on how stiff your body looked, and how the smell of stress covered your skin in the thinnest film. There was no point in lying to Matt, or pretending to divert the subject with Frank, so you sighed.

"Lots of noise, not much serenity," you replied, letting your head fall against the devil's chest.

You were trying to cherish all this a little more, because once you were back in the house, you and Matt wouldn't be able to touch each other again except perhaps to pass a plate across the table and let your fingers deliberately brush against each other.

They'd already been told by you what to expect, and even if they were prepared, they were sorry to find you like this.

"We won't stay here the whole night," Matt reassures as he wraps his arms around you, stroking your back. "Let's hope we get out of here before Frank goes so far as to take the silverware from the table and threaten anyone with the butter knife."

"You're ruining my fun, Red. Now I've got to find something more inventive," sighed the latter.

"Take the star at the top of the pine tree, it'll be sharp enough," you suggested, turning your head towards him, cheek still pressed against Matt's chest.

"See that, that's Christmas spirit," smiled Frank.

You loosened your embrace, Matt gently kissing your lips. He savoured the moment, and so did you, because this kind of proximity with him wasn't going to happen again for several hours.

"Ready?" asked Frank, letting his pointer finger form a hook to caress the skin of your cheek.

You looked at the lights further away from the house, hearing the music from here and already preparing in the second part of the night.

"Ready," you breathed in before reopening the gate and letting them through.

You felt your heart clench again, the unpleasant tingle of anxiety coursing through your veins in a fluid traffic that seemed impossible to dilute. You tried to breathe calmly, preparing yourself once again to face the suffocating interior of sounds, movements and remarks.

"Remember, if you need to take a break from all this and go outside, squeeze my hand three times, okay sweetheart ?" reminded Frank, placing his hand on the small of your back.

"Yeah," you swallowed, nodding softly as a tight little smile spread across your lips.

You'd agreed to pretend, in case things got desperate and you needed a break, that Frank was a smoker, and that you and Matt shared his ciggy break together.

All of this preparation had come from the fact your mother had passed an entire questioning about your boyfriend - or at least one of them - to prepare herself conventionally. You knew how she was, and such coaching with the guys was for the better.

Still, his hand on your back was reassuring, and made things easier to bear.

You opened the door, and everyone turned to you with a big "Ah" of satisfaction. Introductions were made as both took off their jackets. Frank remained friendly but guarded - as usual, typical Frank - and Matt seemed to bloom in this social environment like a freshly blossomed flower.

It didn't take long for most of your family to decide that they loved Matt. His well-timed humour, his natural charm, his eloquence, everything about him made him a man to be admired.

"Isn't there any way he could be your boyfriend instead?" said an aunt, approaching you as Matt and Frank continued to be introduced.

"He's way out of her league," sneered another, "they both are, actually."

You pressed your lips together, blowing falsely from your nose to feign amusement. You knew Matt could hear every little jab at you tonight, and if he was feeling any frustration, he was hiding it perfectly.

"Where did you get them? I want one too," said the first, making the other laugh.

"Might get the lawyer's phone number," she replied.

"Yours is very fine too," remarked the other, "how'd you manage to get him ?"

They both said these sentences as if their own husbands weren't in the room, and as if the possibility of you being in a relationship with one of them was a miracle, or just a huge stroke of luck.

"Through work," you replied mechanically and through clenched teeth before moving into the kitchen to help with the dishes.

You knew these sorts of remarks were to be brought up, on how you’d managed to surround yourself so well. Matt and Frank had long wondered how your confidence in yourself was so low, but maybe tonight would’ve been the perfect example as to why it was the case.

The transition to the table was almost seamless. Everyone sat down, the seating order meticulously adapted for everyone. Fortunately, you found yourself between Frank and Matt. You were inwardly grateful for the choice of decorations when you realised that the tablecloth was quite long, and that the reassuring hand Matt had just put on your thigh wouldn't be noticeable.

You breathed softly, the warmth of his hand anchoring you better in all of this and giving you something to focus on that was sweeter than any mean remarks.

Of course, with every new person around the table comes an interrogation to get to know them. Questions of all kinds followed for the boys, about their work, their activities, your aunts of course looking for answers as to how you and Frank had ended up together.

You'd worked it out and decided that Matt had introduced you to Frank and that, through your shared tastes in literature and other things, you'd ended up bonding.

"If books are the new way to getting to a man I've got some reading to do," joked one of the aunts, making the table laugh unanimously, "never thought you'd manage anything of the sort."

The pique directed at you made you feel as if you were swallowing a large ice cube with difficulty, but you covered your discomfort with an expert fake smile. Masking all that discomfort since the start of the evening was beginning to prove complicated, but you weren't going to use the smoking-break Joker just yet.

You could see in the corners of your eyes how Matt was wearing a stiff smile, and how Frank's jaw was tense. Gently reaching under the table, you took both their hands, turning to Frank with another smile that this time wasn't imbued with the polite mask you wore, but with sincerity.

"Let's just say I was lucky " to have found two such extraordinary people who fill my life with love on a daily basis, would you have finished.

You squeezed their hands, drawing small circles on their skins as they both smiled.

The starter was over, the main course continued as your stomach was refusing to let you eat anything, and the whole thing brought together discussions that made you uncomfortable to say the least. All sorts of unconscious or simply cruel racist, homophobic and even transphobic remarks were placed on the table.

You remained silent, not speaking particularly. You had no desire to take part in this kind of discussion, given how horrible the venom on each other's tongues was. You just hoped it would all be over soon, looking forward to going home with Frank and Matt.

The cousins were chatting away like fascists, one talking about Napoleon, and the old days being the best, while talking about the questionable politicians he was listening to on the radio.

The cheese arrived, and then came the little break just before dessert. They put on a film for the children, so that the adults could have a quiet chat without all the heckling.

Hearing the parents' arse jokes, you'd think they'd be fucking each other on the table if they thought it was funny. You could very well let your own sassy tongue out, say that if this aunt isn't listening to what's being said already it's because she's working out her next gossip, but you have to forgive her because she wouldn't be like this if her husband wasn't cheating on her, or maybe he's cheating on her because she's like this.

To tell the uncles that they're less likely to die from terrorism than from alcoholism, to tell one aunt to strap the kids up tight because her husband is going to be driving as if he had an autonomous car. And that you would’ve liked to finish by saying that no matter the smiles, the village fete, all it took was a small difference for everyone to see the real faces.

But you said nothing, keeping to yourself those comments that would only serve to fuel their hatred.

As Frank came up to grab another drink, your mother sat next to you on the sofa while the two boys came to be monopolised by aunts and uncles. A procession of rednecks near Frank discussing his familiarity with weapons and his military past, while the aunts were wiggling around Matt hoping to curry favour with the young lawyer.

"It's too hot in here," you murmured as you shifted a little from your mother, but she wasn't letting go and placed her head on your shoulder.

"But I want to be close to you," she said with a pout, the alcohol making her visibly affectionate.

You tensed, the desire to get away from it all running through your body, screaming under your skin. But there was nothing you could do, frozen there in the middle of it all, having to endure the situation as best you could.

The familial conversation drifted onto the subject of intellectuality, on the fact that your family was made up of nothing else, or at least for the most part. And you felt tiny, because they were generally right: they were all huge readers of the classics, who knew a lot about history, literature, philosophy and other human sciences.

All these subjects were familiar to you, because you had had to learn them, to master them in the face of the global family demand for the cultivation of excellence.

Even though you were the ugly duckling of the family, that didn't stop you sharing this knowledge and they were all aware of it. You were able to inject the conversation with valid arguments and insights you'd learned on your own that were important to the topic, and whenever the occasion to say something wise came up that you grasped, they seemed more tolerable to you.

When the discussion turned to the descendants of a painter, you were asked to verify the accuracy of certain statements. So you looked it up on your phone, but barely half a minute later, your mother couldn't resist reprimanding you:

"What did I tell you on your phone? Not when we're with the family."

Irritation from all the previous events of the evening was beginning to press down on you, and it was with some irritation that you replied:

"But I've been asked for some information."

Your voice was almost like that of a child defending themselves against someone calling them a liar, and this tone seemed to displease her when her gaze hardened.

"Don't talk to me like that, and put your phone away."

You bit the inside of your cheek so hard it felt like it was going to bleed, and said nothing as you put your phone back in your pocket while the conversation around you resumed.

You didn't meet Frank's gaze, nor did you turn to Matt, because you knew that this simple gesture would show weakness and a cry for help. However, you had made them swear not to interfere, and you remained silent for a while, trying to calm yourself down as you watched the fire ripple in the fireplace like an orange veil dancing in the wind while you fiddled with your fingers.

The tic was automatic; Matt and Frank would have preferred to have taken your hand in theirs to prevent this torment.

What irritated you most of all was the profound injustice of the whole evening. You wouldn’t say anything, and you’d be considered too silent so people would ask you questions, but once you opened your mouth they were not satisfied with your answers. You couldn’t take your own phone, when all the aunts had their own, texting to their friends and all. Children had the right to get away in another room and watch a movie, while you had to stick there doing nothing but listening to whatever was said.

You couldn’t wait for the night to come to an end.

It was time to store the presents everywhere and pretend to the children that Santa had stopped by while they were watching the movie. Everything was placed in colourful piles, and when the children were called, they ran down the stairs and began the frantic tearing of gift wrap to an orchestra of shrieks and shredding.

All the accumulated sounds made you grit your teeth, tightening your throat and making you want to cry. You could feel the limit coming, and you needed a break to prevent you from imploding.

This time you took Frank's hand and squeezed it three times. He turned to you immediately, stroking your cheek before telling Matt. As quickly as they could without looking rushed, they put on their jackets and went out after you.

The night air calmed some part of you instantly, the contrast between all the hectic ambiance inside and the calmness of the outside felt like two extreme opposite worlds living by the only separation of a door.

To make sure that even from the outside there would be no doubt about this cover, Frank had to play along by taking out a cigarette and lighting it. He seemed irritated, and the idea of that Joker card almost seemed to play a real asset in all this to calm him down.

"How the fuck do they sleep at night?" he grumbles as he puffs out his first drag, "it's like they take every opportunity they get to pull you down."

"It's alright, let it slide." you sigh, crossing your arms over your chest.

"No it's not," he continues, "I can't believe you managed to handle their company for all these years."

"Didn't have much of a choice," you breathe.

"I know you said it was bad, I just didn't imagine it was constantly so," Matt confirmed.

"If I go back there I might actually punch them in the face," Frank grumbles before taking another drag on the cigarette.

"All that's left is the presents from the adults, then the Yule log, and then we'll be off, okay?" reassured Matt, placing his hand gently on your shoulder.

The touch of his hand brought a comforting warmth, and his words managed to reassure you. You looked at them both, thinking about how it would’ve been without them : unbearable, definitely. You had barely been able to handle it before they came, but now that they were here, you felt safe, like half of the poison that was thrown at you was not as effective.

They had changed you, made you feel loved, cherished, proud. They had been trying to break these patterns, the self depreciation, the self sabotage, the lack of self confidence. They were helping you build yourself back up from the ruins everyone else had left, and you were the most grateful to the universe to had brought them in your life.

"Thank you both, for being here," you admitted, your voice almost cracking, the coolness of the night giving you a feeling of security that was enough to relax your knotted throat.

They turned towards you, their faces softening. They knew what you were going through, what you were enduring for the night, and how complicated and unpleasant it must have been until they arrived.

Frank took you in his arms, the smell of tobacco already permeating his clothes. Matt must not have been enjoying it at all, smelling that darkly sugary, smoky smell all around him, but whatever personal discomfort he was experiencing he didn't let it show.

"It's the least we can do, beautiful," he replied, stroking your back.

"We just wish we could shut their mouths," Matt agreed, holding back from participating in the embrace as you’d instructed him.

"And stop this whole group of women from praising you?" sneered Frank, which made you smile.

Matt's nose scrunched up and his bottom lip curled in disgust at the remark.

"One of them wanted to feed me appetisers, and another asked me about being blind and whether I'd mind being in a relationship with someone whose looks I can't see." he said with a sigh.

"And then?" asked Frank curiously as you both turned to face the lawyer.

"I told her that I didn't need to see to know who was good-looking, and that if I chose my relationships purely on looks, I wouldn't know true friendship or love."

"All those poetic words must have pleased her," Frank punctuated with a whistle.

"Not until I told her my grandmother wore the same perfume as her."

You and Frank both laughed softly, truly impressed at how Matt was handling all this flirting and cringe from several women altogether.

But this calm moment had to have an end, as the cigarette grew smaller and smaller by the minute. Frank broke away from your embrace to finish it and stubbed it out on the wall.

This little outing had done you a world of good. The cool night air had refreshed you, its delicate silence giving you a break from all the noise and the terrible comments from your family all the while Frank and Matt allowed you this break from constant barbs.

You returned again inside, the end of the opening of presents for the children welcoming you. And so the opening of those for the adults began, all the parcels being stored on the table in more chic and sober wrappings. The grandparents started, Frank standing behind you with one hand on your shoulder and the other holding his glass of champagne.

One by one, they all opened their presents, until it was your turn. Embarrassment gripped your body as all eyes were on you, and you dreaded the opening simply by being watched with boredom mixed with curiosity - to see how you might react and make the slightest faux pas.

You went about it slowly, wishing to unpack properly and not act like a barbarian tearing everything apart at once. Your aunt beside you imitated a yawn at the fact that you were making them wait, and everyone laughed, a tense little smile nailed to your cheeks.

What you got in the end wasn't too bad, nor too far from what you could appreciate, surprisingly. Of course, you had to force yourself to smile at most of the useless gifts that gave you absolutely no pleasure, but you thanked everyone, and the presentation of gifts moved on to the next ones.

"Didn't you get her anything?" your mother asked the boys.

"Her presents are at my place," Frank informed her.

The sentence made your heart spike up, a sudden warmth colouring your chest in pink softness as the sparkles of it brought the tingling sensation of tears at the corners of your eyes. Presents, they had gotten you presents.

You were not going to cry, of course not, but the lump formed in your throat gave you enough of a hard time that you had to grab your drink and sip on it.

"Speaking of your place, have you looked at the traffic to get home?" questioned Matt, "I don't think I want to take too long."

"I'll have a look," he said, taking his hand off your shoulder to pick up his phone.

You wondered if Matt had had enough, if his own senses had been overwhelmed by all of this and he was pondering on going home. But then realised what they were doing : feigning traffic disruption in order to get home early and save yourself a lot of awful time.

"I think we're going to have to go," Frank nodded as he put his phone away. "Sweetheart? Ready?" he asked, bending over so that his chest pressed against your back.

"Yes," you said as you took a big breath and stood up, saying goodbye to the whole family.

You dreaded the hugs, the kisses on the cheeks or simply the fact of pressing them together and imitating the sound of what should have been a fake smooch, but with a surge of tiredness you objected to this using the excuse of " time is running out".

In no time at all, Matt and Frank had gathered up all your things and were carrying them, heading for the entrance hall to collect theirs.

In less time than it takes to say it, you were finally outside, walking up to the gate. You felt as if your lungs were being squeezed as you went along, almost expecting to feel a rope being pulled tight inside you to tie you to the house, for someone to come out and catch you or whatever. You felt almost like a gnat trying to escape from the spider's web in which it had been stuck a little too long.

You stuck the key in the lock of the gate, turned it hastily, then opened it to let them go with you, closing the big opaque metal door with that step. The pressure hadn't gone away from your body yet, every limb feeling like it was made of thick, rough foam where multiple needles had pierced you in the many crevices they'd already left and were digging even deeper.

You looked for the car in the hope of getting to it as quickly as possible, but you let out a little squeal of surprise when your feet flew off the ground as Frank swept you up in his arms like a princess.

"Ain't no way you're gonna walk, you've had enough exhaustion for the night," he said, tightening his grip on your back and the back of your knees.

"But-" you began reflexively, although the idea of giving up this position didn't bring you any comfort.

"Ah ah," he stopped, "don't wanna hear about it." If he had his two hands free and was being childish, he would have put them over his ears, singing la la la and pretending not to hear anything.

But his hands were firmly under you, giving you all the security you could have dreamed of and the beginnings of a comfort that would last all evening until you'd sleep.

"Circus night is over," Matt huffed, taking a deep breath, "I think I've heard enough nonsense for one year."

"Lucky for you, next one's less than a week away," sneered Frank.

"I'd rather lose a second sense than inflict this on myself and our angel a second time," the demon replied as he grabbed the car keys from Frank's pocket and opened it.

He opened one of the rear doors, letting Frank gently place you in and strap you in place, placing a kiss on your forehead as he stepped aside to let Matt pass and place the few bags in the boot.

Matt sat down beside you, and you let your head fall on his shoulder. You felt the tingles of anxiety under your skin lodge in your legs and squeeze your chest, the rush to get out of here weighing heavily on your head.

Frank sat in the front seat, turning the car key and making it purr, then drove off.

As the car rounded the corner, all the tension began to dissipate and you let the breath you'd been holding in escape from your chest. Your whole body felt heavy, your hands gloved with marble, your legs booted with lead and your head stuffed with cotton.

You felt the softness of Matt's lips as he placed a kiss on your forehead, his hand coming to rest on your thigh as you hummed under the sweetness of his comfort.

"It's all over now," he said, resting his chin on your head, "we're going to take care of you."

You snuggle up to him, your hand coming to rest on his as you breathe softly. Your fingers drew soft, formless patterns on the back of his hand, fighting the fatigue that had fallen on you like an anvil.

The moment was sweet, Matt's warmth through his clothes spreading close to you as you turned his hand onto his back to gently trace the lines from his palm up to his callused fingers.

"I'd have to get rid of some of them," grunted Frank, who clearly hadn't yet calmed his frustration, "I'm sure they'd be much better off in an asylum."

"It's an insane asylum, not an asshole asylum," Matt remarked, "you'd have to build asshole asylums but... you can imagine the size of the buildings."

"Yeah, still, maybe I should have burnt my cigarette on one of their cars."

"What a nice Christmas present," chuckled Matt.

"I can be generous sometimes," confirmed Frank.

"Especially when you threaten people," you agreed.

"A pittance," Matt snickered, "Is that one of my sweaters by the way ?

"Yes," you sigh, "I'll have you know it's been criticised tonight."

"Really? By whom."

"I'll let you guess."

"A bit bold coming from someone dressed like Norman Bates who dresses like his mother," Frank grumbled.

You laughed softly, a sort of little venting session taking place in the car like a debriefing following a bizarre situation.

"With all those women around, Red's charm knows no bounds," laughed Frank, "you've caught the eye of one in particular it seems."

"My aunt? She's suffering from too much oestrogen. If you're interested, I can put you in touch," you grinned.

" I'd rather sleep on cotton sheets." grunts Matt as his hand grabs your thigh and squeezes a little tighter, letting a small chirp of amusement escape from between your lips.

The ride continued, and your stomach went all hollow, grumbling with displeasure at the emptiness you'd left it.

"Didn't eat much, did you ?" asked Matt softly.

"Barely touched her plate," confirmed Frank at the front.

"Didn't feel like it," you murmured.

"Is there anything you'd like when you get home?" proposed the demon, interlacing his fingers with yours.

"Something sweet," you hummed, adjusting your chin to rest it on his shoulder.

"Anything else?"

"Two pairs of arms around me," you smiled.

They both grinned, and the ride went by in a flash. You untied yourself once you'd arrived, stretching slightly as you shifted to open the door beside you, but Matt's hand from your thigh came to grab your hip and pull you back to him in a gesture that seemed immensely easy.

You turned to face him, confused for a moment, as he kissed your cheek.

"No walking, remember?" he smiled as Frank opened his car door to come towards yours.

You sigh, shaking your head slightly as you roll your eyes. They were overdoing it, but you weren't going to stop them.

"Come here princess," Frank said as he pulled your hips towards him to take you in his arms again.

You wrapped your hands around the back of his nape, nestling your face in his neck and smelling his subtle cologne on his warm skin.

Matt took the bags and went ahead to open the door for you. The familiar smell of your real home seemed to wash all your worries from your body as you took a simple breath.

The bags were deposited in the hallway, Frank walking over to the sofa to set you down.

"Stay right there and don't move," he informed, hands on either side of you as he kissed you softly.

"What happens if I move ?" you asked, placing one of your hands on his arms.

"I'll tie you up like a pretty present," he chuckled as he kissed you again, "the most perfect present we'd ever have."

"Is that a threat or a promise?" you teased, your foreheads pressed together.

"It's a statement," he concluded.

He straightened up, and you were already missing his presence near you, but you respected his request - or rather his order - and remained seated on the sofa. Your head fell back, your body moulding itself to the shape of the couch under the effect of the evening's emotional turmoil. The tension drained away more and more, relaxing your tired muscles and making you yawn.

It wasn't long before Matt and Frank returned with more casual outfits and packages in their hands. You straightened up, bending your knees on the sofa about to get up, but remembering the fact that walking wasn't a possibility, you explained:

"I've got some for you too, am I allowed to go and get them?"

"For us?" said a surprised Frank, pointing at himself as if there was some mistake.

"You mean the packages under the first step of the stairs?" questioned Matt, "I thought those were packages you forgot about for the others."

"No, these are for you," you confirmed as you sat back down on your knees on the sofa.

They stood like that, one blinking repeatedly while the other kept his lips parted.

"You really didn't have to-" Matt began, but you stopped him immediately.

"Tsk tsk, if I don't have the right to stand up, you don't have the right to stop me from giving you presents."

"But-" resumed Frank.

"Ah ah," you smiled in the same tone he'd given you earlier, "don't wanna hear about it."

He parted his lips in a smile but said nothing as Matt laughed softly to the side. They approached you, Frank placing the packages on the coffee table as Matt turned away.

"I'll get them," he eventually says, heading for the top step, cracking it open and pulling out three packages to take back to the coffee table.

"The medium one is for you," you say, pushing the first one towards Frank, "and the big and small one are for you," the two boxes sliding across the smooth table towards Matt.

The packets seemed a particularly complex conundrum to them, but you urged them to open their presents.

Matt opened his and discovered a 7kg weighted blanket and an anti-stress ring that could be twirled on his finger.

"I know you sometimes ask me or Frank to lie on top of you because the weight makes you feel better, so I got you this, which should help if neither of us is ever there to give you what you want. As for the ring, I know that times at the Court can be stressful, so I thought it might help you find a point of anchorage."

Matt seemed at a loss for words, taking the duvet between his fingers and touching the silk sheet you'd wrapped it in. Putting the ring on his index finger, which fit perfectly, he smiled to himself.

As for Frank, he removed the wrapping and his lips parted.

"I've been looking for these for months," he said, looking at the few books he'd been talking about over and over again. "How did you... ?"

You'd scoured countless bookshops, searched book repositories, researched the clearance of certain titles by libraries to find these books that had all but disappeared very quickly while the work was being republished and retranslated.

"A good girlfriend never reveals her secrets," you smiled.

The two of them placed their gifts on the table and came to embrace you, nestling their faces in the crooks of your neck. They held you close, gently kissing your skin between hushed "thank you's", dotting your neck and face with soft pecks.

"What did we do to deserve you," Frank murmured, pulling back slightly.

"I could ask the same about you both," you smiled, running your fingers through their hair.

They kissed you again, then handed you their own gift. You opened it, and it was something you'd talked about several times before, something that was very close to your heart and that they'd decided to give you. This time it was your turn to hug them, and they laughed as you showered their faces with kisses.

"What do you say to a nice bath, and then some dessert before bed?" offered Matt.

"I think that's the best idea of the evening," you confirmed, caressing his cheek and kissing his nose.

Without further ado, Frank took you in his arms like a koala, letting your legs cross behind him as you pressed your cheek against his shoulder. He led you and Matt into the bathroom, the devil bending over the tub to prepare the bath.

Frank lifted you slightly and sat you down on the wash basin counter, letting his hands fall on both your thighs and stroking them gently.

"As much as I love your makeup, we're gonna have to remove it sweetheart", he explained, kissing your cheek.

So mechanically, you grabbed your make-up remover, ready to start the process. But Frank stopped you in your tracks, gently taking the bottle in one hand and a cotton pad in the other.

He poured a small amount onto the white disc, dosing as you did regularly.

"Close your pretty eyes for me," he murmured, taking your chin between his fingers and starting to remove your make-up.

Frank had this charming habit, in the evenings when you were getting ready for bed and he wasn't out playing vigilante, of watching you remove your make-up. He knew a lot about your day by the way you went about it: slow and thoughtful was the result of a good day, faster and more jerky obviously reflected one full of frustration, and sometimes when your movements were slow and your eyes half-closed, it generally meant that the day had been very, very long.

He concentrated, pressing tenderly against your skin as he removed iridescent, matte and mascara from your eyelids, occasionally pausing to kiss your lips, making you smile and giggle softly with each peck.

You almost wanted to put lipstick on his lips and let him kiss your whole face until the red of your cheeks was indistinguishable from the colour of the lipstick.

He asked you to look up this time to clear away the mascara smears and the black marks left in their path. He was doing this with the utmost precision, and this personal attention sent tickles all the way to the back of your skull.

"Look at me?" he asked and you complied, a smirk forming on his lips. "The prettiest girl."

He came over and placed a strand of hair behind your ear before stepping aside to throw away the little cotton disc.

"I'm gonna go and check what snacks we have, Red? I'll leave you my favourite part, but only because it's christmas alright?" he informed before kissing the tip of your nose one last time and stepping out of the bathroom.

Matt, so far checking the temperature of the bath water to make sure it was correct, shook off his damp fingers and wiped them on a towel before standing up and moving between your legs.

"I'll have you stand up just for a bit," he cautioned, taking your hands and pulling you slightly towards him to get you to your feet. "Arms up."

At his request, you raised your arms. His hands pinched the bottom of your hoodie and pulled it up your body. He laid it to one side, continuing with your t-shirt, his fingers still warm from the water sliding delicately against your skin.

"So that's Frank's favourite part?" you smiled, "undressing me?

"I have to say it is," he stated as he unbuttoned your trousers and panties, sliding them to the floor where you lifted your feet to get out of them.

"And what's your favourite part?" you asked as he took off your socks and raised up to your level.

"The one that's about to happen."

He guided you to the bath and let you slide in gently. The temperature was perfect, just as you liked it, and you let out a moan of ease from between your lips until most of your body was submerged in the bath.

Matt took a stool from the bathroom and placed it beside you, taking a cup at the same time to pour water over your hair. He applied himself with great care, taking his time to make sure no drops got into your eyes.

Your muscles relaxed naturally with the heat, finally eradicating the tension in your body once and for all.

You felt Matt's fingers dip into the bath water, sliding up from the skin of your thigh and gently up your body, tracing your silhouette under the water.

"You're beautiful," he whispers as his wet fingers rose from the water to caress your cheek.

"How could you know?" you asked softly, watching as he stared into the emptiness.

"My hands don't lie to me, and I know the beauty of the mind at first sight of the heart" he smiled as he took your bottle of shampoo, pouring some into his palm before massaging your head.

To help him, you straightened up, pivoting slightly to get your back to him. His fingers snaked through your hair, massaging gently and lathering everything up slowly. He worked the back of your neck, muscles tense, letting your head go with the movement of his hands.

With your neck now leaning back, Matt smiled gently before kissing your forehead.

"That's my favourite part," he confirmed, resuming the massage.

You let your eyes close, surrendering to the gentleness of the moment and Matt's touch. He was pressing, caressing, painting with his fingers as if he were holding the most beautiful and delicate material in his hands.

Too soon for your liking - because you would have preferred this moment to have no end - he rinsed your hair, letting the white mousse spread over your shoulders and applying it lightly to your skin. He took the sponge, soaking it in shower gel before squeezing it into a foam so that he could spread the bubbly cloud over your skin.

He took one of your arms, raising it so that he could get it straight and soap you up properly, and he kissed the length of your skin before the softness of his kisses was erased by the little soap bubbles that the sponge left in its wake. He did the same for your second arm, and your leg, and the second after that, covering your whole body with kisses and softness.

At first you thought it was unfair, because no sooner had he placed a kiss on your skin than he wiped it away with white foam. But you were soon comforted by the idea that these weren't kisses being chased away, but kisses being kept, kisses that seeped under your skin and brought you all the warmth that the bath was beginning to no longer contain.

Before the water got too cold, he gently rinsed you off and got you out of the tub, wrapping you in your bathrobe.

Frank came back into the bathroom at last, bringing clean, more comfortable clothes in his hands. They both took their time drying your hair and dressing you, whispering sweet nothings to you as they kissed your cheeks and temples.

Each kiss washed away the stress you'd been feeling, replacing bitterness with sweetness, and you relished every moment of it.

Once again they carried you in their arms to the sofa, where Frank had placed a plethora of foodstuffs of all kinds on the table, snacks and other sweet products that you might have wanted at the time.

You watched several episodes of a series that you'd been watching together lately, commenting on it and falsely - or actually - taking offence at the particularly stupid choices made by the main characters.

You didn't need any more than that. All the love in the world was with them.

They had taught you how one hand changes when you put it on top of another, that another world is possible but is present in this one, that there is always a dream asleep.

They were standing on your eyelids, and their hair was in yours, they were engulfed in your shadow. Their eyes were always open, they wouldn't let you sleep, their kisses in the light made the sun evaporate.

Back pressed against the chest of one, face hidden in the nape of the other's neck, tonight you fell asleep, fulfilled, safe and loved.

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