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godmadeaterribleerror · 26 days ago

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Hold You Tight In My Mind

Main Masterlist

Read on A03!

Tags: Dean Winchester/Female Reader, Love Confessions, Smut (p in v, blowjobs, kinda fingering), soft angst, injury, hurt/comfort, demon possession, friends-with-benefits to lovers.

Summary/Warnings: You and Dean have an agreement. Best friends who have sex, no strings attached. But when a case goes south, you learn a few things about Dean, specifically his thoughts on the arrangement.

Maybe you won't have to love him in silence after all.

Author's Note: Kinda request from @brtodd!! Nothing I love more than a good old love confession, enjoy!

Title from Terrance Loves You by Lana Del Ray

Word Count: 8.5k

That’s a lot of blood. You’ve spent nights in motels stitching wounds and lost yourself on the side of the highway shouting for help, your guts half spilled on the pavement, but you’ve never seen that much blood.

“Son of a bitch, that’s a lot of blood.”

Dean, apparently, hasn’t seen this much blood either.

“Should we, um,” you scan over the tile floor, your nose slightly scrunched. “Should we take a picture for Sam?”

“Yeah, he should see this shit too-“

“No, Dean,” you give him a flat look. “For the case. To help him figure out what the hell this thing is.”

Dean gives you a bright, boyish grin and nod of approval. “Good thinkin’, in case he gets mad at us-“

“Gets mad at you,” you correct, moving to stand at Dean’s shoulder as he takes the photo. “I’m not a part of this. I just wanna go home.”

Dean shrugs. “We all wanna go home, Sweetheart. Hell, I’ve got a wife and kids- Shit-“

He doubles over slightly from your elbow in his ribs, and you roll your eyes.

“You have a fake wife and kids. And your fake wife,” you jab your thumb at your own chest. “Doesn’t want her fake brother-in-law to kill her.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, Dean’s never allowed to have fun.” He mutters, rubbing his side. “And Sammy wouldn’t kill ya’-“

“He’d kill my fake husband.” You pout at Dean, placing a hand over your heart. “And that would kill me.”

Dean chuckles, rising back to his full height. “I love it when you pretend that you care about me. Makes me warm and fuzzy.”

You roll your eyes, hoping he can’t see the low flush on your face. “You’re an asshole.”

“I know.” He shrugs. “You’re into it, though. C’mon, we gotta see if there’s actually a body in here, or Sam’ll kill both of us.”

Dean trudges off through the lake of blood, and you have to shake your head slightly to clear it. This case is going to kill you. This is so fucking gross, and the longer you’re here—in this room, in this town, on this case—the sicker you feel.

And it’s not just the blood. It’s all of this. It’s the haughty country club patrons who are downright impossible to properly interrogate, it’s the extra fancy clothing you have to wear for the investigations, and the shitty little tea cakes that the club serves. Tea cakes that you can feel your stomach growling for, because you haven’t had a chance to eat all day, and that only makes you feel worse. As every hour passes, you only feel more and more sick. You only spiral into starving mess that needs either food or Dean.

And that just makes you ill. Every time you look at Dean and hear him say wife, you want to strangle him then kiss him and it’s exhausting. Because you’d walked into this stupid fucking country club with a plan that would’ve worked fine—Sam’s your driver because he drew the short stick, Dean’s your bodyguard, you’re some fancy heiress looking to spend some money—and everything went sideways the moment the front desk asked how many household members, and Dean said four. Dean said that he was your husband, and you have kids, and that he knows he’s punchin’ above his weight class, but damn him, he can’t feel bad about it.

You want to hate him for that. You want to throttle him for how he’s treating this like it’s casual and easy, like every time he says wife it’s not so quietly cruel to your heart. How it flutters and glows before withering, because you’ll never have that. Dean always says wife with a teasing voice and nudge of your shoulder, and you can only grin at him like it’s not killing you, reminding you of what you can’t have.

But you can’t hate Dean. You don’t really know how to hate Dean. And he doesn’t know that this is like torture, because he really thinks you’re happy with this. Not just the fake wife thing—because you are playing into it, trading the same taunts and jokes and grins—but the very real, no-strings-attached fuck-buddies arrangement you have. Have had for fucking years. The one where you’ll follow him to the ends of the earth and never, ever look back to see what you’d left behind, but all he’s asking is that you stay in his bed and let him fuck you when he asks.

It’s not a bad arrangement. He’s a sex god, he gives as good as he gets, and you’re technically exclusive, but it’s still not what you want. Crave. Desire more than you’ve ever desired anything.

Because you really just want all of Dean. Something he’s never offered anyone‚ will certainly never offer you, and you’re going to chase until it kills you. You’ll warm Dean’s bed and touch his body for as long as you’re allowed, and cling to these small deaths of maybe this could be real until they all finally catch up to your heart. You’ll gather small offerings he drops in your lap without knowing—you’re the only person he looks at, and his eyes don’t seem to stray, and he’s the one who decided you should be fake married—and build a shrine to him along your ribs he’ll never be allowed to see.

But his voice still haunts your dreams with words you feel over your skin where he’s touched you before. Words you’ve heard a million times—so pretty, sweetheart, good girl—and words you’ll never hear. Words that circle your brain and bang on your skull all the fucking time, even in this disgusting, haunting mess of blood. Words that make some small part of you spark whenever you hear Dean’s deep, strong voice say your name, because you’re a little pathetic and you can’t stop praying that he’ll say them. He won’t. He never does.

He calls your name, and that spark kicks up your spine, and he still doesn’t say them.

“I got it!” He sounds so proud, and you hate that it makes you smile. “We’re looking at a demon!”

You turn, pushing through the blood to join Dean at where he’s standing at a fireplace, running his finger over the mantle with a twisted expression of disgust.

“Sulfur?” You ask, stopping as close to his side as he can manage, and he shoots you a grin, holding up a bloodied—but blackened—finger.

“Bingo, Sweetheart.” He winks, obviously missing your open, wanting gape at him as he looks back to the mantle. “Nasty son of bitch, though, I’ve never seen one of those douchebags do this.”

Dean gestures around the room, and you hum an agreement.

“So we’re good?” You ask, standing slightly on your toes to survey the sulfur buildup. “That’s it?”

“That’s it.” Dean pulls his phone out of his pocket. “I’m gonna call my wife, tell her I’ll be home for dinner-“

You whack his arm, and he laughs like a handsome, cocky fucking asshole you still can’t figure out how to hate.

“Your wife is starving, and tired of standing in blood.” You kick your foot through the mess, wrinkling your nose. “Can we please go?”

“I dunno, I think this is kinda romantic.” Dean gives you a shit-eating grin, and you swallow. “I mean, this is freakin’ gross, but it’s just us and all these guts, I think we could waste some time-“

“Shut up.” You shove him, and he doesn’t stop grinning at you. “Haul ass, Winchester, or you’ll be in the fake doghouse.”

He chuckles, rebalancing in a second. “You’re being a little dramatic, kid-“

“Don’t kid me, Dean Winchester, I’m your fake wife. I gave birth to your fake kids-“

“You’ve got some good points,“ Dean drawls your name, pulling you right against his chest, and suddenly the smell of metallic blood is nothing compared to the leather and whiskey and gunpowder of Dean. The sticky heat of the room is overtaken by the heat in your core, the heat of Dean’s breath as he lowers down to kiss right behind your ear, his voice dropping to a deep, teasing growl. “And I’m gonna real fuck you when we get back to the motel. But I gotta call Sam and catch him up, can you-“

You nod, reaching into his pocket to grab the keys, and force yourself not to look back as you leave. You wince slightly as you lean into the Impala—starting the car before rising back up and leaning against the door—but it’s not like she’s never been covered in blood before. This just… a lot more blood than usual.

Dean takes a year to join you, and when he walks out of the building he’s smirking, spreading his arms in a wide aren’t you happy to see me? gesture.

“Sam’s workin’ it.” He stops right in front of you, too close and never close enough. “Can I buy a pretty lady a beer?”

“You can buy her some food.” You cross your arms, grinning up at him. “I saw a drive-thru down the road, we shouldn’t go inside looking like this.”

“Smart.” He places his hand on your lower back, guiding you around the car and into the passenger’s seat, and just being so fucking impossible as he opens the door and helps you inside. “Greasy fast-food for me and my girl, comin’ right up.”

You have to learn how to hate him. You have to learn how to flip Dean off and mean it, how to not flush and giggle like a schoolgirl with a crush under his attention. He doesn’t mean it, he doesn’t know how to mean it, but it still makes your lower gut warm and your face split into a wide, stupid grin when he calls you my girl, drawls your name in the car, and rests his hand on your knee as you pull through the ordering window. When he parks in the lot and you laugh together, his eyes rarely leaving yours and his smile never falling from his face.

Even when he gets out to use the bathroom—promising he’ll be fast and try, somehow, not to draw attention to how he’s soaked in blood—Dean still grins and winks at you, and you can’t figure out how to shove his chest and shout that this is mean. That he’s mocking you and stringing your heart up on wires to play with, and he can’t be expected to know that but this is so fucking mean. He needs to stop smiling at you, and stop saying wife all the time like it’s real when it’s not. It won’t be, it can’t be, and now that’s going to haunt you forever.

You sit there for long, lonely minutes while Dean’s gone, trying get as little blood as you can on the upholstery, because Dean had already started grumbling about how much work this is gonna be to clean up and you can’t bring yourself to make anything harder for him. You spiral through the sound of Dean calling you my girl and promising to fuck you, sit in the ghost of his big, warm hand on your body and his chest pressed right against your breasts. The gleam in his eyes that was full of promises, and the fantasy of all the plans he might have for that aforementioned fucking.

Then you hear his phone ring, and you frown. Dean almost never forgets his phone in the car, even if he’s just getting beer or paying for gas. It’s a hazard, to not have it. To not be able to reach you or Sam if he needs to, for you and Sam to not be able to reach him.

And he’s been gone a while. Long enough that your throat starts to form a small lump, and—when you pick up the call—your voice is a little unsteady, your attention on where Dean had disappeared into the building.

“Yeah?”

“Oh, hey.” Sam says your name through the speaker, his tone a little surprised. “Where’s Dean?”

“Bathroom.” You frown at the building, desperate for Dean to just appear, and soothe this horrible twisting in your gut. “What’s up?”

“I figured out what we’re looking at.” You can hear some papers shuffling on Sam’s end, his words slow and careful. “Special kind of demon that feeds off of lustful blood, which explains why he’s been going after all those rich people. Like, ten ladies and five dudes have tried to sleep with me this week, and I know you and Dean got that, uh, offer-“

“Sam.” You mutter, your eyes still on the building. “Can we exercise it?”

“Kind of. We can’t use the normal one, because it’s not a normal demon, but there is a way. And these guys seem to be capable of being injured, more dependent on their vessels or something. So-“

“If we find him we can knock him down,” you mutter. “Hold him until we figure out how to flush him out.”

“Exactly. And I’m trying to work on the flushing part,” Sam sighs, and you can picture his sheepish expression. “But I don’t have it yet. Are you-“

“We’re coming back soon. Do you want us gone a little while longer, so you can focus-“

“No, Dean told me about all the blood. Sounded gross.”

You nod, even though he can’t see you. “It was. But-“

“I’ll take the car, need to stop at the library anyway.” Sam says your name through the phone, and there’s a sound of pity in it that makes you curl slightly into yourself. “You and Dean can shower, relax, do, uh, whatever you do-“

You sigh. “Please don’t give me permission to fuck your brother, dude. It’s weird.”

“Yeah.” Sam chuckles through the static. “Sorry. I just know he’s been trying to get you alone-“

“He’s always trying to get me alone.” A dumb smile takes over your face as Dean reappears, and he’s fine. Still covered in blood, but grinning at you with a dizzying joy and gleam in his eyes. “I’ll tell him what we’ve got, and text us when you’ve got the exorcism.”

“Will do. Call me if you need anything, or if, uh, I should stay away longer-“

“Suck my dick.”

You end the call as Sam laughs, and look up to find Dean tapping on your window with a smirk. You blink at him, because he might be covered in more blood than before. There’s a bruise on his forehead that wasn’t there a second ago, his shirt is on backwards, and his jacket is drenched, but he’s look at you like he won the lottery, and you’re not sure what the hell is going on.

“Dean,” you frown at him as you roll the window down, your brow furrowed as he braces an arm on the roof of Baby. “Are you-“

He cuts off your words by ducking down, grabbing your chin, and pulling you into a long, mind-numbing, sloppy kiss that leaves you gaping and dumb. Your fingers curling in his shirt, his low chuckle rolling through your body as he pushes his tongue down your throat, the taste of Dean—lingering burger and sweet soda and salt for your food, plus something innately Dean that’s heady and always leaves a perfect aftertaste on your tongue whenever he kisses you—overtaking the taste of blood just enough override your sense of this is kinda gross, and make you pull him closer.

When Dean pulls back—leaving you starting at him, your breathing ragged and heart trying to escape your chest as he grins at you—he grins at you, his voice a gravely promise.

“You ready to head back, darlin’?”

You blink at him. He’s never called you darling. Darling doesn’t sound like a Dean word. “Uh, yeah, but are you feeling okay? You were in there a while-“

“Food didn’t sit right,” he shrugs, drawing back up with a last wink. “Trust me, Sweetheart, it ain’t gonna be an issue anymore. I’m all flushed out.”

He rounds the car, and you watch him move with a frown. That’s the Dean swagger-walk, but it’s longer, with almost no urgency. Dean always walks with a least a little urgency, and he calls you Sweetheart but not darlin’, and something is still squeezing around your throat and telling you something’s wrong, when Dean’s right here. He’s winking at you from the driver’s seat, driving with the same cool ease Dean always has behind the wheel, and talking to you like he always does. Like your every word is fascinating and amusing, and you could say the grossest thing in the world but he’d still call you adorable.

You hate that he does that. It’s perfect and painful, feeding that shrine over your ribs, and almost enough to distract you from how weird he’s being. How he doesn’t seem at all interested to hear about the blood demon, how his first clarification is so Sam’s gonna leave us in the motel, and how he’s growing bolder with his hand on your leg. Trailing fingers lazily up your thigh and grinning when he brushes over the apex of your thighs, chuckling at your small gasp.

“Think we’re ready for that fuckin’, Sweetheart?” He drawls, pulling into the motel lot. “You sure seem real needy-“

“We’re not having sex, Dean, there’s a demon on the loose-“

“A demon Sammy’s handlin’.” He shrugs. “And I’ve been tryin’ to get you alone all freakin’ week. C’mon, we deserve some time together.“ Dean leans forward, smirking at you. “And I know you want it, babygirl. I bet you’re real fuckin’ wet for me.” He reaches up to your face, running his thumb over your lower lip. “So pretty, darlin’-“

There it is again. Darling. Darling, and the excessive drawling, and the slow walk, and the glint in his eyes you’re only now noticing. It’s colder than how Dean ever looks at you. It’s shallow and crude, like he can’t see anything past a pretty face and body, when Dean is—above all else—your friend. When there’s always a shining light when he looks at you that—both amazingly and awfully—reminds you that you’re more than just a body, and he mostly sees you as the best friend he’s ever had. The one he can do this with, because you care about each other too much to complicate things, and who he’ll always respect.

And this doesn’t feel respectful. It doesn’t feel like Dean. His hands are touching you, but there’s something off about them. Dean would be tracing his fingers over your inner thigh, not moving any further until your either grabbed his hand and moved it for him, or downright pleaded for him to touch you. He’d be disgusted by keeping your bloodied clothing in Baby for even a second more, and choose to back you against the motel wall instead of whatever this is. He’d let you get a word in, for your mock sparring and teasing that he always seems to win.

He would’ve worked in a joke about wanting to fuck his wife, because she can be a real brat when he neglects her. And you’d have smacked his chest, and he’d have laughed, raising his brows and saying see? She gets all bitchy and dramatic when I don’t fuck her right.

But Dean’s not doing that right now. And when you reach over the seat, trailing your hand up his chest in a pretend gesture of need, you feel it.

Warm, sticky blood that’s fresh, and seeping through his shirt. Pouring from a wound you can feel the dip of, that somehow doesn’t make him flinch when you press slightly on it.

A wound right over his anti-possession tattoo.

You move before the demon—not Dean, this isn’t Dean, and you feel fucking ill—can register what’s happening. You pull one of the Impala’s random guns out from the glove compartment, thank a God who’s obviously not listening that it’s weighed and heavy, and ram the butt of it into Dean’s temple. Not hard enough to kill him—you do want your Dean back after this— but hard enough to knock him out. To buy you enough time to grab his by the neck of his jacket and drag him out of the impala. You kick open the motel room door, scream to Sam for help, and haul him into a chair. Sam ties him down, while you take long, deep breathes, and your words are soft and short when you finally manage to speak.

“He’s possessed.” You whisper, starting at the floor. “They carved through the tattoo.”

“Shit,” Sam starts to pace, and there’s a ringing in your ears that makes it hard to hear him. “It’s-“

You nod. “The blood demon.”

“Are you good to stay here?” Sam marches over to the table and shoving his laptop into his bag. “I’ll go to the library, find what we’re looking for, and call you when I’ve got it. Okay?”

You nod, trying not flinch at Sam’s sympathetic pat of your shoulder, and stare at Dean as Sam leaves. You feel vile. That’s not Dean, but it’s Dean’s body. Dean will still be injured when you get this piece of shit out of his body. He’ll still be covered in bloody, disgusting clothing, and he’ll remember you knocking him out. He’ll ask questions that you’ll have to answer, about how you knew. And you’ll have to tell him that you just did. You’ll leave out the part about how you have every piece of him memorized to worship, so that even if the demon had tried a little harder to pretend to be Dean, you probably still would have caught on. You’d recognizes Dean’s bones in the grave. You’d recognize his voice in space. You’d recognize him just fucking near you if you were being waterboarded and flayed alive. And you’ll have to look him in the eyes and say the painfully basic and obscuring answer of I just did, and that will hurt.

But you have time to practice. The demon’s still knocked out in Dean’s body, and Sam’s taking too long to figure this out, but you don’t have anywhere to be. You can tug Dean’s jacket off his body with a mumbled apology he can’t hear, and busy yourself trying to clean it. You can’t stop looking at him—battered, vulnerable, his face so painfully slack—and the warm, soap-covered cloth isn’t enough to keep you from spiraling. From flinching as the blood, Dean’s blood, becomes red bubbles, and trying to convince yourself that this isn’t going to be so impossibly horrible. That, maybe, the demon just won’t wake up, and you won’t have to do anything but clean Dean’s jacket until Sam gets back

But you’re not that lucky.

Pretty, green eyes that are but don’t look like Dean’s flutter open, the demon drops any pretense of playing pretend, and your skin begins to crawl as it speaks.

“Good mornin’,” it leers at you from the chair, pulling slightly on the bonds. “Aren’t you a pretty sight to see after some forced shut eye.”

You start to scrub on the leather to a degree that can’t be helpful, your knuckles white.

“Knockin’ us out wasn’t very nice to your friend in here, Sweetheart. He’s awfully torn up about it. Feelin’ like he failed you, beggin’ me not to hurt you, hates that I was able to get the up on him and touch you at all. But can I tell you a secret,” the demon says your name, and your blood curls in your body. “He really wants to touch you himself. You’ve got a real dirty minded fellow on your hands. Who woulda thought the great Dean Winchester’s weakness would be a smart-mouthed bitch-“

The demon seems to choke on that last word, and when your gaze shoots up Dean’s body looks like it’s in pain. He’s curving into himself—his eyes screwed shut and sweat forming on his brow—and you’re moving before you know what’s happening. Jumping out of your seat and grabbing his face between your hands, your voice high and frantic over the blood pounding in your ears.

“Dean?” You run your thumb over his cheek, and he twitches, like he can’t figure out if he wants to flinch away or lean into your touch. “Shit, Dean, I need you to talk to me-“

Dean’s eyes snap open—that foul glint still rooted deep into them—and he laughs as you jerk away like he’d burned you.

“I’ll give ‘im this.” The demon says, the words still slightly strained. “He ain’t an easy ride. Keeps tryin’ to break out and talk to you, tell you not to listen to me and go find Sammy.” The demon laughs again, and it might be the worst sound you’ve ever heard. It’s Dean’s laugh, but inverted. Cold and hateful and wrong. This is so fucking wrong.

“Shut up.” You mutter, taking an unsteady step back, and the demon raises Dean’s brows.

“Well, darlin’, you’re just breakin’ poor Dean’s heart. Hurtin’ him, tellin’ him to shut up, tyin’ him up-“ The demon cuts himself off, twisting Dean’s face into a smirk. “Well, that one’s a funny little case, ain’t it. He’s too much of a pathetic little bitch to admit it-“

You scowl, standing a little taller. “Dean’s notpathetic-“

The demon pushes on as if you’d said nothing at all. “But he’s kinda into this. Likes the idea of you havin’ some fun with him however you want, pleasin’ you however you like, or,” the Demon’s grin grows mocking and crude. “Switchin’ places. Keepin’ you down to find out if he can make you scream louder than when he does that thing with his tongue, see if he can get you beggin’ all pretty. Nothin’ gets him goin’ more than when you beg-“

“Shut up.“ You hiss, grabbing your phone off your bed. “I don’t know what your fucking angle is, but I’d recommend you get out of my-“ you catch yourself, taking a short breath before plowing on. “Out of Dean-“

The demon caught it, though, and his smirk grows. “Your what? He ain’t your boyfriend, darlin’. But Jesus, he hates that too. I don’t think you’d keep indulgin’ this asshole if you could spend a second in here with ‘im like I am. He’s fuckin’ obsessed with you, it’s goddamn pathetic-“

You clench your jaw so hard you might break teeth, your movements rough as you scroll for Sam’s contact. “I said shut up-“

“He thinks he’s fuckin’ poison.” The demon sneers, and you can’t look at Dean’s face—can’t see it cruel and filled with hate—or you might start crying. “And shit, darlin’, he’d like to poison you. He’d like to do everythin’ to you. Fuck ya’ and buy you flowers and marry ya’,” the demon cackles, and you feel a little dizzy. “’S why he’s been doin’ this stupid fuckin’ charade all week. He wants to bruise ya’ and bite ya’, then whine and bitch about how he’s so disgustingly in love with you-“ The demon hacks a slight cough, and shakes his head with a mocking grimace. “Makes me fuckin’ sick, how needy and weak this piece of shit is-“

“I said,” you cross back to the chair, fisting Dean’s blood-covered shirt in your hand and yanking him up with cold words and words you hate on your tongue. “Shut the fuck up. And get out of him, before I fucking kill you.”

The demon just laughs at you, spit covering your face. “You ain’t gonna kill me, Sweetheart. Not while I’m in your precious Dean’s body. Not while you got me here, tellin’ you all the nasty things he’d like to do to ya’, how he worships the ground your fuckin’ walk on and dreams about you sayin’ you love a pile of trash like him-“

You tear off your own jacket, bundle up the sleeve, and stuff it the demons mouth. You don’t fucking care if it’s trapped in Dean’s body until Sam gets back, you can’t keep listening to it. Listening to it fucking lie and rip you apart with only words, watch it eyes gleam as it puppets Dean’s mouth to torture you. Why the fuck would it say things like that. It can’t be to hurt Dean, because all he’ll have to do is tell you when this is over that he’s sorry about what the demon said, and that it’s all just lies. And the demon doesn’t know—can’t know—that it just ripped your heart out of your chest and ran it through a meat-grinder. It doesn’t make any fucking sense, and you feel like your skin is trying to fly off your body, and Dean’s still covered in blood and it’s horrible-

Your phone buzzes on the floor—slightly cracked from being suddenly dropped—and it’s Sam. When you pick up he doesn’t wait to hear you before he launches into frantic words, practically shouting into the speaker.

“Found it!” He sounds a little out of breath, and you wouldn’t doubt that he’s been running back to the car. “Can you put me on-“

“Yep.” You press speaker, ripping your jacket out the demons mouth and turning the volume all the way up. “Go.”

Sam starts to recite a long, fancy string of Latin words, and you can’t bear to see Dean’s body thrash and roar and fold in pain, but you need to make sure the demon goes. That when Sam finishes and Dean’s eyes start to flutter, it’s safe to thank Sam, hang up the phone, and fall to your knees at Dean’s side.

“Dean,” you cup his jaw, angling his head slightly back. “Shit, Dean, please say something-“

He moans your name, and you almost start crying in relief, dropping your head carefully onto his leg.

“I, shit-“ Dean’s voice is hoarse as he pulls slightly at the bonds around him. “I’m happy to see you too, Sweetheart, but I kinda need you do untie me-“

“Fuck, sorry-“ You scramble with the ropes, scanning over his body as you do. “I’m gonna go get Sam’s medkit, can you take your shirt off-“

“Well, I’d usually make you but me some dinner- shit-“ He’d already started to pull his shirt off, his whole body shuddering as his arms tried to raise up.

“Dean-“

“Gimme three, I’ve got it-“

“No, you don’t. I’m cutting your shirt off, just-“ You move to your feet, pointing a stern finger at him. “Stay.”

He raises his hands, flinching slightly at the movement. “Yes, ma’am.”

Neither of you speak for a long while. You throw yourself entirely into his stitches, tossing the bloodied rags of his shirt into the trash and stealing small at Dean’s handsome, exhausted features. He’s watching you the whole time, his mouth opening and closing like he wants to say something but it’s sure where to start. When he finally clears his throat, you hum, keeping your hands steady on the stitches.

“This fucking sucks.” He grumbles, and you huff a dry laugh.

“Yeah. It really does.” You pull another stitch through the gash, and Dean winces. “Shit, I’m sorry-“

“Don’t apologize.” He mutters. “I should be apologizing to you.”

You frown up at him, your hands coming to a still. “Why?”

“I let that asshole get one up on me.” He grunts, refusing to meet your eyes. “Couldn’t get a hold over him, either. Let him say all that shit to you-“

Something cracks in your heart, but you just shrug. “That’s not on you, Dean. Demon’s lie, you don’t have to explain it-“

Now Dean’s frowning at you. “What?”

“The demon,” you mumble, your face flushing slightly. “What he said. I get it, it’s what they do, you don’t need to-“

“The demon didn’t,” Dean coughs, his face redder than you’ve ever seen it, his voice almost nervous. “It didn’t lie. He was a dick about how he said it, but he didn’t lie.”

“I, um, I don’t-“ You gape at him for a long second, trying to figure out if he’s joking. This isn’t something Dean would joke about, but that just means you must have heard him wrong. The demon said Dean loved you, and Dean didn’t love you—you haven’t even allowed yourself to entertain the thought outside of secret fantasies and feverish dreams—so the demon lied. The demon lied. The demon had to have lied, but why would Dean-

He says your name, tone cautious and features soft when you blink at him. “Lost you for a second, Sweetheart, are you-“

“I’m okay.” You mumble, refocusing on the stiches. “I’m probably just tired, I thought I heard you say-“

“That I love you?”

You swallow. There it is again. “I-“

He says your name again, careful fingers brushing hair from your face. “Look at me.”

You can’t. You don’t know what’s going on, and there’s still so much blood.

Dean hand moving under your chin and guides your gaze up, you lips parting slightly as your eyes meet his. He’s scanning over you, a slight furrow to his brow, and you can’t stop your hand from moving up and wiping a little blood off his cheek.

“Dean-“

“Never mind.” He mutters, shaking his head slightly. “Thought that we, uh, never mind.”

When you finish the stitches—your hands shaking slightly, your head spinning with confusion—you force him to shower first. It gives you time to spiral down, down, down, your brain turning desperately to figure out what that was. Why Dean would say that, why he’s acting so strange, why the demon would say that, why Sam’s being such a dick and insisting that he’s getting a second room, because Dean would—allegedly—rather have you here as the three of you had already been rotating through the floor, couch, and bed.

Which means you’re stuck with alone Dean for the night. And he’s not fully looking at you when he exits the shower, and you’re mostly just mumbling to each other, and he doesn’t love you but he looks like a kicked puppy. He picks up your own blood-covered jacket, helps you carefully out of your seat, takes the soapy rag from your hands, and flat out refuses to sit until you move to the shower.

And the water doesn’t help. You feel cleaner, but the steam makes your head spin all the more, and you can’t stop picturing Dean’s fallen, almost pained features, and playing the demons words over in your mind.

Dean’s disgustingly in love with you. He worships the ground you walk on and dreams about you saying you love him. And you do love him, but he doesn’t love you, and it’s dangerous to hope that he’d love you, and-

And he still looks so beaten down when you exit the shower. He barely looks at you as you cross the room, his attention wholly on your jacket, and when you drop on the bed and clear your throat, you could sworn he pales.

“Are you,” you swallow, forcing your voice to be stronger. “Are you feeling better?”

“Yep” He mutters, still not looking up. “Stitches are fine, Sweetheart. Good work.”

You flush slightly, but push on. “And your head?”

“Pounding like a bitch, but I’ve gotten through worse.” He shrugs, and words start to creep like vomit up your throat. “We’ll grab Sam in the morning and get goin’-“

“What did you mean?” You blurt, and Dean freezes. “When you said the demon wasn’t lying?”

Dean sighs, and drops the rag, running his hands over his face before turning to you, his voice low and elbows braced on his knees. “What I said.” He grunts, his eyes now refusing to leave yours. “He didn’t lie.”

“About-“

“All of it.”

Your breathing is shallow, your voice barely a whisper, but you have to ask. It will ruin everything, but you need to ask.

But you’re a coward, and you ask the wrong thing.

“Why did you tell the country club we were married?”

Dean lets out a low, humorless chuckle. “Because I thought it would be fun. I’d get to call you my wife and see you blush all freakin’ week, and this case was gonna be shit so I thought what the hell.”

“Oh.” You whisper, unsure what to make of that. “Okay.”

Dean still doesn’t look away. If anything his eyes sear into you as his voice drops lower, his expression darkness and unreadable. “How’d you figure out I was possessed?”

You’d practiced this. You just did. You just knew it wasn’t him. That’s all you have to say, and you can’t. Something grabs your tongue and all you can say is the truth.

“Because I know you.” You mumble, unable to break his gaze. “And that wasn’t my Dean.”

“Your Dean,” He chuckles, shaking his head like he doesn’t believe you. “Wasn’t sure I was your anything, kid-“

“Well, I didn’t think you loved me.”

You say the words before you can actually think them through, and time freezes. Dust seems to the hanging static in the air, red water still and motionless on the table, the hum of the bathroom fan stuck on one long note, and you and Dean both trapped in place. Neither of you strong enough to speak, but not weak enough to run, and why did you say that, Dean doesn’t love you-

“I didn’t think you’d want to hear it.” He’s searching over your face, words low and whole body tensed. “And I’d try to take it back for you, but-“

“Don’t take it back!” You almost yelp, and Dean’s eyes widen slightly. “I don’t want you to take it back, I just- I don’t-“

“You don’t believe me.”

You nod weakly, wishing he would look away. Wishing Dean would just let you curl into yourself and hide for a million years, until this ends. Until this sore heat of shame over your skin and blooming warmth of hope that Dean might, maybe, really, possibly love you both die a quiet, easy death.

But he doesn’t look away. Dean pushes himself out of the chair with a grunt, walks on unsteady legs to stand before you, and takes your face between his hand, his words deep and firm.

“I love you,” he says your name, lowering his face to yours. “And I know it’s not what you want, but I do. I won’t apologize for it, but if you’re done messing around with me because of that, I’m never gonna make you pretend you love me back-“

You’d been sent into a daze of Dean loves you, he’s saying it himself and it’s the truth and he loves you, and that snaps you out of it. You close the last breath of space between your lips without effort, and this is a long, lazy, peaceful kiss that people without blood and demons would have. It’s cementing, steeling it fully into you that Dean loves you. You’ll never have to try and force yourself to hate him, because it’s shit work to hate Dean Winchester and there’s no point it anymore. He loves you, and it’s impossible to doubt that he loves you when he’s kissing you like this—not invasive but deep, not demanding but still dragging small moans and happy sighs from your throat, holding your cheek with one hand and cupping the back of your head with the other—so it’s not a war with yourself push him back a little and finally say words that have been stuck in your throat for years.

“I love you too.” You smile at him, and his eyes flash. “I don’t have to pretend, and this is what I want, so please,” you take a shaking breath, moving your hand to hold his against you. “Please don’t apologize for this. And please,” you lean a little further forward, bumping your nose with his as he continues to stare. “Keep messing around with me, Dean. I love you, so I’d-“

You cut yourself off with a squeak as Dean pulls you back into a kiss, this one heavier and sloppier, leaving you with ragged breath and puffed lips. Your hands curl into his shirt as he drops onto the bed at your side, hauls you over him with only a low, slightly pained grunt, and looks up at you with a slight frown on his face.

“That son of a bitch kissed you.”

“I thought it was you,” you mumble, tracing a small patten on his chest with one finger. “Sorry-“

“I’m not mad at you,” Dean gives you an amused look, pressing another, smaller kiss to your lips. “I’m mad at that douchebag, for trying to get with my girl.”

His words are mumbled against your lips, settling deep and warm in your stomach, and you can barely manage a hum of, “Oh. Okay.”

He chuckles, his hand moving under your shirt to run up the skin of your waist, your body shivering with pleasure at the touch. “I’d like to fuck you,” he mutters your name, his eyes on yours so attentive and dark that you might agree to jump off a cliff if he asks. “But my doctor said I need to take it easy-“

“I’m your doctor,” you gasp, dropping your brow to Dean’s as he brushes the underside of your breast. “And I think that- shit, Dean-“ He’s adjusted you in his arms, settling your core right over the obvious, proud bulge in his jeans. “If we take it easy, and you promise to let me stay on top-“

Dean shakes his head, leaving open-mouthed kisses along your jaw. “That’s gonna be a real hard,” he ruts up into you, and you whimper. “Promise to keep, babygirl-“

“Well it’s that,” you lean back, giving him a stern glare. “Or nothing, Winchester. Your choice.”

He gives you a look of mock disbelief. “I can’t believe I fake married someone so freakin’ mean to me-“

“I can.” You press a kiss to the corner of his mouth, your own lips curling up slightly. “What’s it gonna be.”

Dean narrows his eyes at you, his hand trailing down your stomach to cup you right over your pussy as he drawls. “I think you should make that choice, Sweetheart. Tell me exactly how you want me to fuck you.”

“I-“ You lean forwards, burying your face in his neck to try and stifle your moans. “I already-“

“You said you stay on top, but that can mean a million things,” he mutters your name, kissing right under your ear. “I can fuck up into you, or you can ride me, or,” Dean starts to rub you through your pants, his thumb drawing rough, taunting circle over your clit. “I can finger fuck this pretty pussy until you cum all over my fuckin’ hand.”

“Dean,” you moan against his skin, your nails digging into his back. “Fuck, I-“

“This,” he moves his free hand up, playing with the waistband of your pants. “Seems to be getting in our way. Take it off for me.”

He doesn’t have to ask twice. You almost scramble to pull off your clothing—still manage to shoot Dean a glare for his low, teasing wolf-whistle when you’re fully bare before him—and almost throw yourself back onto him before you freeze. He’s still dressed—you can see the outline of where his pants must be becoming painful—and he’s still hurt. That’s why you had to stay on top in the first place. Dean won’t say it, but he’s in pain, and that’s more important than sex. You’re aching for him between your legs, you whole body whining to be pressed to his, but you can’t let him injure himself.

So you drop to your knees, help him out of his pants and boxers—feeling Dean track your every movement, remaining silent as you work—and swallow as his cock springs into view. You’ll never get tired of the sight of it. Big and meant to fit so well inside of you, pretty because it’s Dean’s, and he’s not really capable of being ugly.

Dean grunts your name as you take him in your hand, your fingers trailing over his strong thighs as you start to pump him slowly.

You smile up at him, raising your brows. “Do you like that?”

“Of course I fucking like that-“

“Do you love me?”

You say the words innocently, squeezing your hand lightly, and he blushes slightly, throwing his head back as he groans. “Shit, Sweetheart, you don’t know what you’re doin’ to me-“

“I do,” you whisper, pressing an open mouth kissed to the broad, red tip of his cock. “You do it to me too.”

“’S not-“ You take him into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks and letting him bump against your throat, and he cuts himself off with another groan. “Fuck, ’s not the same-“

You pop off of him with a frown. “It is. I love you too.”

“I know, pretty girl.” He mutters, moving hold your cheek, his cock twitching in your hands as you lean into the touch. “But you don’t gotta do this for me just cause you love me-“

“I like doing it.” You shrug, licking a long stripe up his shaft to prove your point, savoring the grunt it draws from his chest, the way his hand moves to fist in your hair. “I might love you, Dean Winchester,” you grin at him, replacing your mouth with your hand as you speak. “But I also really just like sucking your cock.”

“Son of a-“ Dean’s voice is a growl, his eyes darting over your face like he’s looking for something. “You’re- fuck it.”

You squeak as he pulls you up, back to his lap, and impales you on his cock in one smooth motion.

“Dean!” You try to gain a little power over your mouth, your fingers running over his fresh stitches. “Your doctor did not, fuck-“ He rolls his hips, and you bite your tongue to stop your moan. “Winchester, your doctor did not approve picking heavy things up-“

“You’re not that heavy.” He shrugs, kissing your shoulder as his arm braces you against this chest, his words teasing and low. “And lucky me, my fake doctor is also my fake wife, and they’re both,” he moves his mouth back over yours, muttering against your lips. “Begging me to fuck them all pretty.” His other arm wraps around you, starting to guide the rolls of your hips, his eyes on yours so soft for how he’s splitting you open and bumping against the deepest places inside of you. “And get them to cum all over my fuckin’ cock.”

You moan, throwing your head back as you start to grind down on him, and you’ve done this a million times before, but it feels different. You’ve fucked Dean enough that you must have covered every base—rough and fast and soft and slow and teasing and desperate and angry and blissful—and it’s the same to your body, but different to your mind. Dean’s hands still ignite fire on your skin as he holds you as close as he can manage, but you’re not worried about how they might drop away. He’s still kissing you everywhere he can reach, but there’s nothing turning in your head about how he might not like what he tastes. He’s doing it all right—he always does it right—but it’s so much more.

You squeeze around his cock and he moans your name, almost pinning you into his laps as he latches his mouth to your upper chest. Sucking and nipping you where people can see. He’s always kept his small habit of marking you to where it won’t be visible, where people won’t jokingly ask you who got messy. But people will see this, and he knows that, and it seems to spur him on. His mouth crashes back into yours, his hands keeping your rhythm on him steady as his mouth and cock unravel you above him.

“You gonna cum, Sweetheart?” Dean growls down your throat, and you just nod frantically, swiveling your hips around him.

“So close,” you whine, trying to find just a little more friction. “Please, Dean-“

He starts to slam up into you, holding you steady with one arm as he leans back, bracing himself on the bed. His stitches are somehow still closed, he’s looking at you like you’re all the world gathered for him to hold, and his mouth is lowering to pull your nipple between his teeth. Keeping you right on the edge as his thrusts grow uneven, his hands bruising on your skin in the best way.

“Fuck, you wanna cum with me, babygirl?” He groans, flicking your nipple with his tongue before pulling you down to him, dragging you into a kiss of spit and need and pure fucking desire. “Think you can ask me real pretty-“

“Please. Please, Dean, please.” You gasp, your clit starting to rub against his abdomen, your whole body so close to bursting into flames. “So fucking close, need it so bad-“

He bites on your lower lip, smirking at your high whine. “Good girl.” He jerks up into you one last time, the movement rough and uncontrolled, and groans into your ear. “Cum.”

You might have screamed, but everything goes blinding and loud and holy like a hymn you only know in the language of Dean, and you never want to stop singing for the rest of your life. You can hear him shouting your name as he spills up into you, but you’re so high on your pleasure— on the smell of Dean everywhere around you and his lingering taste on your tongue—that it’s distant and only a rush of good. Dean feels good, and he’s muttering in your ear that he loves you, so you think everything might be really good.

And it is. This isn’t blood or work. This is Dean’s cock still buried inside you, his hot, warm cum running down your thighs, and your hands tracing over his warm skin to check that his stitches are still together. This is your face pressed into the crook of Dean’s neck, his hands combing through your hair, and a priceless sense of peace. It’s always lingered before, but it would wash away as you both left the bed, and drift into nothing as you wandered back into the real world. It feels more certain now. It feels more set into your bones, and you know you’ll see more blood and stitch more wounds, but this is going to stay. Dean is going to stay, and you have all of him. And that’s welcoming this sense of peace that’s so finite and rare, you’d have to be insane to let it go.

So you won’t. And you won’t have to cling to him, because Dean isn’t foolish enough to let you go either. You’ll keep all of Dean, he’ll do the same for you, and he’ll keep igniting a spark in your gut by saying my girl that you won’t ever allow to go out.

End Note: Look! A Rare Dean Winchester dealing with his own emotions! Spotted in the wild! And I am physically incapable of writing a short one-shot, and I'm very sorry about that.

If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3

Taglist

@artemys-ackles @ambiguous-avery @nightxcreature

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darlingdaisyfarm · 3 months ago

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feeling pretty low today, so i’m turning to these two old men for a little comfort

nsfw under the cut, fem!reader

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ Stan likes to call you:

sweetheart, honeybun, doll face and on occasion baby girl. when he’s feeling extra bold? princess — always with that unmistakable smirk

calls you “my good luck charm" if you help him out in the Shack, especially when he’s trying to swindle a tourist and you flash a pretty smile.

✦ “c’mere, darlin’. can’t let a fine gal like you walk around without her prince.”

✦ “ah, y’know, you’re the only reason I don’t go completely nuts in this crazy town. sometimes, doll, I think yer my only sane thought all day.” said so casually as if it’s not gonna hit you right in the heart

✦ if you get hurt (even the tiniest scratch), he’s going into dad mode: “who do I gotta knock some sense into, huh?” even if you’ll tell him it was just a clumsy accident, he’ll grumble, “well, now I’m the one hurt. bein’ all worried like that. you’re killin’ me, kid.”

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ Ford likes to call you:

“dearest” when he’s feeling soft, sweetheart, darling, honey, baby

he’ll whisper “love” against your temple when he thinks you’re drifting to sleep, his voice quiet and reverent like it’s sacred to him

starlight – Ford’s been out in those other dimensions, faced down monsters and madness, but he says he’s never found anything so bright, so grounding. “c’mere, starlight, I’m not finished admiring you.”

༄ “don’t laugh, but. . . I’d chase you across universes, even if it took me another thirty years. no dimension is worth exploring without you by my side.”

༄ if you’re reading one of his journals, Ford’ll slide up behind you, his hands on your shoulders as he murmurs, “curious, are we? so, what do you think of my work?”

༄ he’s not a show-off, not by any means, but catch him fixing up a machine? he’ll lift his gaze to you, smiling. “I could teach you, you know. but you’d have to be a very attentive student.”

༄ oh, if Ford wrote about you in his journal, you know it’d be scrawled between notes on trans-dimensional theories and arcane symbols, the ink smudged in places where he hesitated, where his pen hovered just so before he let himself write the truth

“Strange anomalies detected….. not in the temporal or metaphysical sense, but in a far more personal dimension. Subject exhibits an inexplicable gravitational pull, distinct from any gravitational force I've previously documented. When I observe her, I feel an uncharacteristic deviation in my thought patterns, an accelerated heartbeat not caused by heightened blood pressure or adrenaline, but by… attraction. Confounding. She’s somehow eclipsing the most rational parts of my mind.”

And, because Ford’s words can’t capture the whole of it, there’d be tiny sketches of you, like half-finished thoughts.

nsfw

what Stan says during sex:

“Damn, honey, you’re makin’ an old man feel young again. Don’t stop.”

“You’re makin’ me wanna be a better man, but not right now, baby, not right now.”

“Mmm, there it is— yeahh, keep doin’ that. . . feels so good, darlin’, you got no idea.”

“Makin’ all these pretty noises, huh? Lemme hear ‘em, baby. Don’t hold back on me.”

“You’re somethin’ else, y’know that? I’m gonna be thinkin’ ‘bout that pussy all week.”

“Fuckin’ hell, don’t know if I’m gonna last much longer with you doin’ that.”

“Look at ya, so needy for me, beggin’ to be filled. You got me so riled up, I can barely think— ah, f-fuck. . .”

Ford:

“Ohh— sweetheart, you feel even better than I imagined, i’ve waited for this.”

“I need you so much it scares me.”

“You’re brilliant, utterly captivating. . . yesyesyes, keep moving like that, please.”

“Tell me exactly what you want, darlin, I need to hear you say it.”

“I never thought I’d feel this way again; you’ve woken something in me.”

“God, I can’t— can’t believe you’re letting me have you. I need you so much, it hurts.”

“Mmm, god, yes. . . yes, you’re mine, all mine. . . can’t believe I get to have you like this.”

“O-oh god, you feel so tight around me, sweetheart, I can’t-can’t hold back!”

“Please, oh, please— just, just like that, don’t stop, keep. . . keep going. . .”

“I can’t help myself; I need you. I want to feel you around me.”

“You’re so fucking beautiful when you’re like this. I can’t take my eyes off you.”

“Oh gosh, I need you to take me deeper. Please, baby.”

“Tell me how good it feels; I want to hear it.”

“You feel incredible. I could stay buried inside you forever.”

#gravity falls x reader #gravity falls x you #stanford pines #x reader #gravity falls smut #stan pines smut #ford pines smut #ford pines x reader #gravity falls #stan pines x reader #Smut #gravity falls fanfiction #gravity falls headcanons #ford x reader #ford pines x you #stan pines x you #stan pines x oc #stanley pines x reader

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itstheghostofmypast · 3 months ago

Text

S♡CKER P♡NCH

Boxer AU Choi San x Reader

Summary: No labels, no commitment, no real relationship. A lone wolf who could throw anyone across the ring until his love for boxing shifted to the love for his little daisy.

Genre: Hurt + Comfort

Rating: PG-17

Warnings: Making out, language.

Word Count: 2.1 K

Est.Read Time: 10 min

Networks: @cromernet @k-labels @illusionnet

Banner: @cafekitsune

A/N: I'd like to blame @edenesth for sending me that one real- man. I'm weak for this man.

After a deep groan the boxer sighed, staring up at the bright light of the ring, the world around him blurring into twos and threes, hazy and foggy, the world around him turning into distant memory but the persistent, ear piercing ringing in his head had his conscious hold onto some form of reality.

A familiar voice caught his attention, his eyes slowly trailing to the fuzzy shadow, the sweet voice cutting through the loud ringing. A muffled whisper was all he caught before blacking out,

“Sannie!? Wake up!”

The thumping at the back of his skull pulled him out of his blackout, slowly opening his eyes, staring up at the dark shaky ceiling - oh, he was in the van. Did Wooyoung pick him up? Did he carry him? Closing his eyes, he sighed, the memories match he had won, not one of his finest ventures. In fact, he had been so distracted that he really did think he was going to lose, mid way on the bench he had asked Wooyoung if he could tap out, only for his manager/best friend to whisper back, “Ya dumb? Ya gotta win this to prove to her you're a strong one! Get her that ring you want with tonight's money!”

The ring, that's what, led his large best friend back into the ring with a new sense of determination. Sure, images of her flashing across his mind, trying to focus on nothing but her, especially the last memory of her, when she was the more upset with him than he had ever seen. He knew he had to make it up to her. He had to prove to her that he wasn't weak. He was part of the big leagues now, and he knew what he was doing. And he did, with one final kick the man had won, stumbling back when Wooyoung braced him steady-temperedily with a hand on the back of the boxer, declaring his victory. It was after that when he completely blacked out, somehow hearing the melody of his daisy.

“Instead of yapping at me, tend to him would ya?” The driver mumbled, earing a scoff from the woman behind the curtain, ripping it open so she could glare at him, “This is all your fault!”

“No, this is your fault.” Backrest the brakes at the stop sign he turned his head to glare at her, “If you didn't challenge his capabilities-”

“I'm his doctor! He was already exhausted! I wasn't challenging him! I was giving him MEDICAL ADVICE!”

“I'm his manager! I know what he can and can not do and-”

“HE HAD A DEATH WISH!”

“SO WHAT!?”

“I LOVE HIM, YOU BASTARD!”

The loud horn blaring behind them had Wooyoung sprint into action, stepping on the gas as the whole van shook, causing ; her to lose her balance and topple over and to land in a firm pair of arms, that tightened around her when Wooyoung's rash driving had him hopping lane to lane to find a quick pit stop.

“Slow down, Woo.” He mumbled, voice hoarse and heavy, possibly due to the fatigue, though his words were firm, “There's no need to rush, I feel fine.” Of course, his best friend was rushing to find some form of place to stay, he was worried about him, sure they had her, a certified nurse, but she couldn't do much due to her limited resources.

“Are you sure?” The driver glanced at his rear view mirror, only to shake his head and sigh at the sight of the two love-struck fools staring at each other like that. It made him sick. To think he had seen this man throw men bigger than him around the ring, and now he was all putty in a frail, lousy tempered woman's arms. Rolling his eyes at the lack of response, he reached back to pull the curtain, deciding to give them time to ‘make up’ .

“You came?” San whispered, leaning down to brush his lips against her, trying to ignore the sting of the cut on his lower lip.

“Of course I did, you big dummy.” She mumbled, slowly pulling back and helping him recline against the DIY back rest they had made with an old cushion, “I was mad at your stupidity, didn't mean I wanted to leave you unattended when you'd get hurt.”

“Well, isn't my daisy a work of art.” Mumbled he reached over to gently grasp her hand, drawing gentle circles with his thumb on the back of her soft, smaller hand, “Thank you.”

“Don't thank me. You guys pay me for that.”

He pouted at her statement, sure it was true but that's because Wooyoung had originally hired her, they weren't a couple back then.

And even after the small mountain had constantly been expressing and hinting at his admiration for her, Wooyoung had insisted that the contract remain intact, which meant they needed to keep it professional.

Now, she was just saying this because of their lack of official titles- it was true, the boxer was head over heels for her, but was too afraid to take a step, what if he hurt her with his big calloused hands, or what if he crushed her with his brute being. It didn't matter what any fortune teller or shaman would claim, his Yin was much more suppressed because his choice of occupation- an occupation he was good at, an occupation he enjoyed, an occupation that helped him earn a living. One that he had used to get her a ring. Callbhim old fashioned, but he believed courting her for more than a year was enough. She deserved the proper treatment, one he'd gladly give her - now that he had convinced Wooyoung too.

“Yes but…you didn't need to come all the way there and-”

“Drop it.” She sighed, somewhat irritated by his romantic gestures, he'd do this often, be this tender with her, and then pull back as soon as she'd ask for something more, something that would make her bruised heart flutter.

Slowly, she got up, placing a hand on the roof to steady herself before making her way to the back of the van, grateful that he had not heard her confess her feelings for him to Wooyoung. Reaching for the cooler, she tipped over the lid, kneeling as she plucked out an icepack, a bottle of water, and an ice lolly.

He raised a brow at the choice of items she has returned with, “What's with the- ack!” He gagged at the intensity of the frozen treat hitting the back of his throat, hand instinctively reaching to grab the small end of the stick as he looked at her with an unpleasant expression Though it soon turned into a lopsided smirk when she sat between his spread out legs, frowning up at him and pressing the cold ice beside his eyebrow, mumbling an, “Idiot.”

His other arm looped around her waist, tugging her closer as he pulled out the lolly, “How'd you know I like pineapple?” He giggled pressing it to her lips, watching her slowly part her lips, taking in the treat as she maintained eye contact, watching his ears turn pink at the sight, his eyes widening in disbelief. Sure, they had flirted before but never like this.

The loud crunch caught his ears as she pulled back, with half the pop gone, as she licked her lips and frowned, “I was planning on having it later tonight.”

Whining at her, he pulled the mostly eaten treat, staring at what was left at the bottom before pulling it closer to inspect the bite marks, raising a brow at the sight, swallowing at the loss of romance. Okay, so she was still upset.

Just like that, the boxer had a wonderful idea, completely forgetting the third party present, currently eavesdropping on their conversation, or lack thereof. With one swift move, he bit into the remaining ice lolly, savouring the sweet taste before cupping her face and crashing his lips against hers.

A small squeak broke past her lips that were now occupied with his, her arms trailing up his chest to wrap around his neck, fingers caressing the base of his neck. He pulled her closer, palm flat on the small of her back as he used his other hand to hold her still, giving her a neck a little squeeze, tilting her head to have her part her lips, sharing the melted, sticky pineapple juice.

She pushed him away as she gasped for air, licking the remaining traces of the sugar off her swollen lips, staring at him with a hazed expression, matching his, much like his flushed face and heaving chest- the only difference was that he had that cocky smug look plastered on his handsome, bruised features, looking like a boy who had just won a race.

“I had to win tonight.” he whispered, leaning forward to press his forehead against hers, hand leaving her neck, shoving it in his pocket to look for something, before pulling it out, “Had to get ya this, paid the deposit, have to give the rest tomorrow.”

She gasped at the small velvet box in his hand, glancing up at him then down at the box, her heart racing against time as she took it with shaky hands, flipping open the lid, blinking at the diamond .

“Oh Sannie…why would you-”

“I can't hold back anymore, daisy. You punched me in the heart the moment I fell into your lap that night.”

Her face flushed at the memory of the fateful night they had met, with her sitting at a bus stop post midnight. Waiting for the bus, when a bruised man stumbled onto the platform, the blood on his knuckles dripped onto the concrete. At first she had tried to ignore the giant man, but they way he was swaying left and right for some tugged the strings of her heart, having her let out an, “Are you alright, Sir?”

That night, he had fallen unconscious in his daisy's lap, forever in debt to her, forever in love with her. Next morning he woke up on a warm bed, all patched up and cozy, with her tending to him after bringing him breakfast- a moment of peace, before he had called Wooyoung who then hired her on the spot.

“You're so stupid San…you didn't have to get me a ring- you could've gotten hurt- I just- you fainted and-”

“I love you too…by the way.” He watched her fumble with her words, cutting her off as be referred to the confession of hers a while ago, giving her a closed eye smile when he slipped the ring on her finger, tossing the box somewhere across the van. Both unaware that the van had come to a stop, as he brought her hand to his lips, pressing a tender kiss to the back of her palm.

“Kiss me.”

“Wha-” his words cut short as she grabbed his face, much like he had early, only with more force, squishing his plump cheeks, forcing him to pout. This only riled him up further as he gently pushed her onto her back, hovering over her, deepening the kiss, making sure she could feel all the love he had pent up inside for so long. Her lips curled into a smile at his response, hands trailing up his broad back, feeling every ripple of each muscle, her body turning warmer at the way he'd sigh against her mouth. His own hands gripped her by the waist, dragging her closer, chuckling at the little noises she was making. Both lost in bliss, both lost in one another.

“EXCUSE ME, MY VAN IS NO PLACE FOR YOUR NASTY BUSINESS!”

The screech had her push him off her, instantly shivering as the crisp air of the night layering her skin with goosebumps. Their breaths came out in puffs, panting like a pair of teenagers caught in the janitors closet.

“We weren't…doing a-anything.” She huffed, sitting up and glaring at the manager who just scoffed in response, “Mhmmm…I definitely didn't see his tongue shoved down your throat.”

Whining at his snarky response, she pouted at her newly declared lover who gave her a cute smile, one that had her resisting the urge to attack his glistening lips once more. San shook his head at Wooyoung and crawled out of the van, turning to his lady, reaching out for her to help her out of the van, much like he always did, only this time, he boldly wrapped a jacket around her shoulders, before pulling her closer into his side, walking towards the motel Wooyoung had brought them too.

“YAH! This better not become a common practice!” The shorter man yelled at the boxer who's laugh bounced in the dark of the empty night, pulling his source of love and warmth closer, smiling down at her, only to receive a shy smile in return.

Wooyoung watched his best friend walk into the other room behind his lover, waving bye before closing the door, this bastard should be grateful he got them a separate room, more importantly he should be grateful that he had texted her to come quick when San was having his ass handed to him, knowing if there was one sole motivator for the boxer, it was his little daisy.

Taglist: @edenesth @skteezcursed @mlysalt @the-kpop-simp @spooo00oky @bunnyluvr25

@s-h-y-a @ateezwonderland

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to-thelakes · 1 year ago

Text

banged up

pairing; frank castle x fem!reader

summary; after being friends with daredevil gets you into a sticky situation, frank takes care of your wounds

warnings; fluff, hurt/comfort, reader is very injured but also very stubborn, soft frank, not proof-read, mentions of torture + wounds. some insecurity from reader

notes; okay this one-shot was written ages ago and i just got reminded that i could post it when i got an anon request (which i am going to work on if that anon sees this post ;) ) about the reader not liking swallowing pills. that's a big thing in this fic because I have been taking like 4-5 medication/supplements a day for the past 6+ months and honestly, i hate it. so so does the reader here <3 i hope you enjoy this little fic, i was debating on writing a part 2 that would be a little more angst-focused because frank hates when people he cares about gets hurt but feel free to lmk if y'all would be interested in that <3

part two

“Hey, hey,” A gruff voice pulled you back from unconsciousness. Your eyes slowly blinked open and the first thing you felt was pain. A cry escaped your lips as your hand shot to your side where the pain seemed to be radiating from. But the quick movement only seemed to make you feel worse and you cried out again, “Stop- Stop moving,” The voice repeated. It took you a minute for your eyes to adjust to the gloom and you turned your head to see Frank kneeling on the edge of the bed. There was a frown on his lips.

“It hurts,” You muttered. He sighed and gently took a hold of your bandaged wrist, pulling it down towards your side again.

“I know, sweetheart. You gotta stop moving,” He retorted. Your eyes fell closed again, the pain seemed to be coming from everywhere. Your side is where it hurt the most and as you shifted, the pain rocketted through your system. Eyes squeezed shut and another whimper fell from your lips. Frank sighed, “Sweetheart.” His tone was a warning and you balled your hands into fists by your side which made more pain shoot up.

“What happened?” Your voice was croaky. Your throat was dry and even trying to say a word made your body hurt. Your throat was scratchy, it was so uncomfortable. A ragged breath escaped your lips and you heard Frank’s heavy footsteps moving away from the bed.

“You got banged up pretty bad. Gotta stay there, sweetheart,” He insisted as his footsteps only seemed to get further away. Your eyes opened again and you turned your head to see that he was in the other room of your apartment. You didn’t know what he was doing and you knew that you should have stayed down but you never really listened to him.

With a deep breath, you slowly pushed yourself to sit up. It made your entire body ache and you cried out when the pain bloomed across your side again. But you fought against it to get onto your feet. Frank came rushing back into the room and managed to catch you just as you were about to fall on your ass. You hadn’t expected your ankle to hurt as much as it had when you put pressure on it.

“I told you to keep your ass on the bed,” He snapped. Though there wasn’t as much conviction behind his words as there usually was when it came to Frank. If anything, he seemed concerned that you were hurting yourself.

“What happened,” You repeated your earlier question. Frank sighed and he led you back to the bed so that you could sit down.

“Told ya,” He retorted. You scoffed and then whimpered when your side began to hurt again. Frank gave you a warning look before he disappeared out of the room again so that he could get the glass of water and painkillers he had initially gone out for. The room was silent and it made you pause, you could vaguely remember it now. The torture. The men. You didn’t even know who they were but they wanted to know who Daredevil was. They needed Matt’s identity and they were willing to kill you to get it.

“Where’s Matt?” You croaked out as Frank walked back into your bedroom with a glass of water and pills. You stared at them and then at him. He knew that you hated taking pills. You always bought the liquid form for your own sake. The only reason you had normal pills is because of him and Matt and Karen for when her periods got bad.

“He’s patrolling, making sure you’ll be safe,” Frank explained. You were glaring at the pills that he offered out to you and he sighed. He placed the glass on the table and put the pills next to it, “You’re a real pain in my ass, you know that?” You rolled your eyes and watched as he walked back to the kitchen. Everything hurt. Your face, your body, your feet, your ankles, your hands. When you lifted your hands up, you could make out the bruises in the gloom and there were ugly marks around your wrists from where you had been tied up.

You shoved your hands under your armpits, hiding them from your sight as you waited for Frank to return but even that movement made you hiss out in pain. After a moment Frank returned, with your usual bottle of painkillers. You always bought the kids stuff because it was the only one that was reliably in liquid form. You knew it was silly but you hated swallowing pills and your periods were too bad to force yourself to swallow them down.

“Thank you,” You mumbled. He nodded and then he got onto his knees in front of you so that he was on your level. He didn’t want to make you feel any worse by looming above you as he spoon-fed you painkillers like he would a baby.

“I patched you up. Red dealt with the rest,” Frank informed as he poured some of the liquid onto a spoon with the precision only a Marine would have. Usually, you spilt the liquid everywhere but he seemed to have practice with it.

“Explains why it hurts so much,” You retorted, practically teasing him. He narrowed his eyes, holding the spoon of painkillers away from you, “Frank,” You whined. He chuckled and then moved the spoon forward so that you could take it into your mouth. You swallowed down the liquid and watched as he poured another spoonful, “How long is it gonna hurt for?” It was a stupid question, you knew that. It was probably going to hurt for weeks, if not months considering the damage that they had done but you wanted him to lie.

“You’ll just have to see, sweetheart. Gonna have to take some time off work with an injury like that,” He said as he held the spoon out to you again. You took it gratefully and then he poured another one just for good measure.

“My boss is gonna kill me,” You mumbled. Frank scoffed and he then held the last spoonful of medicine out to you.

“If he gives ya any trouble, I’ll deal with it.” If it was anyone else, you would have laughed off those words but this was Frank and you knew he meant what he said. A soft sigh escaped your lips once Frank put the spoon onto the bedside table. He then twisted the cap back onto the bottle before he placed it down beside your glass of water.

“How bad is it?” You asked after a beat of silence. Frank was just looking at you, concern etched across his features.

“I’d still call you a pretty lady,” He said. You let out a soft huff and glanced over at the water but Frank passed it before you could hurt yourself doing it. You took the glass gratefully and cautiously took a long sip. It soothed your dry throat and you were so glad to get something to drink. You were sure that you were incredibly dehydrated after all the tears and the blood.

Frank took the glass back from you when you had drained the whole thing and he slowly got to his feet. It seemed he was going to get you another glass and you wanted to go with him. So, once he was in the other room, you pushed yourself to your feet again. It was slow and you made sure to keep the pressure off anywhere that hurt and you were on your feet, comfortably.

Each step was slow and he heard you step into the other room, his head snapping back. He narrowed his eyes, placing the water jug down before he turned to look at you. He shook his head slightly at the fact that you were walking around.

“They could have done worse,” You said before he got the chance to comment, “Can still walk.” There was a small smile on your face, trying to make light of what had happened but it was hard considering how much your body hurt with every movement.

“Don’t tempt them, darling,” He retorted. You made it over to the kitchen counter and he took a hold of your waist, keeping you steady as you took the glass. You downed the water again before placing the glass down and limping over to the fridge. You needed something to eat, your stomach was growling for it but when you looked inside, there were no leftovers. Your roommate - who worked the night shift - must have taken them with her.

“Hungry?” He asked. You nodded and he glanced over your shoulder before he grabbed a few things from the shelves, “I’ll make you something, go lie on the couch.” You let out something akin to a ‘yes’ before you hobbled over to the sofa and lay down. Your head hurt, your body hurt and you were glad that Frank was here.

#frank castle #frank castle x reader #the punisher #frank castle x you #frank castle fluff #frank castle x fem!reader #frank castle x female reader #the punisher fluff #the punisher x reader #reader-insert #banged up

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luciferlightbringer · 11 months ago

Text

Love in a Hopeless Place

Chapter 6

Hi lovelies! Please be warned that this is a heavier chapter that discusses trauma and depictions of violence! I'm sure I'm going overboard with the warnings, but I'm just wanting to make sure I cover all of my bases here! xoxo, Dany

Chapter 5|Chapter 6|Chapter 7|Updated through Chapter 12

Lucifer x prostitute fem!reader Word Count: 5.3k CW: Slowburn, Prostitution, Hurt/comfort, trauma, fluff, cuddles, depression, anxiety, protective "not-boyfriend" !Trigger Warning!: Physical violence, abuse, neglect, vague mentionings of underage sex work, drug use, torture, and drug dealing

The next couple of days seemed to creep by more slowly for the both of you, nothing drastic, just... slower, more... unpleasant. It could have been because of how good everything felt to be with each other, but at least for you, there had been another new factor.

You had still been seeing other clients while working for Lucifer, and sure, he took up the largest amount of time, but there were still others, some one offs and some regulars, and a handful of new clients. Most of them didn't give you much grief, but one of your newer clients had taken quite a shine to you, and wanted to see you more often. He was... ok...ish... not really. He was a little selfish, which was fine, but he also had an aggressive personality, and not the fun kind. He had not done anything "bad" to you yet, but he toed the line and that made you nervous.

This had not been as much of an issue until someone tipped him off that you did house calls it was Cynthhhhia, and in the last two days he had asked for you to go to his place, and he seemed to push the boundaries more outside of the brothel. Larry had always told you that if anyone made you ladies uncomfortable, that you could put them on your "No Kiss List", basically being banned from being scheduled with you, and depending on the intensity of the issue they could also get banned from the Lounge entirely.

Again, at this point, this newer guy, Jethro, had not done anything yet, so you still felt like you could handle him, but he was still a cause for some stress. The night of your next visit with Lucifer was a welcome one. When you got too Lucifer's, you pulled him into a tight embrace. He welcomed your hug, but noticed that it felt a little different, a little heavier than usual.

"Well hello to you too! Haha! Hey, you doing ok?" he said, looking at you with soft concern as your released him from your embrace.

"Of course! Why wouldn't I be?" you smiled, trying to hide your stress from the day.

"Oh nothing, you just uh... felt a little tense is all," he said sheepishly.

"Oh! Haha, ya it's nothing. Just a long day. Lots of clients, lots of... you know," you said trailing off.

"Of course! Haha, how silly of me! Do you, uh... need a minute? Do you want to, like, take a bath or shower or something?" he asked, "By yourself of course! I'm sure a minute to yourself would be nice. Plus, I still need to finish up with dinner," he added nervously, he felt his checks tint pink.

You chuckled, you thought it was funny when Lucifer would overthink his statements and felt like he needed to clarify something.

"That sounds nice, I might just take you up on that," you smile.

"Great!" he smiled, "Chose any bathroom you like, dinner should be ready in like 30 minutes."

The two of you part ways as you headed to one of the close-by guest bathrooms and Lucifer headed back to the kitchen. Lucifer had some updates that he had wanted to tell you about from Charlie's meeting with Heaven, but he figured that could wait a little longer. Plus, he was now preoccupied by his own dumb comment.

'"You want to take a bath or shower or something? By yourself, of course!" no duh, you idiot! She understood that's what you meant, why did you felt like you needed to clarify that?! Why do you gotta be so weird sometimes?!' he scolded himself as he made his way to the kitchen. Lucifer definitely had people that would cook for him, but he liked that it gave him something to do sometimes while he waited for you to get there in the evenings.

Meanwhile, you drew yourself a bath and slipped into it. You examined the bruises on your legs and chest from where your earlier guest had bitten and grabbed you. You were normally all for kinks like these, but these feel more forceful, and therefore made you upset to look at. You hid your legs under the water and just floated in the big tub for a while.

You smiled to yourself again as you thought of Lucifer stumbling over himself 'You want to take a bath or shower or something? By yourself, course!' followed by that little nervous smile. It was cute, and it was funny that he kept forgetting that he could just request that if he wanted to. You wouldn't have minded, you honestly would have liked it. He would be so warm and soft, snuggling into your chest in the warm water. You realized you had only ever seen him down to a barely opened shirt, while he has seen you down to your lingerie, for a fleeting minute.

How odd it was, that he had been one of your longest running and most consistent clients and yet, you too had not been sexually intimate at all. It was nice, but also... a little disappointing? Why was that disappointing? Why did you care? And why did you actually like the thought of bathing with him?

Your thought process was interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Uhh... occupied?" you said.

"There you are!" you could hear Lucifer through the door. "Jesus Christ, darling why do I have so many bathrooms?"

You shrugged, "Uhh.. cuz you're rich and its funny?"

"Hmm... That is true..." Lucifer chuckled on the other side of the door, "Anyways, dinner is ready whenever you are!"

"Ok!" you called out, and you started to get ready. As Lucifer walked away, he paused for a moment, thinking about how you were naked on the other side of the door.

He shook his head and kept walking, "Dude, stop it," he said quietly to himself.

A few minutes later, you were out, a toweling off your hair, back in your earlier clothes.

"How are you feeling?" said Lucifer as you entered the room.

"Much better, thank you," you said with a smile.

You and Lucifer sat down to eat, and Lucifer was finally able to tell you about the whole ordeal of setting up the Heaven with meeting the exhausting bureaucracy and drama of it all, and then... the aftermath of Charlie's meeting. Charlie had gone up with Vaggie, met with a bunch of the angels and seraphim, including Adam, the first man and leader of the yearly exterminations, and his right hand exorcist, Lute, and... it did not go well. Charlie had gotten them to start actually start thinking about the whole issue, then Adam dropped the whole "extermination" thing on the counsel, and most of the angels in the room knew nothing about the extermination of souls in hell! Consider the tea, spilled. Then on top of that, the council said their was not proof sinners could be redeemed, and Adam basically declared war on the Hotel.

Well, this was very stressful, but in a way that made you care more and made you forget about your worries from earlier in the day. You thought about Lucifer, Charlie, Vaggie, Angel... everyone at the hotel... You were wondering how they were feeling, how they were going to get out of this. So much for your idea about moving into the hotel. You chuckled to yourself.

"What is it?" Lucifer asked.

"Oh... it's stupid," you say with a wave of your hand, Lucifer gives you a look. You sigh, "Just... puts a little damper on my daydream to try out the hotel."

Lucifer cocked his head to the side, "You were thinking about moving to the hotel?"

You sat back and shrugged, "It was... a passing thought. Nothing serious. I realize that probably would have made things complicated, it's probably just easier this way."

Lucifer studied your face, "Maybe after the next extermination, see what happens. I just don't want you to get caught up in all of that right now."

"Ya," you say, staring off. Your worries returning back to thoughts of Charlie and the others.

Lucifer read the concern on your face, and placed a hand over yours. You looked up to meet his soft smile.

"It's gonna be ok..." he said with hesitation. "I don't exactly know how it is going to be ok, I would be lying if I said it wasn't nervous... but I trust my daughter... and her friends seem to be good people... outside of Alastor," his glared off to the side at the mentioning of the Radio Demon.

He was right, maybe not all hope was lost, maybe Charlie would figure out something. You smile at the face he made, then looked down at his hand on top of yours. Your face shifted in thought in response to something he had just said, "her friends seem to be good people..." Did he really believe that? Did that visit really change his mind that much? That's not what he had made it sound like the other day. You had forgotten about that comment, and now the reminder left you with a bitter taste.

Lucifer looked over and caught your expression, "What's on your mind?"

You look at him sideways, "Do you really believe that? That her friends are good people?"

"Well... as far as I have seen, why do you say that?" he said with worried confusion.

You look up at him, "I just thought that sinners were all violent psychopaths, hell-bent on causing as much pain a destruction as they can."

Lucifer froze, shit did he really say that the other day to his daughter, in front of you and all of Charlie's friends? Yeesh.

He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, "Jeez, I really did say that didn't I?" You gave him a slow judgmental nod. He sighed, "I... I was wrong, I shouldn't have said that... I'm sorry... I realized that I have never really taken the opportunity to actually get to know many sinners, and I've passed a lot of judgement on them the last... 10,000 years. They are not like that... you, are definitely not like that... Honestly, meeting you has made me really confused on the matter of how they decide who ends up here entirely."

Your slight distain turned you curiosity, and you raised an eyebrow, "How so?"

Lucifer took a minute to try and find the words, "Uhh, well... fuck, ok... I guess I just don't understand why you are in hell in the first place. The way you treat people puts people I used to know in Heaven to shame."

You blow a puff of air out your nose in a laugh, "Maybe the way I treat you and hotel people, I'm not like this with everyone, you know?"

"Well ya... but still..." Lucifer held back his next question a moment, he didn't want to say anything to upset you. "Can I ask... um... how you ended up here?"

You prop your head up on your hand and thought, being alive felt so long ago. Lucifer waited nervously for you to answer, but he was pretty sure you didn't look mad at the question.

"You really wanna know?"

He nodded.

"Well... I was the oldest child of drug addict parents, who had no right having any kids, spent much of my life fending for myself and my siblings, my parents would not stop having fucking kids and I was basically the only parent for them. I had to do... whatever I could for them, steal from neighbors, stores, random people's cars, anything to get food and money for my siblings. When I was older, my grandmother got custody of us and it got a lot better, but we struggled a lot mentally and it was hard to shake the old habits. She had to knock some sense into me to stop stealing, but I could never get past the idea of needing to be the parent of the house. I didn't go to school until end of middle school, and when I started it was hard, I skipped school, never finished an education. I wanted to... but I was way too far behind by that point, and with so many kids, grandma couldn't get all of us caught up. I encouraged her to focus on the younger ones. I tried getting a normal job, but I ended up meeting shitty people and I get ended up selling drugs and my body to get by. It wasn't great but it made me money. I had bad and sub-par relationships, nothing great. During my last relationship, I was actually starting to learn about boundaries and shit, feeling like it might actually go somewhere... and then I was killed during a bad drug deal," you looked back at Lucifer casually as you finished your story.

Lucifer looked at you with so much heartbreak in his eyes. No pity, no belittlement, no tears, just sadness. "How are you still so full of kindness then? After all of that?"

You smiled, "Partly cuz I can act, but mostly because... everything stupid, reckless, or "sinful" I ever did... it was for my siblings. I always thought that I would damn myself to hell so that they didn't have to." You shook your head, "I sure did damn myself to hell, but... I don't know how successful I was, my siblings always seemed mad or annoyed with me... but... I just loved them all so much."

Lucifer stood up and wrapped his arms around you as you remained sitting, your head at his chest level. You were taken by surprise, but hugged him back, "What's this for?"

He released you slightly from his hug, and held your face in his hands. "If you gave your siblings even an ounce of the care you have shown me, I know you were successful, and I know they will never forget the sacrifices you made for them."

Your eyes go wide, 'Could it... could it be? Could he be right? Could you have saved them? Saved them from the same pain you endured? Could your actions have changed the course of their lives? Could you have saved them from a fate in hell?' Tears started to form in your eyes. 'No. No. No no no no no. Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry, no crying in front of Lucifer.' You rip your face away from Lucifer's hands and wipe your face before the tears fall.

Lucifer ached to see you tear yourself away and wipe your tears. Until this moment, he had never realized how much of a wall you had up, how much you protected yourself, how much space you gave to him and how little you gave for yourself. He knew the dynamics were weird, this not being a normal friendship and all. Those dynamics were starting to make him so frustrated, he just wanted to hold you every night and tell you how much he cared about you... but things were way too messy now. He had no idea how to untangle this, and emotionally vulnerable conversations did not seem like the best idea right now with everything going on.

"Sorry," you say as you finish wiping your tears, "Thank you, really, I mean it. I'm just... not used to that."

Lucifer smiled, "Well... I hope this can be a good... beginning to that..."

'Nice job Lucifer, fucking nailed it, idiot.' he thought you himself.

You laugh, he laughed with you. Alright, enough of that, time for some tv and snuggles. You also remembered another question you had for Lucifer from you day at the hotel. You asked Lucifer about how he could teleport, and asked if the driver was necessary or if he could just pick you up from your apartment for your evenings together. He didn't know why he hadn't thought about that before, he had been worried about people following the car back to his place, or bothering you, and that would make him feel better. Plus, it would be cool to see your place. You guys made a plan for him to just teleport in to grab you in the future.

______________________________________________________________

The next couple of weeks were a weird mixture of fun and stressful, Lucifer started teleporting in to get you right at your set meeting time and he got to see your place. It was... small, really small, and there wasn't much to it. He made a comment oh how "minimalist" it was, but you just said you didn't need a lot, you weren't used to much, which wasn't completely a lie, but you didn't want to worry him with images of the other girls trying to break into your room.

Outside of that, Lucifer had the added stressors of worrying about Charlie, the hotel, and the upcoming extermination/war with Adam. You would go a visit the hotel crew with him often, but it only seemed to ease his mind while he was there. He started to complain again about struggling a little with sleep, he would fall asleep fine, especially with you there, but he started having nightmares that would wake him up in the middle of the night and would make it hard for him to fall back asleep. You were frustrated that you did not know how to help him with that, but you also knew he could take care of himself. You couldn't fix all of his problems.

You on the other hand... had reached a boiling point with Jethro. He continued to ignoring safe words, become more controlling, manipulative, and aggressive, until one day you had enough. You stopped the scene you were in and told him that he would not stand for his behavior anymore. Jethro did not like this, and you left his house with a black eye, as well as several other bruises across your body, may be even a sprain. You ran back to the Lounge as quickly as you could, trying desperately not to cry in public.

You got into the Lounge and ran up to your room to hide. Luckily, one of the girls you were closer to saw you, and told Larry. Larry texted you, asking what happened and if he could come up to talk to you. You agreed. Larry came up to your room, you opened the door for him to see you in tears, covered in bruises, trying to ice your eye. You told Larry what happened, and he told you he was putting Jethro on your "No Kiss List", banning him from the Lounge, and that he would handle Jethro if he tried coming back in.

You thanked him, he patted your shoulder, and asked if you wanted you clients canceled for the rest of the day. You asked who was left for the day, and the only one left was "Lance". You shook your head, just asking that no walk-ins get scheduled with you between then and now so that you could be ready by "Lance's" appointment. Larry agreed, and left you to your wounds. You had no idea how you were going to pull your yourself together and hide this all from Lucifer by tonight, but you had to try.

You went into the bathroom, ran a bath, played some music, and cried, partly from the pain, partly from fear. You were so in your head from the experience, that you did not do as well keeping track of time. Before long, Lucifer teleported into your room. Lucifer was a little shocked to not see you in your room, but then he heard the music from the bathroom. Oh ok, you must have been just running a little late.

He want to go knock on the door so that he knew you were there and didn't surprise you, but then he heard something else from the bathroom that made him stop. Was that... crying? Was that part of the music or was that you? He waited, the song changed, and the crying continued. That was definitely you. He finally knocked.

You were startled by the sound of the knock, "Uhhh... occupied?"

"It's me darling, I hope I didn't startle you," you heard Lucifer's voice through the door. You picked up your phone and looked at the time. Shit! You quickly got out of the tub.

"Oh! I'm so sorry, uhh... I must have lot track of time. Busy day. Lots of clients. Uhh... I'll be out in a minute!" you say has you hurried to get dressed. Luckily, you had already brought your clothes into the bathroom with you, so Lucifer wouldn't have to see all of the bruises.

"No rush! You take as much time as you need," Lucifer called back, then he went to go take a seat on your couch.

His words made you feel a little better, but you did not want to keep him waiting any longer than you already had. You quickly did what you could to put on makeup to cover up the big bruise around your eye, you could cover the coloring just fine, it was the swelling you were worried about. It had gone down a little, but it might still be noticeable.

Part of you wishes you had canceled on him, but that would have made you sad more than anything else, and it probably would have worried him. That is if he actually cared about you. Errrr... stop that. Lucifer is not like Jethro or the others, he actually does care, at least... to some amount. You just did not want anyone to see you like this, but especially him.

Eventually you finished your makeup and looked at yourself, it would have to be good enough for today. You painted your best sweet smile on your face, and walked out the door.

"All done! Ready to go?" you said cheerful.

"Yup!" Lucifer said, trying to match your cheerful tone, but he was worried. Why had you been crying? Why were you now trying to hide it? Why were you wearing so much make up today? He hadn't seen you wear this much make up since the first few appointments you guys had. He remembered that Charlie once said girls sometimes wear more make up when they were sad because "If you look better, you feel better", so he didn't comment. He just smiled, wrapped an arm around you, and teleported you both back to his place.

You were already more relieved to be back at his place, the stress of the day still held tightly to you, but it was better here. You swung your arms around Lucifer, enveloping him in a hug. Lucifer held you back tightly, softly but firmly. He was so comforting and soft, you wanted to live in that embrace.

He didn't know what was making you so sad that day, but he wanted to do everything to make you feel better. He had your favorite dinner and dessert made, grabbed you your favorite blanket for when you guys would cuddle on the couch and watch tv later, and he was going to find that tv last that you said you used to like to watch sometimes when you were alive, "The Office."

At one point, during desert, Lucifer looked over at you and saw a strand of hair flop down front of your face. He reached over to tuck it behind your ear, but because of the angle, you didn't see his hand until it was almost near your swollen eye. You flinched and practically jumped out of your chair, shouting "No!" and covering you eye with you hand, the other was wide with panic.

Lucifer flinched his hand back, and stayed still. What was that about? You had never reacted like that before.

"Darling, is everything alright? I didn't mean to startle you," he said softly, worry painting his face.

You realize you had misunderstood what he had been trying to do and panicked, 'Shit! Shit, shit, shit!' You couldn't tell what was the greater emotion in that moment, the shame of reacting to Lucifer, or the fact that the emotions from earlier where about to bubble up again. 'Do I try to push it down? Do I run for the bathroom? Shit. There is no hiding it, is there? He is going to find out about it now.'

You start to sit back down, still covering your eye, "I, uhh... I'm sorry... I don't... I didn't mean to yell at you like-"

"(y/n)" Lucifer said firmly, you look at him with your uncovered eye, tears starting to fill up the edge of your vision, "Please. Please tell me what's wrong. Why are you covering your eye? What made you jump so hard?"

You start to breathe heavily, "Are you sure you want to know?" you say with tears in your voice.

"Yes, my darling, I do. More than anything," Lucifer said, standing up slowly to come closer to you.

You look down, breathe, and lower you hand. Now that he was looking right at your eye, he could see how swollen it was under all of the make up.

"Is that... a black eye?" he said panicked. You nodded. He started to put some context clues together.

"Someone did this to you?" he asked, a little more sternness in his voice. You nodded again, the tears were starting to fall. "Someone from the Lounge?"

You nodded, "A client," you whispered.

"Did he do anything else?" he asked, trying to hold back the growing anger in his voice. You nodded. "Can you show me?" You froze, looking down, more tears falling, "Please don't be mad at me, I didn't want you to know, this shouldn't be something you worry about-"

"Darling," he says cutting you off again, "I am not mad at you, I am however mad at the sick fuck that did this to you. And I will worry about you, because I want to. Do you understand me?" You were not used to hearing him talk like this, it was scary, but in a comforting way. His words were growing in anger, but you understood it was not at you, it was for you.

You look up at him to see that his eyes had changed color, basically inverted, black slitted pupils now surrounded by golden irises and deep blood red sclera. They were terrifying and beautiful at the same time. You nodded, finally answering his question, and you started to take off your sweater. Lucifer saw your arms and torso littered with different sizes of bruises and deep bite marks. At the sight of them, horns grew out from his temples and a tail lashed out from his back. Again, he looked scarier, but for some reason, you were not afraid. You actually felt... safe? You had never seen someone so mad for you before.

Lucifer gently and slowly reached out for your arm, trying to make sure not to scare you further. "Is it like this on your legs too?" You nodded. You were about to ask if he needed to see them, when he pulled you into a tight hug. You were confused, but welcomed it. His hugs were always nice but this one felt, even better? All of your bruises and bites started to feel, lighter, and then the pain was gone. Lucifer released from your hug, and you looked down to see all of your marks were gone.

'He could heal too?! Fuck, is there anything he can't do?'

"Better?" he asked. You nodded. "Good, now. I'm gonna need a name and location. Now." he paused, "please."

You hesitated, you weren't supposed to tell anyone who you had been meeting with. But... he had not specifically asked for digression, and he was banned from the Lounge, and it would probably save Larry and the girls some trouble, and... fuck it, it was hell! Who cared!

"What are you going to do to him?" you asked. He smirked with a wicked smile, carefully reached out to softly hold your chin, and with a demonic resonance to his voice, he whispered, "Why darling, I'm going to make him suffer in a way that this realm has not tortured and tormented a soul in EONS, I am going to rip him his own dimension of time and space where he will be able to experience his body being ripped apart, piece by piece, and put back together, over and over again, for the rest of eternity."

You had no idea how to picture that and you didn't care... it was terrifying, but Lucifer's power was fucking HOT.

"Uhh... Jethro Hanson. Big house out in Pentagram city, near the inner city, very bright red, can't miss it," you spit out. He smiles, unfurls his six, big, beautiful wings from his back, gives you a soft kiss on the hand and says, "I'll be right back," before opening a portal above him and flying into it. It closes behind you and leaves you alone, in the dining room.

Your heart was racing, there were too many feelings swirling inside your mind, joy, sadness, rage, fear... lust. God, his full demon form was hot, what the hell? After a few minutes, the adrenaline wore off, and you found yourself on the couch starting to cry again, but this time... it felt GOOD. These tears were cathartic like nothing you had ever felt before, a hard, powerful cry.

After about 15-20 minutes, Lucifer reappeared, the same as he looked when he had left, just wiping his hands on themself after a job well done, as you would after a job well done. Lucifer heard your cries and ran to you, getting in his knees in front of you on the couch and cocooning you in his wings.

"Darling, what's the matter? I'm so sorry, did I scare you?" he said with words full of worry.

You shook your head, smiling and pressing your forehead to his, "No. Not at all. I'm just... I'm good. Really. I'm just not used to... feeling cared about, and... protected..." You choke out, before continuing to sob.

'Shit, shit, ok, what do I do?' he thought to himself. Then he remembered. He retracted his horns and tail, set his eyes back to their normal color, picked you up, laid down on the couch, and positioned you to lay on top of him, your head on his chest, wings wrapped around you. As you laid there, he rubbed your back as you continued to cry. "And as long as I am here, you will never have to know life without that, ever again," he said softly, so softly that you couldn't make it out over the sound of your own sobs.

Slowly, your tears started get get quieter, and your breathing started to slow. As Lucifer laid there with you on his chest, he started to card his fingers through you hair. What a dream you were to him, he had be so cared for by you, and now he was able to give that care back to you. That was honestly all he had wanted, was to have someone to be cared by and for. To have... someone to love.

Love?

Love.

'Oh my god... do I love her?' he thought at he looked down at your soft face. Studying the features of your face as you laid on his chest with this new idea, everything suddenly made sense. The nervousness, the desire for closeness, the way you lit up his world, the way your smile would wash his cares away.

He loved you.

That was about to make everything wayyyy more complicated.

______________________________________________________________

As usual, leave a comment if you want added to the taglist so that you can get notifications when future chapters drop!

Taglist: @froggybich @wonderlandangelsposts @glowinthedarkbones1150 @marydragneell @crescent-z @superdinosaurnacho @jam0001 @kyo-kyo1 @so-get-this-sammy @lilzebeth @kelppsstuff @loquacious-libra @pinkhoneydrop @luleck @writer-girl99 @lavenz @stormz369 @littleladydemon @soujiswife @melday0105 @luluxx118 @sseleniaa @futureittomainn @cktkat @zaneyyyy @uravitsy @liecoris @starlitvenus

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar #lucifer x reader #fanfic #fanfic writing #lucifer x y/n #lucifer fanfiction #hazbin lucifer #lucifer #lucifer magne #lucifer hazbin #fanfiction #hazbin hotel fanfiction #slow burn

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toxicanonymity · 2 years ago

Text

Left in Lincoln - Masterlist (ongoing)

softdark dads' best friend!Joel x virgin f!Reader

gorgeous moodboard by aurorawritestoescape ✨

series masterlist here, a reblog won't stay updated.

official soundtrack 🍑 playlist by readers PREMISE: After you were orphaned by the outbreak, Bill and Frank raised you, sheltered in their closed community. Now 21+, you're still inexperienced. They leave to get treatment for Frank and ask Joel to look in on you while they're gone. The town begins to creep you out, but Joel is glad to provide comfort, protection, and education. WARNINGS: I8+ Big, girthy age gap. Joel is very dark and toxic but acts sweet with reader. Angst. Loss of virginity. Manipulation. Slow-burn horror: no gore, no violence toward reader, but this story has given people nightmares. NO USE OF Y/N.

Floorplan

PLEASE STOP PUTTING THIS FIC INTO AI. It's been made into chat bots at least 3x since August and they all sucked. It hurts my writing and gives me a mental block. Do not copy, translate, re-upload, use AI on, or make bots of any of my work.

Part 1 - This Protector (3k) - He lowered his voice and said, "Feelin' this against you, knowin' it's there." His hips lifted gently, and it swelled harder against you. "It's s'posed to feel good. Nothin' to be ashamed of"

Part 2 - The Dirty Ground (5k) - “Ever had an orgasm, darlin'?” He slowed his hips to talk. . . . “Only in my sleep," you said.” Good, that’s your body takin’ care of you. It’s good for you. . .Gonna take this belt off, k?”

Part 3 - The Cold, Cold Night (7k) - He looked from your eyes to your mouth and back then murmured, "Nap really all ya want?" "Just wanna be with you," you answered quietly. His deep voice became nearly a whisper. "Love hearin' that, baby."

Part 4 - Apple Blossom (7.5k) - “Gonna take time ‘fore you’re ready for this,” he said with a roll of his hips. . . You asked, “You want it too, don’t you?” “Course I do, baby,” he panted. “Gotta feel good for both of us, though. Gotta do it right.”

Part 5 - Black Math (8.6k) - “God, if you only knew . . .” There wasn't even a hint of shame in his voice. “We’re almost there, I promise.” He tucked in his shirt and adjusted himself while he was at it. “God damn,” he exhaled. “Turns me on, thinkin’ about it.”

Part 6 - As Ugly as He Seems (8.4k) - You would've given anything for Joel to wake up and ravage you. “s’what I mean, baby,” he murmured sleepily into your hair. "Can't trust myself." He groaned softly as his palm brought you tighter against him. You began to reach behind you, but he intercepted your hand. . .

Part 7 - Forever for her (10k) - [loss of virginity] You looked at his clothes and didn't say anything, but he replied to your silent question with a smile and hushed voice. "no, I don't have to be so dressed..."

Thank you so much for reading 🖤. I would love to write a part 8 but I've been through a lot in this fandom and it's impacted my confidence. I don't have an ETA or guarantee, and I humbly ask that you not ask me because I get stressed. Thank you ✨

-----

Art, etc.

HOT fan art by @bonezone44

Ch 1 mood board by @neverwheremoonchild

Ch 1-6 mood board by gracieispunk

Beautiful Collage by @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog

Chapter-specific posters

Hot ominous edit by swagxgarfunkle tiktok

Haunting edit by @iamasaddie

If yours is missing PLEASE let me know I probably tagged improperly & couldn't find.

#lincoln!joel #toxic masterlist #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #dark!joel miller #creepy!joel miller #cw age gap

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gloomyshoujo · 24 days ago

Text

My gift for Kate for the @sheithxmas 2024 exchange!!:-D

I'm gonna put all of my yapping + bonus stuff under the cut, because it's a lot lol. (there's concept art, mini comic, and a drabble, if you wanna skip the yap)

Firstly, I really need to give a huge special thank you to my bff, who has helped me with decisions and just cheering my on throughout this whole project, ily my liege!! <3 And to pejaposarambi who offered his help near the end, when I was losing my mind and gave me SUCH good tips to help me complete this!! Seriously, thank you both so much omfg!!TTATT

So, I tried my best to incorporate a few of the asked prompts: fairytale, fantasy, hurt/comfort or angst with a happy ending (more implied/vague, in this case), soulmates, a bit of 'they're a fantastical beast that can hurt the other' vibe, and something sweet where they're kinda comforting each other? Idk, but I tried aha.

For the fairytale and fantasy, I gave them original designs to fit the theme of both. The whole angst/hurt is more implied, but I tried to convey a bit of a story here; where Keith's sword is wrapped in broken chains, after helping free Shiro, and they're comforting each other.

The soulmates is implied from the stars. Their zodiac constellations (Scorpio & Pisces), are mapped in the sky together, along with their respective planets (Mars, Jupiter, Neptune). I wasn't sure how to place soulmates persay, but I think its romantic and conveys it pretty well. And the water is also representative to their signs too, aha!

The fantastical beast part is me really pushing it lol. But often times, dragons and unicorns are seen as like, enemies or hurt one another in a lot of stories. So I was going for a bit of that here. + their designs kinda resemble prickly thorn vs softie? Yea, I know, ya gotta squint for this part of the theme but I tried.xDD /also has a nice dark vs light theme hehe.

Some quick lore 'cause why not: when Keith was younger, he was going to die (idk, abandonment? defeat during battle? Saving Shiro? idk), but Shiro saved his life, using his tears. Keith was deeply touched, as it was the first time he experienced kindness? Idk. But when Shiro had to eventually leave, he swore to himself he'd repay him one day. Fast forward, and the king Keith is forced to serve, has captured a rare unicorn, that could give him eternal life using his tears? Or force Shiro to take him to eternity/paradise? Idk. Keith fought through hell and back to eventually help free Shiro (breaking the chain), and the two managed to escape, fleeing to a peaceful place where they can be together. Yea, there's a lot of "idk's" and big holes there, but I've yapped TOO MUCH.TT.TT

(Also, can I just say PLEASE. If this had an OST, I'd say the Galaxy Express 999 OST would be it for me. But for this illustration in particular, this song is doing it for me.)

So uhhh, this was a *journey*. I think I've been working on this for over 2 months now? A lot of thought went into it. I only do this level of planning when it's a huge project, and I typically don't share my thumbnails and concepts; because they're garbage and only meant for me. But I figured it could be fun for others to see lol.

For the design, I had a good idea of the theme at least! I wanted to have Keith's design to really resemble a dragon, while also using some elements from his BOM outfit. I leaned into the purple because I like purple, but wondering if I should have gone red. Hmmm. I tried to make him look as intimidating and prickly as I could; almost like if you were to touch him, you'd get pricked like a thorn.:-3

For Shiro, I went with looser clothes; kinda inspired by ancient Greek fashion and gods. I rushed his more, and ended up not having the time + energy to put in all the details I wanted for him.:-( I kept his clothes and hair all white/silver, to make him look like he came from the stars. His jewellery is gold + blue to relate to his zodia planets aha. I was gonna have him have longer bangs, but decided against it as I inked.

Anyways, I wanted the pose to be the same as “The Kiss” by Gustav Klimt. But uhh, once I got all the designs done, and actually started sketching things out; I just couldn't get it to work. I am still disappointed in myself for that, but I had to move on and find ways to make things work. I guess that's part of the process. How humbling.=_=

I don't have too many progress shots, because I suck with that; but here's a few lol.

And then a bonus comic, because I couldn't stop thinking this throughout this entire project.xD Where the real angst lies.

I also wrote a teeny, tiny drabble. It's kinda trash and superrr corny, sorry;;; I wrote it in like, an hour or something with very little editing. But I wanted to I guess explain a bit of the story, in this particular scene specifically. Idk. Sorry to those who can actually write it's terrible;;;

So that's the end! I really tried my best to cram as many prompts into one; I know I changed the designs a lot, but I hope they still look recognizable. I still feel disappointed with myself, because it didn't come out exactlyyy how I envisioned. There were so many bumps along the way, I wish I could have done better. Still, there were fun moments (when it wouldn't slow down my PC lol). I tried out so many techniques, both old and new; it was quite the experience! I'm especially proud with some of the effects and texturing. And I hand-drew soooo many elements. Like, I could have used a pre-made grass brush for ex. But nope! Drew each blade of grass like a loser.=_= (but was worth it; was able to preserve the *crunch*)

And yea, don't expect this level of detail from me often. This is a once every few years kinda piece lol. Usually my stuff is pretty wonky and rushed. But I was happy to work on such a big project after so many years!!

Anyways, if you got this far, thanks for reading.xD Hope y'all got a kick out of it. AND SORRY FOR THE YAPPING BUT I DESERVE IT, IT WAS A BIG PROJECT.

#sheith #gloomydraws #gloomywrites #THIS IS SO STUPIDLY LONG I'M SORRY

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snzunii · 3 months ago

Text

goodnight n go ( ran h. ) — part one.

it's really bad that you get along so well.

tags. romance, angst, betrayal, hurt/comfort, established relationship, explicit sexual content, bonten!ran, detective!reader, canon-typical violence, crimes and criminals, drugs, smoking, drinking, illegal activities, EIGHTEEN PLUS ONLY.

This was a familiar scene to you—fluorescent lights buzzing, the scent of your cold discarded coffee swirling in the air as you stare at multiple files spread across your desk.

You were looking back and forth at the board, dozens of pictures of criminals lined up on the walls and none of them were the ones that you were looking for. You tapped your pen on the notebook, going back and forth about all the information that you and your colleagues gathered.

But none of them seemed to help.

“This is bullshit.” you muttered as you stood up, hands on your waist as you walked towards the pictures.

“Hey. It’s late. Aren't you going home?” Takashi sat on the free space on your desk, reaching for the single folder. “You’ve been at this for hours. Maybe you should get some sleep. We still have tomorrow, y’know?”

You looked back at him, contemplating whether to pack your things up or stay another hour. You suddenly became aware of the clock on the wall ticking, as if it’s urging you to make a decision this instant.

“I feel like I’m missing something, ‘Kashi.” you said, you reached for another folder and showed Takashi the details you gathered the other day. “This doesn't make sense.”

“What doesn't make sense?” Takashi leaned a bit closer, examining the document.

“I feel like sometimes I’m getting close then I get fed the same bullshit. It’s like they know what we’re about to do. Are they ghosts or do they have some superpowers of some kind? Because that’ll explain things—and oh, I gotta tell you, they've got some loyal members there because we don't have any names of the high profile members. Not even their boss.” you sighed, slamming your pen on the table.

Takashi just stared at you as you rambled on. “What do ‘ya think, ‘Kashi?”

“I think you’re stressed and you won't solve anything if you don't get any sleep.” Takashi said and closed the folder that you were holding, “Go home, YN. That’s an order.”

You frowned, pursing your lips. “I may be your friend, and you may be the Captain’s daughter but I’m still your superior officer. Now, get.”

You sighed in defeat. It has been months since you’ve been included in this case. You were shocked the first time, thinking that your father trusted you enough to give you such a high-profile case, it’s about time that he trusted your skills, you thought.

But that was shattered the moment that he told you that he was only giving you this case because you were too proud of yourself. They spent years trying to know the identities of these infamous criminals but all they got was squat. What makes you think that you could do it?

But you want to prove him wrong—no one knows who the executives are. You promised yourself, you’d be the first one to know. Some will say that you’re delusional, that of all people, it would never be you. But that wouldn’t bring you down, it was never impossible for you.

That’s how you conditioned yourself. That was how you survived all the hurtful things your father said to bring you down.

Nothing is impossible. You will catch Bonten. It’s just a matter of time before you do.

…

“Baby, I’m home.” you whispered, climbing on to the bed with your boyfriend who was currently sleeping. His hair was disheveled, mouth slightly agape as you looked at his peaceful, sleeping face. Looking at him was enough for you to forget all the things that you went through today—it’s like he got this power that could make your problems vanish just by looking at him. You smiled when you saw him opening one eye to look at you. “I’m sorry, I woke you up.”

“What time is it?” he groaned, his hand grasping your waist, pulling you close to him. His scent overwhelmed your senses, he smelled so good that you just wanted to literally drown yourself in him. “You’re just getting in now?”

You used his arm as your pillow, kissing his cheek as you squirmed next to him. “Uh-huh. ‘m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” he closed his eyes again, while you leaned on his chest and closed your eyes as well. You listened to his heart beating, it’s as if it’s calming you—it was steady, grounding. It was a quiet reassurance that he’s there for you.

The room was silent—and just for a moment, all your worries faded. You felt his hand gently brush up against your back, it was slow and soothing.

“How’s work?” he asked softly.

“Fine. Just the same.” you sighed, “I don't even want to think about it. I’m tired and sleepy. I just want to rest.”

“Poor baby.” he mumbled, “Just rest, okay? I’m here. You don’t have to think about anything else.”

This is one of the moments where you wanted time to stop. It’s almost so easy to forget everything when you’re with him. It was simple, safe.

“I love you, Ran.” you murmured.

Ran leaned, pressing a gentle kiss on your hair. “I love you.”

You opened your eyes, and there you saw him looking at you. Your gaze locked, you’re with him for a long time but the closeness still makes your stomach turn, your heart pound. You can feel everything at once.

You couldn’t help but pull him in, pressing your lips into his. His hands slipping inside your shirt—overwhelming you with his touch. His fingers groveling on your skin—you were restless, you were losing your mind over the little things that he does.

He’s kissing you like he wanted to take all your worries away, like he could make it disappear with a snap of his fingers.

His kisses trails down onto your neck, slowly and deliberately. His lavender locks caught in between your fingers. “Ran.. Please.”

“I know, baby.” he groaned, it was like he was restraining himself. Because if he didn’t, he would take all that you are—leaving you with nothing for yourself.

…

“How many kids do you want?” you suddenly asked, you were both looking at the ceiling, only the thin blanket draped over your bodies.

You heard Ran chuckle, with a frown on your face, you look at him. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing.” Ran turned to look at you and you did the same, “I want five.”

“Excuse me?” His answer left you dumbfounded, because to be honest, you were afraid of having one—you want one but the thought of pushing it out of your body makes you scared a little and now your boyfriend wants—what, five?

“What? You asked.” he laughed and you rolled your eyes, “How about you? How many kids do you want?”

“I want just one.” you pouted, “Uhm—maybe, two?”

Then you saw that familiar smirk on his face, that sly smile adorned on his pretty face. “Then two it is… but we’ll see.”

“Ran!” you playfully swatted his chest, he laughs then catches your hand, intertwining it with his. “You’re never gonna let that five go, huh?”

“Nope.” you just sighed, you stare at that tattoo before burying your face on the crook of his neck, his fingers tracing patterns on your back.

“Whatever.” you mumbled, “Two or five, I don’t really care. As long as it’s with you.”

You were both silent for a bit then you suddenly remembered something. You looked at him, he raised his eyebrow.

“By the way, do you remember the club where we met?” Ran hummed, looking at you as he waited for you to continue speaking, “It closed today. We arrested the owner.”

Ran ears pulsated as you kept on talking about how you arrested the guy, how you caught them doing shit—how close you think you are to catching Bonten. “I think they’re connected to Bonten, but they're not talking, y’know? It’s so frustrating.”

You realize that you shouldn't be telling this to anyone. But Ran’s not anyone to you—you trust him. You trust him that you would tell him everything that is going on.

You trust him too much that you’re willing to spend your whole life with him and create that future that you wanted.

Ran wanted to laugh. Not because you were being stupid—because it was so frustrating for him too. You were supposed to be just someone he sleeps with, and not call the next morning.

That was always the case for him. But a year later, you’re still here. Having these talks with him at three in the morning—not knowing he’s one of the guys that you’re spending your time and energy looking for.

It was so frustrating because he fell in love with you.

And you’re his enemy. But at the same time, you are the love of his life.

You probably know all the horrific things that he did and you have no idea that it was him that did most of the things that you know. How would you even react if you knew it was him?

Would you still look at him with that beam in your eyes? Would you still smile at him? Kiss him? Would you still love him?

He’s afraid to know.

You only know him as this kind, caring boyfriend who’s never afraid to show you how much he loves you. You only know him as the person who you wanted to spend the rest of your life with.

You never doubt him because he’s never given you any reason to.

He held you a little closer, he was feeling everything but everything seemed normal to you and he wanted it to stay that way. He thought that if he could just hold you like this and just stay with you in this little bubble that you created for yourselves, he would shield you from the truth.

That he’s not who he says he is.

He doesn’t want to let go of this. He feels like a different person when he’s with you, he was just Ran. Your boyfriend, who makes silly jokes, who stays up with you all night when you can’t sleep—even though you know how much he loves to sleep.

“Just be careful, okay?” he said quietly, you could feel the vulnerability in his voice, like losing you is the one thing that he couldn’t bear. “Promise me.”

“I promise.” you kissed him gently, “You don’t have to worry, there’s nothing to worry about.”

But there is.

He knows how dangerous this is. He knows what things you’ll do just to catch them… him.

And when that day comes, he doesn’t know what to do.

…

Your alarm echoed throughout the room, Ran wasn’t there but it was usual for you. There were times that he was needed this early for work—you never really questioned him about it. You reached for your phone and you saw a text from him.

‘Got pulled into work early. I’m sorry. I’ll see you tonight? I love you.’

You typed a reply and settled your phone down to get ready for the day. You sighed as you looked at yourself in the mirror, you don't even know what's going to happen today.

It was odd, how you keep on remembering the things that Ran said last night.

You shrugged it off. It’s probably nothing.

“Morning, YN. Had a good sleep?” Takashi greeted you as soon as you settled your things down at your desk.

“Yeah.” you sipped your freshly brewed coffee and immediately looked at the pictures on the wall, like that’s going to change anything. But everyday, these pictures taunt you. It’s like they’re telling you that you’re a failure because you couldn't catch them.

It was unusual how today seemed so different.

“You okay?” Takashi asked, he tapped your shoulder, bringing you back from your own thoughts. “Staring at that wall isn't going to change anything. We’ll find something. Trust me.”

You went on for the day, doing detective work outside the precinct. Looking for something, just something.

“This is a dead end. Let’s go back.” Takashi says as he closes his notebook. “They're all saying the same shit.”

“Yeah.” you sighed, “Let’s go—”

You were cut off when your phone rings.

You signaled Takashi that you’ll just answer the phone and he nodded at you, walking back to the car.

“Hey, baby. What’s up?”

“Lunch?”

You looked at the time and chuckled, it’s exactly twelve in the afternoon. Of course, he’s calling to remind you to eat. “I’m about to go back to the precinct and grab some lunch. How ‘bout you, baby? Have you eaten yet?”

“I’m about to. Just wanted to check if you are too.”

“Uh-huh. I’ll send you a picture of my lunch later. Okay?” you giggled, you heard him laugh on the other side of the call. “Good girl. I’ll see you later, I love you.”

“Me too.”

“Me too, what?”

“I love you.”

…

‘Hey, handsome. I’m heading home. What do you want for dinner?’

You put your phone in your pocket as soon as you sent the text. You didn't have anything significant today so you decided to go home early, cook for Ran, you thought, for a change.

He was always the one cooking for the two of you because you're usually the one who comes home late. Plus, you wanted to do something nice for him, he had been so understanding and patient with you—and your very demanding job.

After you packed up your things, you looked at the phone to see if he responded. But there was nothing on your notifications.

It wasn't odd. Maybe he’s just busy today.

You were driving home when you caught something—you spy with your pretty little eye—someone with lavender hair. In his car, driving past you.

“Ran?”

You weren't supposed to turn the car around and follow him. You trust him, right? But why was he going in this direction?

This isn't the way to your apartment. And certainly, it isn't the way to his work. Where are you going, Ran?

You were about to reach for the dashboard to call him. But you stopped yourself, you were afraid.

You don't want to catch him in a lie.

Because he's not the type to do that. He’s your Ran. What would he lie about? You gripped the steering wheel, your heart pacing as fast as it shouldn't be. This isn't you, you keep telling yourself.

You were trying to find all the right reasons as to why you were trailing your boyfriend. Like he’s some criminal that you were following.

But why are you feeling this way? Is he cheating on you? Is he doing something… horrible? Maybe you should turn the car around, drive back to the apartment and wait for him there.

Just stay there, in the bubble. You’ll be good there.

But it will kill you, not knowing things.

Maybe that’s what you should've done. You're so lost in your thoughts that you didn't notice that you were driving out of town, into some unfamiliar place you’ve never been.

Finally, he stops. He’s in a busy town, entering a… restaurant?

Fuck’s sake, maybe he’s just buying food. “What the hell am I think—”

Your brows furrowed as you saw some familiar face, walking into the same place your boyfriend just walked into. That’s the fucker that you arrested last month, the one who escaped—you fucking don't know how.

You walked out of your car, discreetly walking to the back of the establishment. You didn't want to alarm the guy you arrested, he’ll probably know who you are.

You certainly can't take him alone.

You saw a backdoor and was about to reach for the knob when you felt something on your back. It was too familiar for you not to know what it is. “If I were you, I wouldn't do that.”

His voice was cold, almost making you shiver. “Sorry, I’m just lost—”

“Don't make that dumb shit up with me.” you bite your lip, your body tensed up as you try to turn your head, looking at the man who’s holding your life in his hand right now.

You saw his face, scars on both sides of his mouth, he’s got long cerise hair. He knocked on the door and you saw the tattoo on his forearm.

You swallowed, your stomach churning as you recognized that tattoo. That’s the one on your boyfriend’s neck, it’s the same one.

You couldn't even begin to process what was happening when the door opened. It was another man, with long lavender hair. With the same tattoo on his neck… just like Ran.

He looks awfully a lot like your boyfriend.

“YN?”

“You know her?”

Of course, he knows you. He knows you.

“H-how the fuck do you know me?” your words stuttered, your mouth was dry and you couldn't even think straight. “What the fuck is happening?”

“I should be the one asking you questions. What the fuck are you doing here?”

“That’s enough.” the man behind you spoke, “You’re coming with us, lady.”

You froze as you piece things together. It makes you sick, you couldn't even fathom what you're about to discover. You weren't scared, you were confused.

What was Ran doing here?

Why… just why?

They led you through a dimly lit hallway. You were out of yourself, you were trying to make sense out of all this. So many questions were running on the back of your mind.

Your heart was racing, your mind thinking all of the worst that could happen, but most of all, you were thinking what could possibly be Ran’s connection to these people?

Why was he here?

Finally, you reached the end of the hallway. The door opened and what greeted you was silence, you were surrounded by men that you don't recognize except for one.

He was there. Standing like he’s one of them.

He froze the second his gaze landed on you. You couldn't say anything else but his name.

“R-ran?”

You wanted to leave. You wanted to go home because you don't want to know about this. You were regretting your decision of ever following him here.

You wanted to go back to your bed, laugh with him until three in the morning. Talk about the house, the kids, the life that you both wanted.

“Oh. This is your girlfriend, isn't it?” The man with a scar on his face mockingly said, “Well, isn't she pretty?”

You felt your chest tighten, everything was hitting you all at once—the hurt, the anger. Everything.

They were all looking at you like you were a threat. But you didn't care, you were just looking at him. Waiting for him to tell you what this is. Waiting for him to come and take you away but he doesn't move.

“Sanzu.” Another man speaks, the one sitting in the middle—with the white hair. Sanzu, the one holding a gun behind your back walks towards him and whispers something to him.

“What do ‘ya think, Ran? What should we do with your little girlfriend?” Sanzu asked, “Should we set her free or should we..?”

Sanzu cocked his gun and pointed it at you, again.

“W-what the fuck is happening?” you find your voice, though it trembled you gave your all to stay composed, “Ran, could you tell me what the fuck is going on?”

Sanzu laughed, “You really don't know, huh? Aren’t you a detective? You didn't know you were dating one of us?”

“One of what?”

Fuck.

Fu—

“Bonten, darling.” he smirked, “Aren't you looking for us, well, we’re here! And you’re living with one, isn't that great?”

You felt stupid, these are the criminals that you were looking for months. This was the missing piece. They're staring you in the face. You were in the smack dab, middle of it all. You were sleeping beside him, you were touching him, the one you were looking for was telling you he loves you, right to your face and you were too stupid.

Too trusting not to know.

You form your fist into a tight ball, your nails sinking into your skin. You don't know what your fate is, all you know is, you were hoping all this was just a dream.

A sick, twisted, horrible dream.

Ran walked towards you, they're just watching what he does next. You froze when he reached for his gun but then he placed it on your hand, “Shoot me, YN.”

“Ran.”

“Shoot me.”

Your tears were brimming, you gasped as you gripped the gun—your finger on the trigger, pointing it at him. Everyone was looking at you like it was their form of some sick entertainment—nobody was doing anything.

“Do it, baby.” he says softly, “Kill me.”

“I..”

This was what you wanted these past few months, right? You told him that. You were so frustrated that you wanted to kill all of them on sight.

But why couldn't you do it, right now?

Why does it have to be him?

“I can't.” you slowly let go of the gun, placing it in his hand. Ran didn't care if they shot him but he wanted to get you out. And he knows he couldn't do that safely, if you didn't prove yourself to them.

You couldn't kill him.

That was assurance enough. For now.

#ran x reader #ran x yn #ran x you #ran haitani x reader #ran haitani x yn #ran haitani x you #ran haitani angst #ran haitani smut #ran haitani #ran haitani tokyo revengers #tokrev x reader #tokrev x you #tr ran #tokrev angst #tokrev #tokyo revengers x you

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zombie-hickey · 1 year ago

Text

[Dead and Unburied]

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader

Warnings: MDNI, Zombie!Ghost, Gore, Violence, Reader is a bit messed up, Angst, Hurt mostly without Comfort

Summary: Ghost is dead but you just can't let go.

You feel disgusting... Sick in the head some might say.

Your hands shake as you stare down at the rusted chains, wrapped around the man's ankles and wrists... Could you even call him a man anymore?

×🩷×

"Damn it. Get the fuck out of here- now."

A large chunk taken out of his arm, the stench of rotten flesh and the burn of fresh blood infects your senses, it's enough to choke you... You're no stranger to infected, you know how this all goes. You've watched it over and over...

You can't lose him too. He's all that's left in this shattered world. What's the point if you're completely alone?

"Live for me. Survive this."

It's a command and a plea all at once, pleading with you to go on in hopes of a better future... Maybe you're weak though. Too weak.

×🩷×

You know this is all wrong- nothing about this is logical. You can't help but imagine what the others would say if they could see you now.

"Ya gotta let him go."

"This ain't right. That isn't him anymore, lass."

"It's okay, Strawberry... Just breathe."

Price, Soap and Gaz... Their voices haunt you as well as the screams of so many others, you don't even know if they are out there somewhere or not.

Suddenly the sound of low gurgling disrupts your train of though, glancing over to see Ghost shifting against his restraints, clouded dead eyes meeting yours... Those beautiful eyes you used to get lost in now make a shiver run down your spine.

But it's still technically him, isn't it? It's still him. You have to believe that.

"Simon... It's okay. It's me."

His broken jaw shifts slightly and you'd like to imagine he'd be speaking right now if he was capable... However, something shocks you down to your core. There's a hint of recognition in him- like he has some form of humanity left, a shred of awareness of his past. Awareness of you.

You could just be imagining it though... After all, you were crazy enough to capture him to keep even though he's a zombie now. Just to chase off the loneliness.

×🩷×

Seeing him like that- walking the streets in aimless search of flesh... It broke you in a way you didn't know possible. Yet a part of you just needed him. Needed him back. Even if he can't speak to you any longer or can't recognize you as friend not food- you needed him.

You managed to sneak up on the giant of a man with a crowbar in hand, smacking him with it earning a low growling groan, part of you feels guilty as you restrain him... Especially guilty as it sounds as though he still experiences pain, his jaw dislodged from the harsh blow.

"Sorry, sorry, sorry... I'm so sorry."

×🩷×

Despite your better judgement you move a bit closer to him, he doesn't attempt to attack you which you take as a good sign, raising your hand to cautiously touch his cheek- feeling the cold flesh beneath your fingertips.

"You're still in there, aren't you...? Si... Please tell me you're still in there somehow."

You receive a grunt in reply- though much more hoarse and growly, it's still recognizable as Simon. An actual reply to you...

"Oh my god... You're still-"

Before you can continue cup his face lovingly in your hands, a maggot wiggles out and lands on your knuckle, you immediately scramble away and frantically shake the bits of rotten flesh and the hideous little critter off.

"Ew!!! Ew, ew, ew..."

Simon leans forward to watch what you're doing, he seems a bit apologetic for what just happened... This definitely can't be easy for him, having some form of consciousness trapped inside this zombified shell, rotting away while still walking... Does he still feel pain from it? Is he numb to the sensation of his flesh wasting away? Is he in mental and physical distress right now and can't tell you?

Part of you feels guilty now. Perhaps you should have killed him for his sake- you're being selfish.

"M'sorry, Si... I'm so sorry... I just... I need you."

×🩷×

"Shoot them in the head."

He knew he had to look out for you no matter what, he refused to let anything touch you. You're the one pure thing that found its way into his heart and life, saw past the Ghost and saw Simon. You'd listen to his puns for way too long at a time, never seeming to get sick of him.

The thought of anything happening to you made him sick inside, his guts twisting into multiple knots. He's known loss his whole life- even before the apocalypse... Now it's him and you against the world it appears.

"Stay behind me."

Putting himself in harm's way for you came so easily, however regret seeps into his bones when he's unable to shield you from his own demise, seeing that look in your eyes when you acknowledge he got bit. The pain in his arm couldn't possibly compare to the heartbreaking terror reflected in your gaze.

His final moments spent knowing he can't protect you anymore. There's nothing that can be done- only hoping you'll listen and carry on.

×🩷×

The sound of other voices scare you senseless, scrambling up off the safe house floor and grabbing your crowbar, all out of ammo at this point so your gun is useless. Simon growling lowly and wriggling against his restraints but you just shush him.

"Sh... Shhh... I've got this. You don't have to protect me, it's okay."

Your reassurance makes him settle slightly but he's still rightfully worried... Until you recognize one of the voices.

"Someone's definitely in here..."

His voice is low and smooth... Gaz. You're not alone. They're alive. They came back for you- they...

"Bloody hell!!!"

The door was pushed open to reveal a stunned Soap at the sight of a restrained zombie Ghost.

"I- I can explain..."

#mdni #zombie!ghost #simon 'ghost' riley #simon ghost riley x f!reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon riley x f!reader #simon riley x you #simon riley angst #ghost x reader #ghost x f!reader #ghost x you #ghost angst #vee's cod fics

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urfavgirlieee · 1 year ago

Text

I'll Be Home For Christmas

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Rating: G

Summary: Your husband Joel is on a work trip, and he's not sure if he'll be home in time for Christmas.

Word Count: 1.6K

Warnings: No outbreak AU, angst with a happy ending, hurt/comfort, suggestive beginning

A/N: Help sorry if this is bad I forgot about it until Christmas Eve and then rushed to finish it lol, so if you see typos no you didn't. Happy holidays guys

“Oh, honey…” Joel groaned, gazing down at you reverently as his hands ran along your sides. “You’re gorgeous.”

“Mm, so are you,” you sighed, playing with the hair on the back of his neck. “My handsome man.”

“I love you, sweetheart,” he whispered, leaning down to press a searing kiss to your lips. His hand captured your cheek as he gently tilted his head, deepening the kiss.

“I love you too,” you panted out as your broke the kiss.

“Gonna let me show you how much I love ya?” Joel purred as his mouth latched onto your neck, sucking on that spot that made your knees weak.

“Yes,” you sighed, your fingers digging into his back. “Please, Joel.”

“Don’t gotta beg, honey,” Joel assured you as his kisses trailed down to your shoulder. One of his hands had found its way into your hair while the other gently rubbed circles into your lower back, holding you close. “I know what ya need.”

He kissed his way back up to your mouth and took your lips with his once again, kissing you deep and thorough. You let out a breathless moan into his mouth and he groaned, nipping at your lip in response.

“Joel,” you whined, pressing yourself closer to him as he slid his knee between your thighs, giving you the friction you so desperately needed-

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

You groaned, rolling over in your empty bed to turn off your alarm. ‘Why do I always wake up right before the good part,’ you thought as you sat up, rubbing your bleary eyes. You turned to check the time. 8:16. Shit, you overslept.

You sighed and got up, sliding your slippers onto your feet before padding down the stairs. You walked into the kitchen to see Sarah at the stove, making breakfast. God, you loved that kid. You smiled softly, leaning against the doorway. "Hey, kiddo. Whatcha making?"

Sarah turned to you with a bright smile. "Scrambled eggs."

You hummed, nodding your head. "There better not be shell in them this time."

"It's calcium, Mom!"

Your heart nearly melted at that. Mom. You were never going to get used to that. "Alright, sure. Thank you for making breakfast, honey."

"It's nothing," she said, waving her hand dismissively.

"You hear anything from your dad?" you asked, sitting down at the kitchen table.

She nodded, turning to you as she took the eggs off the stove. "I texted him, like, thirty minutes ago. He said that he's gonna try to get a flight home overnight so he can be here by Christmas mornin'."

You sighed, nodding. "Okay. I just... wish that he didn't have to go on that trip."

"Me too," she mumbled, handing you a plate of eggs, which you gratefully took with a thank you. "I bet he'll make it work. He always does."

You nodded, taking a bite. "Yeah, he does."

After breakfast, you washed the dishes while Sarah told you about how she was 'pretty sure' Jason was going to ask her to the dance. You loved the way she opened up to you, confided in you in a way you doubt she ever would with Joel. Maybe it was because you were a woman, maybe it was because she felt like you wouldn't tease her (which you wouldn't). But whatever it was, you were so grateful to be able to bond with your adoptive daughter like this.

Once the dishes were done, you made hot chocolate and watched Home Alone together.

"What would you do if you accidentally left me home alone?" Sarah asked.

"Well, that would never happen," you assured her, kissing the top of her head. "But if we did, I think I wouldn't be much different than her," you said, gesturing towards the frantic mother on the screen. "And I bet your dad would be even worse."

She giggled. "Yeah, he totally would. I broke my leg when I was six, and I think that's the only time I've ever seen him cry."

You couldn't help the giggle that escaped your lips. "He just loves you, kiddo."

She smiled softly, taking a sip of her hot chocolate. "Yeah, I know."

As the hours passed without any word from Joel, you started to lose hope of him making it home. Christmas Eve didn't feel the same without him there, and you were sure Christmas without him would just be depressing. You had just about given up hope when Joel called during dinner. You frantically picked up your phone. "Joel?"

"Hi, honey..." he sighed.

Oh. Oh no. You could tell from just his tone that he didn't have good news. "What's going on, baby?" you asked, bracing yourself.

"Every flight is packed full. Earliest I could be home is tomorrow night." he explained. You could hear the frustration and sadness in his voice, and it just about broke your heart.

You sighed heavily, your shoulders slumping. You wanted to cry. You missed him so badly, and he wouldn't even be home for Christmas. Christmas! "Alright, honey."

"I'm so sorry, darlin'. I want to be home with you two so bad," he apologized. You looked over to Sarah, who was watching you with a worried look. You looked up, trying to blink back the tears threatening to fall.

"No, it's not your fault, Joel. I know you do." you said, barely keeping your voice from wavering.

"I'll keep tryin', baby. Okay?" he murmured comfortingly into the phone.

"Okay," you whispered. "I love you."

"Love you too. I'll talk to ya later, alright?"

"Yep," you sighed, ending the call. You put your phone down on the table and groaned.

"...What did he say?" Sarah asked tentatively.

"He won't be home until tomorrow night," you muttered.

"Seriously?!" she shouted. "What the hell?! This is so unfair, it's Christmas! Everyone deserves to be with their family. You're telling me there isn't a single plane with one open seat?!"

"I don't know, Sarah. I guess not," you sighed, tears welling in your eyes. "Sorry," you whispered, wiping them away.

Sarah sighed, sadness evident on her face. "There's always next Christmas, I guess..." she mumbled dejectedly.

The rest of Christmas Eve passed miserably. The excitement and hope were gone, replaced by a sadness that you knew you wouldn't stop feeling until your husband came home to you. You couldn't imagine how it was for Sarah. Christmas was so magical for kids, and her dad not being there to celebrate with her was probably sucking all the fun right out of it.

You and Joel talked again that night after Sarah was in bed. He told you there was nothing he could do, that he'd done everything he could. You'd been expecting it, but it still hurt.

"I'm so sorry, honey," he apologized again.

"We'll be alright. We miss you lots, but there's nothing we can do. We'll just have to deal with it," you sighed, resigning yourself to accepting that you would have to celebrate Christmas without your husband.

"I'll make it up to you two," he promised.

"Just come home as soon as you can, that's all you need to do," you assured him.

"Will do, baby. I love you so much," he cooed.

"I love you too, hun," you echoed.

"I'll see you tomorrow night, okay? I promise."

"Okay, Joel. See you tomorrow night."

With that you ended the call, letting out a quiet, frustrated sob as you tossed your phone onto your nightstand. You wrapped presents alone that night, and you were sure you'd never felt more lonely in your life.

You were rudely awoken by your alarm the next morning. You groaned, getting up to go wake Sarah up.

"Merry Christmas, baby girl," you whispered, gently shaking her.

Sarah peeked her eyes open, turning to look up at you. She smiled softly. "Hi, Mom. Merry Christmas," she mumbled, getting up. You walked into the living room together, and you smiled when she gasped at the sight of the presents under the tree.

She raced over to grab one for you and one for her. "Here, let's open them together," she said.

You smiled sadly at the "To the love of my life, from Joel" scrawled on the gift tag. "Okay, honey."

Before you could do anything else, though, you were interrupted by a knock on the door. You sighed and got up, walking to the door. Who the hell was even at the door at 8:30 on Christmas morning?

Joel. Joel was at the door at 8:30 on Christmas morning. "Honey-" you gasped as he tugged you into a tight hug. "Wha- how did-"

"Got someone to sell me their ticket," he sighed into the crook of your neck. "Two in the goddamn morning, said he didn't have anyone to get home to anyways. Sad, but... he told me I could have his. That I needed it more than him. Twenty-five dollars for this ticket. Got on board ten minutes later."

You pulled away to give him a kiss before Sarah ran in to hug him. "Dad! I thought you weren't comin' home!"

"So did I," he chuckled. "But I'm here now. I missed you both," he said, placing a kiss on Sarah's forehead. "Did I miss anything?"

"Nope, we just woke up," Sarah exclaimed. "Come on, we gotta open these presents!"

You and Joel laughed and walked over to the tree, hand in hand.

You didn't spend a moment apart for the rest of the day. And after Sarah went to bed at the end of the day, he made your dream from the night before come true. Call it a Christmas miracle.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #the last of us #tlou #tlou fanfiction #joel miller x reader angst #joel tlou #the last of us x reader #tlou x reader #christmas fic

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wonwoosthetic · 1 year ago

Note

AHHH I love the Joel x reader series, the way their relationship unfolds is chef kiss! Can we have a fic on how they met, the process they went getting to know each other specially after Sarah’s mom left him must not be easy for Joel to fall in love again so it will be nice to read how reader broke his walls down

Have a nice day 🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼

series masterlist

warnings - men (only stupid words, no name-calling, etc.), alcohol, cursing

word count - 11k

a/n: I didn't plan for this to become a two-parter, but I guess that's just how it goes sometimes haha. Also: this is SO long overdue, I'm so sorry, I took a break from this series, but I'm back! And there are more requests to come ˙ᵕ˙ thank you so so much for the request and your sweet and kind words🥺, I really hope you like this, and then the 2nd part that will include much more Joel x Reader content🤭 and I hope you have a wonderful day/night🤍🤍

You're Lonely. I Can Fix That. Pt. 1

1999

"Well, butter my butt and call me a biscuit!" A familiar deep voice from behind you called out, catching you off guard. "If it isn't sweet lil' Y/N." With a forced smile, you turned to the left. Right away, your eyes found the one and only Tommy Miller. The infamous dark locks were still unruled on top of his head. He wore his hair slightly longer than you remembered. The cheeky grin, the entire town had come to know, was still as evident as ever plastered on his face.

He had just made his way to the bar, where you had been occupying a barstool for the past hour.

You welcomed him with a tight smile, "Hey, Tommy." Surprising you, the older man threw an arm around your shoulder to pull you into a side hug that you reciprocated slightly awkwardly. He had caught you off-guard.

"How the hell they're lettin' you in here?" With a smirk, he took a seat right next to you, his palms brushing over the dark oak of the bartop. He definitely felt comfortable.

You held onto the drink you had been nursing ever since you got there. "I just know the right people," you teased him with a smile, making him chuckle.

"Wow, breakin' the law now too? What happened to you?" His fake gasp almost sounded too real. You joined him, giggling at his comment. "How have ya been?" He added before you could add a snarky remark to his rhetorical question.

You nodded, "Good. Busy."

"You in college now?" Tommy asked. You wondered if his Southern Accent had gotten even stronger. After not seeing you for a good two years, the younger Miller brother wasn't yet caught on to your current life.

Another nod from you, to which he smiled. "Smart girl. What 'bout your sister? How's she?" The corners of your lips curled into a smile. You just waited for that question to finally drop. Her name had to enter the conversation at some point.

"Still not interested in you." You sent him a wide grin.

He shook his head with a chuckle. "Why you gotta hurt me like that, sweetheart?" You rolled your eyes at his love for nicknames - just like you always did - minus the fake gag you used to do behind his back.

Ever since you could remember, Tommy Miller, one of town's biggest troubles and flirts, had been ogling after your older sister. She was probably the only girl who had never given in to his charming personality. At one point, you had stopped counting the calm afternoons you were sitting in your parents' restaurant, either helping out or doing your homework, getting interrupted by the distracting loud voices of Tommy and his friend group. They always chose to sit at the same booth - the one with the perfect view through the slit window into the kitchen.

After a few months, you were convinced that they weren't visiting for the food or drinks. You had caught onto their actions. Tommy was after your sister. And knowing where to find her after school was for his benefit. Only problem: she was interested in anything, and everything, but the youngest Miller brother. It still never failed to amuse you how dedicated the boy was to get her attention in any way possible - even if it was for all the wrong reasons and probably just wanted to tick her off his list of 'girls in town I've slept with'.

And even now, years after she had left your Southern hometown, he was still thinking about her. It almost made you 'awe'.

"Where's she? I haven't seen her in forever." He interrupted your train of thought.

"Do you really wanna know?" You asked him teasingly. "I'm about to break your heart." He had to know at some point.

Over exaggerating, he placed his hand on top of his chest, holding onto the wrong side, idiot, and lowered his head. "Please do it quick."

No matter how annoying he was in the past, he was entertaining. You had to give him that. Your slight amusement was hard to conceal. "She's in New York."

Tommy looked back up at you right after those words left your lips, scrunching his eyebrows. "New York? Damn... going big, huh? What's she doin' over there?"

"Marrying a lawyer," you simply answered, leaving him with his mouth hung open as you took a sip from your drink. You almost choked on the liquid once you saw his face.

"Wow," he breathed out dramatically. "She really thinks a lawyer's gonna be better than me?" Both of you knew the answer to his question should stay muted.

You chuckled. "I convinced her that a lawyer would be better than you."

Getting a laugh from him in return. "You little-" He reached out, ready to destroy your hairstyle with his fingers, when the two of you got interrupted.

"This man's troubling you, Y/N?" The sudden voice of your friend behind the bar caught your attention. After serving the people on the other end, she had gotten back to you, expecting to continue your conversation from before, when the man next to you caught her eye.

"Oh, this is trouble in person," you told her with a smile.

Tommy sat up straight right away, a proud grin plastered on his face. He seemed to be very proud of the title you had given him.

"That would be me." He reached out his right hand over the countertop. "Tommy," introducing himself to your friend and bartender for the night.

"Maria," she accepted his hand, shaking it briefly, locking eyes with him for a second too long. You immediately noticed the change in her gaze, making your smile drop within a split second.

She was quick to turn on her work persona, asking him for his order and turning around to snatch the two beers he had asked for out of the fridge. Of course, not without sending you an amused grin. You had to hold back the shake of your head tickling you.

While Tommy still had his ass planted onto the seat next to you, you caught a glimpse of a group of men in a booth right behind the younger Miller brother. Their stares were too hard to miss. The faces seemed familiar.

You cleared your throat. "Your friends seem nervous."

Your comment caught Tommy's attention. With a swift look behind him, he sent them a nod before turning back to you. "Eh," he brushed it off, "They'll be alright. Probably just jealous it's me sitting here with a pretty girl instead of one of them." No. Just no.

"Tommy," you warned him, turning your head to look right into his eyes, a teasing smile threatening to expose you. "No." Just as quick as he had looked up, the little glimpse of almost hope evaporated, replaced by humour as he threw his head back in laughter.

"Oh well," he slapped the countertop, "I tried." You shook your head with a soft chuckle.

Maria was back, in her hand the two cold dark bottles filled with the liquid you couldn't even smell without gagging. She put them down right in front of the Miller brother. A grin that showed her dimple, splashed on her face. You leaned back to watch.

Tommy gave her a nod with a grin, reaching back into his jeans pocket, only to be stopped by your friend.

"It's on the house."

He held still mid-move. "Oh no. No, no, I can't accept that."

Maria held out her hand. "Don't worry 'bout it."

"Nah, I can't just let a drink go on the house. I've been here way too much," Tommy argued, that shit-eating cocky grin still on his lips.

"Never when I was here." The woman behind the bar smirked. You could've sworn she was damn close to winking at him. "So, trust me, it's fine."

With a defeated sigh, the man dropped his head, shaking it with a soft chuckle as he reached for the glass bottles. "I appreciate it, thank you, sweetheart." He stood up, only to turn towards you before officially leaving you alone at the bar again. "Y/N," he called out, getting your attention, "How about joining us for the night?" He nodded towards the table, where the rest of his group was still eyeing you with clear interest. "And Maria, I don't know how long you're working today, but we won't be leavin' anytime soon, so feel free to come too."

Before she could answer, you cut into it. "Thanks, Tommy. We're good, though."

With extended arms to each side, he sent you one last grin. "The offer's open. I ain't takin' it back."

When he finally turned around to join the other three men, you sighed, pushing your barstool straight to lean forward against the countertop. You were met with the crossed arms of your friend and neighbour. A conversation was about to start.

"What?" You wondered, going back to nursing on your drink, that she had made extra sweet just for you.

"'What?'" Maria mocked you, snatching a wet towel to wipe over the wood. "A hot dude just asked you to spend some time with his extremely good-looking group of friends, and you turned him down? What the hell is wrong with you?"

You dropped the straw back into the glass to gasp at her. "I came here to spend some time with you, not to sit around with some weird ass dudes. I know about them. I'm not a fan of them."

Maria didn't grow up around the area. She didn't know about Tommy's reputation just yet. She came to Texas for college after most of them in Boston had rejected her.

After transferring from one college in Kansas to one in your hometown, you had looked for people searching for roommates in the area, when you found Maria's flyer on the campus blackboard. One coffee date later, the two of you knew it was a match made in heaven. You had become almost inseparable ever since.

Back to her trying to set you up for no good.

She chuckled at your comment, switching to drying off some glasses her co-worker had left freshly washed on the counter. "Oh yeah, you're right. They're neither forty-plus nor one of our professors. How dare I even think you could possibly find any of them attractive?"

With an open mouth, you glared at her. "Are you judging me?" Getting only a grin and a shrug in return.

You leaned forward. "I have to pay for every single one of my drinks every time I'm here."

"Well," she put down the glass she had been cleaning, leaning in closer to your face. "You're not a hot country guy with a Southern accent." She really was that easy, huh?

You let yourself fall back slightly, arms crossed in front of your chest as you dared to take a quick glance over to the table, coincidently catching the eyes of one of Tommy's friends as he winked at you, making you almost shiver. And not in a good way.

With a shake of your head, you turned back to Maria, who had caught the quick interaction that made her chuckle.

"You know them?"

"Their faces. I know Tommy, kinda... but I have no idea who his friends are. I only know they're loud and... disgusting." After finishing your drink, you slid it over to her, with a wide smile asking her for another refill, which she accepted with a slight sigh.

"And how do you know him?" She continued interrogating you as she moved around the space to mix the alcohol and fruit juices to make your cocktail.

You raked your fingers through your hair, hoping to style it just the way you had managed to do, only hours ago when you had gotten ready in your bathroom. "He used to have the biggest crush on my sister. I mean," you stopped for a second. "Either that or she was one of the girls on his list."

"His list?" She took a quick look up at you before directing her attention back to the glass in front of her.

"His 'every girl in my year I still need to fuck' list."

Just as she passed you back your now freshly filled glass, Maria gave you an unamused glace along with it, making you chuckle.

"What? I'm serious."

"That was the name of his list?"

"Listen, maybe... maybe not. But I'm sure there was a list. I just couldn't care less what the actual title of it was." You took a quick sip. "So, don't you even dare." You pointed a strict finger at her.

"Don't I even dare what?" She wondered, teasing you because both of you knew where you were going with your thread.

"Give into his disgusting fake charisma!"

"Maybe it's real!" She fought back with a smile, earning herself a straight and monotone facial expression from you. Maria scoffed, "Oh, I'm sorry for being attracted to guys my age." You knew telling her about your crush on the humanity studies professor the two of you shared, would bite you in the ass someday. And now, she won't let it go. Ever.

"Look, at least we won't ever have to fight over a guy." You stated with a grin.

Your friend joined you with a bright smile as she pointed her finger at you, "Amen."

You raised your glass.

With a swift move, Maria threw a fresh washcloth over her shoulder. Her gaze was fixed on the table by the wall a few feet behind you. The one Tommy and his buddies had claimed. Their loud voices were echoing through the entire bar - hollers and shouts that could not be ignored. Maria chuckled.

"You should accept his invitation."

You had to roll your eyes. "I don't want to, thank you very much."

"What about that New Year's resolution of yours? 'Meeting new people', was it?" She teased you. Fuck, you cursed to yourself. She wasn't wrong. The new year was only about a month in, but Maria had already achieved 50% of her resolution, while you were still stuck on yours with 0%. After coming back to your hometown, you remembered most of your old friends from school (not that there had been many) had moved away just about the time you did. And no one had the nerve to come back. So, you were stuck. Stuck with having to meet new people to connect with. But that was a shadow you would have to learn to jump over. And that brings us to your New Year's resolution.

"But-" you groaned, but Maria was ready to interrupt you.

"No buts-" she pointed a strict finger at you. "And they're not even completely 'new' to you. You already know Tommy, that's a start. And that will make getting to know the other ones even easier." Her hands went back to cleaning the bar area.

"I don't even wanna get to know 'the other ones'," you mumbled under your breath, hiding your lips behind the rim of your glass.

Maria looked up. "What was that?"

"Nothing," you quickly added before ending the conversation with a sip.

You took a deep breath. You had two options to choose from. Either you continue your evening alone by the bar, sipping one cocktail after the other, with your best friend by your side whenever she wasn't focused on drunks stumbling over to the counter, lulling about which drink they'd want next. OR you could go after your resolution and try to have a good night with the random idiots you used to curse at back in your school days. You could've hit yourself over the head for even just taking the second option into consideration, but something lured you in.

With a shake of your head, unbelieving of what your body was telling you to do, you pushed yourself away from the counter. The barstool you had been occupying scraped over the wooden floor. Before you turned around, you got a hold of your cocktail - if you were going to do this, you would not be doing it without more alcohol.

By rolling your eyes, and your attention still on the grin Maria sent you along the way, you didn't see the man you were about to run into. Strong hands on your shoulders stopped you. You definitely felt like you had just stepped on someone's toes too.

"Oh, sh-" you whipped your head around. "Sorry." Glancing up, you already found the possible softest brown eyes looking down at you.

"Sorry," the man immediately spoke up too, taking his hands off you as if your skin had burnt him.

"S-Sorry about that," you couldn't help the stutter. God, those eyes were almost bronze, you thought, Jesus, and his curls too...

"All good," he cleared his throat, "just gotta make sure you ain't runnin' someone over with a force like that." His voice was just as warm as his looks.

You almost let an awkward chuckle escape if it hadn't been for Tommy's loud voice echoing through the rumbling background noises of the bar.

"Yo, Joel! Don't forget our beers! You can flirt later!"

Joel. The man didn't even hesitate to turn around. "How about you go get your beers yourselves?" He got a round of groans in return, only for the Miller brother to stand up and jog over to the two of you. You had to catch yourself back into the present again, daydreaming about the man standing in front of you can wait.

With a sheepish grin, Tommy stopped by your side and threw an arm around your shoulder. "Y/N, is this man bothering you?"

"I should ask her that about you, don't you think?" Joel's eyes fell to his brother's hand that had pulled you in close to the side of his chest. Tommy dropped it quickly.

"You're no fun," he hissed at the man in front of you before turning around to lean against the dark wood that was separating him from the bar area.

A weird silence spread between the two of you as your eyes lost focus on the Southern man now behind you.

"I'm sorry 'bout him," the soft voice apologised. Joel's voice.

You eyed him a little closer.

His shirt was somewhat tight, yet loose enough. It seemed to have a relaxed fit, but his arms and chest were definitely worked out enough to test the stretchiness of the material. It looked comfortable. With his lazy set of dark curls, this man radiated comfort. Even his beard, which he had decided to keep at a length that made it look well-kept, but not too neat, but not completely rugged, added to the softness of his entire appearance.

With a chuckle, you ran a hand through your hair. "It's alright, I- that's how I know him. So it's- you know..."

"You know my brother?"

Brother? Joel? Joel Miller. Tommy Miller's brother. How Tommy having a brother never crossed you, was beyond you. But then again, you literally only knew about the younger Miller brother because of your sister, so no surprise that you had never heard of an older Miller brother before.

"I- well, I wouldn't say 'know'-" you started, but the familiar voice interrupted you once again.

"Oh, come on, Y/N! Don't hurt me like that!"

You swiftly turned your head around to glance at him. "Tommy- we don't know each other that well." Unless you could count the multiple times he had asked you about your sister's well-being in the past, and now present. Or the times he had caught up with you on the street and bombarded you with questions about her.

With a kiss of his tongue, he brushed off your comment. "Don't be like that." He turned his attention to Joel. "You remember Izzy? Back in my High School days. The chick from the restaurant two streets down from our school?"

"Oh, God," the older Miller shook his head as he mumbled. His fingers pressed the bridge of his nose.

"Y/N's her sister," Tommy laughed, mostly to himself. "What are the odds of us meeting here tonight, huh?" He asked into the room, turning back around to the bar, happy about the next round of alcohol. "Joel," the younger Miller nodded towards him. "These are on you." He held up the four beer bottles he carried between his fingers. Not even waiting for an answer, he walked away, getting an annoyed sigh from his brother in return, who switched places with his brother.

Tommy bumped your shoulder. "And you're coming with us. Come on."

After daring to take a quick look behind you, finding Joel handing over the money to Maria and accepting a beer for himself, you followed his brother. The table with his friends seemed to already have been waiting for you as they welcomed you, and the beers, with loud cheers. You joined Tommy on his side of the booth, as the current situation was too uncomfortable for you to sit next to one of his friends. Especially if it was the one that had winked at you before.

"Alright, guys," Tommy's voice brought you back. "This is Y/N," he introduced you before moving on to tell you the name of each man on the table. "And the man of the evening!" He called out, his arm reaching out to the figure that was coming closer to your table. "My brother, the one and only Joel Miller." Looking up, you found him already looking at you again. You quickly diverted your eyes to the dark wood underneath your hands.

"The man of the evening when he didn't even want to be here in the first place?" One of Tommy's friends commented with a scoff. Mike? Yeah, it was Mike.

Joel slit into the other side of the booth, directly opposite of you. You noticed yourself sitting up a little straighter.

"Well, not all of us are thirty and have nothing better to do than to get drunk in the middle of the week," the older Miller replied. He casually sat back, taking a sip from his beer.

Mike chuckled. "Not all of us can't ever leave the house because they had a kid when they were a teenager."

Joel put the beer, taking a deep breath. The sudden change in atmosphere was evident to everyone at the table. Even to you. Well, this was already going great.

Tommy was quick to react. "Hey," he stopped the conversation, "I thought we agreed on no fighting today? Please, guys, come on. Get yourself together."

With your eyes on the oldest Miller brother, you could see his lips moving, mumbling something under his breath that you didn't catch, due to the loud background noises.

"Yeah, no fighting!" Trevor, you thought his name was, called out, raising the already half-empty bottle of beer in his grip. "To Tommy! Welcome home, brother."

Welcome home? Confused, you joined the table, everyone raising their glasses, clinking them all together in the middle.

Once you noticed the other side of the table had fallen into a conversation, you leaned into Tommy on your left.

"Where were you?" Your voice was too low for any of his friends to catch it, but loud enough to get the attention of the older Miller across from you too.

"Because of the 'welcome home'?" The man next to you wondered. You nodded, letting him continue. With a smirk, he put his bottle down. "Your sister didn't tell you?"

You rolled your eyes. "Tommy, she doesn't even know where you are right now, nor does she care. I can guarantee that." A chuckle from ahead of you made your head turn. You could see the smallest glimpse of a grin playing on Joel's lips as he tried to hide it by taking a sip of his beer.

"Wow," Tommy huffed out. "You're really just gonna put more and more salt into that wound, huh?" You ignored his overly dramatic comment, choosing to just continue glancing at him with a somewhat smile on your face, waiting for him to continue. He brushed a hand through his hair before giving you an answer to your question. "I was stationed in Iraq. As of last week, I'm a free man again."

You found your mouth agape. "Oh... oh shit, I had no idea." Your reaction made him chuckle. "Congrats?" Your reaction turned more into a question as you were unsure about what exactly to say to him.

"Thanks, girly," he smiled at you. "Although I am a bit offended that you didn't even notice I've been since graduation."

"Oh, please," you chuckled with a shake of your head. "But," you started again, getting a raise of his brows in return. "Now that I think about it, my mom did ask about you once."

"Really?" His eyes lit up. His reaction reminded you of a little boy being granted three wishes. You almost giggled. "What did she say?"

"Where's Danny Zuko and his entourage?" You smirked up at him. "It was around the time Izzy moved away. That's when she noticed how quiet it was without you guys."

"She called me Danny Zuko?" Tommy smiled to himself, raising one eyebrow as he glanced at you. You could already feel the greasy hand coming up to glide over his hair even before he actually did it.

From across the table, the warm yet rough voice spoke up, "Don't let it get to your head, Tommy." Joel was looking at his brother in slight amusement. You could tell he wanted to shake his head at his actions.

The younger Miller scoffed. "Don't be jealous just 'cause no one's callin' you the hottest man of the seventies." That's because Joel Miller might just be the hottest man of the century.

"Fictional man, though," you corrected him.

He gave you a quick glance out of the corner of his eye. "You bein' a smartass now?" Getting a sarcastic grin from you as an answer.

The conversation with Tommy moved more naturally than you had expected. You had been scared of awkward silences and pauses, but they had yet to happen, and you prayed they wouldn't even get an appearance this evening.

"So," a voice from the other end of the table caught your attention. "what do you do, Y/N? You lookin' a lil' young." Some of the other guys chuckled at his comment. Unessecary, but okay.

Before you could even open your mouth, Tommy spoke. "She ain't that much younger than us, Mike." Just clearing the air - you were thankful for that.

You cleared your throat, your fingers nervously intertwining underneath the table. "I'm in college."

"What are you studyin'?"

"Mathematic."

A scoff erupted from your side of the table, but on the other end, making it impossible for you to see exactly who it was from. "Mathematic? How the hell you gonna pay them bills? Doing fractions?" His rhetorical question got a round of laughter from almost the entire table. The guys continued joking about what you had just told them.

"Subtracting and adding, why the fuck would there even be a course for that?" Well, I bet you can't even calculate the tip you should give waiters.

"Everyone with a degree in math can't be anywhere else but in an office. What a life." A life where they earn more money than you, most likely.

"You also had those smartass kids at school that were good at math for no reason? Always hated them. So annoying, I swear to God." At least I was never crying at the dinner table with my dad trying to explain my homework to me.

You decided to stay quiet and let yourself fall back into the leather cushions behind your back. With a soft sigh, you brought your glass up to your lips, taking two sips of your cocktail. You didn't have the energy nor the need to speak up against them. You didn't know what their occupation was. And neither did you care. You're focused on yourself. You had to listen to far too many joking comments about your choice of degree to give a flying fuck about them anymore.

Your eyes wandered around the room before Joel's voice suddenly brought you back.

"What do you wanna do with that degree?" His question surprised you. Your eyes stopped at his face. Even in the dimlit bar, you could still make out his soft features. His coarse voice sent a chill through your entire body - a good chill though. The kind of chill you get after putting the first foot into a hot bath. That was Joel Miller's voice. Warmth. Pure warmth.

You put your glass down, pressing your lips together for a quick second. Looking up at him, his gaze was already on you, patiently waiting for your answer.

"I- ehm," you wiped your hands down your jeans. They weren't wet, you were just nervous, apparently. "I'm not sure yet. If possible, I would really like to get a Master's in STEM too, but..." you trailed off, not about to spill your entire life story to a, technically, stranger. "We'll see."

Joel nodded. His gaze never left you, following each word that fell from your lips. "And," he continued, "what could you do with a Mathematic degree?"

"Oh, a lot," you spoke up. You could feel yourself sitting up straighter, your hands back on top of the table. "A lot of people become financial advisors for companies. Or statisticians... ehm... I could also obviously become just a Math professor," you shrugged. "Most things are office jobs, though."

Joel had a soft smile on his lips, that only made you feel the heat in your cheeks spreading with each second. You hoped the lack of light in the room hid it well.

While you had added that last comment as a validation of most people's thoughts of the jobs you had mentioned being 'boring', you were surprised by his reply.

"So you'll have an easy life, at least. While also making quite a good amount of money. That's the smartest way to live if you ask me." Exactly.

The older Miller surprised you. He seemed to have taken in everything you had told him, giving you fitting answers. All while the men next to you had moved on to the degree they had claimed as 'useless' - Engish Literature.

"Very smart of you," he added at last. You almost caught yourself giggling as the corners of your lips curled up, your hands still stuck together.

"Thanks," you could only mumble. Get yourself together. Not wanting the conversation to end, you brushed some hair that had fallen into your sight away from your face. "And what do you do? Work wise."

Joel had started picking at the label of his beer bottle, snatching his fingers off it as soon as your question hit his ear.

"I'm a contractor," he told you. Impressive.

You nodded along. "Wow... that's- you know, not an easy job."

He smiled at your comment, ducking his head slightly. You found it almost endearing in a way. "Well," his hand came up to hold onto his neck. "Much easier than studying math, I can tell ya that much."

"No," an awkward chuckle escaped your lips as you crossed your arms on top of the table. "I meant like physically."

To that he tilted his head, nodding slightly in agreement, his hand wrapped perfectly around the beer bottle again. "Guess you're right about that, yeah. I already started praying for my back and knees." He took a sip to end his statement.

You wanted to ask about the kid they had mentioned. God, you were so curious. Something about him seemed so intriguing and you had already figured out that you were most definitely captivated by his warmth. The attention he had praised you with, whether it was out of politeness or not, had only added to your fascination with the man in front of you.

Tommy's loud holler right next to you made your head snap as you found the guys cheering on one of their friends as he held two beer bottles to his lips and tilted his head back to down it all in one go. What an achievement.

In your mind, you shook your head. That New Year's resolution can wait, you decided.

Just as you were about to take another sip of your glass, you noticed the lightness of it, looking down to find it empty already. You couldn't recall ever finishing it, which was already probably not a good sign. Without a word, you got up from your seat, your glass in your grip. You made your way back to the bar, the seat you had occupied earlier was already waiting for you.

Out of the corner of her eye, Maria caught your form coming closer, making her turn towards you, a glass of beer in her hands that she was about to give a waiting guest.

"You want a refill?" She wondered as soon as you had leaned against the counter, sitting yourself down on the wooden barstool.

You shook your head. "No, I'm good for tonight."

"What?" She called out in shock, stopping right in front of you as she took your glass. "Already? Are you okay?" You only nodded. For a second, she let her eyes wander across your face, choosing to refill the cup with water and slide it over back to you. "Drink that, you'll need it."

"Thanks," you mumbled. "But I'm fine, really. Just... tired."

Maria obviously didn't believe you. The time you had spent together let her get to know you better than you had wanted.

"Really just tired?"

You wanted to respond to her and had already opened your mouth, but a deep voice from the backroom that was only accessible from behind the bar called out.

"Maria, get you-!"

"Not now, Steven!" She shouted back, her eyebrows scrunched together in annoyance. You chuckled. Steven... one of the newbies of the bar's staff, but because of his apparently previous work experience as a barista he thought of himself much higher than most of the employees - at least that's what Maria had ranted about after each shift she had with him. With angry steps, he busted through the door, his eyes immediately on your best friend.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" His voice was filled with rage, making you sit up just a bit straighter.

But Maria wasn't that easily intimidated, especially not by a man the same height as her and two years younger.

"Helping a customer, you idiot. We're here together, so do your goddamn job and stop hiding in the backroom," she snarled back at him. With a huff and a shake of his head, he turned around towards the two girls who had been waiting by the bar.

"I'm telling you, I'm gonna get fired soon," she mumbled under her breath, but clear enough for you to hear her.

You shook your head in amusement. "You're not gonna quit?"

"I won't have the patience to do that. They'll fire me because I swear to God, I'm so close to fucking beat him up." With a deep breath, she collected herself again and leaned forward, her hands on the bar top. "Now," she looked up at you. "You're tired? Of?" Of course, she knew you weren't actually physically tired.

"Drunk unfunny men," you told her as your eyes followed your fingertips that were tracing each line of the wood underneath your palms.

A whistle sound from somewhere next to you caught both of your attention.

Maria rolled her eyes. "Yeah, tell me about it," before having to leave you to serve the man who had called after her. He was already waiting for her with a smirk on his lips.

You accepted the glass of water she had left with you and downed the entire content of it quickly. Before you could even stand up to finally leave, a figure suddenly appeared to your left and blocked your way. Just as you were about to complain, not in the mood for yet another stupid comment dropping from a man's mouth, you looked up.

Joel again. He noticed your movement.

"Oh- sorry, did you wanna go back?" He motioned with his hand past him and took a step back, but only a small one because of the barstool behind him.

You shook your head with a smile. "Eh- no, no... I-"

"Another one for you?" Maria suddenly appeared again. She pointed at the empty beer bottle Joel had put down. Her eyes quickly raked over both of your faces.

He motioned a polite no to her. "Thank you, but... that's gonna be it for tonight."

"You too?" She wondered, her head nodding towards you. "What's going on with you two? Why so boring today?" A soft smirk had made its way onto her face.

With a confused facial expression, you stared at her.

The older Miller chuckled, "'m sorry. But ehm... I got a lil' girl at home. Promised her not to stay out for too long, so I gotta get back."

Maria took the empty bottle off the counter. "A good dad, I see. I respect that," she nodded.

While she was occupied with some new dirty glasses Steven had placed in front of her, Jeol turned his attention back to you.

"Sorry, what were about to say?" He asked you. "You're gonna go back?" You shook your head again, nervously you had also subconsciously started playing with your fingers again.

"No, I... I think that was enough of Tommy Miller and his friends for me."

"Yeah," he sighed, letting himself sit down on the barstool next to you. "I-" he started again but stopped himself, the tips of his fingers tapping on the wood. His hands were beautiful, you noticed. Strong. Thick-

Maybe it was the three glasses of alcohol you had in your system but you could've sworn Joel Miller was glowing in the dim light of the bar. His skin was radiating gold specs and even his hair seemed to be more than just plain brown. It was deep, auburn and soft. And his curls, good God...

Your heart rate had slightly picked up now that it was only the two of you.

Joel nodded. "I get that. They can be a bit much sometimes. I'm sorry."

"It's alright," you chuckled, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, thinking about what to say next.

The silence took over the both of you for a good few seconds. Both pairs of eyes fixed on anything but each other. You took a deep breath, followed by Joel doing the same. Silence can be so unbearable sometimes...

"So," he started again. "You're gonna stay here?"

You gulped. "Y-Yeah, yeah... I... I'm just gonna wait for Maria, we live to-"

"Oh no, girl," your best friend suddenly jumped in. "Tonight's gonna be late. With Steven here, I don't know when I'll be done." She turned to Joel. "My co-worker's an asshole that doesn't know how to do his job, so...," she shrugged.

The oldest Miller chuckled and nodded, amused at her choice of words.

"It's fine, I'll just... wait," you argued, but she was having none of it, waving her hand in front of your face.

"No, no, you should get home. You said you're leaving?" She asked the man next to you, catching him off-guard with her question.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm gonna go now."

"Well, that's convenient. Would you mind... maybe, taking her with you?" Your best friend nudged her head towards you.

"Maria!" You shout-whispered.

But Joel just casually nodded. "Sure." And stood up immediately.

"No," you stopped him. "It's fine, really-"

"Y/N," she interrupted you again, "you really should get home." Maria raised her eyebrows at you. "You got that thing tomorrow."

"What thing?" You asked her with a tight smile on her lips.

"You know... the thing. That you need to be well-rested for."

"Maria-"

"Can I trust that you get her home safe?" She ignored you, turning to Joel. A big grin and awaiting eyes on her face.

He nodded politely. "Yes, ma'am, I promise."

"Ma'am?" She gasped with a smile, "Oh, I trust you a lot." After exchanging looks with the Miller brother, she turned back to you, slapping your hands off the counter with the washcloth she had been holding. "Now get your ass out of the bar."

Your eyes kept following her as she continued to take a step back. Followed by another step. Her hands motioned for you to leave once again, making you shake your head and Joel next to you chuckle.

With a soft sigh, you stood up.

"You good to go?" He asked you, making you look up at him with a somewhat forced smile.

"Yeah."

He opened his palm, letting you walk ahead first. After thanking your best friend for the drinks, he joined your steps but kept walking behind you. You only came to a halt as you passed Tommy's table and only because Joel spoke up. If it had been just you, you would've continued to just pass them, they wouldn't have noticed it anyway.

"We're gonna head out," he told the table, his hand tightly on his brother's shoulder.

"We?" Tommy asked, turning his body just a bit to find you a few steps next to Joel. "You're goin' together?"

"I'm gonna get her home," he nodded.

A round of hollers erupted from the rest of the guys, taking you by surprise. "GET IT, MILLER!"

"Shut the fuck up, Mike," the older Miller was quick to argue back, clearly annoyed by their reaction.

Tommy laughed, "Don't mind him, brother, he's just jealous. Right, Mike?" The rest of the group joined in, starting by teasing and poking their friend, who was the same guy that had raked his eyes up and down your body back when you were still sitting by the bar. Wonderful...

Joel only rolled his eyes. "Anyways, we're goin' now." That made his younger brother suddenly stand up and walk over to you, his arms opened wide. Before you could react, you were engulfed in a tight hug. You were only able to awkwardly pat his back with one hand.

"It was great seeing you again, sweetheart," he let you know, freeing you again, and taking a step back. "Maybe we'll see each other again."

"Yeah," you could only let out an awkward smile, "maybe." With one last pat on your upper arm, he turned to his brother, doing the same thing to his arm before joining the rest of his friend group at the table again.

With no last words, Joel continued his walk straight ahead, coming to another stop right by the door, where the hooks that had been drilled into the walls were holding the outerwear of each visitor.

"You left a coat here or somethin'?" He asked you.

You nodded and pointed. "The beige one on the right."

He got it off the hook for you and opened it for you. Slightly taken aback by his kind gesture, you thanked him with a surprised tone and turned around to get your right arm into the coat first. He helped you with your left arm as well and only turned back to the hangers to get his own jacket. You waited patiently for him before walking over towards the door, pushing it open and holding it, making sure he got through it as well. As soon as the wind of the cold January air outside hit you, you pulled your coat tighter around you, cursing at yourself for not taking a scarf with you as well.

Joel walked past you, putting on his jacket just then. You noticed he was walking towards a specific direction, clearly to where he had parked his car, but you wanted to stop him. So you did.

"You know, you really don't have to." Your voice made him turn around. "I don't know what the hell Maria was talking about. A-And you don't me that well- and I obviously don't know you either. And I totally understand if you just want to get home quickly. You really don't have to bring me home too. I'm fine with just taking the bus-"

Joel couldn't help but be amused at your sudden rambling. He chuckled at you. "The last bus probably already left. And I really don't mind." With a few steps, he came closer, stopping to keep a comfortable distance between the two of you. "Plus," he looked around for a second before locking gazes with you again, "I promised Maria that I'd get you home, so... can't break that, you know?"

For a second you just looked at him. You noticed you were wrong. It wasn't just the dim lighting in the bar. Even with the almost freezing, for Texas, temperatures outside, he still managed to look incredible. His hair still looked as soft as before and his skin was still glistening golden. You knew exactly what Maria had tried to do. She knew it. Joel was the embodiment of your type.

He drove a truck. Of course he did. It fit him perfectly.

The car ride turned out to be less awkward than you had imagined it would be. Thank God. Joel had turned on the radio, giving the entire situation a calming background sound while the two of you talked about your days. He had started it.

Joel asked you about what you were doing in the bar in the first place and how you had known Maria, commenting on your relationship with, 'You two seem very close'. So your story about how you had moved away for college and came back only a few months ago started. He continued to listen to you attentively, nodding along to each word you spoke, giving you a comment here and there, but choosing to stay quiet for most of the time and let you tell your story. After you were finished, another moment of silence washed over you. So you decided to change the subject.

"You said you got a little girl at home?" You remembered the stupid comment one of Tommy's friends had dropped - you had already forgotten his name. And his answer to Maria's question hadn't left your mind ever since it came from his lips.

With your eyes on his side profile, you could see the slight curl of his lips.

"Yeah... I- I got a daughter," he took a deep breath. "Sarah."

You nodded. It warmed your heart the way he started speaking oh so softly.

"How old is she?" You wanted to continue the conversation, noticing the fond look on his face while he was concentrating on the street after you had given him your address, and he told you he knew the way since he had been in that area for work before.

"9. Her birthday‘s in August." You almost chuckled at his added comment, to let you know that her birthday was in the Summer. It was small but sweet.

There was another question burning the tip of your tongue, begging to be let out, but you knew that it was in no way your business to be asking that question. Yet, you were still intrigued about... her mother? As if he could read your mind, Joel continued.

"And I told her I wouldn't stay out too long. It's a school night, so I gotta get her out of bed early in the morning." So...? Single father? No, maybe his partner is on a business trip, who knows...

"Understandable," you nodded, swallowing down the other question and ignoring the voice repeating it inside your head. You couldn't help it. As much as you would've wanted to keep your thoughts sane, it was close to impossible when the man next to you was as attractive as Joel Miller. You had only met him a mere hours ago, yet he was able to captivate you in such a short period. Damn his looks and kind attention when you're speaking.

The rest of the relatively short car ride the two of you spent in mostly silence. Neither one of you wanted to come off as too strong and ask too many questions that might suddenly feel too personal. So you decided to stay quiet. Even though several questions were bubbling up deep inside you - it wasn't much different for Joel.

He brought the car to a halt right in front of your block. You glanced at him.

"Thank you." He was already smiling at you. "You- you really didn't have to, but... thanks."

He nodded, "My pleasure. Better stepping into the car of a stranger than taking a taxi, right?"

"Right," you chuckled, reaching out for the handle to push the door open. With one foot out in the cold again, you turned towards him for one last time. "Good night, Joel."

"Night, Y/N." He copied your sweet goodbye wave after you had closed the door and headed over to the entrance door. Only when you had gotten safe inside the building, Joel started to drive away.

"Stepping into the car of a stranger and a taxi is the same fucking thing, you idiot," he mumbled to himself, shaking his head in disappointment at his own misery. But at least it made you laugh.

You were finished with taking off your make-up and your skincare routine and had switched out your outside clothing for some comfortable pyjama pants and an old shirt you had kept from the musical production your High School had put up. The entire time you had spent in the bathroom, your mind had been anywhere but in the same room as you. You couldn't stop thinking about him. His voice. His side-profile. His lips. His hair- God... his curls. You shouldn't. You knew you shouldn't think of him that much. For fuck's sake, you had only met the man a few hours ago and suddenly he was occupying your mind more than what was then playing on the TV in front of you.

Your eyes switched to the clock Maria had put up on the wall to your left. It didn't fit the rest of the furniture even a bit. But she had found it at a garden sale and got it 'for a good deal', you remember her saying. The place needed a clock though and in that moment, you were thankful that you had one.

11:30 pm here, so 00:30 in the morning in New York.

Knowing your sister, she was probably still up and wouldn't go to sleep until closer to 2, or even past that - that girl needed to figure out her sleep schedule, but that was her worry and not yours. You only benefited from it.

With a big deep breath in, you pushed yourself off the couch and stumped over into the hallway to fish your phone out of your coat's pocket. Maybe she was actually still awake.

You clicked through your address list until your eyes fell on Izzy's number and you pressed to call her. Your feet took your back into the living room, letting you fall onto the cushion again.

It only took a few rings before you heard her voice.

"Hello? Are you okay?"

You chuckled. "Yeah, I am. Hi"

"Hey, how are you?"

After you had gotten through the casual formalities and explained to her what you were doing right now and why you had to call her, you were finally able to drop your first question.

"You remember Tommy Miller?"

A groan from the other line made you giggle. "Oh God... yes, why?"

"Did you know he has a brother?" You wondered.

"Ye-" she gasped, "YES, I do know! Omg yes, of course. Joel, I think his name was."

"Yeah, it is."

"Mm," Izzy hummed. You could hear the smile on her lips through her voice. "He was... Jesus Christ, he was handsome."

You laughed at her reaction. "He still is, to be honest."

"IS HE?!" She almost shouted into the speaker before remembering to keep her voice down as her husband was sleeping only a few rooms away from her.

"Yup, I met him today," you told her.

Another giggle came from her. "Ooooh, how?"

"Tommy was in the bar Maria works at, and he asked me to join him and his friends at a table, and his brother joined in too."

"Aah, okay okay," she nodded her head even though you couldn't see her. "And?"

You sighed, standing up to walk over into the kitchen. "And now I wanted to call you and ask you what you know about him." Your fingers brushed over the counter that desperately needed to be cleaned - you made a mental note.

"To be honest, not that much. He was neither a jock or a nerd or something like that, you know? Just... a guy... a really attractive one though. And he was... I don't know, like... two... three years above me, I think?" You listened to her talk while your eyes raked over the pantry, hoping to find something to snack on before you'd go to bed.

"OH-" She suddenly raised her voice, making you have to pull your phone away from your ear. "He was also a singer." Well, that caught your attention.

"A singer?"

"Yeah," she giggled. "Like a really good one, actually. That's why a lot of girls liked him. He played something on his guitar during one of our musicals. I don't remember which one, though." A singer...

"Interesting," you smirked to yourself at the new information. Plus the fact that you had found the last bits of your favourite chips package in the very back of the pantry.

She hummed in agreement. You could hear shuffling in the background but ignored it. "And," Izzy started again. "There was a rumour about him, but... I don't know if that's true."

"What rumour?"

"Apparently," she made sure to use a different tone with the first word, letting you know that it truly was only a rumour she had been confronted with. "Later in college, he got his high school sweetheart pregnant. When they were like 19 or 20. And that's why she dropped out. But I don't know how true that is."

'Not all of us can't ever leave the house because they had a kid when they were a teenager', you remembered the comment that came from one of Tommy's friends.

If he was two or three years older than your sister... and his daughter is 9...

A rumour... possibly not so much.

"Yeah, I don't think that's a rumour."

"What?!" She gasped. "Seriously?!"

Back on the sofa, you put your hand into the pack of chips and took one out to put into your mouth. "He told me about his daughter. She's nine, so that would work if he had her around 20."

"I don't know, that's too much math for me, but if you say so, I believe you," she rambled before taking a deep breath again. "Wow... I never believed that. He didn't seem like the guy something like that would happen to... especially not in Texas, Jesus... But wait..."

"What?" You wondered with a full mouth after deciding that instead of one, five chips at once sounded much better.

"So, did he really leave his girlfriend, though?"

"Huh?" You scrunched your eyebrows in confusion.

"Some people back then said that they broke up after finding out she was pregnant. Is that true?"

You waited for a second. "Ehm... I don't know, maybe. But the daughter's with him."

"Oh, really?"

"Yeah," you swallowed down the content in your mouth before taking two chips again. "He said he'll have to wake her up in the morning because of school."

"Aww," Izzy giggled, "That's cute. Didn't think he'd keep her. Where's the mom then?"

"You know, I originally wanted to ask you all of those questions," you chuckled at the situation, your sister joining in.

"Sorry, I don't remember much else. Like I said, he was older than us, so... yeah." A moment of silence divided you two, only shuffling on her side and crunches from your side filled the phone line. Izzy was the first to break it. "But... do you remember Abigail? I think she had like History with him... I could ask her if you want."

"No," you brushed off her question, "it's not THAT important. I just... wanted to see what you'd know about him."

"Mm," a somewhat sad hum came from her. "A bit nosey, are you?"

You chuckled, "I mean," feeling your cheeks getting slightly warmer than before, "he IS really handsome. And he was really... attentive at the bar."

"You don't care about the age?" She wondered.

You scrunched your eyebrows, deciding you had enough of the chips you remembered to be much better than they actually were. "He's only like 31. That's not that much older."

"Maybe not in your eyes."

"And why would I care about anyone else's?" You asked her, throwing the colourful package onto the coffee table in front of you. "And even- I just- I only wanted to know a few things about him. I don't even know if I, you know... want something from him. Maybe he's got a new girlfriend right now, who knows."

"Okay, but I'm not saying you should throw yourself at him, you idiot," your sister chuckled. "Just... kinda like tiptoe towards him and see where things go. You're pretty, he's handsome, from what I can remember, so it can't hurt."

"Yeah... we'll see... It's very unlikely that I'll ever see him again even-" you stopped yourself for a second before mumbling, "Maybe in the bar again, actually... I don't know."

The next words of your sister went past your attention span as the front door opened. You shot up from your spot in the living room and walked over into the hallway, an already smirking Maria glancing right at you.

"Y/N?" Izzy's voice repeated your name a second time before you caught it.

"Yeah? Sorry, what did you say?" you apologised, motioning frantically for your best friend to take off her shoes and sit down on the couch.

Your sister chortled softly on the other end of the line. "It's alright. I just said I gotta go. I gotta get up earlier than usual tomorrow."

"Yeah, yeah, okay," you pulled your friend by her arm just as she tried to escape into her room. "Thank you for the info, and I'll talk to you soon, okay?"

"Alright, bye," she sang into the phone.

"Bye," you quickly ended the call, flipping your phone closed and throwing it onto one of the cushions.

Maria fell onto the couch with a giggle.

"What the fuck was that?" You snapped at her. "Yeah, it's really late, Maria, you were right."You looked down at your imaginary watch on your wrist before staring at her with raised eyebrows. "It was very necessary that Joel drove me home."

"You are very welcome," she leaned back into the backrest with a smug smile on her lips. "How was the drive?"

"How was-?! How do you think it was?!" You continued to stand right in front of her, arms crossed in front of your chest.

"Honestly," she started with a deep breath, taking the pack of chips from the coffee table into her grip, "going off of the looks you two gave each other, I'm gonna be very surprised if you tell you you didn't do it on the backseat of his car."

You closed your eyes for a moment and pressed your lips together, trying to hold back a burst of laughter that was about to spill. After finding her gaze again, you answered her. "We didn't do it on the backseat of his car."

"What?!" She shouted out. "Are you kiddin' me?! That's disappointing." And shook her head before popping a chip into her mouth.

With a shake of your own head, you made yourself comfortable on one of the single chairs you had placed right next to the sofa.

"I swear to God, that man was eye-fucking you."

"Jesus," you chuckled, a hand brushing over your face and rubbing your eyes.

"No, really. I mean, he was doing it respectfully, which kinda confused me, not gonna lie. But he still looked at you a little too hot and bothered. And girl," her smirk only grew when she eyed you closely, "I thought you were about to lick his skin the way you were looking at him."

You couldn't hold back your laughter any longer. With a loud chortle, you leaned forward, hiding your face behind your hands. Maria joined you.

"I'm serious!" She laughed out loud.

You looked up at her. Your face now clear red as you realised you got caught, "I mean... I wanted to."

"I knew it!" She jumped up, throwing the package of chips into your lap. "I knew it! You ain't sly, girly!"

For a few moments longer, the two of you shared rounds of giggles before you could catch yourself again and sat back down normally.

"Yeah, well..." you shrugged, brushing some hair out of your face.

Maria snatched the chips package back again. "Then why not in his car?"

"Ths situation wasn't like that. We... we talked. I honestly didn't think that he was even looking at me the way you just described it," chuckling again at the memory of the words she had chosen.

"Yeah, well... I've seen enough men at bars and how they look at women, so... yeah," she shook her head slightly. "He did it exactly like that, just, like I said, with... a little bit more respect- I don't know how to explain it."

"It's okay," you giggled, stopping her by showing her the palm of your hand.

After she finished the rest of the chips, she threw the now empty package next to her onto the sofa, the thought of the last bits of crumbles possibly falling between the seat cushions made you shiver.

"So, how was the drive? Seriously."

You shrugged. "It was good. We had a nice conversation. I talked about college, he talked about his daughter-"

"Listen, I'm not one for dads. But..."

"Hot." You ended the sentence for her.

"So hot," she agreed with you, biting down on her lip. "He really is quite attractive."

You nodded along with her before speaking up again, "I called my sister just now," nudging your head towards the flip phone you had thrown onto the couch. "And asked her about him because they went to school together-"

"And?"

"Not much else. She doesn't really know a lot about him. Just that he used to sing apparently, and... he's a young dad."

"What about the mother of the kid?"

You could only shrug again. "No clue. Izzy said that the rumour is- or, there was a rumour that he left the girl that he got pregnant in college. BUT... he said that he needs to get up early because of her school tomorrow... so, I'm confused."

"Maybe... he got another kid? So not the kid from the pregnant High School girl, but from someone a little later?" She wondered out loud.

No, you had done the math correctly. "Very unlikely. Because Izzy's 27 now. And she said Joel was about two or three years above her, which would make him around 30 now. And in the car, he told me that his daughter is turning 10 this year. If we're going just by estimations, it would work that he had her around 20 and not going to college because of it. I doubt that he left his high school sweetheart that he got pregnant at 20, only to keep the kid he got from another woman when he was 21. I mean- everything's possible, but I doubt it."

Maria blinked at you. Twice. "You're confusing me with your calculations, but damn... you really thought a lot about that, huh?"

You let your head fall back with a chuckle. "I had some time, yeah." Then a groan echoed through the room. "Ugh, but I don't even know if or when I'd be able to see him again."

"But you know Tommy, maybe he can help," Maria tried to explain, but you glared at her with an unamused facial expression.

"I'm not gonna ask him to tell me where his brother is or to give me his number, Maria."

She looked at you with a somewhat surprised look, before standing up and raising her hands in defence. "I'm just trying to help you here, okay?"

"Yeah I know, but he could also be in a relationship for all we know."

"Not with the way-"

"He was looking at me, I know, I know, blah blah blah-" A sudden cushion that was thrown at your face made you shut your mouth. You were about to argue back, but Maria beat you to it, pointing a strict finger at you, while her other hand had made a ball out of the chips package.

"Don't 'blah blah blah' me."

You chuckled at her reaction. She scoffed as she turned towards the kitchen.

Just as you thought the conversation was over and she was on her way out, she stopped to take a quick look at you.

"I think that if he was a real gentleman and if the looks he gave you were real, he'll find a way to contact you. It's a small town, it can't be that hard." With her last statement, she exited the room, leaving you sunken into the armchair.

If, if, if...

What if you could find a way to contact him?

Part 2

joel taglist: @corvusmorte @aniia-x3

pedro taglist: @leslieelainetrask

#Joel miller x reader #Joel miller #hbo!joel miller #tlou #the last of us #Pedro pascal #Pedro pascal!joe miller #x reader #fluff #finding something to fight for #Tommy miller #hbo!tlou #Pedro pascal x reader #pre!outbreak joel

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janeyseymour · 9 months ago

Text

La Cosa Nostra- pt 11

cowritten with @schemmentis

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4. Part 5. Part 6. Part 7. Part 8. Part 9. Part 10.

Summary: Melissa's pissed with recent news, the Feds are back at it, and you go to a place and person to find some comfort.

WC: ~2.05k

At this news, Melissa quickly slips into the seat on the other side of Dom's table. “Are ya crazy? I told you they've already torn this place to shreds, and you want to bring the money in through here?” She hisses as she leans more into the middle of the table. “Listen, losin’ the salon is already bad enough. You know what it did to Y/N when you took her off it.”

“That didn't come from me, Mel. I just had to deliver the message. You know that.”

“I don't care who it came from. You knew, and you did it just the same. Now you have the coglioni to sit here and say we should run it through here. I already ain't gonna forget the slightin’ of my wife, youse know that- the lot of you. You wanna tell me I gotta run this shit through my restaurant? Then tell me. Don't act like this is some proposition, Dominic. Tell me what to do, and I'll handle it. ‘Cause you and I both know how this shit works, but I am tellin’ you,” Melissa points an index finger at the man across from her sternly. “Right here, right now, I am tellin’ you; this fucks up my restaurant and youse all are gonna have a much bigger problem than the fuckin’ Feds, capisce?”

Dominic's face remains neutral, though there is an amused glint to his eyes as his palm shifts along the head of his cane. He nods quickly and respectfully to Melissa. “We want things to go well even more than you do, kid.” He says softly.

Melissa leans back in chair, arms crossing over her chest. She raises an eyebrow, silently urging him to say what he needs to say.

“We'll work out the details on our end. You only have to make sure you're here when the money comes through. Simple as that.” Dom says. He sighs when Melissa still merely stares at him expectantly. “Sí, sí. We're telling you this is how it's gonna work from now on. Clear out a spot in the office in the back. Nobody else needs to know it's anythin’ different than a regular shipment comin’ once in a while. None of it happens if you ain't here. This is big, Lissa. They're trustin’ you.”

“Like they trusted my wife?” Melissa spits out as she pushes herself out of the chair. “Texts only. They call and wake up my girls while they’re sleepin’, I'll take one of my bats to their kneecaps.” She adds on her way past Dom in his seat to storm back toward the kitchen.

You raise a brow as you watch your wife storm into the back and Dominic starts to slowly make his way out. You grab one of the other servers milling about, silently asking them to keep an eye on your girls while you go check on the redhead.

When you get into the back, she’s slamming her fist into the linoleum counter where they prep the food. Her hand is already bruising, and you take her fist gently into your own.

“My love,” you whisper as you hold her hand in yours.

“Let me go,” she hisses.

You shake your head, refuting her request. “You’re hurting yourself. You know I can’t let you do that.”

“I don’t give a shit,” she grumbles as she starts to curl her other hand into a fist. You grab the other one before she can even think about causing damage to that hand.

“Melissa.”

“They’re usin’ the restaurant as their new front,” your wife tells you quietly. “Said that it’s what we have to do, and they trust me… that we’re in the clear because the feds saw how busy we are and that we bring the girls around here, so it has to be safe.”

“I’m not letting you do this,” you tell her. “And I’m not letting them put the girls in danger.”

“We don’t got an option, Y/N. I told Dom I would handle it,” Melissa sighs as she leans against you. “And I will. You just… take care of the girls. No matter what happens.”

“Melissa, don’t talk like that- like you’re gonna die.”

“I’m just being realistic. You did the same when they were using the salon,” your wife says softly. “We both knew that if something happened, I’d have to keep the girls safe. But now, it’s on me, and I know that you’d do the same if something were to happen. We don’t have a choice.”

“Fuck,” you whisper again. “Shit.”

“Get… get the girls out of here, and tell them that I’ll be home late tonight,” your wife runs a hand over her face. “I have to make it work here.”

“No,” you say softly. “I’ll… I’ll get someone to come pick them up so I can help you.”

“Y/N,” Melissa grits out. “Go. I can handle this.”

You give her a look, one that tells her she doesn’t have to do this- that you’ll handle it. You don’t want to have her be the one in danger.

But she just shakes her head and insists you get the girls out of here- just in case Dom did give the two of you up, and he’s setting you up for failure. The girls cannot watch their mother(s) go down.

You cradle her face in your hands, kissing her a few times. “No more punchin’ things, hey? Can't have you bustin’ up those pretty fingers more than you already do.” You whisper. “I'll take care of the girls. You do what you gotta do.” When she nods, just a little, you kiss her one more time before finally turning away.

You gather your girls with a thank you to the server watching them for you.

“Mam! We have to wait for Mommy!” Cat is insisting as you walk with both your girls out the front door.

“Auntie Val needs Mommy's help tonight, sweetheart. So, we're gonna go home and make sure everything is cleaned up and nice for her, okay?” You speak to your girls though you're glancing around the parking lot on the way to your car.

You take note of Dom's car pulling out but don't see any cars with sirens or lights careening into the lot afterward. You carefully buckle your girls into the backseat. When you're shutting the back door after making sure they're both safe, you look around again on the walk around to the drivers side. There's nothing different or out of the ordinary. No sign of agents or officers. Which means Dom has only done exactly as he said he did.

You slip into the driver's seat, throwing your seatbelt on. You swallow as you carefully pull out of the spot and towards home. Dom telling the truth is maybe worse than if he had flipped. They're really putting this on Melissa and Twelve Tables. Part of you despises it. The amount of risk it puts on your wife. You know it intimately. The other part, the part that grew up in all this and doesn't know anything else, that part is proud as hell. It isn't anything to turn your nose up at to be entrusted with the process of mafia money. It speaks volumes. Volumes that equally excite and terrify you.

Danik and Shaw are back at the precinct, contemplating everything that Dominic told them- that you and your wife had nothing to do with the murder of Bobby. He told them that even if you did have something against the man, you could never do anything- you rescue wasps because you don’t have the heart to kill them despite the fact that your wife is always screaming at you to kill the damned demons. They go over the fact that you bring your twins into your restaurant, you take the girls to church with you, you always are on time to get the girls to and from school. If you were a part of the mafia and mob that dealt with things pertaining to ordering hits and murder, you wouldn’t be such dutiful mothers.

But they also know that you never brought the girls into the salon- they’ve only ever seen the two girls with you at the restaurant. And that is a bit suspicious in their eyes. So, they plan to head back to the salon the following day.

When they get there, you aren’t there- which is unusual. You’re almost always there, and they know that. Instead, Tony is out on the floor with the other stylists. But you are nowhere to be seen; your car isn’t even in the lot. And it isn’t in the lot because you’re somewhere else.

You’re sitting in the sanctuary of your church. After dropping the girls off at school and leaving your wife to her restaurant turned mafia front, you go to the one place where you can find some sort of solitude- because even now your home reminds you of everything happening in your world.

There’s no service today, so you find yourself sitting in the back pew by yourself, looking up at the ceiling. You’re speaking silently to whatever God is out there to please spare your family from all of the heartache that you can only imagine is in your inevitable future. Finally, you bow your head, and you begin to weep silently.

You’re shaken out of your thoughts when you feel someone slide into the pew next to you and wrap an arm around your shoulder. Your eyes pop open in surprise, and when you look next to you, Barbara is sitting there.

She doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t ask why you’re here and not at the salon or at the restaurant. She doesn’t mention that she knows what the two of you do outside of your legal businesses. No- she sits in complete and utter silence as she holds you gently. And you can’t do anything about it. You can’t explain why you’re here in a puddle of your own tears, not without giving away what she already knows to be true. So you don’t say anything. You just continue to cry out your fears and worries over everything while clinging to the shawl that Barbara has draped over her shoulders. And when you pull away, you let out an ugly, choked out laugh.

“You probably think I’m crazy.”

“Crazy? For coming to the one safe little corner of the earth where you can feel anything and do anything and not be judged for it?” the woman asks you. She shakes her head silently. She takes your hand in her own, and together the two of you pray. You don’t realize that she is praying for the same thing that you are, but she is. The two of you silently pray that you’ll somehow get yourself out of this mess- that your family will be able to return to some sort of normalcy- or better yet turn a new leaf and start a new life where there is no mafia or mob, no illegal businesses that put everyone in harm’s way.

And when you lift your head, hers is still bowed for a few seconds before she lifts it with a quiet, “Thank you, God.” And then, as if nothing happened, she pats your hands gently with her own and goes on her way.

You take a few deep breaths once Barb is gone. Carefully trying to get yourself together. You wipe at your cheeks and eyes, focusing on the distant altar at the pulpit. You sit in the last pew, breathing deep and slow. Staring at the large depiction of Jesus on the cross behind the altar. Slowly, you feel the serenity you were hoping to. You don't know that praying will do anything, actually change anything, but it's at least felt like getting it off your chest. In a way that doesn't jeopardize your family or anyone else. You suddenly understand Barbara's devout faith. You can't say that will ever be you but you get it. You make the sign of the cross over your head and chest as you finally rise from the pew and slowly make your way out of the quiet church.

TAGS (and let me know if you want to be added!): @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @thesamesweetie @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @marvels--slut @gwennybriggs @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @sapphicxrat @a-queen-and-her-throne @sunsol-22 @notinmyvocab @melanielaufeyson @dvrkhcld

#abbott elementary #abbott elementary fanfiction #abbott elementary fanfic #mel #melissa schemmenti fanfiction #melissa schemmenti fanfic #melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti

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moonyasnow · 8 months ago

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Hi, there! :D

I saw that request are open so I have a VERY angst request.

Type: Headcanons (Romantic and a lot of angst)

Reader: Fem or neutral (I leave it to your liking)

Scenary: How about a prefect who loves sing and has a beautiful voice but due to a magical accident (indirectly being said boy's fault) them/she ends up losing her/they voice forever. The reader tries to appear normal but deep down she/them is depressed by the situation even if she/them will never hate said boy

with Deuce, Ace, Sebek and Jack (or other characters you want)

If my request does not convince you, you can discard it without problems, but if not, take your time and without pressure, thank you. I'm loving your TWST fics and as someone who has a lot of ideas for angst fuel (I'll probably make some angsty requests here) >:D (Spoiler I have one in mind with Ortho) (and maybe I'll make fan arts) see ya :D

Sudden Silence.

PROMPT : Their singer S/O loses their voice due in part to them

CONTENT : pre-established relationship, angst, hurt/comfort, Reader loses their voice, lots of guilt and shame, self-esteem issues too bc why not, hopeful endings at least!

CHARACTERS : Ace, Deuce, Jack, Sebek

- { Crash— B O O M ! } -

An explosion resounded from the cauldron next to where you and Grim worked— the one you had seen your boyfriend and his lab-partner standing over.

Someone called your name, told you to watch out. But it was too late. The greyish-canary-yellow smoke and liquid of whatever potion they had failed to make splattered on your skin and clogged your airways from your nose and open mouth...

Your voice was never the same after that.

Ace

Ace Trappola was good at lying. Exceptionally good at lying, even. So you'd witnessed firsthand several times, including the first time you met. And those used to dealing in falsehoods will always be the most adept at spotting them in others.

…Yeah you really weren't fooling him.

You had been singing your entire life. It wasn't something you'd ever really thought much about; it was just something you did. When you were young people had said that you had music in your blood— and you wholeheartedly agreed. Whenever a song you knew came on the radio you HAD to sing it, no matter what anyone else in the car thought. You ALWAYS volunteered for karaoke whenever it was an option. Were you a bit of a diva? Maybe just a little bit— but you couldn't help it! You just loved music and singing too much to ever keep it to yourself.

Ace often teased you about your need to be in the spotlight when you sang, loving how huffy you got and how you pouted, or he said that your choice of song was lame— but he never stopped you. He did actually like it, because you singing meant you were happy, after all. But Ace's gotta Ace, and the one and only Ace Trappola couldn't just let people think he was some mushy sap who loved the sound of his lover's voice, now could he?

But still, he'd often jokingly make fun of you, daring you to sing the most embarrassing song you could think of from your homeworld, or just starting a Twisted Wonderland song whose lyrics he knew would make you red in the face from embarrassment just to watch you sing to the very last note despite it. He loved that stubborn side of yours, partly because of how much fun it was to tease you with it. You were…kinda cute when you pouted. …Ok, really cute.

The accident left you with a sore throat for weeks. Your speaking voice returned to normal, but your singing voice…just didn't. You never sang anymore. Didn't even try. He felt a little…scared, to ask you about it.

He missed hearing you sing. Not because of your singing itself, but because it'd become to him the theme music of your happiness. Not having an easy way to know if you were happy or not bothered him more than he thought it would. But what bothered him most was that you didn't even get mad at him! Sure, he was used to covering up his own sadness with a bad joke when he didn't want anyone to know he was down, but seeing you try to do the same just…just no. It felt all kinds of wrong!

You lost your voice because he decided it'd be more fun to goof off and goad his lab-partner on than pay attention to the potion they were supposed to be making, even after Crewel said to be extra cautious making that particular potion. And you didn't even yell at him. Not even a little bit! Not even a pout, or refusing to speak to him in particular for a week or more. That's what he thought he kinda deserved for what happened. That's what he wished you'd do!

Anything was better than…than this!

But he knew you, and he knew calling more attention to it would probably just make you feel even worse. So, like the sleight-of-hand master he was(not really but let him dream won't you?) he drew your attention away from it. He practically dragged you away from moping alone in your room to force you to watch him at Basketball practice, and during the dreaded music lessons he even willingly embarrassed himself by playing the violin so badly it made you burst out laughing and making fun of him when he so much as tried to screech out a single note. Then he dished it out twice as bad when it was your turn to fail at it.

You punched his shoulder. Hard. And pouted at him like you always did. It felt…good, to have something normal.

But he still couldn't shake those feelings of guilt whenever he heard you start to tap along to the rhythm of a song you had playing in your head. It just reminded him every time if the way you used to hum the melodies. He felt like such an ass every time. You'd have to talk about it some day...but for now things would stay in this forced equilibrium.

Until you felt ready.

And until that day, whenever it would be, he'd keep distracting you at all hours of the day, taking your thoughts away from it. You could say it was his way of trying to make it up to you.

…Even though he knew he'd taken too much from you for the guilt to ever really leave him.

But this wasn't about him.

Deuce

Deuce Spade, the former delinquent, aspiring honor student and— despite his best efforts— someone who acted without thinking, knew what it was like to lose your way. It could be said his entire adolescence had been a long period of him continuously losing his way. So much that it, in a sense, became his way? But not a good way. It all caught up with him and smacked him in the face when he'd heard how sad it made his mom, how much it made her worry and even blame herself.

When he got into Night Raven College, he couldn't believe his luck. It was, to him, a second chance. A place he could go where no one knew of him or his past mistakes, where he could create a new identity for himself and become someone better. That was also where he met you. And also developed a big crush on you. You seemed his polar opposite: calm, thoughtful, polite and reserved. A lot of things he wished he was more of. Yet you didn't judge him at all for that delinquent side of him that seemed to rear its ugly head whenever he got too worked up. You even appreciated it when it compelled him to try to protect you and his friends. It made him feel like that was something he really could learn to leave in the past one day…or maybe even learn to repurpose for better things. He gushed about you to his mom over the phone so much that she figured out his feelings for you faster than he himself did. And when he finally did, she was also the one to encourage him to try asking you out.

…But you also ended up inadvertently reminding him of what was so troublesome about it, why he wanted to change it in the first place.

You had always been praised for your singing voice. To the point it was your biggest point of pride— something you took good care of and refined to the exception of almost everything else in your life. Back home your shelves were lined with awards from song competitions and walls with posters for all the different concerts you'd sung in, musicals you'd participated in. 'You have a bright future with music' a teacher had once told you. Those words had engraved themselves into your heart. Not having any idea what the future might hold and how you'd get a job felt less scary when you knew you had your voice to rely on. Being transported to a new world, forced to make a new life from scratch, was difficult. But at least your voice meant you had some kind of potential future career. You could ask Vil to introduce you to someone in the industry, or work for Azul at his lounge.

But you lost it. Because of him. Because he had gotten worked up over a comment Ace made and, as Deuce went to grab his collar, had accidentally knocked over something on the table next to their cauldron, causing it to break against the edge and spill way more than the recipe required into the mixture. The

It wasn't that your singing voice had become gravelly. No. It had disappeared completely. When you opened your mouth to sing, your vocal chords moved, but pure silence followed. Not even your breath was heard.

When your singing voice 'died', all your future plans, ambitions, confidence and sense of self died with it. You had never realized before just how much your voice was a part of your identity— how large of a part of your vision of 'you' that it made up. But now, having realized that the thing which, in your mind, made you 'you' was just...gone...

You didn't know how to handle it.

You became quiet. Barely even spoke. Retreated into yourself. It made him so, so, incredibly worried. He knew it was his fault. That you didn't shake your head when he said as much, a stabbing pain to his gut, only confirmed it for him. He blamed himself. How could he not? In his mind, if only he hadn't taken Ace's words— whom he knew was always just joking and teasing, trying to get a rise out of him— so seriously and entered 'delinquent mode' again and knocked that vial over, none of this would have happened. He didn't know what to do. He wanted to call his mom for advice, like always…but this time he just couldn't. It was too personal. So he waited. He didn't know what else to do but just wait. He wanted to speak to you, too…but he didn't know what to say. So he joined you in your silence, spending as much time next to you as he could, texting rather than talking, even when you were seated right next to each other.

But the worst part was when he'd come to Ramshackle and hear you, who didn't know he was there, clear your throat, obviously to try to sing. Only to be met with silence. Even the creaking of the old wood or the tweeting of nearby birds faded to nothing when you tried. All he could think in those moments was of how badly he'd screwed up.

…Weeks later, you finally spoke again.

"It's...not coming back, is it?" He could tell it was rhetorical. He felt tears mist his eyes and the same guilt stab his heart. He tried to speak. But before he could you turned to him, face for once no longer hidden behind your hair, your eyes already beginning to overflow with tears.

'Oh' he realized. You weren't upset at him. Or at least, not anymore. He didn't know what he could ever do to make up for what happened. But maybe looking at it that way— like something he did wrong— was just making it worse. The more important thing was him being there for you, not beating himself up over something that already happened, that he couldn't change.

Neither of you said anything else; he hugged you close, and you buried your face in his shoulder and you both just cried. His crying was quiet. Yours was wailing, loud enough all of Ramshackle must have heard. But you needed it. To let out your voice in anguish; to use it one last time.

His life trajectory had changed out of guilt. Yours due to something out of your hands. Yet the result remained the same: two people who lost their way, in one way or another, who now had to pick up the pieces and grow past it. When you came back out of your self-imposed, mute isolation, you felt like a different person, the world seemed a different color. It was...scary. Like the sky and horizon had collapsed and revealed a world outside of a box you'd lived in. A world vanished to reveal another. But when you trembled, Deuce was there to take your hand, even though his was trembling just as much. It made the task seem less insurmountable.

Because now you were growing up together.

Jack

Jack Howl knew devotion to an activity well; he had a reason for his training of his body, that which he devoted himself to. And it was no different for you.

You had always filtered your life through music. Music had always been there for you; a sound to use to plug up the thoughts you didn't want to deal with, thoughts that whispered to you that bad things were going to happen. When you couldn't find the words to describe your feelings, you had always been able to find a song that got those same feelings through, and got used to expressing your thoughts through song rather than speech. You had never been very good at speaking. Your vocal chords always seemed to seize up when you even thought of trying. Your life happened entire confined within your head. But singing, you became someone else. Someone with the confidence to speak into being the things within you which had previously been confined to that space.

You didn't merely partake in the act of singing; you were song. From the tips of your lashes to your very core of your bones. While you didn't often sing in front of others, more due to feeling too awkward to start singing out of nowhere for seemingly no reason, Ramshackle was never silent so long as you were there. A second that music was not flowing either through your ears or from your lips was a second not spent living.

He had only ever seen you at your quiet moments, never even having heard your voice before. So he was shocked to see you alone up on stage at a small talent show some of the students had set up. He'd attended because Epel had been forced by Vil to take part. He was surprised, then, when you came onto the stage and began to sing with an incredible passion he never would've imagined someone as shy as you would have.

It…made his heart beat a little louder, seeing you so confidence for once, so clearly in your element. It made him start to look at you in a way he hadn't before, his tail wagging more than usual whenever he saw you. He told you once that you had the talent to make singing your profession one day, and he genuinely believed that.

Then came the accident.

You weren't even together yet when the accident happened. But as one of your closest friends, he noticed the shift in you instantly. Whenever he came to visit Ramshackle, it was dead quiet. You hadn't even put on any music in the background; his hearing was good enough that his ears would've picked up it if you did.

When the Song and Dance Competition, SDC, came to Night Raven College, his chest never stopped hurting through the whole multiple-day event. He felt so restless...he wanted to run to where you were, to comfort you somehow, and he hated that he was too busy helping to build stages and move heavy equipment or shop stands all day to be able to. His ears were laid flat against his head all day, and all through the event. He couldn't even focus on any of the performances.

After it was over, he rushed to Epel to ask where you were, only to find out you'd left as soon as you cast your vote. When he came in through the door and entered the living room where you sat on the creaking couch, you smiled and waved at him the same way you always did.

He knew how much your singing meant to you. There was no way you'd get over it that quickly, right? He knew he couldn't if he somehow became unable to train, or take care of his cacti. And when he looked closer, he saw that your brows were slightly furrowed, eyes more pink than usual at the corners. It broke his heart to think of you crying all on your own. It hurt even more to know it was because of him. But he didn't know what to do to fix it. So he went with his gut, and came closer to hug you.

…And like an idiot, he blurted out how much he liked you. He wanted to kick himself. But you signed that you liked him too, thankfully.

Then Port Fest came around. He felt guilty for you needing to hear all the music in the air and not being able to participate since you couldn't play an instrument. But he didn't want to treat you like glass; he knew you were stronger than that. So he felt caught in a state of limbo, not knowing what to do.

But...something happened which neither of you had expected.

You were put on Saxophone along with Floyd, and while you seemed apprehensive at first, when you started playing, you eventually had a blast!

Later on you ended up playing a short solo of what you'd learned for him; a 'private concert', you'd signed to him. And for a moment, he recognized that fire light up within you again. He laughed.

Not even losing your voice would stop you from pursuing music.

Sebek

Sebek Ziegvolt knew what it was like to feel inadequate, for his efforts to be called 'too much'. He once heard it said that he 'puts in a lot of effort to accomplish barely anything at all'. Yet all it did was push him to push himself even more. For how could he just let such comments stand, debasing his reputation as a knight of Malleus Draconia? It could not stand! Hence why he continued to push himself harder and harder in all he did.

It was that same mantra that lead to the accident. He and Ace had been partnered for Alchemy that day, as Professor Crewel had wished to keep Ace Trappola away from his habitual other half, Deuce Spade. As such, he was paired with Sebek for this class of Freshman Alchemy. In retrospect, Sebek would curse this decision for years to come…

Ace, not wanting to do the work himself, had goaded Sebek into doing his share of the work as well in brewing the voice-changing potion designated as that class' assignment. The attack on his pride left him trying to overcompensate and complete the assignment in half the usual time, to prove himself far more skilled at potion-making than a mere, lazy human!

But then the potion exploded. And you were caught in the crossfire.

While he hadn't admitted it, your soft singing voice had always soothed him— almost like a lullaby. Anyone who payed enough attention would have noticed his voice was always a few decibels quieter after he heard you sing. And you sang often, repeating the lyrics to some Earth song on your way to class by his side, even humming quietly to yourself as you worked. It was the gentle, ambient noise that your presence by his side brought. A sound he'd found himself growing enamoured with.

Your voice enthralled him, capturing his attention fully. Yet it was not purely due to your voice. It was the look of serenity on your face. The way the world around you seemed to stop and hold its breath each time you sang. Your voice was breathtaking, yes, but the pure passion, the sheer joy and bliss your voice carried with each note, no matter the tone or subject material of the song, that truly enraptured him.

Despite his duties, and claiming he only did so on request of Lilia for him to 'get cultured', he never missed any of your shows at the Mostro Lounge. He said it almost seemed disrespectful for the Lounge's business to go up so much whenever you sang on its stage, not realizing the feelings of bitterness in his chest were not at you being disrespected, but jealousy at so many others recognizing your charm. Deep within him— past the already buried desire to want to be by your side, not as a friend, but a lover— he doubted that you would ever look upon him as he did you: with pure adoration.

Yet he was proved wrong. After a show, he had shown up with a small bouquet of flowers— hand-picked, he had made sure to emphasize— to congratulate you for a good performance. He recalls telling you that the performance was…lovely…s-so much so that— while he of course would never speak on his Lord's behalf!— he believed his Young Master might even enjoy it, were he to attend one of your concerts. His face had become redder by the second of him speaking, too caught up in his rambling speech to notice you coming close, until you had cupped his cheeks and silenced him with a kiss. He'd dropped the flowers on the floor.

So then…

When the accident, a failure of his own creation, had robbed you of that joy of yours, he felt so incredibly guilty, and ashamed! You, his beloved, had lost the one thing you loved so much, all due to his mistake. The sheer weight of that guilt, of having cost you your greatest passion in life, threatened to drag him under.

So instead of stewing in those feelings, he acted.

He tried to search through the library top to bottom, asked both Lilia and Crewel for advice on how he might possibly reverse the effects. He even got desperate enough to seed aid from his Young Master. He trembled as he did— what right did he, a mere knight…no, not even a proper knight yet, have to beg a boon from his Lord Malleus? But since it was for you, to restore that smile to your face once more, he felt compelled to.

He cried as he made his request for aid in his search of a cure, overwhelmed with his conflicting interests of wishing to help his beloved and of wishing not to burden his Lord. His cheeks reddened in shame, thick tears rolling over his cheeks, when Malleus agreed to try to help you.

You tried to tell him that him going so far out of his way to find a cure to your predicament wasn't necessary, but no matter how you explained that there are worse things, he refused to budge. It was a matter of pride now, too. He would prove to you that he had the ability to right this wrong; that he was a worthy partner to you, that he could restore to you the thing you lost. Not out of a desire for praise or gratitude this time, but because he knew he alone had to take responsibility for the accident.

The way you shone when you sang, the pure bliss the act seemed to spark in you…he couldn't live with himself if it meant he'd taken that away from you forever.

And you knew how he felt. You knew how important it was to him to be able to be of help to you in what he, not incorrectly, considered your time of need. Losing your voice was…indescribably painful. As though a flame in your soul had been snuffed out like a candle in the wind. Yet you had tried to act as though it didn't truly bother you as much as it did. You still had other avenues of music you could pursue, after all, such as learning to play an instrument…

Yet, though you doubted it was that he saw through that ruse of yours rather than that he felt compelled to right what he saw as a wrong he had committed, the dedication to restore your singing voice…it made you able to cling onto a shred of hope that you might see it returned one day. It reminded you once more of why you fell for him in the first place.

But above all else…he just longed to see the smile you always wore when singing, the smile that without fail made his heart skip a beat, grace your face once more.

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

Writing this got me genuinely emotional— my singing is actually one of the things I'm the most proud of in myself and I love singing so much— imagining this scenario happening to myself made me so sad ; ; But in a good way!

Some didn't turn out as angsty as the prompt described: I can do angst just fine, but if there's not a happy ending, or at least the potential of things becoming better in the future, I just start crying too much

Also didn't keep the 'tries to appear normal' part for all of them since it seems like I'm just incapable of writing the exact same Reader for every single character for a scenario haha ;^^ I think more 'what would be the most interesting way to spin this scenario and how does the Reader need to react to make it so' And I decided to go with a gender neutral Reader just to make it more inclusive to everyone

Sorry for Jack's part being a bit rushed in places— I'm kinda worn out from the school year haha My perfectionism keeps telling me it's not good enough for my standards because I know I could do better if I just had more energy, but that just how it be sometimes; better I learn to take the L than never finish this, at least!

But I really hope you like what I did with the prompt!

Also a head's up that, since June is gonna be really busy for me, I'm probably not gonna be able to write much at all until at least the start of July; hence why I've closed writing requests until then.

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #ace trappola #ace twst #ace twisted wonderland #ace trapolla x reader #deuce spade #deuce twst #twisted wonderland deuce #deuce x reader #jack howl #twst jack #jack howl x reader #sebek zigvolt #twst sebek #twisted wonderland sebek #sebek x reader #Moony's Writing

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