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lqfiles · 5 months ago

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PAY THE PRICE — 36. an overwhelming realisation

(wc: 2.601 but its worth it TRUST ME..)

it was only around 17:30 when karina, minjeong and you had finally made it back to your apartment complex. even though you initially didn’t plan on purchasing anything, you had returned back bags full of clothing and whatnot as the two had decided to shower you with birthday gifts. of course you had protested, they just didn’t care.

“my legs feel so sore.” you humoured in slight pain, leaning against the the wall of the elevator. “at least we had fun, right?” and minjeong was right. you responded back with a small smile and nod, changing your view to karina who was stuck on her phone. “who are you texting?” you questioned. karina hummed in response, looking up before pushing her phone into her pocket. “no one.” she casually answered back.

with sudden movement, karina had reached forward and tugged the shopping bags out your hands, leaving you barely any time to register it. “i’ll bring these to your room, minjeong has a present for you in her room so you should get off on the third floor with her.” karina suggested, reaching back to grab your purse too. the elevator’s door had opened, leaving you not much choice as karina urged the two of you out before pressing the close button.

you watched the lift go up to the fourth floor and turned to minjeong with a dumbfounded stare. “what was that about?” you mused with a slight laugh. minjeong smiled back at you, nodding her head down the corridor of the third floor. “lets go.” you wondered what both their issues were as minjeong was already walking ahead of you without any other words following.

instead of words, it was you that was following her and you couldn’t help but think there was something off about the silence minjeong remained in. you two reached her door and she turned back to look at you. “i forgot my keys at jaemin’s place, can you get them for me?” she requested with a slight plea, already holding you by the shoulders and pushing you towards jaemin’s door.

again, you were left with no other choice but to comply. jaemin’s room was right next to hers anyways, and you questioned why in the world she couldn’t get it herself. you knocked on his door, and the sound of muffled voices infiltrated your hearing before it went quiet. ‘come in’ was all you heard after, the voice being nothing like jaemin’s distinguishing one. you hesitated, but eventually opened the door to enter jaemin’s dimly lit apartment.

it took you by surprise, the way the dark room had lit up and a chorus of cheers erupted as you entered. your eyes scanned the whole room that had been filled by your 3rd and 4th floor neighbours, all carrying a variant of party decorations. you were even more surprised to see mark and rei, both of them pulling you into the room. “happy birthday (—)!” rei cheered, dragging you to the middle of jaemin’s living room.

at a loss for words, you just gaped at your surroundings, a warmth swelling in your chest. “this wasn’t needed.” you shied away, too embarrassed by all the sudden attention on you. mark, who had found a spot right next to you, threw his arm around your shoulder. “of course this is needed, i’m glad jaemin didn’t listen to your words.” you hadn’t even noticed him slyly slipping a party hat on your head, because something else caught your attention.

“jaemin? this was his idea?” majority confirmed your question, and mark added that ‘both jaemin and karina planned this, they really put effort into it.’ and the surge of emotions you felt as you saw jaemin exit his kitchen with a cake in his grip were enough to almost bring you to tears. he had placed the cake down on the coffee table, carrying a small grin on his face as well as a party hat of his own. his eyes locked with yours a few seconds later.

“(—)! i know you said that you didn’t wanna do anything for your birthday, but i thought it would be nice to spend your first birthday in this apartment with everyone else.. i even invited mark and rei!” jaemin rambled. “i hope you don’t mind.. i also didn’t have time to bake the cake myself so i hope you don’t mind cake from the-”

jaemin almost toppled over from the force you attacked him with. you hugged him with the biggest smile you’ve ever had, almost choking him in the process. “this is so sweet of you jaemin, both you and karina are the best.” you took a step back, placing a hand over your stupidly huge smile. feeling the arms of someone else around your shoulder, you were met with karina who planted a chaste kiss on your cheek. “happy birthday (—), i hope you’re happy today.” it was rare that you’d see karina smile so big, but the smile on her face as she squished you into her for a hug was something you wish you’d see more often.

it was enough to finally bring you tears.

you could hear both mark and who you assumed to be jungwoo, laughing. “no way you’re actually crying.” mark asked in disbelief, though the comforting feeling of his hand rubbing up and down your back showed that it was nothing more than a friendly tease. you really couldn’t help it, and as you pulled away from karina with your eyes filled with tears, you wondered what you had done to gain such friends who’d go out of their way to plan a surprise party for you.

“you’re going to make me cry too.” rei sulked, an endearing smile on her face as she hugged you from the side. jaemin agreed, and if you looked closer, you could see the way his eyes had threatened to gloss a little. he had walked over to you, wrapping his arm around you. “i’m glad you like it, once again happy birthday! and i’m sorry for all the trouble i’ve caused you but i’m glad you’re still sticking with me despite all that.” jaemin also wore an endearing smile on his face.

“this is getting sappy.” jisung cringed from across the room. haewon pushed him aside in return, kissing her teeth at his remark. “let them have their little sentimental moment before we celebrate her birthday.” she muttered warningly. “happy birthday (—)!” isa exclaimed, and a chain reaction of birthday wishes from the rest soon followed after.

“lets cut the cake now.” mark announced right after, already reaching down to the coffee table. jaemin had left your side and rushed to the kitchen to get the utensils as well as paper boards. it gave you time to take a look at the room, it was decorated nicely and everyone was seemingly enjoying their time as they conversed over the soft music playing in the background.

it was too perfect to be to true, though something felt missing. someone was definitely missing.

“we invited him but he said he had other plans, don’t think too much about it.” as if she could read your mind, rei who was still beside you reassured you with a rub to your shoulder. your head turned to her, surprised that she could tell that you were specifically looking for him. you nodded in acceptance. she was right, after all, today was about you, donghyuck shouldn’t be a thought when you were surrounded by all the people you loved.

but it wasn’t that easy, and every now and then, your mind would wander to donghyuck’s whereabouts, as well as his words. he said he would remember your birthday, and all you could wonder for the remainder of the night was how much truth those words really held.

“so i just knock on her door and give her this and the letter?” jaehyun repeated in confirmation, and donghyuck nodded. “just wish her a happy birthday. you can improvise the rest.” donghyuck instructed while he stood in front of jaehyun, grabbing onto his hand before sliding an envelope into it. “tell her to not read it until you’re gone.”

“and do you want me to tell her this is your doing?” jaehyun asked as he started to step towards the door. donghyuck thought about it for a while, before shrugging. “only if she asks.” the response made jaehyun laugh, who’s hand was now on the door handle. “she’s not gonna believe her eyes.” donghyuck claimed with a grin, checking the time on his phone. “i think she came back upstairs like twenty minutes ago, you can go now.” haechan walked over towards jaehyun before patting him on the back. it was their last interaction before jaehyun exited the door and turned to stand right in front of yours.

in those twenty minutes in your room, you had time to come down from the high you were on. you had checked your phone to see if donghyuck had texted you anything, the time already nearing 11 pm, but there was nothing, and you’re not sure if you expected it or are disappointed because you didn’t.

a knock on your door was what broke your train of thoughts, and your first thought was that it must be one of your neighbours. your second thought was unfortunately donghyuck, and it was probably that assumption that made you rush to your front door, heart beating in what you sadly can only assume was excitement.

it wasn’t donghyuck, though you wished it was him even more now. you could feel your stomach drop as you stood face to face with none other than jaehyun himself, the guy carrying a soft smile which displayed his dimples. your heart went from not beating at all, to beating erratically, your breath being anything but regular. were you perhaps dreaming? “you’re (—) right?”

so you were not dreaming. the realisation caused panic to form in your body, your eyes widened in the process. “you’re kidding me..” you muttered. jaehyun found it quite humorous and chuckled at your state. “i heard a lot of nice things about you from mark. its nice to finally meet you.” jaehyun’s words caused your breath to hitch. there was no way jaehyun was right in front of you.

“i’m dreaming right?” you whispered in disbelief which made jaehyun smile. “haechan guessed that you’d say something like that. since it’s your birthday, i’m here with a signed EP, as well as a special envelope that you can only open once you’re inside. i hope you enjoyed your birthday and i hope mark or haechan bring you with them to my next concert, you seem like a sweet person. it was nice meeting you (—).”

it was truly too much to comprehend. you knew that the possibility of meeting jaehyun wasn’t slim due to your connection with both mark and donghyuck, but with their persistent refusals, it was merely a wish, not something you actually expected to become reality. and as jaehyun’s words sunk in, the mention of donghyuck’s name finally caught onto your ears, a subconscious smile forming in your face from it.

“thank you so much.. seriously.” you sheepishly thanked him and jaehyun nodded, taking a step back before his hand motioned into a small wave. “its nothing, i hope you enjoy the rest of your night, happy birthday.” jaehyun bid his farewells before he turned around, leaving you inside your apartment, still not grasping the unreal experience.

you closed the door to your apartment and looked down and the items in your hands. you placed the EP carefully down before opening the envelope. the whole day was full of surprises and you were once again filled with surprise as you pulled out a small paper sheet, containing a hand written letter. the hand writing reminded you of a familiar one that you had seen before. your eyes raked over the words that donghyuck had written to you, a stupid grin stuck on your face as you did so. you weren’t even aware of how hot your body had started to feel, or how your stomach had started to tingle at the stupid words he wrote.

your feet carried you on its own and you exited your apartment with urgent steps. your hand had reached up to knock on donghyuck’s door, and as if he could sense your presence, it had opened after the second knock.

you remember the first time you met donghyuck. he wore a simple white shirt and black shorts as well as his black framed glasses, sporting copper brown hair as he opened the door for you. you remember the resentment you felt when despite his good looks, he was an asshole to you at that time.

now, stood in front of you with the same identical attire he wore that night, you felt nothing but butterflies growing in your stomach as donghyuck looked at you with a smile you could only describe as fondness. “happy birthday sweetheart, did you like my present?” you couldn’t even be annoyed at the teasing tone in his voice, or the use of that nickname you had started to grow fond of.

all you could do was lean forward and wrap your arms around him without any warning. donghyuck stumbled back, taken aback by the sudden affection but quickly reciprocated by wrapping his own arms around your waist, pulling you flush against him. and if your heart wasn’t beating like crazy itself, you’d be able to feel the way donghyuck’s heartbeat matched yours perfectly.

“what’s this about?” donghyuck chuckled, remaining his hold on you. you removed yourself from the crook of his neck and took a step back, though donghyuck’s arms remained around your waist to keep you close. you had to physically hold your smile back, not wanting to go overboard. “thank you… that was really nice of you.” you whispered, too scared that your emotions would be overwhelming if you spoke any louder.

donghyuck shrugged, looking at you in amusement. “its nothing. you said you wanted to meet him so here we are.” it felt like the more he spoke, the more your body tingled and heated up. you didn’t even know how to respond back to what he said, which allowed him to continue his words. “now that you met him, does that mean you’ll finally get over this crush you have on him?”

his words were meant to be a joke, simply referencing your previous conversation. but as you continued to stare at him, taking in just how… beautiful he looked up close like this as well as the way your heart wouldn’t stop beating, there was already an answer going through your head.

you think you already have.

your brain wasn’t in the right place, and your body moved before your thoughts did. you leaned closer to him and without much thought, placed your lips on donghyuck’s. it was nothing more than a peck because your mind had registered what you had done. you’re not quite sure why you did it, maybe it was because of the overwhelming excitement you felt, or the gratitude you had, or maybe it was the fact that he had been eyeing your lips for the past five seconds leading up to that.

your excuses didn’t matter, because just as you pulled away, donghyuck pulled you right back in himself, kissing you in the halls of the 4th floor with his hand on your jaw, so soft and delicate that you thought you were dreaming.

you had definitely gotten over jaehyun.

bonus! (haechan’s love letter draft)

previous — master list — next

notes ; happy late mark day 🥳🎊 as celebration we got… ynhae realising their feelings after 36 chapters? POP THE CHAMPAGNE AND FIRE THE FIREWORKS 🔥🎉🥳🎊🍾

TAGLIST ; @90s-belladonna @pnkified @2jisungs @swee7dream @sinisxtea @en-dream @h-aecat @lostinneocity @sunflowerbebe07 @pookime @aerivrs @alethea-moon @hcvenue @prettyrenjunn @manooffline @bath1lda @hyejooistic @emvrd @dojaejunging @odxrilove @hyuckluvr-com @jaeims @ihyucksol @tddyhyck @dalsosapple @https-yeonjun @luvlyrenwoo @yoursyuno @lilacsxjoon @heymsperfectlyfine @mystverse @ne0c0r3 @casperbutnot-theghost @hyuckies18 @w3bqrl @ckline35 @nosungluv @luvvsnae @chcnlcs @cryingforgyu @thatgirlkay @222brainrot @junviadinho @n0hyuck @sinsgaybutthatsokay @choerubies @goldustupmysea @cyber-innie @hyunjungjae @blamemef0rit @lowkeychenle @lecheugo

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awritesthings1 · 1 year ago

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All The Things We Don't Say

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Female Reader

Summary: An anthology of your life with Tommy, from friends to strangers to lovers, and all the little moments in between.

Warnings: 18+, implied DV, substance abuse, childhood trauma, ptsd, overprotective tommy, swearing, brief smut, longfic oneshot, feminist themes (motherhood & being a wife in the 1920s).

ao3 link

Smash!

“Pick it up!”

Your daddy was a drunk. You remembered the fact since you could walk. He stayed home while the working men left for the factories, then disappeared in the late hours of the morning until his eventual return when the slam of the front door woke the household up. Mother used to hold you at night as she curled up in your bed. She was sick a lot. Always sniffing into the back of your neck when you were asleep. Sometimes the sleeve of your nightgown would get soaked while she muffled her hiccups.

She looked sad, too. In the morning, she kept the curtains drawn and stayed away from the outside world. She told you it was to keep nosey Mrs. Gretel away from her family affairs. But Mrs. Gretel had left Birmingham two months prior.

By seven years old, you were the 'man' of the house. You had gone to sleep one night, and when you awoke, your mother had vaporized into the air like a rabbit in a hat.

“She left because of you,” your father slurred at you.

You hated him.

She left behind her long-sleeve dresses, scarves, and wicker hats that covered nearly every inch of her skin. They were far too big for you then, but when your father came home at the end of the week with a stack of cash, you ran to your mother’s closet, which had remained untouched until then, to find only cobwebs. Gone. Every single one of her dresses. You looked out at the moon in those early hours of the morning and swore to it that when you were bigger, you would get him back so much worse.

And so you were left to clean up his smashed glass bottles and scrub the alcohol out of the gritty carpet. Your little hands struggled to pluck the glass from the floorboards. In a year’s time, they were covered in little scars.

On your tenth birthday, you decided you were grown enough to take matters into your own hands. When he was passed out on the floor from whatever he managed to fill his pipe with, you grabbed the small bottles he hid under a loose floorboard and poured them into the gutter at the back of your house.

You turned to run back to the door when the contents of the bottle were empty, but a ball almost tripped you over. You gripped your tattered skirt before you could lose your footing and snapped your head around with a fierce pout.

“That’s my ball,” pointed a young Thomas Shelby.

You put your small hands on your smaller hips. “You kicked it my way on purpose!”

You weren’t entirely sure, but you suspected it.

“Maybe I thought you were pretty,” he grinned.

You noticed his two front teeth were missing.

“Ewwww! I would never go out with you!” You squawked.

At ten years old, you knew better than that.

Seemingly unaffected by your distaste, he continued. “Do you live there?” He nodded to the house whose roof was falling apart.

“What’s it to you?” You frowned stubbornly, not wanting to admit that, yes, that was your house.

“The curtains are always drawn,” he answered, walking over to pick up his ball from your feet. He was the same height as you were at the time. “My brother Arthur said it’s haunted. He saw a ghost in the window once. He said it was a woman and that she starved to death.”

Your nose scrunched up. "Well, he’s a phony!”

You ran inside said house and slammed the door shut.

He kissed you down by the docks that winter. It was your first kiss, and a clumsy one at that, so you didn’t remember much of it.

By thirteen, you had given in and sold the rest of your mother’s belongings to support yourself. You hated yourself for it, and that nagging voice inside your head told you that you were no better than your father. Oh, and your father? Your father lost vision in his left eye from a bar fight. Too bad it wasn’t both.

Sometime later, a boy two years older than you saw your wandering hand in someone’s bag at the fair and threatened to teach you some manners ‘the hard way’. You bit anxiously on your nails and pleaded with him because he was bigger than most boys his age, when Tommy’s brother Arthur (who you’d seen hanging around the Garrison) came passing by and threatened to ‘toss him about’. The other boy, not all believing in Arthur’s temper, rushed forward, and the two ended up rolling in the dirt, but by then you were gone with a stolen pocket watch in your fist. Nearly two legs and an arm deep in poverty, some quick cash, or a hero complex? You’d take the penny.

At fourteen, a lady knocked on your door. It was a lady of the night who had come to inform your father that he had fathered a son with her. You were glad it was a boy. A girl wouldn’t have stood a chance in the slums of Birmingham. Life was hard, but Birmingham was harder. Your father had refused to listen to the young woman and shooed her off. You never saw her teary-eyed face again.

At fifteen, your father attempted to wash his hands of you by marrying you off to the highest bidder. There was no real auction, but just about anyone who suggested a handsome sum of money did the trick.

“His name is William,” you exhaled, kicking your legs over the edge of the dock.

Tommy laughed. “You won’t marry him.”

“What choice do I have, Tom?”

Your finances were getting tight, and the gloomy pressure to take up working at night like many young ladies was beginning to loom closer and closer. You hated being a woman. Boys would never have to worry about selling themselves to survive.

“I’ll put a gypsy curse on him,” he decided, squinting his eyes from the bright reflection dancing across the water.

You hit his shoulder.

“No, you won't, because then you’ll be cursing me.”

The severity of your situation began to dawn on Tommy. No amount of pestering Polly for change to spare would relieve you of your burden any longer.

“That’s it, then?” He gulped, shifting his glassy eyes to the harbor.

You sighed and followed his gaze.

“Maybe it won’t be so bad. I’ll never have to see dad again, and William promised to take care of me.”

Tommy scoffed.

You frowned at him. “What?”

He shook his head.

“What! Tom—”

“Don’t marry him.”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, here we go, why?”

“You know why.”

You were engaged to William on the eve of your seventeenth birthday. He was a very proper man and never dared to go any further than hooking an arm around yours on formal occasions. You were never attracted to his thin mustache nor the thick lenses he wore. In fact, he was incredibly awkward at social occasions, always checking his pocket watch and avoiding eye contact with whichever circle he stood in.

Tommy began to fade out of your life around that time. Margaret—a lady who had taken you on to help with the sewing of her family’s tailoring business—told you that Tommy was spotted arm in arm with another girl that week. You expected to feel jealous, but you felt nothing. You knew love would never be your right. Love was for the more fortunate.

You spent that year learning how to be a wife. Surprisingly, it wasn’t too different from what you did as a child—cooking and cleaning up like you did when your father came home, that is. It was comforting to have a routine in place. It meant finality—no one walking in and out of your life as they pleased, and certainly no more growling stomachs. Perhaps being a wife was a skill your mother never learned. You were grateful for William’s mother, who seemed to be more than enthusiastic to show you the reigns.

After a year-long engagement, you caught your fiancé, William, locked in a compromising position with another man.

“Oh,” was all you got out before leaving his house.

You lacked the special ingredient that marriages needed: love.

You sat down at the fountain across the street. William and his lover’s silhouette were visible behind the blinds he had drawn on the second floor, which peered over the sidewalk. You watched their shadows fluster their feathers around the room like headless geese, and for a moment your head surfaced above water and laughter frothed out between your sealed lips. Perhaps Birmingham made you a little mad.

You didn’t go through with the marriage. You suspected William was relieved.

That week, your father left. You never knew whether he left on his own accord or just never made it home one night. Either way, you never really cared to find out.

With nothing left to lose, you knocked on the Shelby family’s door at Watery Lane. Finn appeared around the other side of the door a moment later.

“Is Tommy home?”

Finn nodded, spinning on his heel to alert his brother. When Tommy did appear, his shoulders were tensed. Disheveled hair never looked so stylish on him. When you saw his suspenders (which were hastily thrown on), you wanted to ask who he expected to be at the door that he planned to answer dressed in such fashion but then thought better of it. He peered down at you, then checked over his shoulder before ushering you inside and up to his bedroom.

“It’s… smaller than I thought,” you landed on, taking in his room.

After all these years, you had never stepped foot into the Shelby home. You weren’t the type of person to come door-knocking.

You turned around to face Tommy after hearing him click the lock on his door.

“Are you hurt?" were the first words he had spoken to you in a year.

“No.” You pressed your lips together, eyeing everything from the bed to the view out the window.

Silence followed closely after.

“Then why are you here?” Tommy sighed.

Your vision began to blur then. “I don’t know,” you said honestly, trying to stop your bottom lip from trembling.

Desperately, you pushed your hair back and straightened up, attempting to hold yourself together. You must have looked like a puppet being held together by a string, given how poor you looked.

Tommy’s boots pad across the wooden floor. “You love me?”

Did that word truly exist? How could you answer if you never knew what it meant to love?

You don’t meet his eyes. He licked his lips, pushing your head up to meet his with his thumb. His eyebrows rose expectantly.

“I don’t know what to do, Tom,” you breathed, avoiding his question. “I’m all alone now. No William, no father…”

His lips parted, and you watched with fascination as the cogs turned in his head. “Yes… that is a problem." His breath fanned over your face.

You gagged, a reaction you yourself had not expected, before rushing to his door, only to remember that, yes, he had locked it, before turning to the nearest silver bucket in the corner to empty your guts.

The first thing you heard when you caught your breath was, “are you pregnant?”

No, but when you stand so close to me and I can smell the cigarettes you smoke and your freshly washed skin, I can imagine a future where we are married, and I see your face growing more disappointed as we age together because you married a woman who never knew how to be a mother to your children nor a wife who knew to tend to you with affection by your bedside when you’re ill.

“No,” you choked, spitting out the vile taste in your mouth. “We never did anything.”

You wanted him to know that. You wanted him to think that you never let William touch you because you never loved him, not because William wasn’t interested in girls.

A moment later, Tommy sat beside you on the floor and quietly combed your hair away from your wobbling lips.

“So, if you’re not pregnant and you don’t love me, why are you here?”

You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand. How were you supposed to answer that? After letting your guts loose in his room, you thought he would surely have booted you out the door.

A knock came on the door: “Tommy?”

“A minute, Finn!” Tommy growled at the door, refusing to back away from your trembling frame.

You were so hungry. Margaret had to cut back your hours ever since her husband fell ill. She spent more time by his bedside than keeping the store open, which meant you were making less than usual. The imminent closing of the store hung over your head like a taunting crow, gouging your insides like you were Prometheus. Birmingham your chains, a woman your fate, and the bird your punishment for thinking you deserved more.

“I should go.” You shivered at the draft inching towards your skin from the open window.

Tommy’s intense gaze stuttered, falling to your lap, where you picked at the dead skin around your nails. He cleared his throat, fishing out the key from his pocket. Although it was dull and muted from the years, it gleaned brightly in your eyes as if it were the reward you came for. Flushed, you grabbed it out of his hands without sparing a glance. Electricity sparked in those precious seconds, igniting a deadly fire in your belly.

“You’re cold." Tommy flinched at your touch.

You retreated as soon as the key slid into the hole and unlocked with a click. In your haste, you left the most valuable thing you owned there in his room.

Your heart.

The months went by, and summer arrived. The stories your mother told you left you expecting a bright gleam of air that would wash over the streets and paint each tree and every patch of grass a frighteningly bright green that would even encourage grumpy Mrs. Gretel to come out to preen her stubborn roses that would just not grow. Birmingham left less to be desired. The summer days never came, and that persisting bitter bog thickened, albeit with slightly less rain. There were gray clouds, smoke from the factories, and a shivering north westerly, which pushed said clouds at breakneck speed as if they had somewhere to be. You looked to the sky one day and said a prayer for blue breezes and sweltering sun, but the sky was empty.

Sometime later, men marched the streets armed with guns in their ‘dashing’ uniforms. A war, they said, a great one. Queues lined the street for the post offices and grocers. Rain rivaled the bustle of the city. What did it feel like to love someone so much as to stand in the pouring rain next to the gutter? You wanted that kind of love. Not the love you could only give yourself because even you didn’t want your own love.

One of the soldiers decorated in medals stood on a crate at the port, yelling something supposedly inspiring that captured the attention of many young men. The words honorable and patriotic were tossed in there like a delectable salad, enticing them in the way farmers held a carrot to a pig’s snout.

You pitied their mothers. Their daughters were married off, and then their sons were swooning over the idea of dying. Birmingham was filthy, rotting, and disgusting. You needed to leave.

You kissed Margaret goodbye on the cheek one Tuesday morning. Ever since your pockets turned out empty, you had been working as a bedside nurse for her ill-stricken husband. They were good to you, and they were probably the only people you could consider family.

She patted your cheek and said, "you're doing good to serve this country.”

You hadn’t had the heart to tell her you were leaving because the city was marring your flesh, so you slipped her the sugarcoated lie of wanting to join the war effort so that you might help others who were bedridden, just like her husband.

At the train station, you stood with your suitcases held tightly in both arms. You had to set one down to hold onto your hat as a train full of men waving their caps out the window pulled into the station. Some children weaved between the crowd, wagging a newspaper above their heads, hoping to make a quick penny. To your side, women wept for their brothers, husbands, and lovers.

“Who are you wishing off?” asked an elderly woman who was clutching her cane.

“Oh, I’m not. I’m boarding the next train.”

She laughed, and you wondered how old your mother would be now. Would she have grown wrinkles and settled into a deeper laugh like this woman?

“My dear, you have a bright imagination if you think they will let a woman on any of these trains.”

A sudden anger filled your blood. “Why not?”

“These men are heading straight for London, where they will be shipped away to France to fight,” the woman explained as if it were any other day.

“I’ll catch the next train then.”

She shook her head, and her frail hand curled tighter around her cane. “They’ve stopped the trains so they can transport soldiers to London.”

You frowned. “Then how will I leave Birmingham?”

You’ll never forget her dismissive laughter.

“My dear, you won’t.”

Men boarded the train, clapping each other on the back with a wink and a laugh. When a line of men on the platform thinned, the train whistled, and you looked over just in time to see Polly, Ada, and little Finn standing with their hands crossed over their hearts as they waved to the train.

No. It wasn’t possible.

But it was because you caught the gleam of the razors sewn into their peaky caps. Tommy, Arthur, and John all stood aboard the train, sticking their heads out and waving to Polly and Ada with a grin that wrung your stomach like a wet cloth.

Those countless daydreams you spun, the intricate webs you wove, began breaking down to thin fibers. In one pathway, you stayed there in his room and told him the truth you always denied yourself. You loved him. In another, you stood next to Polly, close to tears, as you begged him to come home safely. There was a resounding click in that moment as your breath stuttered. You had been the person who wiped away those futures, thinking it was nothing but an annoying spiderweb. Oh, how wrong you were!

“Tommy!” You left your suitcases behind and stepped around the old woman as you ducked under hugs and tearful goodbyes.

“Tommy!” You cried again with the gusto of someone who certainly shouldn’t be as concerned as they were considering you left him in his room that day.

Thankfully, his eyes eventually found yours as you pushed through the last line of people. You stood there and stomached all your regrets head-on. It was funny how, up until that moment, you managed to squash every seed of doubt. Why was it that you only realized what you had when it was slipping out of reach?

He never called your name back. He just stared at you blankly as the train pulled away, unlike you, who clung to the image of his frame even as the train disappeared from sight and the crowd began to disperse. You stood there unblinking, hoping to soak up the last of him before you forgot the intensity of his eyes or the humming rumble of his voice. Because the idea of something you held dearly becoming a memory meant that it could as easily be forgotten, and that terrified you. Your eyes were watering now, against your best wishes.

You overheard Polly ushering Finn and Ada off. Finn rushed home without protest, but Ada stopped in her tracks when she saw you hunched over your knees in tears. She smiled weakly before chasing Finn home. It was then that Polly’s shadow approached your huddled frame. She didn’t say anything, and for a moment, you weren’t sure if she expected you to stand and apologize for being such a mess. That’s when a penny clattered to the ground beside you. She squeezed your shoulder once before disappearing.

You kissed that penny as if Tommy would feel the power of it across the country, then ran back to Margaret’s, having forgotten your suitcases.

“Oh…” She exclaimed, slapping her tea towel on the counter when you walked into the kitchen. “You missed your train?”

Dread made your stomach tender and your breath short.

“I’m enrolling in the Red Cross.”

Throughout the war, you thought of Tommy every day until your stomach lurched. Would it have worked if you had stayed? Would you both have grown old together instead of subjecting yourself to the spray of dirt when a bomb went off nearby?

A day ago, your supply rations never came. It wasn’t like hunger was anything new, but when your mind was too focused on surviving the perilous weather, it was hard to save other lives. You made work with what little supplies you had left. The morphine went stint within hours of its arrival, and the cries of pained soldiers filled the medical tent all night. You did what you could, wiped sweat from their foreheads, and wrote letters to their mothers and lovers with what supplies you could scavenge. Some were written on cardboard from shell packaging, others on torn pages from the bibles they kept over their hearts. Pens were useless—the ink ran in the rain—so you scribbled everything down in pencil.

Before you left for France, you were warned of the bullets. No one ever warned you about the shrapnel, nor the bombs or grenades. They shattered soldiers’ bones beyond repair and left bodies unrecognizable. There wasn’t much you could do when most of their flesh was missing.

Keeping faith became an impossible task. Supplies were depleted, and nurses were dejected. Sally, who had been writing home for news of her brother, recently had her letters returned with the black stamp. Death—return to sender. She spent only an hour sitting on a trunk, letting her tears fall, before she got back to work. Grief privileged those with time, something no one could afford in these conditions.

Then it came—the day Arthur Shelby was carried in on a stretcher. You were making your rounds around the beds when a truckload of yelling men pooled through the entrance of the tent.

“Nurse!” They all yelled, some limping, others setting down stretchers of men on the dirt between the filled beds.

You and two other nurses dropped everything and ran over to attend to the wounded. They were all covered head to toe in dirt, groaning and clutching limbs that were twisted the wrong way. One in particular coughed and huffed while he fought against hands, which were fruitlessly pushing him back down on the stretcher.

“Let me go!” He yelled, wrestling against an older nurse.

“It’s alright, Mary. I’ll handle this one,” you patted her shoulder as you swapped places.

You dunked a washcloth into a bucket of water to wipe away the dirt in his eyes. “Calm down; you're safe here,” you said, starting your usual script of reassurances.

When the striking blue eyes squinted up at you, your blood ran cold. You froze before taking his head in both your hands, despite his protests. “Arthur? Arthur, it’s me!”

He loosened his grip on your wrist. “Huh?”

“It’s me! Where’s Tommy and John?”

He spat blood and gritted his teeth. “Fucking hell, where’s the whiskey?”

You laughed despite the smell of blood encompassing the tent. You quickly fetched the alcohol you had been using to clean wounds and pressed it to his lips. You weren’t sure if it was whiskey or not, but you reasoned he was in too much pain to be able to tell. He drank it with a groan of pleasure. You didn’t try to snatch the bottle away as he emptied it down his palette; you just sat and grinned at the way he suckled it like a newborn baby while you cleaned away his cuts.

“I’ve never been happier to see you, Arthur.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he mumbled, his lips still wrapped around the bottle.

You tried to stay by his side for as long as you could before the second wave of patients came tumbling through the flaps of the tent. One of them lost their grip on the stretcher, and the patient went sliding into the dirt headfirst.

“Fuck!” They all swore, abandoning the stretcher to drag the limp man further into the makeshift hospital.

You rushed to help when a hand gripped the back of your neck. You yelped in pain as your hair got caught in a fingernail when they turned you to face them.

And there he was: Tommy Shelby, covered in a thick layer of dirt, heaving for air.

“Nurse! Nurse!” Voices cried for you, but between the ringing in your ears and the wrath in Tommy’s blue eyes, you were frozen in place.

“The fuck are you doing here, eh?” He yelled over the anguished men.

You suddenly felt stupid standing there in your Red Cross uniform.

“I was looking for you, I—”

His dirty hands cupped your cheeks—something you were painfully aware of from the uncomfortable itch from the mud on your flushed skin—and pulled your forehead to his.

“You think this is some fantasy?” He squinted. “You think there’s any fucking moonlight to kiss under here, eh?” He spat.

His eyes held that haunted look you had seen on many soldiers that passed through the medical tent. Your eyes watered. Perhaps it was from the humidity and dirt being kicked up as nurses and patients scuffled around, not because you could hardly recognize the man in front of you. The blood smeared above his eyebrow worried you, so you reasoned that he was mad because it had been leaking into his eyes. Dutifully, you reached to wipe it with the back of your hand. He grabbed your wrist harshly, bringing it down to your side. He was in shock; you scolded yourself.

“Where’s John and Arthur?” Tommy swallowed, flexing his hands.

You led him to Arthur, who had been left in his corner while the nurses attended to more serious cases. It hurt watching the brothers reunite after their ordeal, so you left them alone no matter how much you feared them being discharged before your return. After all, everything you ever wanted sat in that corner, but it would be selfish to coddle Tommy all to yourself. Still, you couldn’t help sparing a glance when you walked up and down the tent, attending to patients.

Later that night, he came to you under the candlelight of your tent. He cleared his throat upon entry. You were lying face-up on your cot when he cleared his throat and peeled back the entrance to enter. The candlelight painted the mountain peaks of his face in a dull amber and the valleys in a frightening shadow. You sat up, pulling the thick cover over your shift.

Tommy kneeled next to you, resting on the heels of his boots. He licked his chapped lips and itched his nose. “You don’t belong here.”

Your grip on the cover loosened. “Huh?”

Nothing prepared you for when he swung his brooding stare towards you. He exhaled loudly before running a hand over his face.

“You should have stayed in Birmingham.” He said it like a warning.

“And done what?”

Vulnerability never looked good on Tommy. His head hung and his fingers itched at the back of his head—a tick you used to love; now you weren’t so sure. Because your Tommy was never afraid, but this man in front of you was alarmingly tense despite the clear efforts to mask it.

What have they done to you, Tom?

Under the dim light of your tent, you barely recognized him. A stranger’s eyes were blown wide in a frightening state of shock, something most soldiers mirrored. War washed out the sweet blue pair you knew, refitting them for a steely weapon. You hated seeing him like this, so still, so unsteady, cocooned into the corner as if afraid to take up space.

You feared you looked no better. Having worked till the point of exhaustion, you usually found yourself awakening against a wooden crate or trunk to the cries of patients who demanded your attention despite your body not having the strength to stand. Today you had been lucky and found yourself crawling distance to your private tent when your knees started wobbling and your head lulling.

The wooden reinforcing of your private tent fought in vain to shelter your bodies from the elements; it still flapped and whipped about, sometimes rocking your cot. Yet Tommy remained still like those life-size stone statues you’d find outside an important building, brooding at the dirt and locked in an internal battle. You shifted to the edge of your makeshift bed and leaned close enough that you saw how the top buttons of his dirtied uniform were missing and most of his clothes were torn.

His arm, which was breaking out in goosebumps, lay heavily across his knee so that he could rest his forehead there limply. He looked in a bad enough condition that you feared the possibility of him succumbing to the wasteland threatening him outside your tent. You wrapped your arms around the scruff of his hair and pulled his face into your stomach, where he could hide from the terrible world. On instinct, his arms wound around your waist, and you felt his warm exhale against your skin through the thin fabric of your slip.

His tin water bottle clanged against the satchel he wore, which made you wonder if he had any time to rest at all if he still had all his equipment tied to his uniform.

“I didn’t…” His voice was muffled by your slip. He cleared his throat again, shaking his head.

When he dropped the thought, you spoke up. “Have you eaten?”

He slapped your thigh haphazardly. “No, do you have a cigarette?”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes, instead gently pushing him away so you could kneel beneath your bed and fish a cigarette from your satchel. You pinched one from its tin case, then thought better of it and tossed it on Tommy’s lap. Gratefully, he collected one from the case and lit it with a nearby candle. You watched his chest rise and fall as he took an especially deep drag. His eyes shut as the nicotine rushed to his head.

“Fuck, that’s good,” he muttered under his breath.

“How are you here, Tommy? One of the night nurses should’ve been on watch.”

“Oh,” smoke puffed out of his mouth, and he raised his eyebrows, “there is.”

“Then how—”

“I had to see you.”

The butterflies in your stomach dove. The blue in his eyes appeared translucent as they hazed over like a ghost. His shoulders were slumped dejectedly, and he had a hand pushing through his greasy, unwashed hair to relieve his neck from the weight of his thoughts.

He pointed to you then, with the cigarette nursed between his fingers. “I need to know why you changed your mind.”

“About what, Thomas?”

His voice slurred and slipped into a deeper register from the lack of sleep. "Why you came back. Why you came to France.” Tommy shook his head lazily. “You expect me to believe you had a sudden change of heart? What? You a patriot now?” An amused exhale curled out while he took another drag. “Well I don’t believe it.”

You began shivering despite the way your body flushed.

“How’s Arthur?” You tried to avert the conversation.

“Bloody drunk off his ass.”

“And you?”

Tommy held your stare and swallowed dryly. “Trying.”

“You can go join him if you wish.”

He looked at the entrance of your tent as if he were weighing his options, then shook his head and took another drag before clearing his throat. “It’s different now.”

Naïvely, you sank to the ground beside him and rested a hand on his shoulder. “It doesn’t have to be.”

He sighed.

“I wish that were true.”

The next time you saw Tommy, you were working a shift at the hospital. After the war, you received a medal for your efforts, which easily got you a job in Birmingham. You pleaded with them to send you to any other hospital—London, Manchester, Liverpool—you didn’t care. Anywhere but Birmingham.

“You should be honored to work for me!” Exclaimed the head nurse at Birmingham Hospital, who didn’t seem too pleased with your distaste for the city.

You thought the job would be the final nail in the coffin, but you surprisingly got along well with the head nurse once you had put your animosity aside. So much so, she offered to lease you a room upstairs from hers.

Then came that dreaded night where you were finishing the filing of some documents when a patient was being rushed in. Your ears perked up, and you looked through the blinds of the office to see a man being rushed by. Something small and round had fallen off the stretcher while the nurses paid no attention, pushing him around the corner and down towards the operating theater. Curious, you exited the office.

And there on the ground was one of those peaky caps Tommy and his brothers used to wear. You knew this because you picked it up and nearly cut yourself on the blade that was sewn into the seam. You spent the next hour gnawing on your nails. Your imagination sparked ideas about the beaten man who was lying in an operating room two doors down in surgery. Was it Tommy? Arthur? John? The shadows under your eyes darkened at the thought. No, it was probably some other Peaky Blinder. The Shelby brothers were too careful. Still, you knocked over your coffee in a mad dash to the bathroom, where you heaved up your dinner.

You volunteered to stay until the morning, but the head nurse on duty for the night refused and sent you home. You didn’t sleep at all that night.

The next morning, you arrived early and made a beeline for the emergency ward. You grabbed the admission form and scanned the patient list. There were only two emergency patients who were listed under the final hour of your shift, a woman and a man, which made it easier to narrow it down to the man who was admitted at quarter to midnight in ward four, room seven.

When you peaked through the crack in the door, you knew you had been worried for a reason. Tommy lay under the covers, battered and bruised, with a swollen eye and a nasty scar where he had reportedly received surgery for trauma to the head.

You slipped inside quietly and closed the door. Tommy’s eyes were closed, and his mouth hung open, stealing miniscule amounts of air into his lungs. He looked as good as a ghost.

“Tommy…” You clutched his peaky cap (which you meant to return) between your fingers.

He didn’t move an inch, so you set the cap down by his bedside table, carefully watching the rise and fall of his chest.

What have they done to you, Tom?

On the second week, he woke up while you were cleaning the windowsill. He coughed, and you whipped around in shock.

“Nurse?” He asked hoarsely, blinking away the blinding light.

You rushed to his side, tears bursting like the fountain you passed on your way to work.

“Don’t move,” you urged when he tried to sit up.

“I have to get to London,” he slurred, only half awake.

You weren’t upset that he didn’t recognize you. You weren’t upset that he didn’t recognize you.

“Tommy… it’s me.”

He shrugged your hand off his shoulder with a hiss. “Fucking hell.”

Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry.

“Please don’t move; I don’t want you to hurt yourself.” You couldn’t hide the way your voice broke.

He looked up at you, then, through bloodshot blue eyes. You wished you knew what was going through his head. Happy or sad?

“Am I dead?”

“No,” you smiled weakly as a tear fell.

“Can I have a smoke then?”

“I don’t know how to love, Tommy!”

“Yeah? Yeah? That’s bullshit! Why do you keep coming back then?” He pinched your chin, glaring furiously into your eyes. “Eh?”

He stood so close that he blocked the light from the chandelier, which mournfully hung from the ceiling. You shivered in his shadow.

“I shouldn’t have come tonight.”

“But you did!” He accused, pointing in your face.

“It was a mista—”

“You fucking did!”

“Tommy!”

“I’ve had it! If you want to leave, then fucking leave; otherwise, don’t stand there all righteous waving empty threats over my head because I know you won’t leave.” He shook his head with a wild look in his eye. “No… You won’t leave. You won’t leave because you love me. You keep coming back,” he pointed matter-of-factly.

Tommy’s eyebrows danced between being terribly furrowed and alarmingly raised during his passionate monologue. It was rare for him to emit so much emotion these days. The war changed men, and Tommy was no exception. A chilling stillness framed his presence, which even you weren’t excused from. No more laughter, no more dreams of working with horses, because he was above all that now, wasn’t he? It was ambition that ground his teeth together and hollowed his eyes. Still, you couldn’t forget that the anger came from vulnerability, because it took a lot for someone to get under Thomas Shelby’s skin.

You moved to grab your purse, to make good on his word, but he halted your movement by grabbing your shoulders, roughly at first, before loosening his grip. You softened at his frantic demeanor. He was scared—oh, so afraid of you walking out that door again. But how could you ever explain it to him? You were never born for love. You would never know how to love him properly the way wives were supposed to because what you felt for Tommy was sickeningly deep. So much so that the mere impression of him sealed off your ribcage and ruined any chance of your heart beating for any other soul, so much so that you carried the weight of him in your bones because you could never shake him off.

When you looked back at life, all you saw was the absence of love. You used to imagine yourself growing up and falling in love with a handsome stranger, then getting married in a proper white dress to go live in your proper house. But when you looked in the mirror, you saw a ghost. The pathway of your life was laid out before your eyes once, and what you saw didn’t match the reflection. The man you were supposed to marry couldn’t even look at you, even if you cleaned and cleaned and cleaned until your fingerprints turned white and pasty.

Because what it all came down to was simple. You never got to become the person you envisioned. Instead, you were cursed to live as a blank slate and be consistently reminded of what you were supposed to be and of who you were: no one.

Tommy exhaled in a quick huff, pressing his forehead to yours so that he saw you clearer, without all the tension and bullshit in the way.

“Here it comes, Tommy.” You took a shaky breath. “I love you, but I could never be the perfect wife to you, and I would be a terrible mother.”

There, in all its ugly colors and shades, you hung yourself with the truth.

He shook his head as if he too couldn’t believe your words.

“Fuck’s sake! Forget about all that." His eyes watered out of frustration, but he was still puffing in anger. “I need you. You. Not some whore.”

You bit your lip to muffle the god-forsaken cry ready to erupt from the volcanoes you suddenly found roaring in your stomach. An earthquake overtook your hands the more you fought the inevitable eruption. You grabbed both his hands to stop yours from shaking.

“I have to be cursed; there’s no other way!”

“No!”

“My life slips through my fingers like grains of sand—”

“You’re not cursed!”

“And I can’t stop it, Tommy!”

“You’re not fucking cursed, and I’ll tell you why." Tommy cut you off. He leaned in, licking his lips, which had turned dry from all the shouting, and squeezed your hands. “Because my ancestors charmed dogs with their magic, they didn’t scare little girls with curses,” he paused. “But you… You waved a hand over my head, and now I’m no better than a dog.”

He closed the space between you, pressing his forehead against yours, and stroked both your cheeks, wiping at your tears. You held him there in a meek attempt at reciprocation.

You wished the world were ending so then you could grab Tommy’s hand and say, ‘I’m ready, Tom. The world is ending, so let’s kiss and love each other under the flames without any fear because the world is ending.’

But you were never good at expressing yourself with words, so you sealed it with a kiss, hoping he could taste the unspoken words on your lips the same way you tasted the tears. He responded in earnest, gripping you roughly by the scruff of your neck to seal the promise laden between your lips; no more running.

It was just your luck that you would bump into your ex-fiancé, William, while visiting a bar in London with Ada. You were buzzing from the warmth of three sweet liquors and whatever else Ada insisted you try, and everything was starting to seem a little funny by the time he approached you.

He engaged in pleasantries, swishing his wine around the glass and sniffing it occasionally, like many pompous older men tended to do. There was only so much smiling you could afford before you caught your reflection in the freshly wiped bar and realized how poorly your acting skills were. Ada was no help, muttering something about finding a phonebooth and then slipping into the belated and boozed crowd. It was then that the supposed nectar in your glass began to taste like the cleaning products—that nose-scrunching stench. Thankfully, William was too involved in some tangent to notice you muffle a gag into your palm.

The dazzling hum in your ears muffled out all his words. In your drunken state, William appeared to be more confident than what you remembered, but you were unable to decipher whether it was from a change of heart or if he was trying to fall back in your good graces. Otherwise, you were blinded by the roaring bustle of the bar and the delicious swell of music that seemed to reverberate across your being.

Growing a little bored with William’s story, your attention wandered over his shoulder, still being sure to nod every now and then as if you were deeply pondering his words. Not far away from his side, a man seemed to linger—a man who was careful not to reach your eye. You must have laughed a little harder than usual because William turned sharply to the man at his side, gave him a quick once-over, then returned his attention to you, but by then it was too late, and you knew exactly what William’s relationship was with this man and where William’s confidence had come from.

“You’ll make a fine wife and a finer mother someday,” William quickly added.

You cursed the witch inside you, who laughed from her stomach and used his shoulder to steady herself. Once upon a time, that was all you longed to hear, but now, with a half-spilt martini in hand, you couldn’t care less. Both of you had found happiness despite your unconventional circumstances, and there was no more to it. You could close that chapter without any loose threads.

A little drunk, you thanked him, disappeared, and never thought of him again.

“I can’t do it, Ada,” you stressed, beginning to feel uncomfortable with the baby in your arms.

Motherhood came rumbling into your life like a rusty engine spitting out oil. ‘Instinctual’, the mothers down the lane from Arrow House had said, ‘it’s like your body has been preparing for it your whole life.’ How awful, you thought, and by the time one of them finished speaking about their experience with their first, your nose was so scrunched in disgust that you would need an iron to flatten out the wrinkles. It wasn’t until now that you longed to be in their shoes, because nothing came naturally to you.

“He’ll latch eventually; he’s just a little fussy,” Ada reassured.

“Is it supposed to hurt?”

“It’s perfectly normal.”

Then, after an hour of rubbing your sons back on the verge of tears, he finally began feeding from you. Ada soothed your back the whole time and cooed softly to calm both you and your unruly boy. Sometimes she brought Karl. He would obediently sit on her lap, playing with his wooden horse, while your little Charles fussed.

One time in the early morning, when you were up attempting to feed Charles, Tommy rushed in alert with disheveled hair and sunken eyes.

“Sorry,” you mouthed, deflated your hardworking husband had been disturbed from his sleep.

He ran his hands over his face and sighed. You mistook his action for frustration and desperately tried to hush your baby. Tommy moved over to the rocking chair where you sat, trying to feed little Charles in your arms.

“Don’t be sorry,” he whispered into the crook of your neck. “How is he?”

You flushed under the moonlight, suddenly embarrassed that your husband had caught you in this vulnerable position with the top of your slip peeled down. Your exposed skin hissed when he pressed a kiss against your pulse.

“I don’t think he likes me very much.”

Tommy inhaled sharply against your neck before resting his chin on your shoulder to peer down at Charles. Charles had settled since Tommy walked into the room, acutely aware of his father as his little hands made a grabbing motion for him. Diligently, Tommy relieved your arms of Charles and cradled him close to his chest. Within minutes, the little baby was gurgling happily and blinking in a way that suggested sleep was on the horizon after all.

Your husband didn’t dare make any sudden noise as he gently set Charles in his cradle. Once he was surely asleep, Tommy guided you up from the rocking chair and into your shared bedroom.

“See?” you hissed, still maintaining a soft voice, “he only wants you.”

Tommy wouldn’t hear any of it, pulling you into his arms as he sat on the edge of the mattress. Your slip was still pooled around your hips, so he took the opportunity to plant a kiss above your breasts, where your heart was.

“He loves you,” he drawled in that husky voice of his. “I know he does because I do.”

Your head ached, but you couldn’t help the way your body reacted to his words and touch. Tommy’s wandering hands teased the silk fabric that clung to your hips as you felt his nose trail down to your breast, where he kissed one of your aching nipples delicately. Suddenly hot, you hummed in delight, the back of his shorn scalp pleasant beneath your nails. A grunt, bathed in that musk of his devours your senses. Inhaling sharply, he took the bud between his full lips, sucking, licking, and nibbling gently while his hands explored further down. Your head lulled back from the pleasure, gasping and withering under his skilled tongue.

The next thing you knew, Tommy was tugging the rest of your silk slip off and reminding you of just how much he loved you.

“Charles! Come here!” Tommy called.

Your little boy loved to play in the backyard of Arrow House. Much like his father, Charles adored horses. Big ones, small ones, black ones, white ones—but most of all, he favored his Shetland pony. Tommy had brought it for Charles before he could even walk. He said something about it being important for his son to be raised around horses from a young age. And while you didn’t necessarily disagree, it still stressed you out to hold your baby so close to such a large, muscular animal. You knew the Arabian breeds spooked easily, so you steered clear of them and were able to keep Tommy and Charles happy.

But now he had grown up so fast and was able to run around on his own two legs, climb trees, and bruise his knees on the way down. The sun beat lovingly on the apples of his cheeks as he dirtied his trousers, kneeling by the fence to feed his Shetland (affectionately named Biscuit) hand-picked grass through the gaps.

“Charles! We’re leaving!” You called when he ignored his father.

Stubbornly, Charles spun around to pout his lip and cross his arms. He glared at you as threateningly as a five-year-old could. You bit your lip to hide your smile because he really did look like a little Tommy with those big blue eyes. It would only be a matter of time before he perfected his father’s stare. With a sigh, you shifted your daughter into Tommy’s arms before approaching Charles, who was picking angrily at the grass.

You reached a hand out toward him, "let's go.”

“No!”

“All right,” you said decisively, spinning around, “Ruby will have all the fun then.”

“No!” cried your little boy.

You stuck a hand up in surrender and started walking back to Tommy. “No, it’s all right.”

“No, no no no!” Came his protest, chasing behind you as the gravel crunched beneath his boots.

You paid no attention to him, keeping your eyes trained ahead, silently relieved that your ploy worked. Tommy watched on in amusement while Ruby suckled on her thumb, curiously watching her brother storm closer.

“You hear that, Ruby? We’re going to spoil you,” a short smile played on Tommy’s face as he adjusted her so that she sat comfortably on his hip.

“And me!” Charles added and gave his best pout.

“No, Charles, you said you didn’t want to go,” you reminded him, raising your eyebrows.

“I do! I do!”

“Hmm,” you thought aloud, and held a finger to your chin while looking to the sky in exaggerated contemplation. “Very well, but only if you get in daddy’s car right this instant.”

He climbed into the backseat of the Bentley without further fuss.

When all the bags were neatly packed in the back for the day’s festivities, Tommy came around your side to sit Ruby on your lap. Quickly, he leaned in to kiss you and pinch your cheek, which swelled into a glowing grin.

He smiled back and whispered low enough for only you to hear, “got him wrapped around your finger, eh?”

You laughed. “Him and a few other Shelby’s I know of.”

The thundering sound of music could be heard from outside the theater on the corner of Old Pauls. Inside, patrons mused between champagne, dancing, and making a display of their wealth by bidding on little trinkets. It was one of the many charity galas Tommy had to attend because of his new move into politics. Usually, you enjoyed dressing for those sorts of things, but tonight you simply weren’t feeling up to it. Maybe it was the drape of your dress not sitting right or the new leather shoes that still needed breaking in.

Your shimmering smile faded into the crowd as you snuck through the back door in your satin bordeaux dress. Old Pauls sat perched above the cemetery it was named after. Conveniently across the street from the buzz of the theater, it was airily quiet and stuck out from the rest of industrial Birmingham. Your heels clacked across the pavement as you wandered up and down the garden, glimpsing at stone angels and silver plaques. All you had to light your path were the streetlights and the moon.

Your diamond wedding ring twinkled under the stars as you stopped to trace a name. It was the same as your mother's, but with a different last name. Still, you always wondered what happened to her. Had she gotten married to another man and taken his name? You expected to shiver at the idea, but you found that thinking of her no longer unnerved you. She packed up the title of mother when she left you all alone in that cramped house.

Light spilled out onto the pavement across the street when the entrance to the theater swung open. A few men flew down the steps and split off in different directions. Thinking it odd, you remained crouched until they disappeared around their respective corners. That’s when you saw Tommy exit through the same doors, throwing a cigarette and wiping at his brow while he looked up and down the street. Quickly, you stood and waved your arm to get his attention. When he noticed, he stormed down the steps and stalked across the street and through the gates of Old Pauls over to you.

“I needed some air,” you spoke up before he could get a word in.

His eyes wildly flickered back and forth from yours in a frenzy. Under the moonlight, they looked almost translucent, and, save for a ghost of blue, his pupils were wide.

“Why the bloody hell are you out here, eh?” He demanded, gently shaking your head between his hands for emphasis while his eyebrows rose expectantly.

“It’s quieter.”

When he tilted his head to the sky and exhaled, your stomach dropped at the sight of blood. Your ears, which had been tuning out the music, flinched when a shrill cry from a woman rang out the theater doors. The music was gone, now replaced with screams as all the patrons rushed out, tripping over each other like it were a race. You turned back to Tommy, now as worried as the others.

“What the hell happened? Are you hurt?” You urged, gripping his white collar, now red, to inspect where the blood was coming from.

“Not mine,” he cleared his throat, grabbing the hand on his collar to tug you down the street.

The frame of your world stretched a little wider, like light pouring in through open shutters. Car doors slammed, and drivers honked at the agitated crowd who ran this way and that across the road.

“Where’s the fucking ambulance?” Shouted a man who took no care to avoid bumping into you.

You stumbled back, your hand slipping from Tommy’s on impact. Rage flickered across his features briefly, having noticed the man push through you, but he reconnected your hands and continued walking fast. When he reached the Bentley, he urged you inside, holding your hand the whole way until you were seated in the passenger seat.

“What the hell happened, Tommy?” You repeated as he slid into the driver’s seat.

“Someone got shot.”

Your eyes widened. “Are Polly and—”

“They’re fine.”

You sank back into your seat as the engine roared to life. Peaky Blinder’s followed the frenzied crowd, moving together like a pack of wolves onto the streets. They only parted to let Tommy’s Bentley through. Out the window, people were fighting and throwing fists as they all tried to escape the mayhem.

“Why aren’t they letting people through?” You asked after witnessing a Peaky Blinder block the road and refuse to let a car pass.

“Doesn’t matter.”

He never told you anything when it came to business. And although you suspected this was much more than the doing of the Shelby brothers, Tommy’s face never betrayed him. Simply put, if he didn’t want you to know, you wouldn’t.

“Would anyone want to follow us?”

“No.” He exhaled deeply, cleared his throat, and then reached to give your thigh a squeeze.

You knew it was a lie when his eyebrows rose. He only did that when he was worried. Your tongue remained pressed to the back of your teeth the entire ride home.

The howl of the wind whistled down into the valley of the gypsy camp Tommy had brought you and the children to.

“Pack your things,” he had said one night after storming through the front door of Arrow House, “we’re going on a trip.”

Charles and Ruby cheered, but you suspected something sinister beneath his intentions.

So, there you were, picking at the grass by your feet while you perched on the bottom step of the gypsy wagon Tommy parked beneath a tree for shade. He kept quiet for most of the ride, absorbed in leading the horse around loose gravel and stones, or rather, he led you to believe he was lost in concentration. Because, when it came down to it, you knew Tommy better than to assume nothing was wrong.

The past week, he had been acting different, jumpy even. He ran into the nursery during the early hours of the morning on edge, as if expecting something to be amiss. You tried interrogating him, but he brushed it off, insisting things were fine. Fine—you began detesting that word. Fine this, fine that, but if things were really fine, then why was he on edge?

Then came the bloodshot eyes and the slamming of his desk drawer when you entered the office. Only this time he couldn’t deny the unmistakable jingle of a bullet, which rattled in the wooden compartment like some sort of airy death chime.

A black hand. One for each Shelby. And since you were now one too, that meant neither you nor the children were subjected to any special treatment. A week, he said, a week for his family to clear up the business while he stayed here watching over you like a shepherd to his flock.

And watched he did, standing next to where you sat, he found peace observing Charles and Ruby as they chased each other around the overgrown field. There he remained for an hour or so, frighteningly still, the only motion being his sharp jaw chewing on a mint leaf, somewhat reminiscent of the soldier in your tent all those years ago. Next to him, tied to the tree, the black steed filled the silence with snorts and grazed favorably on the loose roots and grass patches.

“Ruby was crying this morning. She’s scared, Tom." You sighed.

Tommy hadn’t been there when you woke up that morning in the caravan. He returned shortly after, ominous as ever, just as Ruby had begun to settle.

He tossed the stalk of his mint leaf into the grass and offered you his hand. You looked up at him in question for a moment, slightly suspicious of his intentions. Nevertheless, you slid your hand into his, and he stood you up, sat down on the higher step, and pulled you between his legs to sit on the lower step. He hugged you from behind as he slouched to rest his head on your shoulder, then exhaled deeply.

“We will be home soon,” he whispered in your ear, brushing your knuckles tenderly.

“For how long? Until we get another bullet in the post?”

Tommy’s throbbing forehead found solace in the warmth of your neck.

“You’ve never been one to run,” you continued, “what’s bothering you? We took a vow that we would share everything.”

He nuzzled his nose deeper into your pulse.

Frustrated, you tried to get up, but he held you firmly against his chest.

“Italians.”

“Italians?”

“Italians sent the black hands.”

You waited in silence for more information, but more did not come.

“Speak to me, Thomas.”

“I don’t want you any more involved than you are.”

“They’ve sent death knocking on our door; how more involved could I be?”

Tommy moved methodically, licking his lips and clearing his throat. He squinted his eyes up at the glaring sun.

“It’s nothing you should be concerned about. I’ll keep us safe.”

“Nothing I should be concerned over, Thomas? Just how many people are we at war with?”

He didn’t answer, so you turned your head away from him. Charles and Ruby had since settled by a patch of flowers. Charles was crouched over, helping his sister gather all the yellow flowers for her yellow dress.

The tension broke the surface then.

“Why are you still fighting, Tom? Is this,” you nod to your children and breathe in the fresh air, “not enough?”

You pictured Arrow House and its lavish garden, one to compete with all the wealthy families down the lane. You thought of Arthur, John, Polly, Ada, and all his family that lived to see his success. Everything, from the thoroughbreds in the stable to the fancy cars. The money itself was a testimony to his drive. What more could the gangster of Birmingham want when he already had everything?

You had gone and worked yourself up now because the world seemed blurrier than before.

Tommy, still on his guard, guided your chin to your shoulder so he could kiss the tears away. “It is enough.”

“Then make it enough. You’re respectable now, so stop the fighting.” Your voice broke at the end.

He hung his forehead on your shoulder. Like a flower sheltered away from the sun, Tommy wilted when he was away from his business. Usually, you were a strong enough light to keep him going, but whatever business he had gotten himself into was poisoning him, and ever the addicted flower, he kept running out to the fields, continuing to drink in the sunlight until it was too much and turned his leaves brow. Because business was what occupied his mind day and night, he was unable to turn the cogs of the engine off and let the air out of the tires.

A hand brushes your hair away to kiss the spot beneath your ear, airing out the destructive thoughts.

God, you loved him anyway. An overpowering feeling that ruled over calculating minds like Tommy’s and faint hearts like yours. You were no better than him—both addicted to a little sunlight.

The framed photographs on the wall shook as your third-eldest slammed the door to her room closed.

“I hate you!” She cried from the other side.

Your husband, Tommy, sighed to the ceiling, then stalked past you to his study, no longer interested in anything your daughter had to say. They had been at it for the last ten minutes arguing over some boy she was seeing, and your ears were just about ringing having witnessed it from the sidelines. You were left there in the hallway, an unwilling participant in the unspoken feud between father and daughter, and you understood that whoever you went to console would take it that you were siding with them, even though you just wanted to keep your family together.

Going to your daughter was the instinctive answer, but you knew she needed time to cool off. Tommy was the only reasonable choice.

You knocked on the door to his office before letting yourself in.

“Come to lick my wounds, eh?” He mused while smoking a cigarette.

Your lips wormed into a thin line. “This needs to stop, Tom.”

“Yeah,” he said, tapping the ash into his tray, “it will fucking stop.” He points with his cigarette, “I’ll make it fucking stop.”

You sighed. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

The chair screeched as he stood. “I’m her father, and if I say she can’t see that boy, she can’t. It’s only a childish fling; she’ll get over it.”

He poured a whiskey and downed it by the time you walked around his desk so that you were face-to-face with him.

“They’re in love, Tommy.”

“Yeah?” He scoffed. “Well, that can be undone.”

You held his glare, a challenge lighting in your own. “So easily, you think?”

He paused mid-drag, catching onto the underlying meaning in your words. “No,” he said, setting the cigarette down in the ash tray and grabbing your shoulders. “Don’t act like that.”

“Act like what?”

“Like you’re threatening our love over some fucking boy that’s charmed our daughter. They’re too young.”

“He’s sweet.”

“Oh, sweet and nice, I’m sure. But he’ll have no place in this house.”

“Why?”

“Why? Because I fucking said so!” He spat.

“Don’t yell at me.”

“Or what? You’ll leave me?” He huffed in amusement. “You won't; you love me too much.”

“You’re so certain?”

He paused for a moment and stared at you as if he couldn’t believe what you had said.

“Yeah, because we still fuck like two people who love each other, eh? And you’ve not told me no before, so if the day comes and your body no longer wants mine, then I’ll be worried. But until then, don’t test me with empty threats." His face hardened.

He knew you like the back of his hand. All bark, no bite. You loved him inexplicably, even after all these years, gray hairs and all. His face, body, and soul nourished you until you were satiated and full. And even if his eyebrows furrowed at times, you were willing to bet that it was for aesthetic, a shapely shadow gathered over the years from being the stoic leader the Peaky Blinders and Shelby family needed. How could you fault him for it?

Because, at the end of the day, you were a team. Even if he played the role of an overprotective father a bit too convincingly, he only ever wanted what was good for your daughter. Everything he worked for, ultimately, was for his family. A family man. And that came with its virtues and vices because, despite what Tommy thought, he wasn’t perfect; no one was.

Shrinking under his hands, you breathed a sigh and appeased him. “End this feud, Tom. Find peace with her. I don’t care what you do, but by the end of it, I expect to be able to sit down at the dinner table without having to beg my husband and daughter to look up from their plates.” You stroked his hands, which held your shoulders, and finally blinked up at him.

A haze of softness swept across his glare and melted the glaciers to a thin sheen of blue. The seams of exhaustion frayed one by one through his muscles. He nodded, licked his lips, and leaned down for a kiss of absolution. Not entirely prepared to surrender, you tilted your head so that he found the corner of your mouth instead.

“It will be done, love.” He brushed the apples of your cheeks tenderly. “And by tonight,” his voice lowered, “I promise you’ll forget all about it.”

Only then did you accept his kiss, eager to put the grievance to rest. Tommy, on the other hand, had other plans and stepped forward so that you were pinned between his desk and hips. He quickly began to gather your skirts above your waist, but you pulled away just as fast at the hiss of air against your exposed skin. An unsolicited gasp escaped his mouth when your knee brushed him there, and you sucked your bottom lip between your teeth, looking deep into his eyes.

“Promise me you won’t break her heart. She might not be old enough now, but I don’t want you to put her off love forever,” you caressed his jaw.

“No,” he agreed, breathier than usual, flexing the hands that were still caught up in the fabric of your skirt.

“And our Daisy may never say it, but I know she loves you dearly. So please, Tom, be gentle with her. I don’t want her to grow up despising you. Tell her you love her, kiss her forehead, hug her.”

He deflated, and you watched him swallow his pride. Cogs turned against the sweltering lust, threatening to deplete the clever thoughts in that powerful head of his in favor of your careful touch. Please, please, please, you begged without uttering a word; agree with me on this, Tom.

Tommy leaned back down to rest his forehead on yours; his face gave nothing away. You were sure he had found something to say, which would make you feel like a fool for asking. However, when you embraced those faint subtleties of emotion flickering across his face like candlelight, so miniscule you might blink and miss it, you found nothing of the sort to suggest any hostile nature. Because Tommy loved you.

“I will.”

A/N: Tried doing a long one shot, what does everyone think? Yay or nay? Comment to be added to the tag list!

Taglist: @maliceofwonderland , @fairytale07 , @goblinjnr , @ilovepeoplesdads , @multidimensionalslut

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lawchwan · 3 months ago

Text

the man of my romance book (ace)

summary: just ace giving you the most mind-blowing sex requested: @weasleyjumpeer reader: fem!reader disclaimer: piv, references of stalking, reader wears glasses and reads books, squirting, very rushed, reader is slightly shorter than ace, confusing timeline wtf, references of cunnilingus, Ace is referenced to have a big dick (but nothing's explicit about it because it's about technique, not size), unprotected sex-reader might get pregnant uh oh!, manhandling, dirty talking, references of filming/recording, did i mention that it's lowkey rushed... i'm sorry genre: smut a/n: hi, hello... its been a minute... so i had multiple factors on why i disappeared, one being that i am a busy woman with a job, went through the loss of a dear family member and other factors I don't want to get into. furthermore, i had a draft ready for this, and i accidentally deleted it, which led to me losing my shit and motivation. but here i am rn, and i hope i don't disappoint thanks to my hiatus. I do sincerely apologize, however, to keep you waiting for three—almost four months. i hope you enjoy this piece :)

crossposted on ao3

The night bloomed with the moon's gleaming essence shining through the room as it highlighted the discarded clothes thrown due to the immense desperation and lust shared by the two individuals who had known each other not too long, yet not too short.

Ace has had his eyes on you for so long, his friends and crew were just mere muffled background sounds, as you were sat across his with a book laid in front of you on the other side of the cafe. His gaze juxtaposes admiration and lust, with your figure, your hair, your perfect skin, and your facial expressions when the little words on the stack of papers cause you to react subtly, he has been examining you.

Unbeknownst to him, you did catch up to his examination and tried your best to keep your attention away from him. But how could you? You would be lying if you said he wasn't candy to your eyes. Shirtless with tattoos painted all over his body, cowboy hat that concealed the greasy top of his long curly hair, manspreading with his arms splayed across the booth seat behind him and his crew, freckles that can be seen from afar that speckled across his face; he was the embodiment of the protagonist you would read in your dark romance.

His crew set sail on your island for a while and you would see him frequently, wherever you went, it was guaranteed that he'd be there, almost as if he was intentionally stalking you and knew where you were going.

Still, though, you kept your eyes on your book, not giving him the satisfaction of providing him the attention he sought and instead hoping he could grow the courage to come over and ask for a date, or a good fuck.

Ace suddenly stood up, eyes still glued to you, causing his crew to look up at him curiously, as he moved out of his seat and walked over to you, almost like you've entranced him to come over without looking at him.

You sensed a tall presence looming in front of you, resulting you in getting out of the reading world and going back to reality to meet with the fine man standing in front of him. You two held eye contact, almost like you’ve unintentionally entered a staring contest, waiting for one of you to speak. Ace gaped his mouth, wanting to say something but his voice failed him as it cracked, making him clear his throat and scratch his neck, his flustered pink tones radiated up to the surface of his tan skin. You began laughing as you covered your mouth, making Ace’s skin crawl in embarrassment.

“God dammit, I fucked up,” Ace thought to himself, nerves getting the best of him. He should have walked away and faced the music of mockery from his crew, but what he didn’t expect was you extending your hand, signaling him to sit while you pushed the seat away with your foot.

Ace looked down at the chair and then back at you, bemused like a dog getting a new command from its owner, before sitting down while you simply closed the book and put it in your bookbag. You smiled at him as Ace nervously tried to recollect himself.

“Sorry, I am not usually one to stumble on my words… or go through a second puberty,” He muttered the last sentence, in an attempt to make it incoherent for you, yet you heard him loud and clear, making you chuckle in response.

“Don’t be too hard on yourself, besides, I think that voice crack was adorable,” You teased, making Ace scoff back at you. You got closer, placing your arms on the table, extending your arm for a handshake, making Ace look down at the hand then back up at your beautiful yet alluring smile.

“I’m (Y/N)”

The curly-haired pirate reached out and shook your hand back, mirroring your grin.

“I’m Ace, but I guess you know that already, since y’know…” He shifted his eyes and cocked his head, which you nodded back as you scrunched your face with a smile as you found him endearing right then and there, pirate or no pirate, he was adorable.

—

Adorable.

Time passed and you once thought he was adorable, and he was, but you assumed he was a nervous wreck with a deceiving look. You certainly didn’t mind breaking his shell, but he certainly exceeded your expectations when he slowly leaned in to kiss you when he wanted to drop you off from your guys’ date. You were astonished by how good his lips were on yours, for a nervous fellow, he sure kisses like he isn’t. When he pulled away, your lips were chasing after his, causing him to smirk as he held your chin firmly, almost like he caught you underestimating him.

“I can do more if you want to, but I’ll save it for another time…” He husked his voice, as he teasingly leaned in, running his thumb across your bottom lips before he leaned back and walked away backward.

“Good night, babe,” His departure almost felt like a mixture of goading yet exhilarating anticipation of what’s to come the next time you see him.

He might be the death of you.

—

Some more time has passed and the term “adorable” is not a word you would give at the moment when he has you wrapping your legs around his hips as he carries you to your bedroom with his lips attached to yours with sheer fervor. As soon as you mentioned that you lived alone, Ace jumped at the opportunity to get closer to you however he wanted. It was a risky move from your end, letting know a man you knew.

He has you where he wanted you to be as you are to his. You gripped the back of his neck and tugged on the hairs revealed from his cowboy hat. With the feverish atmosphere, his hat was tipped back to his back as he pushed you onto a wall and began his attack on your neck. You gasped a beautiful sound that Ace intentionally tried to extract as he nipped on the sweet spot by your neck, making you throw your head back as you began to let out breathy moans.

Ace pulled back and looked down at you, his freckled face was flushed with desire while his eyes had lust and plead shown between his bangs as he pants.

“Where’s your bedroom?” Ace whispered, lips still close to yours and his thirst was quenching the more he looked at you in your most lustful state. You told him where it was through your huffed tone and he didn’t hesitate to carry you into the bedroom before he threw you into the bed with such strength.

He carried you and threw you onto the mattress like you weighed nothing—it seemed as though his muscular physique was not for show after all. You were astonished by his roughhousing, yet he left you no room to react as he pinned you down onto the bed, his large hands encapsulating your wrists with his lips remaining attached to your lips. Your breaths were shaken with anticipation as his lips began their exploration across your soft skin. He tongued from your jaw down to your collarbone, while his calloused fingers reached for the hem of your shirt and began lifting it to expose any skin. With your shirt out of the way, his lips began attacking your body again, this time he began grazing his teeth around the soft skin of your breasts, just above your bra line. You arched your back to allow room for him to reach around and remove your bralette, only for him to pull away, hold onto the fabric, and begin ripping it from the center, leaving the piece ripped in half. You gasped at the sudden motion while he just groaned at the sight of you sprawled half-naked with eyes wide and blown with desire.

“Oh, fuck, baby…” He growled, before reaching down again and began open mouth kissing your supple breasts, making you whine at the exhilarating sensation of his warm mouth around your nipple.

“Ace…~” You breathed with hooded eyes as Ace roamed lower with his hands following along, goosebumps arising from your skin. Ace didn’t respond immediately instead he just smirked looking up at you teasingly as he nipped at your mound.

“Hold on, baby… we’ll be here all night, I just want to give this sweet…” Ace paused looking down at your breasts again and began kissing the side of it and massaging it before leaning onto the other breasts to give it the same attention, “Breasts of yours some love… you’ll let me right?”

—

And some love your breast was given by him, and he meant it.

And many more, as time passed and Ace showed no sign of stopping. His gapped and moaning mouth was covered with nothing but your sweet nectar while his rough hands were gripping your hips as he was thrusting into you at such a pace no man could maintain. His hair fell forward while his necklace swayed along with the beat of his thrusts. Your legs spread as you began screaming out his name while the tip hit a pleasurable spot you never thought existed, a promise that Ace had mentioned while he was getting ready to eat you out.

“I’ll make sure your neighbors know of me as the guy who fucks you good instead of a criminal, no good pirate,” he chuckles darkly as he placed himself between your legs, face inches away from your glistening pussy, “I know you like that shit, I know girls like you would love to be fucked by pirates who do nothing but wreak havoc, am I right, pretty girl? Tell me I’m right because I know I am…”

And Ace maintained that promise as you attempted to cover your face with a pillow due to the volume you were producing thanks to Ace’s rough yet pleasurable thrusts, only for him to chuck the pillow across the room with such aggression and grounds your wrist onto the mattress, leaving you no room to wiggle yourself away.

“No, no, baby, I need to hear you, I need to hear you become a mess for me.” Ace gritted his teeth as he groaned out strings of curse words while you were calling out his name like a prayer.

“Oo~ Ace~ Fuck yes!” You whimpered as the heated sensation was enflaming your insides—a funny correlation with having fire fist Ace ramming his hard cock into your pussy. A pussy that craved nothing but a specific type of pleasure that only a man like Ace can achieve, a one-of-a-kind man, and Ace knew of that and he relishes the fact that your body craves him and him only.

Even though you two don’t know each other for long, you gave him a sense of confidence no girl ever gave him. He knows he’s a good lover, but you made him a lover that a pornstar would envy to have. Especially with how you were writhing underneath him, whimpering out begs and his name.

Ace…

Oo fuck me, Ace~

Sounds like he would love to have recorded, it’s a shame he left his den den mushi somewhere in the apartment and a camera back on the ship, he would have used it to his advantage.

The sounds of squelching skin-to-skin sounds, dubbed with your combined moans of pleasure were music to Ace’s ears, especially with how you were approaching your orgasm.

“I’m—fuck—I’m coming!” You whined out as your moans started to border onto panting, making Ace hit a deeper spot as he tried to keep with your pace. He nodded with a smirk as he panted out, “Same here, baby… come on, come for me and I’ll come for you…”

And with those words, you arched your back as Ace sent you to a space where you could only see white with how you rolled your eyes, thanks to the overwhelming pleasure he had put you through. Ace nearly fell on top of you as he landed on your shoulder, biting onto it as he came inside of you. After the two of you began catching your breaths, Ace pulled away to look at you before he placed his forehead and gave you strings of passionate kisses.

He pulled away, not after you bit his bottom lip to bring him back close to you, making him chuckle. You smiled up at him shyly as he just looked at you with such glamor and adoration.

“Wow… no one has ever fucked me like this…” You whispered, making Ace snort out a laugh as he shook his head, “You thought it was over?” Ace responded with a menacing smile on his face.

You widened your eyes, he fucked you this good, and there’s still more?

Your shock state unsettled Ace, his smirk dropped due to the lack of response, “unless you want us to stop—”

“No!” You exclaimed, making Ace flinch and you tight-lipped your mouth shut after you made a fool of yourself. Thankfully, Ace only chuckled and kissed your lips, the intention undetected yet the ardent intensity was present.

“You’re so cute,” Ace comments after pulling away from the kiss. He pulls himself up, only to look down at the scenery below him with a gasped delight. Your eyes followed his, and there you saw was a puddle of your essence staining your bedsheet, mixing with Ace’s pearly cum that fell out your pollen.

You gasped as you felt a rush of embarrassment coursing through you, yet you oddly had no sense of shame in your system. You looked up at Ace, shyly, hoping he doesn’t give you a reason to feel otherwise. Thankfully he leaned in again with another feverish kiss, before pulling back with a smirk, lips barely touching.

“Want us to create more of a mess in the shower? The floor? Or more on the bed? Anything you want, baby, because I’m not done…”

And you hoped it wouldn’t end anytime soon…

characters are owned by oda. i will not tolerate nor accept translation, reposts on other websites, or plagiarism. divider made by mmadeinheavenn.

#one piece headcanons #one piece smut #one piece x reader #portgas d ace x reader #ace smut #ace fic #one piece ace #ace x reader #portgas d ace smut #portgas ace x reader #portgas ace x you #portgas d ace x you #portgas d ace x y/n

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honeyedmiller · 9 months ago

Text

A Burning Desire part three

firefighter!joel x f!reader

series masterlist

rating: 18+, minors dni.

warnings: joel miller au, firefighter!joel, reader feels anxious for a bit, feelings, fluff, the miller brothers line dancing (that deserves its own warning bc whew... anyway), the cowboy hat rule!!!, slight smut (joel and reader get touchy and rub up on each other, making out, fingering), no use of y/n.

word count: 5.6k

synopsis: joel invites you over for a barbecue, and you end up unexpectedly meeting sarah while also rekindling with someone from your past. it isn’t until you talk about joel aloud to someone who isn’t your sister that you realize how deeply you feel for him.

a/n: thank u to @endlessthxxghts for letting me brainstorm about this chapter, and giving me the cowboy hat rule idea... ;)

You were nervous.

Nervous as hell.

The slightly anxious part of you wanted so desperately to back out of today’s plans, but you promised Joel you’d be at his place.

He was throwing a barbecue at his house and had invited you, and originally, Sarah wasn’t supposed to be there. Her friend got sick, so she ended up staying home.

You hadn’t known Joel for more than a month at this point, and the prospect of meeting his daughter and being introduced as the “woman he’s been dating but not quite his girlfriend” terrified you.

The last thing you wanted was for Sarah to dislike you, because you couldn’t bear the thought of the one person in Joel’s life who’s opinion mattered most to him not being very fond of you.

Joel said she’d been okay with him dating and only wanted to see him happy, but wasn’t it too soon? The last thing you wanted was to wedge yourself between the father-daughter duo.

Then again, your feelings for Joel had hit you full-force, and you were in it with him—for him. You’d cried to your sister over the phone about being scared of feeling things too fast, but she reassured you: if you know, you know.

Nobody has ever made you feel the way Joel makes you feel. Your thoughts may’ve been repetitive with what you felt, but that’s how you knew you were so sure about him. He was a breath of fresh air in a place full of smoke (no pun intended).

You were just worried what Sarah would think. Some might think it’s ridiculous to let a fourteen-year-old’s opinion matter so much in this circumstance, but that girl was Joel’s whole world. Her opinion of you mattered and could quite literally make or break your relationship with Joel.

You’d be devastated if it didn’t work out.

You nervously tapped on the steering wheel as you stopped at the last stop sign before turning onto Joel’s street.

The quaint neighborhood just outside of the city was chalk-full of cookie cutter homes, looking like it belonged in a friendly neighborhood magazine.

Several cars were parked in front of his house, but he’d texted you to park in his driveway beside his truck. It was sweet that he saved that spot for you. Another truck was parked in the driveway as well, and you assumed by default that it was Tommy’s.

You grabbed the tray of cookies out of the passenger seat after you’d gotten out and smoothed your sundress to straighten it out. Joel said everyone at the firehouse loved your cookies, especially him and Tommy, so you made them as a surprise to bring for a dessert option today.

Nerves coursed through your veins as you made your way up the front steps of his porch, ringing the doorbell. The chime went off in the house with a muffled “I’ll get it!” coming from the other side of the door.

A few seconds later, the door opened and you were met with a smiling Tommy.

“Hey there sweetheart, c’mon in.” He stepped aside and you thanked him as you entered the house. It was your first time over, so you took a second to take in your surroundings.

Many family photos clung neatly to the walls, the leather couches in the living room adorned with quilted blankets, an array of DVD’s scattered around the entertainment center, a well-worn but gorgeous coffee table that sat atop the huge area rug, and the mantle above the fireplace full of trinkets from past trips and a few of Sarah’s soccer trophies.

You smiled as you took in the scene before you, really admiring how cozy the home looked. It looked lived in and well loved, and it was all very much Joel. Simple, yet homey and functional.

“Ooh, are those the same cookies you made for us back at the firehouse?” Tommy motions to the tray in your hand, bringing you back to present time.

“They are. Thought I’d surprise you and Joel with these again.” You laugh as Tommy’s eyes light up, leading you to the kitchen.

“Don’t blame me if these are all gone by the end of the night. You should give your recipe to Sarah. She loves to bake.” He groans as he takes a cookie from the tray, biting into it.

You have to stifle a laugh at his genuine reaction. You knew your cookies were decent, but not as good as the Miller brothers made them out to be.

“Speaking of, where’s your counterpart?” You teasingly ask, too shy to go into the backyard and introduce yourself to the array of people chatting and having a good time.

You didn’t do too well in new settings, so it would take you a little while to warm up.

“Ah, he’s cookin’ on the grill.” Tommy jerks his head toward the sliding glass door that leads out the backyard, and you follow in his footsteps as you walk up to the main man of the gathering.

“Oh Jooooeeellll,” Tommy calls out with you in tow, “Found your girlfriend for ya.” He teases, and your heart skips a beat at that. You’re just dating the man. It wasn’t anything official yet, and somehow it just seemed so fitting.

Joel didn’t correct Tommy either, which you took note of as his gaze averted to yours. A smile immediately spread onto his lips and he pulled you into a hug, kissing your forehead. You took a second to study the contrast of his tan skin against the white linen shirt he was wearing with the first few buttons undone, and the Raybans that sat comfortably on his face. You held in a groan, because fuck he looked so good, once again. Does this man ever look bad?

“Hey baby.”

Your face heats at the public display of affection, but it dawned on you that he was never trying to hide you or keep you a mystery like you were doing to him.

Well, your sister knew about him of course, but everyone else in your family didn’t have the faintest idea. They were too overbearing sometimes, and you wanted to be official with Joel before you even said a word to anyone about him.

“Hi handsome. I brought some cookies but left them inside. Thought I could surprise you again with them.” You grin at him, and he smiles as he pulls you into his side.

“I’m gonna let you two lovebirds have a moment to yourselves. Gonna go find my lady and introduce you to her.” Tommy pretends to tip an invisible cowboy hat and sends a wink your way. You huff a laugh and shake your head at his wit.

“He always that charismatic?” You question, and Joel laughs.

“It’s even worse when he’s drunk.” He rolls his eyes, and you bury your smile in his bicep. You wrap your arm around his back as you watch him work the grill, flipping hamburgers and chicken that are seasoned to perfection.

“‘M glad you could make it today, darlin’. Was startin’ to miss ya real bad. Those twenty four hour shifts kick my ass, I tell ya.” He sighs and gives your body a light, playful shake.

“Of course, Joel. I missed you too.” You gave his shoulder a kiss before Tommy called your name to avert your attention to him. Your eyes flit to the woman he has his arm wrapped around, and your eyes widen in shock.

“This is my girl–”

“Maria?” You interrupt Tommy, and her smile spreads wide.

“Oh my god! Hey you! How long has it been?” She’s laughing as you two embrace each other while the Miller brothers give each other a confused glance.

“Four years I think? How are you?” You grin, separating from her, holding onto her forearms.

“Wow I can’t believe it’s been that long. I’m great! Just dealing with this guy over here,” She juts her chin over to Tommy, and his eyes flicker between you two.

“Sooo you two know each other?” He asks, and you both laugh in unison.

“We used to work together at the same company. Our cubicles were across from each other.” Maria explains, and you nod along.

“Well I’ll be damned. Small world!” Tommy grins, patting Joel on the back harshly. Joel glares at his brother and rolls his eyes, turning back to the grill to take the food off and place it into the foil pans next to him.

“Dad, is the food done yet? You hear a voice call, and you stiffen up immediately. Maria notices your change in demeanor and gives your arm a squeeze of reassurance, which you exchange for a weak smile.

A curly-haired girl with bright green eyes comes into view. He turns to look at her and nods, motioning to the foil pans.

“Lemme fix you up a plate. But first, I want you to meet someone.” He says, and he holds his hand out to you. Maria releases your arm so you can step forward and grab Joel’s hand, and Sarah’s bright green eyes meet your gaze.

“This is the woman I’ve been datin’. Darlin’, this is my daughter Sarah.”

You extend your hand to her with a sincere smile, hoping she didn’t pick up on your nerves.

“Ah, so you’re the woman my dad can’t stop talking about!” She laughs, flashing you her gorgeous smile.

“Oh really?” You quirk an eyebrow up and look at Joel, nudging him playfully.

He raises his hands in defense, “Guilty as charged.” You huff a laugh at Joel and shift your gaze back to Sarah.

“It’s nice to meet you. I’ve heard so much about you as well.”

“Do you mind if I steal her for a second, dad?” Sarah asks, and you can’t help but feel extremely anxious. You genuinely don’t think a fourteen year old has ever made you so frazzled with nerves like this before.

You follow her to the lounge chairs by the pool, taking a seat across the one she sat in.

She slaps her thighs with her hands, a small smile evading her lips.

“So,” She starts, seemingly collecting her thoughts. “This isn’t some ‘what are your intentions with my dad’ intervention, I promise. But, like, I really hope you’re serious about him.” She looks at you with apprehension in her eyes, and you’re a bit taken aback by her words.

You could’ve guessed this was coming. Judging from what Joel has told you about their relationship, it was only fitting that she’d be so protective of him.

“I’ve seen him get hurt before. Not just by what my mother did, but with other women, too. I honestly think you’re the first woman who didn’t skip out on him after finding out he has a kid.”

“That would never make me run. Your bond with your father is something that’s so strong, and I would never want to come between that. I can promise you that your dad has a better chance at breaking my heart than I do breaking his.”

“He won’t. He’s a good man and he deserves someone kindhearted like you. I can tell you are. I’m glad you two found each other. I haven’t seen him this happy and relaxed in… a long time.” Sarah laughs, and you can’t help but smile at her admission.

“I pinky promise I’ll treat him great. He’s a real special guy, and I like him a lot.” You hold your pinky out to her, and with a beaming smile, she hooks her pinky with yours and gives it a little shake.

“I know. It’s just nice to finally see him getting his feelings reciprocated back to him. Most women only romanticize the uniform he wears and not the person he actually is.”

“Well, I gotta say, they all definitely missed out on an amazing man.” And part of you was thankful for that, which is something you didn’t want to admit aloud.

Because if it weren’t for those women in his past that didn’t work out with him, you would’ve never had a chance with him. You glance over at Joel, and he was chatting with some other guests. You couldn’t help admire him and his calm, happy demeanor.

As if he senses you looking, he turns his head in your direction to meet your gaze and winks. You offer him a soft smile before turning back to Sarah.

“They are, but something tells me you’re here to stay. Not saying that to like, I don’t know, scare you off or anything, but you and him really do make a nice couple.”

“Actually,” You huff a laugh and glance over at him once more, “He hasn’t asked me to be official or anything yet. I am here for the long haul, though, and I want you to know that I respect you and your relationship with your dad. I wouldn’t ever want to overstep any boundaries.”

Sarah groans and huffs, rolling her eyes as she looks over at Joel. “This man, I swear. Want me to yell at him for you?” The mischievous glint in her eye tells you she would actually do so.

You shake your head with a laugh, and she puts her hand on your shoulder as she leans forward.

“Also, you don’t need to worry about overstepping. It’s… nice having someone else around. I appreciate you saying you respect our relationship, though. Dad was always apprehensive about bringing women over because my opinion means so much to him. You’ve got my approval in the bag, though.”

“I appreciate that, Sarah. I’m sorry if meeting me was too soon or awkward for you. I wasn’t expecting to exchange pleasantries today.” She grins and waves her hand between your bodies at your words.

“Nonsense. I’ve been pretty excited to meet you, seeing as you have my dad crushing like a teenage boy again. I just want him to be happy, and I know he is with you.” She throws her arm over your shoulders, and you immediately reciprocate the hug.

Admitting to Sarah that you were in this for the long haul even shocked you. It’s not that you didn’t want to be, but your love life in the past hasn’t exactly been to your liking. Joel is different, though, and seeing that he has people in his corner who love and care about him tells you that they’d go to great lengths to protect him.

It was crystal clear that both of you wanted whatever was going on between you two. You were apprehensive to put your all into it.

You’ve been known to pull back when things got serious. It was a defense mechanism to protect your heart and peace.

You knew you were falling, but the million dollar question still remained: would Joel catch you?

You were pulled out of your thoughts when Sarah separated herself from you.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.” She says, and she coaxes you to follow her back to the grill where Joel and Tommy stood.

“Everythin’ good?” Joel asks, slinging his arm around your shoulder. You nod and offer him a smile.

You were about to go after you plated your food, but Joel shook his head and gently pulled you back to him.

“Uh uh, where you goin’?” He has a goofy grin on his lips as he pulls you in, giving you a kiss. You can’t help but laugh against his lips and gently push him away.

“There’s people here, Joel!” You playfully tsk, and he squints his eyes.

“What, I can’t kiss my girl?”

My girl. The phrase made butterflies swirl in your stomach and heat to rise to your face.

“Never said that, but technically, I’m not your girl yet.” You quirk an eyebrow at him.

Tommy laughs and nudges Joel, “Damn brother, you haven’t asked her to be official yet? Hell’s wrong with ya? Hop to it!”

“Coming from someone who didn’t settle down until like a year ago. Shut up you little shit.” Joel huffs, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Was watin’ for the right one! Then this beauty changed my life in the best way possible and put me in my place,” Tommy pulls Maria into his side, kissing her cheek. She rolls her eyes and nudges him playfully, walking back into the house before Tommy points at you. “‘N this missy right here is gonna do the exact same for ya. Don’t be ‘fraid to put him in his place, sweetheart, he needs it.” Tommy howls with laughter as Joel glares at him.

“So fuckin’ dramatic.” Joel mumbles under his breath.

“So what, you don’t want me to put you in your place?” You’re enjoying seeing him squirm a little as your hand traces circles over the white linen that clings to his back.

“Nah, it ain’t that. You can put me in my place anytime, baby.” He winks, and you immediately pick up on the innuendo behind his voice.

“You’re fighting with fire, Mr. Miller.” You murmur to him, and his hand moves down to your ass to give it a subtle, playful squeeze.

“‘S my job, baby.”

“Don’t think this is one you can put out.” You wink at him before walking away to join Maria in the house.

“Okay, you have to tell me everything,” Maria situates herself on the couch with a glass of wine. You sit down next to her and tuck your legs under yourself, smoothing your dress out before leaning your head on your fist. “How in the world did you and Joel become a thing? What happened to that one guy that you used to tell me about?”

You laugh at her enthusiasm toward your love life, inhaling a deep breath before diving into the story about your shitty ex and all the stupid trust issues he gave you. He really did a number on you, which is why you were so content with being single and thriving. You told Maria that you kept your guard up to protect yourself and your heart, because the last thing you wanted was to give your all to someone once again, only to be burned. Maria put her hand on your knee as a reassuring smile spread across her lips.

“Honey, I can promise you that that man standing out there has it bad for you. Doesn’t matter how long you’ve been seeing each other. I can see it in the way he looks at you,” Your gaze trails out to the backyard as Joel sips on a beer, talking with Tommy and a few others who you presume are the neighbors before Maria’s voice pulls your attention back to her, “Joel is a good man, and despite the way you both have been hurt in the past, you still both found each other and gave this,” She waves her hands to gesture between you and him, “A chance. Lord knows that man could use a good woman like you in his life.”

You felt the sting behind your eyes immediately. Maria’s words were nothing short of assuring, and she smiles as you wipe your tears with a small laugh.

“Baby, just because you finally got the flame on your candle to burn bright again, doesn’t mean he’s going to dim yours. His is finally strong on its own, too. I know that you’re so independent and you’ve been used to it for some time now, but let his flame make yours even stronger. You can be stronger together.”

And you knew she was right. The clarity blindsided you, but you got your answer: Joel would one hundred percent, undoubtedly catch you.

A few hours later, the sun had started to set and the neighbors went back to their respective homes, leaving you, Maria, Tommy, Joel and Sarah left. You and Maria insisted you help clean up even though Joel and Tommy both told you it wasn’t necessary. You both waved them off and got everything put away and washed in less than an hour.

Maria refilled her glass of wine as you poured yourself one and both went to settle back onto the couch, Joel and Tommy in tow. Sarah came running down the stairs and up to Joel, a pleading look strewn across her features.

“Kelly invited me over to a night swim and slumber party. Can I go? Please?” She had a hopeful look as she clasped her hands together to shake them, silently begging Joel to say yes.

“I thought she was sick?” He asked, running his hands over the stubble on his chin.

“No dad, Sasha is the one that’s sick.”

You tried to stifle a laugh at her ‘duh’ tone, so you just bit your lip and stared at him. He sighed and looked at you, his demeanor changing in the slightest.

“Sure, but please check in with me every few hours or so. Do I need to drop you off?” He asks, resting his beer bottle on his thigh.

“Thank you!” She throws her arms around him, and he grunts as he returns the hug. “No, Kelly’s mom offered to pick me up. She can drop me back off tomorrow, too.” She says, and before Joel can get another word in, she rushes back upstairs.

Joel sighs as he leans back into the couch, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Teenagers.” He grumbles, taking a swig of his beer. You pat his thigh and lean into him, giving him a smile.

“Well now that it’s just goin’ to be adults, why don’t we get the real party started,” Tommy wiggles his brows, and all three of you look at him in confusion. “‘S a joke, people. Sheesh. How ‘bout some music, though.” He connects his phone to the speaker sitting on one of the shelves, playing a mix of late 90’s and country music.

Joel finds himself leaning into you as one of his hands slips below the hem of your dress, drawing circles into the skin of your thigh. His touch sends a shiver down your spine and he looks at you with a quirked brow, clearly pleased with your reaction to his touch.

You got turned on so easily now. It wasn’t fair. Just one look alone from the older Miller brother could have your panties around your ankles in milliseconds, and you truly weren’t above begging him to touch you.

The smug smirk on his face told you he knew it, too, but you both agreed to take things slow. You couldn’t even remember why you agreed to such a thing, because the tension between you two had been through the roof since your date at the fair. You truly didn’t know how much self restraint you had.

Maria’s laugh had ripped through your thoughts, earning your undivided attention.

“No way. I don’t believe you.” She says, laughing at Tommy.

“‘S true! Joel and I are a couple ‘a Austin’s finest line dancers.” Tommy shrugs, looking over at Joel.

“Those days are long over, brother.” Joel groans, leaning his head back onto the couch.

“Bullshit. Betcha still know how to dance to Brooks & Dunn.”

“Even if I did—”

“C’mon cowboy, show us what you got.” You tease, and Joel shakes his head.

“Mm mm. Won’t do it unless you ladies do it with us.” He negotiates, and your eyes flit to Maria who smiles upside down and shrugs her shoulders.

“Wouldn’t hurt to learn.” She says, and you nod in agreement.

“It’s settled then.” Tommy slaps his thighs, standing up and offering his hand to Maria. Tommy tosses Joel his Stetson off of the coat rack which Joel catches with ease, putting it onto his head as he grins at you, offering his hand to help you stand up.

“Hey dad! Kelly’s mom is here– oh god, are you and Uncle Tommy line dancing again?” She groans, and Joel holds his hands up in defense.

“Uncle Tommy coaxed me into it and these lovely ladies here wanna learn. Not my fault.”

Sarah rolls her eyes and looks between you and Maria. “Good luck with these two knuckleheads. It was nice to meet you!” She says as she heads for the door.

“You too!” You call back.

“Text me when you get there, please.” Joel calls out to her, and she says ‘kay!’ before the front door shuts behind her. Tommy plays the familiar tune of Boot Scootin’ Boogie, and Joel stands next to him before they start to dance in sync. They both hold on to the front of the waistbands of their pants where their belts would presumably be as their footwork syncs up perfectly.

You and Maria watch in awe as they move together effortlessly, mentally noting the moves they’re repeating. Maria nudges you and you look at her with a shit-eating grin on your face.

“Girl, are you seeing this? Got damn near ten degrees hotter in here just watching my man dance.”

“Tell me about it. If Joel and I weren’t taking it slow, I’d probably jump his bones right now.”

“More power to you. I couldn’t do that even if I tried my damndest.”

“Trust me, it’s hard. Especially when he looks like… that.” You stare at Joel as he lets the familiar movements flow through his bones, dancing on beat to the upbeat song. He looks at you and shoots you a wink, making you bite your lip to hide your smile.

“C’mon ladies.” Tommy waves you both over, and you both join in with them. It takes a couple of tries to sync up with Joel, but you’re eventually moving with him. He takes your hand and spins you, pulling you into him as he presses you flush against his chest.

You smirk at him and pluck his Stetson off of his head, putting it onto yours. Joel moves his hand to the small of your back, causing you to practically grind into him while you dance. You bite your lip and bat your lashes as you can feel the tension in Joel’s body that desperately needs relief. He shakes his head with a chuckle, leaning in as his lips brush your ear.

“Ever heard of the cowboy hat rule, baby?” His voice is raspy and low. He noses at your jawline before leaving a kiss below your ear, pulling his face back into your view.

You shake your head no, and as the song ends, he gives Tommy a look before intertwining your hand with his to lead you upstairs.

“Joel—” You start, but as soon as you step into his bedroom, he closes the door and locks it. He cages you in between both of his strong arms, hands resting on either side of your head as he pops his knee out. It’s dangerously close to your aching cunt, and if you moved forward just a bit, you could easily grind yourself onto him.

The thought was tempting but your mind went blank, the close proximity between you both making your head spin.

“The cowboy hat rule,” He starts, leaning down to kiss your neck, “Is when a lady takes a man’s cowboy hat off of his head n’ puts it on herself. Means that the lady wants to be with the man and essentially wants to do more with him.”

“M-more?” Your breath catches in your throat as his hot tongue glides over the warmth of your neck. You’re beginning to pant harder, hands twitching at your sides, aching to touch him.

“Mhm.” He slots his thigh between your legs, and you can’t help the soft moan that bubbles in your throat at the delicious friction.

“Had a whole romantic thing planned in my head on how to ask you to be my girl, but fuck baby, I can’t wait no more. I know it ain’t been long, but I really want you to be mine. ‘N I sure would love to be your man.”

Your brain starts to function a little better, so you bring your hands up to cup his face. You can’t help the grin that spreads on your lips, Joel mirroring you.

“Don’t need fancy. Just need you, baby. I’d love to be yours, Joel.”

And he steals a searing kiss from you, arms wrapping around you as he moves you both backwards toward his bed. He takes his hat off of your head before setting it on his dresser, sitting down on his bed as you follow suit and straddle him. His hands hold onto your thighs, teasing you as they move underneath the hemline of your dress.

His lips separate from yours and he buries his face into your neck, kissing and licking your soft flesh as he grabs a handful of your ass. You can’t help but grind yourself into him like last time, the carnal desire for him shredding through you as your self-restraint dwindles down to nearly nothing.

“I-I know we said slow, but baby, can I touch you?” He asks, and you fervently nod your head. Your thoughts were so jumbled that you couldn’t be bothered to form a coherent response. Your senses were all-consumed by this man under you—your boyfriend. You smile at the thought before your jaw goes slack when his hand moves your underwear to the side, fingers sliding through your slick folds.

You bite your lip to stifle the whine that shoots through your chest, heart leaping into your throat. You knew it wouldn’t take much for you to come undone if Joel kept teasing you the way he did.

“Shit, baby, you’re so fuckin’ wet. This all for me, pretty girl?” He asks, his Southern drawl as thick as honey, darkened eyes meeting yours.

“Yes.” You cry, rutting your hips against his fingers.

“Can I?” He asks, prodding the tip of his fingers at your entrance. You nod once again, gripping onto his shoulders as you begin to leave kisses across his neck and collarbone. He slides a finger down to the knuckle in you effortlessly, and you can’t help but nip at his neck as the sensation courses through your body.

His one finger alone could reach places yours never could, and it made you dizzy. He slipped another finger into you, the stretch stinging in the slightest as you rocked onto his hand.

“So fuckin’ tight, baby. There you go.” Joel guides you as he begins to move his own fingers, curling them in your warmth. He was hitting that spot that you could barely ever reach, making your eyes roll to the back of your skull as your head fell back, panting his name repeatedly as you felt the coil already tightening in your core.

“So fuckin’ pretty, hm? My girl is so gorgeous like this, gettin’ herself off on my fingers. Look like a fuckin’ angel, darlin’. Such a good girl.” Joel praises you, and your head snaps up as your eyes meet his. He has a devilish smirk on his lips as you thread your fingers through his curls, smashing your lips to his. He groans into the kiss and picks up the pace of his fingers, your arousal now dripping down to his wrist. He felt your pussy clench around his digits, and he was coaxing you to come undone.

“That’s it baby. Can feel ya, I know you wanna cum. Give it t’me.” He says, and he swallows your moans in a kiss as the band snaps in your core, body convulsing as you ride out your orgasm.

You’re breathless as you slump against him, kissing his neck repeatedly as you try and catch your breath.

He slowly slides his fingers out of you and you moan at the loss of fullness, gaze meeting his once again. He slips his fingers coated in your arousal into his mouth, eyes fluttering shut as he tastes you. He leans in to kiss you, and you can easily taste yourself on his tongue.

“So fuckin’ sweet. Can I taste all of ya?” He asks, and you don’t even think twice before you nod. He flips you around onto the bed, kneeling onto the floor as he hooks both of his fingers into the waistband of your panties. You’re about to lift your hips so he can slide them off of you when a sharp knock on his door sounds.

He groans and sits on his haunches, forehead falling onto your thigh. You giggle and sit up, running your hands through his curls.

“What, Tommy?” Joel calls out, and Tommy laughs on the other side of the door.

“Jus’ lettin’ ya know Maria ‘n I are gonna stay in the guest bedroom. The hell are you doin’ in there?”

Joel gets up with a grunt and stalks toward his bedroom door, unlocking it before swinging it open.

“None of your goddamn business. That’s what.” Joel rolls his eyes, and Tommy raises his hands in defense.

“Shit, my bad!” He looks past Joel and winks at you, and your face heats up immediately.

“You have five seconds to get out of my face before I beat your ass. Fuckin’ cockblock.” Joel grumbles, glaring at his brother.

“Fair. Carry on. Wrap it before you tap it!” He turns on his heel and trudges down the stairs, and Joel turns back around to look at you, face beet red.

“Ignore him.” He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Noted,” You pat the spot next to you and he rejoins you on the bed. “Now where were we?”

tags: @ilovepedro ; @nostalxgic ; @endlessthxxghts ; @punkshort ; @pamasaur ; @clawdee ; @pascalpvnk ; @bensonispunk ; @merz-8 ; @darkblue-tennesseee ; @buckyispunk ; @untamedheart81 ; @picketniffler ; @fluffygoffpanda ; @paleidiot ; @typewriter83 ; @lizzie-cakes ; @sawymredfox ; @keylimebeag ; @nandan11 ; @pedropascalsbbg ; @pimosworld ; @yxtkiwiyxt ; @anoverwhelmingdin

divider by @saradika-graphics

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller imagines #joel miller fanfic #joel miller imagine #joel miller au #firefighter!joel #firefighter!joel miller #joel miller smut #fic: a burning desire

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gripefroot · 9 days ago

Text

Taken in the Night

You wake with a gasp, muffled by the hand covering your mouth. A hard body presses against yours from behind, the bedroom dark enough to indicate it can’t be long past midnight. Then, warm breath on your neck, a whisper:

“Don’t make a sound.”

In an upper bedroom of the baker’s house in town, your winter abode, the danger of the baker finding Law in your bedroom and then throwing him out in a fury was more than a distant fear. Across the house, something creaks. All you hear is your breathing, Law’s, and the frantic thudding of your heart. The baker is a man to throw out not only Law for uninvited entry, but you, too, for disregarding the baker’s fastidious rules about guests.

Law, knowing little of all this, groans softly in your ear.

“I missed you bad.”

Your fingers grip his hand, pulling it away from your mouth. “You couldn’t have sent a note?” you hiss. “Don’t wake me up like that again!”

“Okay.” Amenable of him, wasn’t it? Or he was distracted, with his arm tight around your middle, fingers groping. Then you feel his lips on your hairline, hot and insistent. A responding moan rises in your throat, but you swallow it. The baker, the baker…

“We can’t do that here,” you whisper. “They’ll hear for sure.”

Another creak. A cough. Above the roof, a whine of winter wind. The clouds yesterday promised a storm. It must have started, the early cries of a worse tantrum to come.

“Come with me?” Law asks in a ragged voice.

Even if you want to be annoyed with him, it’s impossible. It’s impossible with the heat he presses into you, the hard angles of his body encompassing yours. Something about your racing heart and how hungry he sounds could get you to agree to anything.

“We can’t take the stairs,” you murmur.

“Won’t have to. Hold on tight.” He squeezes tighter. You grip his arm, fingernails digging into bare skin - hadn’t he worn a coat? - for the split second before the world tilts and shifts and bursts around you.

“Ouch!”

The landing was hard, a slab of metal with all your weight and Law’s weight sending you straight to bruises. When you try to sit up, your head hits something equally hard, but this time, it’s his head.

“Ouch!” you cry again.

“Sorry, sorry!” Unusual repentance for him. “I thought the pillows were on the bed but they must have fallen to the floor. It’s storming outside.”

Orientation came in stages. The storm - wherever Law has whisked you off to is shaking side to side, slowly, in great swells that make your stomach churn uncomfortably. Your eyes adjust to the milky blue lights glowing from various points of the room. A bedroom. A bedroom with a small bed with blue covers (or they were simply blue in the light) and a desk and cupboards and shelves. The books and knickknacks on the shelves must be secured in place, to not be falling off with each rise and fall of the room. Law sits back on his haunches, strangely abashed as he watches your face. The blue light makes his eyes as velvety black as a summer night, and just as warm. Abashed? Now why would he be…

“This is your ship,” you say faintly. The throb from where his head bashed into yours heightens in intensity. “You brought me to your ship.”

“Sorry.” There, that’s more normal. He’s not sorry at all. That devilish smile transforms his face. “I’ve heard stories about your landlord. And I’m not gonna give you up. Even if it’s just for a night.”

Just for a night?

Law plucks off his hat, running his opposite hand through his inky hair, making it stand on end. “We’re only passing through,” he says. “My crew wanted to go deeper to avoid the storm to make it to our next port by morning, but…”

There’s a wealth of sentiment in what he doesn’t say. The room rises and falls twice more before you give in and have mercy on the man, smiling as you get onto your knees. It’s more stable - somewhat. The familiar twist of sadness and joy winds around your sternum, again and again, making your insides a proper candy cane of contrasts. Everything about Law was so good and so wretched, all at once. It was horrible. And wonderful.

“Well, it’s only fair,” you purr, scooting closer. Law doesn’t move, his eyes hooded as his eyes rivet on your face. Then, your mouth. “You know my bed. It’s time I acquaint myself with yours.”

His throat bobs. You lean in. “Only fair,” he repeats in a croak. “But - most of the crew is sleeping. There’s two on watch. You’ll have to be quiet.”

“The crash of our entrance is okay but a few little moans aren’t?” The question is a whisper, breathed against his skin. He’s near enough to kiss, but why ruin perfectly good foreplay? One side of his mouth lifts.

“Crashes are normal,” he murmurs, reaching up to touch the ends of your hair. “Moaning is not, I’m afraid.”

“What a sad life your crew must live.”

“If I’m doomed to sleep alone, they oughtta, too.”

“So. You’re a tyrant as well as a thief, a tease, and a bully.” All three things which you’ve called him before. He remembers, too, because he snorts true amusement despite the sardonic gleam of his eyes. The blue light is enough. Enough to treasure every feature of his face, but not too much to ruin the hazy dreaminess soaking around in a mysterious place in a storm.

“Don’t see you complaining,” Law says. The tip of his tongue darts out to wet his lips. Thinking you’re about to kiss him, most likely. He’s eager. He’s eager and he’s charming and he’s Law, which is the best part of all.

“Do you think of me while you’re here?” you ask softly.

“Yes,” he says at once.

“What do you think of me doing?” It’s bait. He knows it, too, because he snorts again. Undeterred, you suggest, “Reading some of those books, perhaps? Writing letters at the desk? Folding blankets?”

“Definitely,” Law plays along in his characteristically dry tone. “In fact, my favorite way to think of you is sweeping the floors.”

“Sweeping! Where’s the broom, then? We can play into this little fantasy of yours.”

“Later.” He seizes your wrist when you make you stand, keeping you in place. “Why not a different fantasy first?”

“Oh?” It’s impossible not to smile. It’s impossible to keep the joke going, too, because if it’s only going to be one night, the desire to spend it teasing each other pales in appeal. Law must sense this, because he lowers his head, stealing a kiss that makes your heart pound and your skin to go tingly from head to toe.

His thumb strokes the inside of your wrist when he pulls away. A good kiss, but not enough. Never enough. Rising on your knees, you shake his hand off to wrap your arms around his neck, dislodging his hat once and for all.

There. That’s better. A longer, deeper kiss; the rasp of his facial hair on your sensitive skin while his hands roam up and down the shape of your curves before resting on your hips. And every second your body moves, moves with the waves of the sea and the desire Law so skillfully conjures. Life is so still when he’s not around - expectant patterns that repeat every day. And then he shows up and whisks you away in the middle of the night because he wants you, because he wants to see you.

But not because he loves you. He’ll never say it. Maybe he doesn’t need to. That old conversation rankles, from time to time, but only when he isn’t there. And right now, he is.

Your hands slide beneath his shirt, taking advantage of perpetually-undone buttons to slide the entire garment right off his shoulders. His skin is smooth, rippling from muscles as delicious to feel as they are to see. The hardness of the metal floor sends aches through your knees when he drags you closer, by the hips, until every heave of breath touches your chest to his, his eager mouth plundering where you’d meant to do the plundering. Lungs tight, you break away for air. Law does hesitate: his whiskered chin scrapes against your neck while his lips and tongue do wonders on your neck.

“Oh, Law,” you say, half-piteously. “Why can’t it be longer than one night?”

He doesn’t answer. Why would he? You know, and he knows you know. His response is to grip you by the backside, standing steadily despite the gale outside and all around, to tip you onto the bed.

His eyes are the dark depths of a sea, black and beckoning. He doesn’t look away while he undoes his belt and pants button. Gnawing on your lips, your legs squeeze together, as if that’ll help.

“Kinda like your nightgown,” he drawls.

“Oh,” you say again, with just as much self-pity. “If I’d known you were coming, I’d have worn something different.” It’s an old wool thing, meant for warmth during the winter more than seducing handsome ship captains coming to claim their woman. Consciously, you put a hand to the ratty ribbon around the collar, mercilessly cut in several places from tickly threads over the years.

“I ain’t lying,” Law says. “I mean it.”

“I don’t believe that for a second,” you say crossly.

A mischievous light catches in his eyes. Oh, no. Whatever brilliant inspiration he just had, probably won’t end well for you.

“I’ll just have to prove it to you, then,” he says. Pants shaken off, he crawls onto the bed stark-naked. Apprehension about his intention makes it less of a thrill than usual. “Oh, c’mon,” Law says with a hint of exasperation. “Stop looking at me like I’m some kinda creep.” A laugh huffs out of him as he shakes his head. That reaction makes you more mulish.

“Only a creep would be turned on by this rag,” you say.

“Ever considered that I’m turned on by you, not by what you wear?”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Do,” he says. “Until then - ”

He ropes his arm around your back, dragging you across the bed and over his body. Your leg swings over his hips in an attempt to stay balanced, which mostly, you think, gets him what he wants. He settles in against the mattress, shining with lazy triumph. Your breasts are pushed against his chest until his arm loosens enough to allow you to rise. He’s successfully perched you right on his groin, skirt of the nightdress flowing around like a shroud of modesty.

“Trafalgar Law,” you say severely, though the irresistible urge to laugh bubbles incessantly in your throat.

“Present,” he says, lacing fingers behind his head. He gazes up at you, like a child would the night sky. When the fondness in your chest makes it hard to speak, he tacks on, “Leave the nightgown on. I want you to think of me whenever you wear it from now on.”

He’s too much. Too cocky, too sweet, too honest. It hurts.

His smile doesn’t fade when you lean over him again, this time kissing him with all those feelings wanting to get out. Law isn’t one for feelings, and frankly, you aren’t either. Not when the recipient can use them to hurt you. And Law could hurt you like no one else, because he’s like no one else. Would he? Would he be so cruel? Perhaps not - but he also never stays, so he is cruel, even if he doesn’t mean to be.

He accepts the tender pace. His hands are all over the nightgown, plucking at the fabric with theatrical, appreciative groans.

“The hem,” you pant. “You can grope me from the inside.”

Evidently, Law can’t take the joke much further, because he takes your advice and slides his hands inside the nightgown. His hands go up your bare legs, down your back, making paths from limb to limb. Without warning, his hips bucks and his teeth bite down on your bottom lip.

“Ouch!” Hopefully, cries of pain are also normal on the ship. You sit back, rubbing your mouth with a scowl.

“Sorry. It was the storm.” His hands stop on your hips, hindered by underwear. His eyes are shadowed, squinting slightly. “Will you believe that it’s the storm if I rip these off?”

“No,” you laugh. “But go ahead. They’re old, too.”

Underwear discarded in three pieces (ripping one seam would make a tidier job, but this is Law), there’s nothing left between skin. His lips are parted, breathing steadily between them, though his expression is anything but steady. Tipping your hips forward, the sensation of his erection rubs against you.

The kissing made you sensitive. The slippery sensation brings out a tiny moan, not too loud, and Law’s response is much louder.

“I only tease you because it makes you wet,” he says, his voice low and rough enough to be a growl.

“You make me wet,” you tell him, sliding over his cock again. “Not the teasing. Like you said about my nightgown.”

His crooked half-smile promises more teasing, so you bend over to kiss him to keep him quiet. It works - partially. No teasing, but his responsive noises to each little motion are enough to turn your veins to fire.

Time stops. Each swell of stormy wave feels longer than a passing moment, each whoosh of desire flooding your body saunters instead of shoots. Law’s fingers make paths in your bare skin, one inch at a time, as if he, too, feels the yawning stretch at the cusp and refuses to rush it.

Why does it have to be only one night?

Better one night than no night.

The ship rises and falls. When waiting feels like a shackle instead of a long-lasting sunset, you reach between your bodies to slide him inside. The waves help with that, rocking up and down and up and down. Law’s eyes are almost inscrutable, hiding what he doesn’t want to say or share behind those walls he puts up. Silly man. He’s let you in too far already; almost as long as you’ve known him - hiding can’t erase that.

“You’re so good,” he says. “You’re my good girl.”

A shiver spreads from your neck downward, the tips of his fingers brushing gently against your throat. Eyes close. Your hips go forward and back, fighting against and moving with the storm while pleasure swells thunder. Moans vibrate your throat, but go no further. Finally, with a gasp, your eyes flutter open, though you don’t stop riding him.

So, this is what he looks like in his own bed. The blue softens his face, the swallowing blankets and pillows make him less the tattooed vagrant and more…well, more an ordinary man. The kind that could stay, if he wanted, not the phantom who comes and leaves like a storm. Gold earrings wink reflections of blue. And his expression…it must be nice for him, you muse, putting in the lesser amount of work. But it’s nice for you, too, to watch him experience it with such a lovely view.

“That’s it,” he mumbles, a little like thunder himself. “Tell me how much you like it.”

“Why don’t you?” you say. “You’re the one being lazy.”

Law peeks open an eye, but he only grins. “I like it alot,” he says. “And I like that you’re sassing me.”

“I can tell.” With a smile, you slow your pace, taking your sweet time to take him deeply. A short grunt from him betrays how much he likes it. His eyes glaze over. His fingers dig into your hips, trying to move you more.

“I want you to come.” The words rasp out of him. “Then I wanna switch.” To prove his statement, he thrusts upward, slow but delicious as stars burst behind your eyelids. A gasp parts your lips.

“Sorry! I didn’t mean to…”

“It’s okay. Keep going. Do what feels good.”

It must be near dawn by the time the bedroom is as quiet as Law threatened it had to be. Cuddled up in the blankets (the nightgown was discarded long ago), you breathe deeply the scent of his bed. Of him. Because he only came for one night. And now that night is ending, the prickling pain deepens.

“Hey.” Law pulls your shoulder back, leaving a kiss on your bare skin. “Are you falling asleep?”

“No.”

“I think I did.”

Bemused, you twist your head back, smiling at the glaring evidence: one of his cheeks is visibly red, even in the blue light, and a wrinkle from the sheets stretches from his jaw to his forehead.

“Cute.” You reach up to pat his cheek. “You did enough work to earn a nap.”

“I wanted to keep going,” Law says. “Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Because if you’d had to go from lovemaking straight back to your tiny room in the baker’s house with your heart still racing and your skin still tacky from sweat, Law’s departure would have felt a thousand times more raw. Idly, you stroke his facial hair, then jingle his earrings together. His eyes crinkle with a smile, sweeter than you’re used to, but it’s still very him.

“You’re gonna be tired all day,” he prophesies.

“I don’t care,” you say. “I work less in the winter. I’ll take my nap later.”

Later, when he isn’t there and you won’t lose your last moments with him. You don’t say it, but he must guess, because those dark eyes soften.

“But you got your nap, so you’ll be fine,” you tease, rolling onto your back. Law hovers over you, grinning all the while like a satisfied cat. The storm had stopped - when? The rocking of the ship had noticeably slackened before Law had collapsed on the bed (and evidently fallen asleep) but it must have ceased completely while you were lost in dreary thoughts. Missing him before he left.

Perhaps he reads some of that misery in your face, because his brows crinkle and he says, “Sorry I have to go.”

“You’re so full of sorrys today,” you say, put-out that you hadn’t concealed the truth of your feelings and he’d latched onto them.

“Strange.” He picks up one of your hands, kissing each knuckle tenderly. What he is hiding, you can’t tell, because his eyes are lowered, hidden behind lashes and lids. “You know what?” he says suddenly. “I’ll buy you a new nightgown one of these days.”

“I thought you liked this one.”

“I do. But you don’t. And I want you to like it.”

How could he say such sweet things and then leave? It’s the one part of him that you can’t understand. He goes out of his way to see you but still happily departs with the dawn? What logic was he clinging to?

“Want me to take you back naked?” Law’s eyes shine at the prospect. “Bet your baker is awake and won’t notice all the noises we make.”

Pursing your lips together, you seize a pillow to whack him in the face. He startles, then laughs. And laughs and laughs, when the pillow turns into a ball of dust. Your fingers close on nothing, the dust ball lost somewhere in the sheets when he tackles you.

“Where did the pillow go!” you ask indignantly.

“Don’t worry about it!”

But you don’t have the heart to exacerbate the joke, giving him the upper hand. The sun might be rising, but this night had more light in it than any day for a long, long time.

If he has to leave, at least he leaves laughing.

#trafalgar d law x reader #trafalgar law x reader #one piece #one piece fanfiction

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ashonheavenscloud · 17 days ago

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snowflake kisses || c. vernon

warnings: none, it’s all very fluffy and cute😞 || wc: 965

a/n: co-written with @lixiesfreckless over frantic fanfic. merry christmas everyone!! enjoy <3

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“Vernon! Vernon, look it's snowing!”

The man in question barely has a chance to look your direction from his place at the kitchen counter, in the middle of making tea for the two of you, before you've disappeared around the corner. He hears the scraping of the closet door opening and pauses, feeling a smile twitch at the corners of his lips at the same time he cocks an inquisitive brow.

“Babe, it's almost midnight, where are you-“

“Didn't you hear me? It's snowing! On Christmas Eve!” The sound of stomping boots alerts Vernon of your approach before you pop around the corner, tugging on a coat and hat.

“But I made us tea-” you’ve already dashed off before he can finish his sentence, and he shakes his head with a laugh as he sets down his kettle.

At least the two of you will be able to drink it to warm back up.

You hear the sound of the door opening and closing behind you as you stare up into the gray night sky, watching as the streetlights illuminate the thousands of snowflakes drifting towards the earth. The world has been blanketed by a thin sheet of white, and the sounds of the evening are already a little bit muffled in the peaceful wonderland of winter.

Your eyes stay trained upwards until you feel warmth beside you; Vernon slips your hand into his and tucks it carefully into his own coat pocket. You glance at him with a grin, and his heart nearly gives out on him at seeing your excitement.

“You're crazy.” He comments, and you just shake your head and look back at the snowfall.

“If I wasn't, you would have missed seeing this. We both would have.”

Vernon concedes with a hum, and after a moment of silence, he tilts his head to kiss your temple softly, thumb stroking your hand in his pocket. You lean your head against his shoulder and release a sigh along with all the tension of a long week from your body. Despite the frigid air that forms clouds from your breath and the goosebumps prickling any inch of exposed skin, you feel an undeniable warmth fill your whole being as you watch the snow and listen to nothing but silence and the gentle sound of your boyfriend's breathing.

It's all so incredibly peaceful, you kind of don't ever want to go inside.

“Have you ever had a snowflake kiss?” You whisper aloud, and Vernon looks down at you, unsure if he heard you right.

“A…what?”

“You know, a snowflake kiss,” you repeat, turning to look at him. “It’s when you kiss someone as it snows and a snowflake lands between your lips, like it’s kissing you too.”

“Did you just make that up?”

You slap his jacket with your free hand as he laughs, clouds of steam escaping his parted lips as you explain yourself. “No you dork, I read it in a book back in high school.”

“Ahhh, I see,” he nods, appearing deep in thought for a moment before turning to face you fully. “Okay. Let’s try it.”

Your face flushes with heat at his bluntness, and you laugh shyly, with an “alright” that is cut off by Vernon's soft lips finding yours and stealing away your breath. His mouth is cold, and gentle; his hand moves to cup your jaw and tilt your face up to him, and your own braces on his chest. Your other hand is still intertwined with his, and he holds you steady with it as he kisses you, letting time pass as your mind loses focus and your body melts into his.

A minute passes, or maybe more, you're not entirely sure because you're in a daze by the time his lips part from yours. His own brown eyes flicker open with some difficulty as he breathes into the cold, then turns his eyes to the sky. “Come on, just one snowflake. It really cannot be that hard.”

You giggle. “It's okay, it's only special if it takes time.”

“Wow, okay, Socrates.”

You playfully shove him again, but as fast as Vernon stumbles backwards, he steps forward and meets your lips again. “I guess I don't mind waiting like this…” he murmurs against them with a little, teasing smile that heats your cheeks and has your insides doing somersaults. Then his mouth sliding against yours is all you can feel, and suddenly you're praying for the snowflakes to dissipate around you, so you can keep kissing him again and again and again.

But it doesn't take long, this time, for a tiny crystal flake to twirl through the air and land right between your lips, and the sensation is exhilarating. A brief flash of cold that melts out between the heat of your lips, only present for a moment.

At the concept of your high school fantasy coming true, you can’t help but smile against his kiss, absolutely filled with glee.

“I’m guessing you felt it too?” He whispers against your lips, and you nod giddily, throwing your arms around his neck and pulling him back in for more.

And almost like magic, another snowflake finds your lips, and another, and another, until your heart is so full of joy that you can’t stop smiling.

And when Vernon looks down at you, eyelashes dusted with snow and cheeks a warm shade of red, he finds that he can’t stop smiling either.

He checks his watch to make sure, and then looks back at you, brushing some snowflakes off of your skin.

“Merry Christmas Y/n,” he says quietly, and you tiptoe to press one last kiss to his lips before falling into his chest and wrapping your arms around him.

“Merry Christmas to you too, Vernon.”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

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sleepyangelkami · 8 months ago

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Omgg I'm new to tublr but I love ur work smm could you pls do more carl grimes

SHELTERED c.grimes

☆ WORD COUNT - 2.8K

CARL GRIMES X FEM!READER

☆ SUMMARY - carl's alexandrian girlfriend had always been somewhat sheltered, never so much as laid eyes on a zombie. however, when he decides to go on a supply run with his dad, some of her friends drag her to a party in the woods where she uncovers her first ever walker.

☆ WARNINGS - blood, gore, zombies, twd themes, violence, guns, crying, anxiety, worry, (1) use of y/n, pet names, intended lower case, nothing i write is ever proofread 🩷

alexandria was a quiet place in a world of chaos. it was nothing but comfort and clouds, nothing to worry for, nothing to be anxious about.

carl was anything but.

the boy was quite alike a storm the minute he'd entered the town. he was... different from other kids, that much was for sure. he was interested in comics and action while most the kids of alexandria only cared for their xbox's that were powered by the solar pannels.

so it was safe to say that when carl grimes made his way to the gazebo on a sunny day to read his action comic, you sitting with your romance novel threw him off a little.

he soon realised that you too were different.

you two got close so quickly, with your shelteredness, growing up in alexandria and his need to protect, having been on the road for so long, you were practically attached by the hip and the whole of alexandria could see.

when carl first met you, he took not of the plain innocence you displayed, not just because of your skirts and dresses that you pranced around in, pretty bow against your hair, but the fact that you grew up in alexandria. when shit hit the fan and the world turned to death, you never had to experience any of it. you were simply shielded from the dangers of the world as soon as the walls had been placed around your town.

truthfully, carl was glad.

one of the things the boy loved the most about you was the type of purity you displayed. every one of your actions was done with the need to help people. pure intentions.

you didn't have the type of heart for a world like their own, much too sweet to face the death that would stare right back at you.

"do you have to go?" That mumble he'd grown rather attached to. you used that mumble when you were tired, like now when the sun had set and darkness loomed over the town, still wrapped in your own bedsheets.

the boy hummed with dissatisfaction. "i'll be back tomorrow night." it wasn't unusual for the boy to leave at random hours of the night, not making it back until the next. it was to help his father and daryl on their runs, to get what the town needed.

was it selfish to wish he didn't have to?

you made a whine type of noise while muffled between the white pillows. carl only smiled softly. "get some rest, baby." the boy with the cowboy hat pressed a gentle kiss against the crown of your head, picking up his gun and making his way towards the door. "goodnight."

"g'night." but you were almost positive that you'd been asleep by the time the door closed shut again.

as much as carl loved going out on runs, there was something so god awful about leaving you wrapped up in the bed, alone. you were so sheltered your entire life, never knowing what was out there. it was almost as if he felt the need to protect you at all times, every day, assure both you and him that nothing was going to happen to you.

you had no intentions of leaving the walls.

alexandria was your home, your safety. you'd never so much as seen a walker before and you didn't plan on it anytime soon.

so when the words, "so, are you going?" came out of your best friends boyfriends lips, you only stared in shock.

enid, your best friend could only roll her eyes at the boy. "she doesn't want to." she spoke for you. "y/n doesn't like going outside of the walls, you know this."

and yet, he pressed further. "come on, everyone's gonna bet there, this will be the biggest one yet." a party that the teenagers and some of the younger adults went to. it was beyond the walls, out past where you were supposed to be. if anyone were to ever find out, you'd all be killed. so, you kept your mouth shut in hoping that if someone did find out about the parties, you'd never be tied to it. it wasn't as if you'd ever gone to one. "your little boyfriend never lets you go."

ron anderson wasn't the fondest of your boyfriend. it was evident since the day they met that they didn't like each other. believe me, carl had as much of a distaste for the boy as he did him. "carl isn't the reason."

"then what is?" you shrugged your shoulders, glancing down at your shoes. "you never do anything with us, it's like carl is the only thing you care about."

manipulation at it's finest. harmless, though, right?

"what?" an evident frown came across your face upon the realisation that your friends weren't even all the way sure if you liked them. "i do care about you guys."

"then do something with us for a change." the fourth of the group chimed in, mikey was his name. "besides, carl's gone and it's not like we're gonna tell him. your secrets safe with us."

you didn't want to go.

yet somehow, you found yourself wound up exactly where you 'didn't want to be'.

it wasn't that you were worried what carl would think. truthfully, as much as you valued the boy's opinion, you would never let him boss you around and tell you what you could and couldn't do. carl accepted you for all the beauty, all the ugly and never so much as questioned your actions, only doting when you got hurt. you couldn't love someone more. and neither could he.

but when your friends announced that they thought all you cared about was carl, you couldn't help but feel the guilt swirl through your veins. you loved carl, adored even but you could have friends to.

worried that they'd think you didn't want to hang out with them anymore, you found yourself for the first time in your life, exiting the walls.

you knew it was wrong the moment you stepped outside.

carl's old discarded flannel did nothing to help you keep the heat inside your body. you held it close, hoping the scent of carl would overpower the scent of alcohol that filled your nose. "you okay?" enid was the only one who took notice of your stiff figure.

" 'm fine." was the answer you gave, whether or not it had been true. all your mind could travel to was your boyfriend. yes, you never wanted to leave the walls of alexandria in fear of the walkers but you also knew how much carl wished for you to stay behind the protective walls to.

and he was going to be so mad once he found out where you were.

you could imagine him walking onto the street where your house lay. he'd climbed in through your bedroom window thousands of times before, you left it open for him to enter at any stage of the day or night. now, he'd find an empty bed.

enid noticed the way your face was twitching, though. "you sure? i can stay with you, if you want." but you could see the way her eyes were trailing towards her boyfriend from the other side of the party.

"no, it's okay." the girl gave you a unconvinced face. "really, 'm okay, now go get your boyfriend."

but you weren't okay.

the anxious thought started over as soon as enid left your side. the party unfolded, stupid music playing in the background. surely, that would attract walkers? your hazy eyes looked from person to person. enid was sat atop ron's lap, kissing him. mikey was between two girls, grinning to himself with a bottle in his hands. various other teenagers having the time of their lives. one boy, ethan you thought the name was, was standing on top of a makeshift table, chugging cans until the table collapsed beneath him.

you couldn't bear the sight, nor the smell of alcohol or any of the worry that filled your lungs making it suddenly hard to breathe.

you could imagine the state this would end up in, should a walker make it's way here. the teenagers here were the same sheltered people you'd grown up with, they'd went to the school with you in alexandria, they'd never been beyond the walls. now, they had and they hadn't been hunted down by walkers yet so they didn't expect it to happen.

but what if it did?

none of them were fighters, none of them went on supply runs or so much as tried to deal with walkers before.

it was only a matter of time before something went wrong.

and you simply couldn't be here anymore.

your chest was heavy as you stood from your place on the ground, trying to make your way towards the woods, tripping over rocks and bottles as you went.

the forest was dark and hidden, no light source aside from the moon. you squinted your eyes, trying to see where you were going. you looked in front of you, suddenly not knowing whether to turn left or right.

had you even taken this road on the way here...?

sudden worry that you were going the wrong way. you couldn't hear the music of the party anymore, it was long gone and it had been your only way back there.

you were lost and if you didn't make it back to the party or alexandria soon, nobody would ever find you. that's what you told yourself, at least. carl would spend forever looking for you until one day, he'll stumble across your dead corpse, either half eaten or roaming around in the same clothes you'd worn that day, his flannel shirt hanging from your frame.

the thoughts caused your head to spin, obviously not taking much notice of the ground in front of you. you held your hands out as your foot tripped over a rock, you used them to catch whatever was in front of you, preventing your fall.

you grasped what you thought was a tree.

until you heard the groan of the dead.

it stared you in the eye, his own glazed over with a type of grey. blood surrounded his mouth, dead skin hanging from his body. he appeared to be missing a finger.

you yelped, falling backwards and straight onto your back. your head scratched itself off a rock, using your hands to straighten yourself back up when you noticed it hadn't just been one dead, but three.

they all turned to you, a sick hungry look in their eye as they began stalking forward, gugrles and groans leaving their mouthes as they found the food of that day.

you'd never seen one before though you knew they'd be horrid looking. you never expected the smell, though. the rotting flesh scent that filled your nose, certainly overpowering the scent of the flannel. their rotted teeth and lack of hair had you scrambling to find something, a rock, a discarded knife or twig, something to use as some kind of a weapon.

but the truth was, you'd been sheltered too long.

how were you ever supposed to pick yourself up out of something like this when you didn't know the first thing about walkers.

you would have accepted your faith with a scream, let them tear into your flesh because you were no help to anybody, including yourself.

you couldn't so much as weave your way away from three walkers, hopeless.

then the sight of a knife sticking into his head was in front of you.

blood spurted out, covering your clothes and the boy next to the walker. carl grimes with his infamous sheriff's hat along with the knife that he plunged into the walker's head. "what the hell are you doing out here?!" shock was evident in his voice, though he appeared to be alone. he whipped around, taking out both the other two walkers while you merely stared in shock.

the blood that spurted onto the ground as the final walker fell to the grass. your glassy eyes could still make out carl's boot stomping onto its head, squishing it and causing blood, insides and flesh to tear and fall.

carl was met with the sight of your glassy eyes staring up at him, fear-stricken expression.

he found himself rushing towards you.

"'m sorry, 'm so sorry, carl. i didn't― ron―" the words came out like a childish blubber, unable to form sentences as fat tears left your eyes, rolling down your flush cheeks.

"are you bit?" carl didn't care for the words you spoke, scanning your body, pushing your arm up to scan wherever he could. "did you hurt your―" he cut himself off as his eyes landed on the blood dripping from your forehead. "what did you do?"

the sound of his disapproving voice was enough for your breath to shake. "'m sorry." you kept repeating. "i just― please don't be mad at me."

finally the words that ached the back of your throat.

it seemed as though shock was the thing that fell across his face, wondering why you'd ever think he'd get mad at you for something like this. "hey, hey, 'm not mad, baby, c'mere." in the dead of night, through the trees, the boy took you into his arms, seating you onto his lap as the sobs emitted your mouth. he carefully drew circles on your back with the palm of his hand. "you're jus' scared, is all, you're okay, sweetheart." sweet nothings filled your ears, nothing but comfort against your skin.

you choked, blubbering as you pushed your face away from the crook of his neck. "the others― we have to warn them." though eyes still full of tears.

innocence had obviously still been deeply embedded into your brain. otherwise, you would have figured out by now that they'd known. "They know, baby." you looked at him with confusion. "saw a couple of them throwing rocks at a walker."

thoughts filled your brain, confused.

enid and ron told you that this was the safest party there was. and despite your obvious doubts about something so ridiculous, they'd assured you that no walker had ever been so much as seen where you would be going.

you felt a pang of betrayal set in your bones. not only at the fact that they'd lied but at the fact that these people you grew up with, very same innocence as your own, were using walkers like toys, pets even.

"come on, pretty girl." fingers working against your waist, gently soothing the skin. "let's get you home."

home. that sounded nice. "'kay." voice still slick with your earlier tears.

carl practically carried you all the way home. it wasn't until you were sat inside your bathroom, sat against the porcelain toilet while he crouched in front of you on the ground that the tears stopped. "'s gonna hurt." he warned.

you nodded, fingers holding around his own hand while the free one used a cotton pad filled with rubbing alcohol to disinfect the wound.

you winced, glass glossing over again. "i know, sweetheart, i know." pretty words falling from his lips as he cared for you like no other human being would ever be capable of doing. "jus' gotta get it done, yeah?"

and he did just that, quickly disinfecting the wound before grasping the gauze. your eyes were open, staring forward at his pretty face in front of you. he looked tired enough but he usually did with his sunken eye and tired perplexion. you always said it was because he wasn't eating enough. that was the thing about carl, always forgetting to take care of himself in the simplest of ways.

but you? no, he couldn't possibly forget a thing.

" 'm sorry." you'd said it before, but you couldn't express it enough.

carl slowly retracted his hands from your face, sighing gently. he moved his hands back up, only this time they cupped your cheeks instead of dusting your forehead. "what you did was stupid." you nodded in agreement. "you should know better, what's out there should stay out there and you should stay in here, where it's safe." you didn't bother explaining the situation, knowing it'd been you who decided to leave, ron didn't decide that for you. "you're lucky today didn't end worse."

"i know." voice cracking as your eyes gazed down upon the tiled ground of your bathroom where carl crouched.

he lifted your face up with his left hand, tilting his head slightly. "but that doesn't mean 'm mad at you, you know that, right?" you shrugged, supposing you didn't know that. "could never be mad at you."

"'m an idiot." you mumbled, attempting to look as far away from the boy as you could.

"a little." he grinned causing you to turn with a smile of your own. "'s okay, though. i'll do the thinkin' for you from now on, yeah?"

didn't seem like too bad of an idea.

main masterlist/carl's masterlist

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mediumgayitalian · 10 months ago

Text

“Come here, you dweeb. Let me fix it.”

Will pouts, dragging his feet over and slumping half on top of him. Nico allows it with a smile and a roll of his eyes, pinching Will’s shoulder. He doesn’t react except for a wounded noise, muffled in Nico’s lap, so the situation is evidently quite dire.

“It’s just hair, Will.”

“But I worked on it!” He shifts around until he’s got his head in Nico’s lap, face turned towards him, body curled up on the grass around him. Nico brushes his tangled bangs off his forehead, meeting his big sad eyes. “I spent forty minutes with a stupid brush! And yet!”

“And yet,” Nico agrees, unable to appropriately school is face into one of somber understanding. Will scowls at him for his lack of proper sympathy, a little bit of genuine hurt in his eyes, so Nico leans down and kisses right between his brows in apology. He seems mollified, if only slightly, or at least he leans into Nico’s touch and stops mumbling quite so much.

“‘S’not fair.”

“Mhm.“

“Your hair listens to your instructions.”

“Yep.”

“Even Cecil’s hair listens to him, and no one listens to Cecil.”

Nico purses his lips thoughtfully. “I think Austin listens to Cecil.”

“Yes, I know. It’s an ongoing issue. I’m trying to train him out of it.”

“And how’s that going?” Nico murmurs, curling a strand of golden blond hair around his finger.

“Oh, well, I’m doing my best, so of course it’s going horribly.”

Nico snorts. He resists the urge to hold his palms to Will’s cheeks and kiss every single freckle at light speed, because he will screech something about how Nico is one-upping him in the romance department or something stupid like that. Instead he settles for looking at his dumb dramatic boyfriend’s face and marvelling over the fact that the cutest boy in the entire world, and Nico is being totally objective, hunts around camp until he finds whatever tree Nico is hiding under and curls up into a ball around him and trusts Nico to hold him while he complains about stupid things that genuinely hurt his feelings a little. It’s nice. So many people at camp are still so rigid around him, like he’s collecting information for their judgement day or something. Will prefers to exercise his lesser-known Apollonian talent of being a bigger drama queen than the god himself.

“Stay still,” Nico says softly, moving Will around so he’s laying perpendicular to Nico, now, head centered in his lap and staring up at the sky. Will sighs and squirms a little and turns his head to press a kiss to Nico’s knee, scrunching up his face and releasing it, and then settles in the position.

Humming something soft that exists on the fringes of his foggy memories, he sinks his hands into Will’s hair.

“It’s not that bad,” he promises, moving slowly and pausing whenever he comes across a knot.

Will harrumphs.

“I mean it, Marilyn Monroe. You can tone down the histrionics.”

“I used gel.”

Nico flicks a dried clump of it onto Will’s forehead, amused. “I can see that.”

“I followed every single one of Mitchell’s instructions!”

“I bet.”

“And yet!”

“And, yet.”

Nico has a sneaking suspicion that someone made a comment about Will’s hair, in the last few weeks. He can never confirm it and Will has been shifty about it every time he asks, but Nico has noticed the uptick in hoods and hats the past month and his little flinches every time Nico reaches up and tugs on it. Despite being oddly confident about the oddest things — why he is so proud of being able to fit his fist in his mouth, Nico will never know — Will is very sensitive to how people think of him. He needs to know he’s liked, and when people don’t like him, he gets…desperate, pleasing. The opposite of Nico, who becomes worse in an attempt to push them away on his own terms.

Nico leans down and presses a long, lingering kiss to his forehead.

“I like your hair, you know.”

“It’s a stupid mess.”

He smooths down a handful of it, pressing it over Will’s eye. He manages to keep a straight face for one, two, three seconds before he huffs a laugh, batting Nico’s hands away. Nico grins.

“I like the stupid mess.”

“Yeah, well, you like a lot of weird things.”

“Like you?” Nico suggests, pressing another kiss to the tip of his rounded nose.

“Shut up.”

Another strange thing about him, that Nico has to duck his head to hide his automatic smile: he gets embarrassed easily.

Nico never expected it of him, with all the dorky, medical-themed pickup lines and general shamelessness in his affection towards everybody on Earth, but especially Nico. When the poking, prodding attraction is turned on him, however, he shuts down like an overloaded Playstation. Nico can sometimes see the error messages playing behind its eyes. It’s hilarious.

“Will.” He pokes him in the cheek. “Hey.”

“What,” Will grumbles.

“I think you’re beautiful.”

Watching the slow spread of red from below the collar of his shirt to the roots of his hair is a delight. Nico watches in glee, wrestling Will’s hands away when he tries to slap them over his face.

“Shut up! Leave me alone! Go — flirt with somebody else!”

“You’d curse them to speak in rhymes for ten years,” Nico teases.

Will makes an agonised noise. “Who! Asked you! Shut up!”

“You’d sic Kayla on anyone who so much as winks at me, you jealous bitch.”

“I would not!”

“You would so. You rolled your eyes at everything Percy said for three weeks when you found out I used to crush on him —”

“I did not!”

“— and you didn’t even have the balls to ask me out, back then.”

“You are a — peddler of falsehoods! A prevaricator, a perjurer, and a fabulist!”

“And you sound like you swallowed a thesaurus,” Nico snickers. He catches the hand Will flails at him, pressing a kiss to the wrist, which only serves to fluster him more. He decides to take mercy when the kisses he trails down his arms result in one loud, long, tortured screech, pulling back and giving him some space.

Notably, he doesn’t move from Nico’s lap.

“I like it,” Nico admits, once Will has calmed down some. “I like that you’ve liked me for so long.”

Will peeks through the fingers he has covering his eyes. “It’s embarrassing.”

“Yes.” Nico squeezes his shoulders. “And endearing, which seems to be your sweet spot.” He presses a much softer kiss to the underside of Will’s ear, lingering there until he sighs, slumping under all the tension finally leaving his body. “I love you, Will. I love your clumsiness and your rambles and your nose and your freckles and your awkwardness and your jealousy and your hair and I love you, Will, all of you. Even the embarrassing weird parts.” He kisses him again. “Especially the weird parts.”

Will breathes slowly, carefully, evenly, face pressed to the inside of Nico’s thigh. His long eyelashes tickle his skin. Nico can feel the press of his Adam’s apple when he swallows, pulsing against his calf.

“I never thought you were a freak.”

Nico brushes his knuckles over his cheek. “I know.”

“I used to — talk about you. All the time. And your oxytocin levels.”

He smiles.

“I know.”

“Lee had a — chart.” Some of the flush rises back up in his cheeks. “A ‘Days Since We’ve Heard About Di Angelo’ chart.”

Nico bites his lip. Hard.

“The number never got higher than six.”

“…I am trying really, really hard, Will.”

Will sighs.

“You can laugh.”

Nico cracks up, trying desperately to muffle his giggles in his bitten fist. It doesn’t work very well, but the glare Will sends him is somewhat softened by the smile twitching at the corner of his mouth.

“Gods, you are — a mess.”

“Mhm.”

Nico cups the side of his face. Will turns, slightly, enough to press a kiss to the centre of his palm and then stay there, eyes closed, breathing against his sword-callused skin.

“I love you too, by the way. Obviously.”

“I know.”

“Don’t Han Solo me, you bastard.”

“Go ahead and try to stop me,” Nico challenges, grinning into the passionately indignant kiss Will presses to his lips, finally, letting Nico curl his hands in his hair.

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mya-valentine · 3 months ago

Text

Behind Locked Doors

Synopsis: After a rare bad day leaves the usually cheerful and outgoing reader hiding away in their shared room, Law uses his powers to get inside, only to find them struggling with their emotions. Concerned and out of his element, Law awkwardly makes a fool of himself in an attempt to cheer them up, showing a softer, more vulnerable side to his usually stoic demeanor.

It had been a rough day. You weren’t even sure what had triggered it, but by the time the day ended, all you wanted was to hide away in your shared room. Normally, your bright and outgoing personality filled the corridors of the Polar Tang, lifting the spirits of everyone aboard. You were the cheerful heartbeat of the crew, always knowing just how to make someone laugh or turn a bad day around. But today, you couldn’t even muster the energy to put on a smile for yourself.

Shutting the door behind you, you locked it and collapsed on the bed. Tugging a pillow over your face, you groaned into it, wishing the world would just disappear for a while. It wasn’t like you to shut down like this, and part of you felt guilty for not being your usual self. Still, something deep inside weighed you down, and you couldn’t quite shake it.

After some time passed, you heard the sound of footsteps approaching. It wasn’t surprising when Law's voice came from the other side of the door. “[Name]? Are you in there?” His tone was neutral, as always, but you could detect a hint of concern.

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. The weight on your chest felt too heavy, and even responding seemed like too much effort.

You heard the jiggling of the door handle as Law attempted to open it. When he realized it was locked, there was a pause, followed by the faintest of sighs.

"Room."

In an instant, the telltale sound of his ability activating reached your ears, and before you knew it, Trafalgar D. Water Law appeared in the room with you. His sharp eyes immediately swept over the scene—your form curled up on the bed, the pillow partially obscuring your face, and the heavy atmosphere in the room. His brows knitted together in worry.

"[Name]..." He moved closer, kneeling by the bed. "What’s going on? Why didn’t you answer?"

You groaned softly but didn’t lift the pillow. "I’m fine, Law. Just… not feeling great today. Can you go?"

"Not feeling great?" he repeated, skepticism clear in his voice. "You're never like this. You always try to cheer up everyone else, but now you're hiding in here, not telling me what’s wrong?" His voice softened at the end, filled with a kind of concern that he didn’t always express so openly.

Law wasn’t great at emotions. He was all about logic, plans, and cool-headedness, but when it came to you, there was a different side of him that few got to see. He cared, even if he didn’t always know how to show it.

"Seriously, it’s nothing. Just a bad day." You shifted the pillow slightly, your voice coming out muffled.

Law stared at you for a moment, frustration bubbling up inside him. He hated seeing you like this—someone so full of life, suddenly dimmed. He wasn’t going to let you stay like that.

Suddenly, without a word, he stood up. You peeked out from under the pillow, watching as Law walked over to the far side of the room. He started rummaging through a nearby cabinet, pulling out random objects. A stethoscope, a chart, a spare hat. Then he started to... juggle?

You blinked in disbelief. Law—Trafalgar D. Water Law, the stern and serious captain of the Heart Pirates—was attempting to juggle three completely random items in the air, and he was terrible at it. The stethoscope flopped down almost immediately, the hat following close behind, and Law’s eyes narrowed in annoyance. He grabbed the hat and put it on his head at a jaunty angle, looking at you with an exaggeratedly serious expression.

It was absurd. You couldn’t help the small giggle that escaped your lips.

Noticing the sound, Law raised an eyebrow. "That wasn’t supposed to happen," he said, still juggling the remaining items with little success.

You chuckled again, the weight on your chest starting to lift slightly. "What are you doing?"

He gave you a deadpan look, tossing the items to the floor and crossing his arms. "Obviously, I’m trying to be an idiot to get you to laugh. I’m not exactly used to cheering people up in the traditional sense, but you’re going to have to deal with this."

You smiled, the corners of your mouth tugging up despite the lingering sadness. Law's awkward attempt at comedy was endearing in its own way, especially coming from someone as stoic as him. You could see how hard he was trying for you, and it warmed your heart.

"Okay, okay," you said softly, pushing the pillow aside and sitting up a little. "You’re definitely making me feel better."

Law moved closer again, sitting on the edge of the bed this time. He rested a hand on your shoulder, his expression softening. "You don’t always have to be the one cheering everyone else up, [Name]. Sometimes, you need to let others take care of you too."

The sincerity in his voice made your chest tighten, but in a good way. You nodded, finally allowing yourself to lean into him. "Thanks, Law," you murmured.

He let out a small, relieved breath, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you closer. "Anytime. Just... don't lock the door next time. I don't want to have to teleport in every time you need me."

You snorted softly, resting your head against his shoulder. "Deal."

And for the first time that day, you felt a little lighter, knowing that even in your darkest moments, Law would always be there to make a fool out of himself just to see you smile.

Masterlist

#law x reader #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar law #trafalgar one piece #trafalgar d law x reader #one piece #one piece x reader

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cillivnz · 11 months ago

Text

a good host [k. heisenberg]

PAIRING — KARL HEISENBERG x DIMITRESCU!READER

TROPE — DBF! [here, mother’s friend, no really close relation] WORD COUNT — 2469

WARNINGS — NSFW. 18+. fem!reader. f!masturbation, usage of sex toys, virgin!reader, voyeurism, hefty age-gap (reader is in early 20s, Karl is in his 50s), vaginal fingering, innocence/corruption kink, cursing, pet-names (bunny, little girl, etc.), slight degradation (he calls you a whore), slightly mean!Karl, orgasm denial, dacryphilia, squirting, overstimulation, clit-play.

A/N — i just think heisenberg would be a good fuck, that’s it— that’s what motivated this. i’m slowly rising like a phoenix out of the fires of writer’s block, so, slowly but surely i’m trying to get back on track with my requests and works. though, a full comeback might take a few months. no mention of Alcides [ gender-bent Lady Dimitrescu ], didn’t want to jinx the two verses, so Alcina is Alcina.

more from my ‘resident evil: village’ world.

“FUCK,” YOU GROAN as you shut the door to your chambers behind you.

you’d excused yourself for the umpteenth time, now inconsiderate of how rude you would seem to the man you’ve been leaving all alone in the cold and empty dining room of your manor.

well, your mother’s.

and a friend, too.

well, not a friend.

Karl Heisenberg and Alcina Dimitrescu would prefer the term, “(unfortunate) associates”, but manners run well in a noble’s blood so it’s natural for the two to try and be cordial.

and it’s the same manners, the same etiquettes instilled in you that have put you in this state.

flushed, embarrassed, and wet.

you couldn’t bare to look Heisenberg in the eye while he made small talk with you in your home.

his round, black glasses were perched on the tip of his strong nose, his hat, like a loyal companion, sat next to him on a wooden chair, his greyed hair, out and frisky. his overcoat had been long abandoned, perhaps, at the very entrance to the castle, so his beige undershirt, clasped around his big broad muscles and softer belly didn’t go unnoticed by you.

fuck, the more you took in his appearance, the hotter became the air in the room, your ability to breathe and the more frantically you’d rub some friction between your thighs.

YOU’VE FOUND KARL HEISENBERG INSATIABLE since you were a little girl, which you still were in his eyes, as he painfully reminded you every time by referring to you by that and nothing else. as of lately, your urges around him have worsened.

since your eighteenth birthday, Heisenberg’s began to look at you a little differently.

he listens carefully to the squeaky little bunny that’s lately got the balls to interrupt her own mother and company, correct them in political matters. yeah, Heisenberg’s began to notice you. earlier, your greetings would be dismissed with a nonchalant wave in the air, but now? heisenberg could hear you talk for hours, so desperately wanting to hear the sultry tone of your voice that he’d ask to hear the same story about your earliest memory hunting, over and over again.

so, to say he felt appalled by your frequent exits from your evening together— an evening he had committed to your mother, had Alcina been home— was an understatement.

after the third time you had left him alone, his impatience and ego got the best of him, though there was an undertone of curiosity there, too. so, he, sly as a fox, followed you to your room.

your back was pressed against the door, muffling your cries while you rubbed your clit down with a toy. you were in a trance, mind fogged with painful lust that drove your legs on its own fervour. you sink into your bed, ripping your dress off of yourself in a swift motion, and hiding your bare skin with a poor excuse of a duvet.

your toy was swimming in your slick with every rub against your cunt.

“fucking hell,” you moaned when the tip of the toy nudged your slit, massaging your hole, easing in only to pull out immediately.

while you edged yourself, thoughts of Karl crawled in, like their usual tendency. you fantasised about his big hands, how they were resting on your knee for a brief second, before continued sipping on his earl grey tea.

you sighed when his name escaped your parted lips. you wanted nothing more than to be split open on his cock, at his mercy. your mother would be so ashamed if she ever finds out one of her most disliked friends is the prime source of your infatuation.

you think about his lips on yours, your breasts, his fingers inside you, on your clit— you whined, “this so wrong, but fuck me,”

AND KARL HEISENBERG COULDN’T AGREE MORE.

admiring you from afar, he couldn’t help but feel a twitch of arousal in his pants. he is no damn saint, but he knew it was wrong of him to enter your room without permission. not his fault, your moans sounded like cries, so you worried him, he just wanted to make sure you’re okay. and his reason for staying to watch the show? well, like i said, he’s no goddamn saint. he just wants to make sure you’re really okay.

“so this is what you keep hopping off to do, little bunny.” his thunderous voice roared in the quiet of your room, the transatlantic accent deeper once laced with lust and mischief.

you jolted upright, “L-Lord Heisenberg!” you clutched the duvet to your chest, failing to cover a breast, still, and his eyes were quick to catch your mistake.

“please, call me Karl.”

“you seemed to have no problem in moaning it.”

you froze, clenching involuntarily around the the length of your penetrating toy.

“i—”

“shh, it’s okay.” your stammering was interrupted by a single step taken by Karl closer to you.

“i don’t mind, bunny.” he cooed, softly.

he took this moment to admire you.

you looked like a deer caught in headlights. your doe eyes, furrowed brows, plump, parted lips, the subtle perspiration settled on your collarbone, the duvet clinging to your cleavage and your pebble-like nipples peaking through it.

“i’m just mad you had to hide the show from me.” by the time those words leave his mouth, he’s on the foot of your bed. “thought Mama Dimitrescu would’ve taught you better, sweet girl.” he ‘tsk’ed.

“A GOOD HOST ISN’T SELFISH, HM?”

“A GOOD HOST LETS THE GUEST JOIN IN ON THE FUN,” he says; nods convincingly. a gentle hand inching towards your blanketed body, ready to peel the duvet off and expose you in all vulnerability.

he eyes you for a moment, face searching for any sign of hesitation or discomfort, but was pleased to see you rip all coverings off yourself on your own, grabbing Karl by the hand and pulling him towards you.

his face was so close to yours, you felt heat emitting from your body onto his.

“now, little bunny, are you sure yo—”

you cut him off by placing a kiss of fervency on his lips, giving Heisenberg the answer to questions he was yet to ask.

he let you enjoy the lead for a brief moment more, before taking control. laying you down, Karl was quick to climb on top of you, his hands not wasting a minute to feel your body beneath him.

“i’d be lying if i said i didn’t want this, too, little bunny.” you gasped at the confession, Karl using your parted lips as an opportunity to slip his tongue in your mouth.

you were kissing your mother’s friend, holy fuck.

“tell me, baby,” he pulled away, eliciting a whine from you. he now laid besides you, relishing the warmth of your bare body.

“‘you ever put a real cock in there?” his hand grabbed a hold of the toy, easing in the tip into your slick folds.

your mind went blank, grinding your hips slowly into the sudden intrusion. “when i ask you a question, little girl, you answer it.” Heisenberg’s voice deepened in dominance. “n-no, sir.” you shook your head.

Karl groaned in arousal.

the thought of stripping away your innocence was so intoxicating.

“of course not. that brute dame knows better than to let you out of this shithole.” he scoffs, evidently insulting your mother, for reasons he named himself, “the minute you ought to step out, men would be pouncing on you like rabid dogs.”

he didn’t stop pumping the toy inside you, agonisingly slow, leaving you whining and begging for more.

“you want more, huh, bun?” he spoke so gently. you nodded, unable to form words because of the aching sensation between your legs.

“okay, i’ll give you more.” he lifted you up like you weighed a feather, placing you between his legs. his own were positioned between yours, so all it took for him to have you spread out was just a nudge of his knees.

“there we go, now spread that pretty pussy for me.” he rested his head on your shoulder, watching eagerly while you hesitated a little to comply.

he put his hands on yours,

and they fit like pieces of an intricate puzzle.

enveloping your smaller ones completely, his hands guided yours to spread your pussy open. the cold air of your room hit your leaking slit, causing you to shudder in his arms.

“look at you glistening, baby.”

“my god,” he groaned, rubbing your hand (and his atop) into your slick.

you sighed into the feeling of your soft hands, mixed with his large, rough ones.

“show me how you please that little pussy.” he whispered in your ear, kissing your lobe.

you nodded, biting your lower lip at his vulgarity.

a lord, yet so crude.

you began toying with your clit, rubbing figure-eights on the swollen bud. Karl’s hands wasted no time in fondling your breasts— groping, squeezing, twisting your nipples, tugging at them— only adding more pleasure to the sensation.

“ease one in.”

you weren’t sure what he mumbled until he decided to take matters into his own hands (literally) and rubbed a finger against your slit.

you swore you forgot how to breath when the sharp sensation of the digit penetration was felt.

“Karl…” you moaned, relishing in the feel of being stretched open.

“what do you think about when you touch yourself?” he asked, velvety voice dripping honey on you.

simply answered, “you.”

he kissed your neck, “i know, bunny. but what in specific?”

“uh~”

“tell me.” he grunted, pushing another finger inside.

“y-your hands… i think about your fingers… inside me.”

you mewed hearing him groan in your ear, the subtle nuzzle of his head into your neck urged you to continue. “‘want nothing more than your cock pounding me— wanna be at your mercy, Karl!”

“fuck, baby,” Karl groaned at your vulgarity; even you were surprised at the profanities leaving your lips but the lust hazed cloud in your mind burst with rains of arousal.

“i’ll give what you want for being such a good girl.” he purred in your ear, discarding the drenched toy. your whine at the loss of contact turned into a gasp when he so carelessly threw away your toy to the corner of the room.

you looked up at him through your lashes, feigning faux offense at the abandonment of your favourite companion on a lonely night. “don’t worry,” assured Karl, grinning.

“you won’t be needin’ that no more.” he grinned, plunging two of his thick digits right into your core.

you were stretched like a spring at the hands of this rugged noble. he nuzzled his head into your collarbones, the rugged stubble adorning his handsome face prickling your soft flesh.

Karl bit, licked, sucked, and nibbled, while you writhed, moaned, shivered, and cried in ecstasy.

“such a naughty girl— ‘acting so noble and sophisticated all the time, but when Mama’s friend comes in sight, you start cussing like a sailor with the libido of a pervy sleazeball.” he chuckled at his own descriptions of you, while you hadn’t registered a word he said, simply clenching and unclenching around his experienced fingers, moaning his name with every haggard breath.

“c-close!” you hiccuped, tears staining your rosy face.

“god, you’re so beautiful.” Karl groaned, licking the shell of your ear. you shuddered, not knowing if it was at his lewd actions or the mere compliment.

Karl breathed in your scent, your sensual oud suppressed by the sweet fragrance of your arousal.

he pulled out his fingers.

you began crying.

“why…?” you sobbed, “because,” he explained.

“you’ve not been a very good host, baby girl— leaving your guest waiting like that. only fair you don’t get release this soon, hm?”

he cooed his justification and you weeped like you had committed the most heinous crime.

your hole fluttered around the damp, chill air of your room. gaping around the new nothingness that replaced the stuffed fulfilling treatment you were receiving prior.

“please, i’m sorry— i’m… i’ll do better next time—”

“next time?” Karl was quick to intervene.

“what makes you think there’ll be a ‘next time’?”

your glassy eyes widened, “please, Karl, i’m begging you.”

“hm…” he hunched over your shoulder, chin prodding into your shoulder blade while he looked over at you, nonchalantly. not even an ounce of remorse, amusement, if anything.

“okay. since Mommy taught you manners,”

he rammed his fingers back into your cunt, a look of devilish glee spread across his face.

in and out, in and out, in and curl.

you screamed when he hit that spongy spot inside of you, dead-on. Karl was quick to cover your mouth.

“now, now, we don’t want sweet ol’ Pasha hearing us, do we?” he slowed, referring to the chamberlain that’s often posted right outside your door. you shook your head, urging him to go faster like he was.

“good fucking girl,” he groaned, feeling you pulsate around his wrinkled fingers.

“give me a show, host. make it worth the hours you kept me waiting. ‘dry and hangin’.” he nudged your legs wider, further apart with his knees. the hand that covered your pretty lips now wrapped itself around your own hand.

a sweet moment that lasted mere seconds, he took your interlaced fingers and placed them on your clit, shaking your hand fervently.

your brows furrowed, vision blurred as you peaked. afraid you can’t let go, but he’ll make you.

he’ll make you lose control, just like he’s made you his.

with one last push, or shove of his fingers, he quickly pulled them out, and broke the dam of pleasure.

your slick gushed out of your drooling cunt, drenching everything, including the two of you, nearby.

Karl chuckled, triumphantly. still rubbing fervently at your overstimulated clit, urging more of your juices to squirt out.

“now, that’s a show, darling.” he chuckled, grabbing your flushed face by the chin and connecting your lips to a passionate, chaste kiss.

when you closed your legs, he slapped your thigh, causing you to wince and jerk them open.

“—the hell are you doing?” he asked, seemingly offeneded.

“are you kicking me out?” he raised a brow, a sarcastic smile threatening to break on his face.

“b-but i thought we were—”

“done? oh, no, baby. you left me alone in that dining room thrice this evening.”

“this was just the first of three.”

“now, ass up, face down.” he manhandled you in the blink of an eye.

“your guest’s gotta entertain himself.”

he chuckled, and you nearly choked when you felt something mean, and thick prodding at your abused folds.”

you were in for a long night with your guest.

pt. II. main masterlist. blog directory. COCKUETTE MASTERLIST.

#karl heisenberg #resident evil #resident evil village #lady dimitrescu #dimitrescu family #karl heisenburg x reader #karl heisenburg fanart #karl heisenberg x reader smut #resident evil smut #smut #dbf!#age g4p #yandere!karl heisenberg #voyerurism #cillivnz #lord dimitrescu #coquette #cockette #cockuette

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meazalykov · 16 days ago

Text

baby its cold outside

barcelona femeni x salma paralluelo x finnish!reader requested

summary: the request

merry christmas!!!

the snow crunches beneath your boots as you lead the group toward the log cabin nestled deep in the forests of rovaniemi.

the cold bites at your cheeks, but it doesn’t bother you. this is home, and it’s always been beautiful no matter how many winters you’ve spent here. you glance back, a grin tugging at your lips as you watch your girlfriend, salma, and your teammates—vicky, martina, sydney, jana, and kika—trying to maneuver through the snow, bundled up in layers upon layers of thick coats, scarves, and hats.

for most of them, this is their first experience with real snow, and their reactions are nothing short of hilarious.

“i swear, i’ve never seen this much snow in my life, shit i think my eyes are blinded by the brightness” vicky says, her voice muffled by the scarf wrapped tightly around her neck.

“do people actually live here?” kika mutters, her portuguese nose red from the cold as she tries to step into the packed down path you’re making for them.

you chuckle softly, slowing your pace so they can catch up.

“yes, kika, people live here. it’s not that bad once you’re used to it.”

“used to it?” martina exclaims, dramatically pulling her gloves tighter.

“my toes are going numb, and we’ve only been outside for five minutes.”

salma catches your eye, her own lips twitching into a small smile as she shakes her head at the antics of your friends. her cheeks are somewhat flushed from the cold, and the spanish woman tucks a stray strand of her dark hair into her hat.

even in layers that nearly swallow her whole, she’s beautiful. the sight of her here, in your world, makes your chest feel warm despite the icy air around you.

when you finally reach the cabin, you pause and turn back to them, throwing your arms out.

“ta-da!” you announce.

the girls gape at the cabin. it’s exactly what you wanted—cozy yet spacious, its wooden exterior dusted with snow, smoke curling from the chimney, and fairy lights strung along the railings of the porch. a warm glow spills from the windows, promising comfort and warmth inside.

“it looks like it came straight out of one of those christmas movies jill shows me,” jana says, her eyes wide.

“please tell me there’s a fireplace,” sydney adds, stomping the snow off her boots as she makes her way to the door.

you laugh, grabbing the keys from your pocket and unlocking the door.

“of course there’s a fireplace, and hot chocolate waiting inside.”

as everyone piles in, kicking off their boots and shedding their layers, you guide salma toward the couch by the fireplace. she sinks into the cushions with a sigh, and you sit beside her, pulling her close under the thick blanket already draped there.

“better?” you ask, tilting your head to look at her.

she nods, resting her head on your chest.

“much better.”

meanwhile, the others are exploring the cabin, voices echoing through the space. sydney is already inspecting the kitchen, while vicky is pulling an xbox out of her carry-on bag, much to everyone’s confusion.

“you brought an xbox?” martina asks, her tone caught between disbelief and amusement.

vicky shrugs nonchalantly.

“we have downtime, and fifa’s a must.”

you roll your eyes fondly, turning your attention back to salma.

“so, what do you think? worth braving the cold?”

she leans into you, her dark eyes meeting yours with a teasing glint. “baby, it’s cold outside,” she murmurs, a playful pout on her lips.

you laugh softly, brushing your lips against her temple.

“yeah, love, we are in finland. what did you expect?”

salma’s laughter is warm and light, and it makes your heart swell. moments like this, with her wrapped up in your arms, make you forget the freezing temperatures and the chaos of bringing your friends to your hometown.

the next morning, you decide it’s time to introduce the girls to some true finnish winter activities. breakfast is a lively affair, with sydney teasing kika about her dramatic reaction to the cold, and martina snapping pictures of the snowy view outside the window. after everyone’s bundled up again, you lead them out to a nearby trail for cross-country skiing.

“okay,” you say, holding up a pair of skis,

“this is one of my favorite winter sports. it’s not as hard as it looks, i promise.”

your words are met with skeptical stares. salma raises an eyebrow at you.

“are you sure about that?”

“positive,” you reply with a grin.

“just watch me.”

“alexia is going to freak out if you come back to barca injured!!” vicky calls out.

“i won’t, i know what i am doing!” you laugh.

“we don't!” sydney protests.

you strap on your skis and push off, gliding smoothly over the snow. the wind bites at your face, but it’s exhilarating, the kind of freedom you’ve missed since moving to barcelona. you glance back, expecting to see the others following your lead… instead, you’re met with chaos.

kika is flat on her back, her skis tangled beneath her, while martina tries—and fails—to help her up. jana wobbles dangerously before falling into a snowbank, and vicky is clutching onto sydney for dear life as they both struggle to stay upright.

salma, to her credit, manages a few awkward glides before losing her balance and landing on her knees.

you can’t help but laugh, the sound echoing through the trees.

“come on, it’s not that bad!” you call out, stopping to wait for them.

salma glares at you playfully, brushing snow off her gloves.

“easy for you to say, ms. finnish! you’re a natural.”

“and you will be too, with a little practice,” you tease, skiing back to her. you help her to her feet, your hands lingering on hers for a moment longer than necessary.

“you’re doing great, though.”

her expression softens, and she leans in close enough for only you to hear.

“you’re lucky i love you.”

your heart skips a beat, and you grin.

“i know, and i love you too.”

by the time you all make it back to the cabin, everyone is exhausted but in high spirits. hot chocolate is the first thing on your mind, and you quickly set to work in the kitchen, heating milk and stirring in cocoa powder while salma hovers nearby, sneaking marshmallows from the bag.

when the mugs are ready, you carry them to the living room, where the others are already sprawled out on the couches and floor. vicky has fifa up and running, and the sound of friendly banter fills the room.

you hand a mug to salma and sit beside her on the couch, draping the blanket over your laps. she takes a sip, her eyes fluttering shut as she savors the warmth.

“delicious,” she murmurs.

you steal a sip from her mug, earning a mock glare.

“sharing is caring,” you say innocently.

she rolls her eyes but doesn’t protest, leaning against you as you both watch the chaos unfolding around you. kika is yelling at jana for a missed goal, while martina and sydney cheer on their teams from the sidelines.

the xbox, as ridiculous as it was to bring, has brought the perfect amount of holiday cheer to the cabin.

outside, snow begins to fall again, soft and silent. inside, the warmth of the fire and the love of your friends make the cold seem a distant memory.

you tighten your arm around salma, pressing a kiss to her temple.

“thank you for bringing us here,” she says softly, her voice barely audible over the laughter and shouts of your friends.

“this is… it’s special.”

you smile, your heart full.

“you’re welcome, love. i’m glad you’re here to share it with me.”

masterlist

#barcelona femeni #fc barcelona #woso fanfics #woso community #woso x reader #salma paralluelo #vicky lopez #jana fernandez #sydney schertenleib #alexia putellas #kika nazareth

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iliketangerines · 3 months ago

Text

gift to you

a/n: happy birthday to @partycatty couldn't scrounge up enough horniness for a smut so you just get fluff instead rip

pairing: mk11!johnny cage x gn!reader

warnings: none, a little suggestive at the end but nothing crazy

Johnny waits for you patiently in the living room, streamers hung around the room and balloons by the doorway of the living room

a small party hat sits on his head, and the string was starting to itch the bottom of his neck as sat with a small little horn for when you walked into the room

perhaps you were running late, perhaps there was some traffic as you drove home, Johnny tries to reason with himself and calm himself down

it was only your birthday, a small party of just you and him, Cassie was over at Jacqui’s, so it really was only you two at home today

the doorknob clicks, and Johnny straightens his back, slightly wincing at the ache from shooting it ramrod straight, but he forgets it when he sees you

your hair slightly frizzed from the day, and your uniform is slung over your arm as you open up the door and yawn, a bag of take-out held in your hand as you groan

still, you’re the most gorgeous being on this planet to him right now, and Johnny can feel the edges of his heart clenching as he stares at you tiredly close and lock the door behind you, toeing off your shoes without noticing how he stood there with decorations

when you finally look up from the floor, your eyes widen in surprise and then your face splits into a smile as Johnny blows the small horn, a small toot echoing in the air

“Johnny? oh, this is so cute!” you look around at the streamers hung around the living room and then to the helium balloons by the door that you had somehow missed

“happy birthday, sweetheart.” he clicks the play button on his phone, and a slow sappy song starts to play in the air, voice slightly muffled by the cloth of his pants

“grant me this dance?” holding out his hand, he slightly bows down and stares at you with a small smirk as you laugh and take his hand

Johnny sweeps you into his arms and hums along to the song as he leads you through the slow dance, staring into your eyes and how you smile at him

it’s nothing spectacular, but he didn’t need to do spectacular with you, just needed to be himself, a little Cage charm perhaps but nothing too out of this world

as the song ends, he dips you low to the ground and finally presses his lips to yours, tasting you on his tongue, savoring you, ingraining you into his memory and into his soul

he finally pulls back, bringing you back up to your feet, smirking to you and pressing one of his hands into the small of your back as a more raunchy song starts to play

“i’ve got some cake for you too.” Johnny sends a little wink to you, and you scoff, but there’s a smile on your lips anyway as you slap at his shoulder

“alright then, lead the way, Cage.” you laugh and then a small squeak as he brings into his arms, one hand supporting your upper back as his other arm hooks underneath the hook of your knees

bringing his head down to kiss you again, he brings you to your bedroom and puts you down on the sheets before pressing his weight into you as you wrap your arms around his neck

he had an actual gift for you sitting in the drawer, a small little box with a pretty little ring for you, but for now, he had more pressing matters

#tangerine writes #mortal kombat x reader #mk x reader #mk x you #mk x y/n #mk11 x reader #johnny cage x reader #johnny cage x you #johnny cage x y/n

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thrillered · 5 months ago

Note

Spencer at a " Y/N L/N is dead | The funeral roast" pretty please🫶

(Bonus points if after roasting reader he gets all sentimental and reiterates that he CANNOT live without them or he'll just die on the spot)

"Y/N is dead. | The funeral roast" | Spencer Agnew x Reader

this was so fun to write! I hope you enjoy it!

You were sitting in the blue velvet coffin, a bouquet of fake black roses in your hands and tears in your eyes. You were in the middle of shooting your funeral, surrounded by your friends and coworkers as they roasted the hell out of you. Right now Shayne was playing the CEO of converse, crying over who was going to keep them in business now that you were gone. You looked down at your pair of custom smosh platform converse you were wearing that Ian had bought you for your 3 year ‘smoshiversary’.

Shayne finished his bit, earning claps from throughout the room. You peaked one eye open, looking to see who was going next. Tommy was stepping up to the podium, his signature lace funeral hat on.

“Friends, coworkers… those who somehow managed to deal with Y/N, I am here to read the final will of Y/N L/N.” He began, pulling a piece of paper out of his long black leather jacket; a dig at your favorite coat you thrifted. “She left a lot of things for those she loved, I will not be reading those today.”

You laughed, peeking at the offended looks on everyone's faces.

“Courtney, Y/N leaves you her sense of humor. There wasn’t much of it but it was stolen from you to begin with.” Courtney gasped while Shayne let out a pfft. He turned his attention to Shayne, “Shayne, everyone knew of the “fake” beef the two of you played up on camera… so to you she left her 17 pairs of platform converse, this way you don’t have to look up to her… maybe now you'll see eye to eye.”

You pulled a hand over your mouth, attempting to muffle the loud cackle that was escaping you. “Well damn.” Shayne sputtered.

“To Angela Y/N leaves her entire Le Creuset cookware set. Everyone knew you were jealous of it.”

“Okay that’s not fair, it’s literally all light blue, it's gorgeous!” Angela exclaimed.

“And finally Y/N leaves Spencer her heart… and yet he’ll still probably ask if she actually loves him.”

“That's crazy…” You huffed, through fits of laughter. The entire crew clapping and ‘ohhh’ing at Spencer.

Tommy left the podium, grabbing your knees as he walked by the coffin, knowing you hated it. “I gotcha!” He sneered, making you yelp.

The only person left to speak was Spencer. He was in a full suit and tie, dressed for an actual funeral. He looked really good, you just wanted to stare at him. He approached the podium, a large binder in his hands.

“In honor of Y/N’s memory I would like to start by going through some of my favorite memories with her in this photo album.” Spencer declared, opening to a middle page of the album. “This is when Y/N and I met.” He turned the binder around, showing a picture from your first day at Smosh.

Awe’s could be heard around the room. You scrunched your brows, not trusting Spencer to only be nice. “Then I got to know her…” He hesitated, pulling an awkward and tight grin across his face. “Then she passed. That’s my favorite” He showed a picture of you sitting in the coffin, clearly taken today.

“What the fuck?” you asked, “How did you print that so quickly?”

“The dead don’t talk.” Erin reminded from the seats, earning a middle finger from you.

“Anyway, time for the eulogy.” Spencer continued, tossing the album away from him, a loud clap echoing in the room as the binder hit the ground. “The world went quiet when Y/N died… mostly because she couldn’t cackle like a banshee anymore… frankly? Pretty peaceful.”

“Oh my god.” Amanda laughed, covering her face.

“I think we can all agree that Y/N was an integral part of this company and an integral part of this cast.” Everyone nodded, Angela pretending to wipe away tears. “I mean.. Who else is gonna be worse Courtney? Or shorter Amanda? Or Taller Angela? Or less clever Arasha? Or Shayne if he was a lady barista who wanted to be a skater?”

“Jesus Christ man.” Shayne said, shaking his head in confusion.

“He’s not wrong.” Courtney agreed, putting a hand on Shayne’s shoulder.

“But things will never be the same without her. I am reminded of her constantly… mostly because her hair is everywhere. I don’t know how she still has hair, she literally sheds like a husky; whines like one too.”

You were shaking your head, holding in a laugh, not wanting to give Spencer the win of your laughter.

“But seriously, I love you Y/N. I don’t know what I would do without you, I think I would actually die. Please don’t make me sleep on the couch tonight.” Spencer admitted, making eye contact with you, a smile on his face. “You mean the world to me.”

Spencer sat down. You waited a dramatic few seconds before sucking in a large breath of air, pretending to wake from the dead. “How long was I out for?” you asked, making everyone laugh. “That was some… nice?... things you guys said about me, thanks guys.”

“Luckily I just came from hell so I can handle the heat… I wonder if you guys will do the same,” you smirked, pulling a folded piece of paper out of your bra, unfolding it and reading it aloud, “Call me sometime, satan? Oops, wrong paper!” You joked, tucking the paper away.

“Man what the hell?” Spencer asked.

“Well that's where she was apparently.” Shayne reminded, making himself laugh.

“Okay this is the right one,” You began, unfolding a larger paper. “Tommy… ur gay. Courtney… ur gay. Shayne….” You stopped, staring at him for a moment before simply moving on. “Angela… me and your mom genuinely text, and I want you to think about that.”

“That’s actually devastating.” Shayne cackled.

“Amanda… we need to hang out more.” You insisted. “But maybe just at my house, I’m tired of having to climb a beanstalk to come see you” You joked, turning Amanda's sly grin into a face of shock. “Erin… Erin Erin Erin….I lied when I said I lost that blue shirt I borrowed… I still have it and wear it regularly.” You admitted. “And you’re not getting it back.”

“You bitch!” Erin gasped, disgust crossing her features as you blew her a kiss.

“Last.. and least!” You emphasized, “Spencer.. My best friend, my boyfriend, and my other half… if I’m gone you’re a glass half empty. If you’re gone, I’m a glass half full.” You informed. “That’s all to say: You’re Y/N L/N’s boyfriend, and that’s your most impressive accomplishment.”

Everyone laughed, teasing Spencer with an eruption of ‘ooh’s and agreements.

“Seriously though, I love you all so much. Honestly the specificity of each roast made me really happy, you guys really know me and that means a lot to me.” You smiled, looking around the room to each and every one of your closest friends. “And a special thank you to Spencer for loving me, even through all the quirks and flaws that were mentioned here, I love you.” You finished, suddenly pretending to have a hard time breathing before collapsing into dead weight. Then quickly waking back up, “You’re still sleeping on the couch though.” You noted, staying ‘dead’ this time.

#spencer agnew #spencer agnew x reader #spencer agnew/reader #shayne topp #smosh #smosh games #smosh pit #smosh spencer #smosh cast #smosh fanfiction

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toxicanonymity · 2 years ago

Text

The dirty ground. Left in Lincoln, pt. 2

5k | dark dads' best friend!Joel x virgin f!Reader

story master list / joel miller master list

He was always so neat and clean. How despeate he must have been to kneel down right there. He really couldn't help himself. You sighed and he tore his mouth away. He looked up at you, captivated. "You're so beautiful, peaches."

WARNINGS/NOTES: NSFW 18+, creepy perv Joel, big girthy age gap, inexperienced but legal reader, angst, masturbation, fingering, dry humping, pressure, alcohol, pining, graphic descriptions of produce, playing fast and loose with how fruits and vegetables work. Slow-burn horror, you may have disturbing thoughts. Reader can sit on Joel and he can put his arms around her.

You were one big knot of tension after Joel left that night - the first night he kissed you. After showering and getting ready for bed, you laid on top of your comforter, fantasizing and eventually touching yourself. You thought about his hardness pressed against you and his lips on yours. You imagined what his dick was like, what it would feel like against your naked front, and what he looked like with his own hand wrapped around it. You had to assume he was pleasuring himself at the same time you were, and the thought of that had you closer than you’d ever been before to making yourself come.

Until a thump outside cruelly interrupted you, followed by frantic rustling and a muffled screech. Your skin erupted in the wrong kind of goosebumps. You stayed as still as you could. The rustling continued but became erratic. You couldn’t tell where it was coming from, but it was closer than the noises before. Eventually, you crept to your window and peeked outside, carefully nudging the curtain open just a smidgen to remain hidden. The moon was big and white, but you saw nothing.

You began to wish you asked Joel to stay over, but your independence meant something to you. You also weren’t quite ready for what might happen if he did. The rustling became less frequent and tapered off to blend in with the night. You slowed your breath and stared at a spot on your ceiling. Soon you were back to thinking about Joel massaging his hard bulge behind you. You closed your eyes and rubbed your clit, replaying it all. You were so, so close. Feelin’ this against you, knowin’ it’s there. You took a deep breath - you were on the very edge when a loud rustling jerked you back to reality.

You gave up, more frustrated than scared this time. You didn’t bother going to the window. You took some deep breaths, stared at the spot on the ceiling, and prayed for a sex dream. They brought you occasional relief in a world where you didn’t seem to have the confidence or attention span to do it yourself. Until now - you were so close, you were positive you could have.

In the following days, as you did chores and took care of the property, you thought about little else but Joel and his body against yours. You had never seen a hard dick in person. You tried to push away thoughts of how many women had probably seen and felt him. You had to be the least capable of any of them. The way things were going, and the way you kind of wanted things to go, you wanted to be more prepared, but there wasn’t much you could do about that. You dug out an old filthy magazine from the garage and studied it. The guys were so . . . naked. You liked Joel in his jeans and flannel. You wondered what he looked like under all that, but you were satisfied with his clothes being on.

You slept better the second night. The next day, you went for a walk. The community was so dead, it made the fresh air feel stale. The sun blazed and you wished you brought a hat. The crunch of dead leaves and broken asphalt under your feet was all you heard for a while. You walked past Joel’s property and thought about stopping but were too embarrassed. Maybe on the way back, you thought. You walked all the way to Abe’s place toward the back but didn’t see his truck. It was about time for him to come by the house to check the perimeter surveillance, but you hadn’t seen him yet. Sometimes you could hear the radio from there, but not today. He had invited you to come over and see the radio station some time, but you hadn’t yet.

You didn’t stop by Joel’s on the way back either. You slowed down a little, thinking maybe he’d come outside, but you were relieved he didn’t. You didn’t see him in the windows, but you felt watched. You felt naked. Your cheeks burned and you quickened your pace.

When you got home, you went out back to pick vegetables. You got on your knees and inhaled the dirt. It reminded you of gardening with Bill and Frank and you got your first rush of optimism about their return. You remembered how Frank and you tried to surprise Bill with a Strawberry patch for fathers’ day. The patch didn’t last - Bill was the gardener among you, and trying to hide the patch didn’t give it the sun it needed. But Bill loved it and had a good laugh about you and Frank bumbling around behind his back. Bill didn’t laugh often and you savored every time he did. They would come back, they had to - You still had to plant a new Strawberry patch.

You picked some carrots, then found yourself choosing an oblong eggplant for dinner. You ran your hand over it and felt a pang between your legs. You felt bad for not stopping at Joel’s house on your walk. You thought about going back and asking him to join you for dinner.

You started to stand up to go back inside, then the cucumber vine caught your eye and your heart rate quickened. You knelt down again. You looked at their sizes and shapes and stroked them, followed their pale stripes and little ridges. You squeezed them, first with your fingertips, then with your fist. You were embarrassed you didn't know how to do anything. You found one that felt right, and you plucked it off the vine. You held it in one hand and made a loose fist with the other. You ran your fist up and down the cucumber before tightening your grip around it again. You studied it and almost put it in your mouth, despite hating cucumbers. Your cheeks burned at your next thought about what to do with it.

“Aren’t you always pickin’ the cucumbers off your salad?”

You jumped when Joel's low voice startled you from your filthy thoughts.

“Didn’t mean to scare ya, darlin’ . . .”

Your heart was racing. You wanted to die. You had no idea how long he was standing there. You also didn't know he noticed these things about you - that you picked the cucumbers out of your salad.

You caught your breath and turned to face him. He was standing with his hands casually on his hips, shirt tucked in, hair neatly combed as usual. Your face gave you away, and a look of concern spread across his face.

“You okay, peaches?” He stepped forward and put his hand on your back, his first touch giving you butterflies as usual.

"Sorry, um." Your face was on fire. "Yeah. . .I’ve been hearing things at night. . .Guess that’s why I’m jumpy.”

“What kinda things?”

“I dunno, rustling, screeching. . .”

He reassured you it was probably just the house.

“Thumping. Scratching one night. I know it’s probably just animals. . .”

Joel squinted at the cucumber in your hand.

You panicked and explained the despised produce. “I was gonna see if you wanted to come for dinner."

He smiled kindly and looked you up and down. "Count me in," he said with a wink. "Here, I'll take those." He extended his hands for the basket and cucumber. Your ears tingled, and as you handed him the cucumber, you couldn't meet his eyes. You watched his hand. The way he gripped it with his thumb near the tip reminded you of the dirty magazines. If that weren’t enough, he slowly brushed it with his thumb. Your whole body got hot and you finally looked up at him. He raised an eyebrow that made you think he must have been watching you for a while before he approached. You looked away.

Joel brought the produce inside. “Wanna come over and go for a walk? Pick some apples, make some juice to have with dinner?”

“Sure.” You went upstairs to get a hat. You had been wanting to go to the orchard.

When you came back down the stairs, Joel’s face darkened as he looked at you. It caught you off guard and you said, “what?”

He brushed it off, mustering a quick smile. “Nothin’, peaches. Ready to go?”

You set off together toward Joel’s house and walked mostly in silence. That look of his when you came down the stairs bothered you. It was like you did something wrong. You couldn’t put it out of your mind, so you wracked your brain. It was a Red Sox hat - surely Joel wasn’t a Yankees fan. No, he wasn’t the type to care about sports at all. You could only come up with one theory. Jesse had a Red Sox hat, too. Joel would have seen it when Jesse was helping him in the orchard. It wasn’t exactly the same. Jesse’s was worse for the wear. But maybe Joel thought this was Jesse’s? A parting gift?

It would be a silly assumption. There were plenty of Red Sox hats in Massachusetts. If the outbreak hadn’t happened, the post season would have started the next week. You always heard the Sox would have won the World Series.

But just in case it was about Jesse, you tried to smooth it over.

“Papa gave me this when he started teaching me about the garden,” you said, adjusting the brim of the cap.

"Bill's a good gardener," Joel responded flatly.

You thought you saw a hint of relief on his face, but it was hard to tell because he was squinting. You wondered why Joel never wore a hat even when the sun was so high. You didn’t mind his squinting though. It looked good on him like everything else.

The rest of the walk, you talked about the Boston QZ. You asked why Tommy stayed there and didn’t come to Lincoln. Joel said not everybody liked the farm life. You said you often wondered what life was like in the QZ and that you’d love to try it. Joel assured you that you weren’t missing out on anything.

Once you got to his house, Joel grabbed an apple basket from inside. You walked through the orchard in silence. Everything felt too still, and you were glad to have Joel by your side. He started telling you about the different trees and how picking apples differs from peaches.

Your eyes fell on the corner of a garden bed near the back fence. “What’d you end up planting back there?” you asked and noticed the mess of dirt next to it. “Are you doin’ it now?”

“What?”

“The new garden beds?” You realized your mistake when it was too late. Joel stopped walking.

“How do you. . .” He trailed off, then sighed. “Hurts my feelin’s, peaches. When you come by and don’t even bother sayin’ hi.”

“Oh, I didn’t – Jesse mentioned–when y’all were digging–” You weren’t sure which was worse in his eyes, talking to Jesse or coming over without seeing him.

Joel clenched his jaw. It turned out Jesse was worse. “Heh,” he looked down and laughed in bad humor, as though Jesse should obviously be a sore subject. Maybe he ghosted Joel, too. Joel smoothed his hair and answered you. “Haven’t planted anything yet.”

You stared at the ground for a beat of tense silence, then Joel tried to get things back on track. “Why, got a request? Maybe some squash, watermelon?”

“Strawberries?”

“Strawberries. . .” he smiled. “Alright, peaches. We’ll plant you some strawberries.” He cupped your cheek and looked at you affectionately.

“C’mon, let’s find our tree.”

Our tree.

Joel touched your hand, then interlaced his fingers with yours, leading you off the path and through the trees, back toward the street. His thumb gently stroked yours and your chest felt light. At the tree of his choice, he let go of your hand and put the basket down. The leaves crunched under your shoes as you carefully stepped around fallen apples. You crouched down to pick one up, then Joel said, “better from the tree.”

“What do you do with the ones on the ground?”

“Perfect for cider.” Joel found a good looking apple on a branch. “For apple juice, you want one that comes off after a quarter turn.”

He was about to turn the apple, but something caught his eye on the tree.

“Would ya look at that. . .” He let go of the apple and grabbed your hand. “C’mon,” he said excitedly and pulled you to the other side of the tree. He pulled down a branch that didn’t have any apples and you followed his eyes to a flower.

“Li’l apple blossom,” he muttered. “Gorgeous.”

“Is it rare?” you asked.

“This time of year? On a tree with ripe apples? It sure is.” He reached for the flower.

“Why’s it there?”

“Well, I reckon sometimes they bloom late.” He stroked the petals, entranced. “And sometimes, it turns out that’s for a reason.” He plucked the flower and closed his eyes as he brought it to his nose, his chest expanding with a long, deep breath through his nostrils. “I think this one’s just for you.”

He stepped closer, offering it for you to smell. The velvet petals brushed your nose as you breathed in the sweetest, most beautiful scent. Joel watched you enjoy the fragrance, then gently nudged the cap off your head and it landed softly behind you. You looked into his eyes and saw a world of affection.

He tucked the flower behind your ear, then cradled your head and wrapped his other arm around you, bringing your body into his. You were anxious for him to kiss you again, unsure if you were doing it right. He was so good at it. His lips tenderly met yours, and your nerves washed away. After a few seconds, he pulled away to look you in the eyes. He kissed you again and his lips became greedier. His arm tightened around you, and his tongue slowly claimed every part of your mouth. He softly moaned into you as his hand drifted from your back to your ass, pulling your pelvis into him. You felt him harden against your body, sending a swarm of butterflies to your core.

He broke away from your lips to kiss the hollow of your neck, then your neckline. He nuzzled his nose between your breasts, overwhelming your body with desire. His hands scanned your back and sides as he began to crouch down. He kissed you through your shirt, between your breasts. He kissed you over your belly button, then just above your pants. He held onto your ass and knelt down on the ground to kiss the front of your pants, making you weak in the knees.

He was always so neatly dressed. How desperate he must have been to get his jeans dirty. He really couldn’t help himself, and that turned you on. He laid open mouth kisses all around your zipper, his nose and strong lips nudging your special place through the denim. You could even feel his tongue. A pool was forming in your panties. You sighed and he tore his head away. He looked up at you, captivated. “You’re so beautiful, peaches.”

He curled the fingers of each hand into your waistband and slowly started to unbutton your pants.

You had been so busy preparing to see Joel’s privates that you forgot to worry about showing your own. The way he looked up at you so hungrily, you hated to stop him, but he recognized the hesitation in your face.

“What’s the matter, baby?”

“I’ve never–no one’s ever–”

“No one’s ever seen you?”

You swallowed and looked down and away.

“You’re beautiful, peaches. . . every part of you.” He unzipped your pants slowly and his thumb dragged lightly over your panties as he pulled it down. “Every part.”

“I, um.” He froze and moved his hands to your sides, listening. You continued, “I never saw— I guess I don’t know if I’m . . . normal.”

He planted a kiss on the exposed sliver of your panties.

“There’s no normal, darlin’. . .I promise. They’re all different, very different. . . Different and beautiful. But especially yours, I just know it.”

“Plus. . .” You looked away again. “I don’t shave.”

“I know, darlin’,” he said. “And I’m glad. . . ‘cause I want every part of you just how you are.”

With that, you were convinced. He began to gently take down your pants, being careful not to bring your panties with them.

But then you both heard the unmistakeable sound of a vehicle coming down the street. It was such a rare occurrence that Joel stopped what he was doing and you both looked in that direction. Joel stood up and you watched him adjust the bulge in his jeans while his eyes narrowed toward the street.

“Damnit,” he whispered as Abe’s truck came into view. Your face lit up. You hadn’t seen anyone besides Joel since Bill and Frank left. Joel didn’t seem as happy about the visitor, but it was understandable given the interruption. “Do you wanna wait,” he started to ask you, but you were already zipping up and ready to walk with him.

“I wanna say hi,” you said.

“Okay, darlin’.” He kissed your head. As you and Joel walked toward the house, Abe came around back. Abe called out your name in surprise.

“Abe!” you called back.

When you got close, he opened his arms for a hug and you gave him one. You didn’t even know Abe that well, but you were so happy to see anyone. When you looked back at Joel, he was scowling. You swallowed, wondering if the hug bothered him.

But, did Joel ever look happy? Only when you were in his arms or about to be. Your heart fluttered as you realized it.

Abe talked to you for a minute. He asked how you were holding up and if it was spooky being alone. You admitted the noises at night were bothering you. Abe said it was probably raccoons and that he could swing by with some traps the next day. He was supposed to come by and check the security footage anyway. He promised Bill he’d look at the perimeter footage to make sure no one dangerous was showing up to the compound. You could have done it yourself, too, but Bill didn’t want to overwhelm you.

Joel shifted uncomfortably on his feet and Abe turned his attention to him. “How’s the harvest this year?”

“One of the best, I reckon.”

“That so? Got any cobbler for me?”

“Not today. Got some juice and cider, though.”

“Ooh, cider.”

“You got it.” Joel went inside and came back out with a jar. “C’mon, I’ll walk you to your truck.”

You said goodbye to Abe and he said “See ya soon.”

After a couple of minutes, you heard a car door open and shut. When Joel came back, he was quiet. Abe’s truck started and drove away. Joel put his hands on his hips and looked down at the dirt on his knee. “I’ve got some traps too, ya know. . .” He seemed wounded.

“Of course you do,” you said. “I bet you have everything I need.” It was sweet how he wanted you to need him, not Abe.

You wrapped your arms around him and watched the hurt leave his face.

“Tell ya what,” he said. “Why don’t we both get cleaned up and I’ll come over. We can make dinner together and do the juice another day.”

“Okay.” You were a little disappointed.

“We can drink wine instead tonight, how’s that?” You liked that idea. He didn’t drink with you the first time.

You put on a soft, roomy knee length skirt and pretty top before Joel came over. He had on a new pair of jeans. You made dinner together. He helped pick out a wine, and for the first time, you took a full glass. Maybe more than a full glass, based on the pours you normally saw from Bill and Frank. When you finished eating and were sipping on the rest of your wine, Joel reached out and touched your hand. You smiled shyly at him. The sun was going down outside.

You couldn’t put your finger on the way he was looking at you. It wasn’t the affection you saw earlier. It was something more. Like he wanted to consume you, make you part of him. And every sip of wine, you could feel it happening. You saw little molecules of yourself drifting over, getting sucked into the black holes of his eyes or caught in the flannel of his shirt. It was preferable to being consumed by grief or fear.

Joel built a fire while you cleaned the dishes. Then, you met him in the living room. Before you could sit down on the sofa, he intercepted you, wrapping his arms lazily under yours. He crossed his wrists at your lower back for a close hug that turned into his hands on your ass. His hands felt even better through the thin fabric of your skirt. He held your ass cheeks in the palms of his hand and a soft grunt escaped him as he pulled you into his body. You felt his cock harden in his pants, bringing with it a pool in your panties.

He inhaled your scent. He let go of your ass and took both your hands in his. He wet his lips as he looked at you and walked backwards slowly, bringing you with him, until he reached the sofa and sat down.

“‘C’mere, gorgeous," he said, lightly brushing your hands with his thumbs.

It dawned on you that you were supposed to sit in his lap.

“Oh, Joel, I dunno . . .” Your face got hot and you looked down and away as he shamelessly adjusted himself.

“It's okay, baby. C’mere just a minute. . . Let’s just see if we like what we feel. . . that’s all. Whatever you want ‘n that’s all.”

Whatever he had in mind, if you could stop at any moment, it was hard to argue with that. He let go of you then hooked his hands around the backs of your knees, lightly skimming up your hamstrings, then gently pulled and you stepped forward. At his urging, you hesitantly straddled him, staying back toward his knees at first, your skirt spread over both of you.

He took a deep breath and his rough, massive hands slid under your skirt and up your naked thighs as he sat up to meet your face with his. He kissed you softly at first, then began to slowly devour your mouth with his. He held the back of your head as one hand found your ass again and kneaded a cheek. As the kiss heated up, he gently pulled you down all the way into his lap. You came to rest on his hard package, greeted by a lift of his hips and a stab of desire.

He rolled his hips rhythmically as he kissed you, lifting you an inch or two each time, like riding a wave. He steered your ass and hips, guiding you to grind back against him. Ohh, it felt good.

You did that for a while, not talking, and at some point, your hips began to move a little on their own, seeking that delicious pressure.

“That’s it, baby. Just like that.”

You felt something begin to build inside you. He studied your face, and he saw it too.

“You feel that, baby?”

Oh, you felt it. Joel latched onto your neck. A moan fell out of your mouth and into his hair while his beard tickled you and the suction made your whole body weak.

“Ever had an orgasm, darlin'?” he asked over your shoulder.

He slowed his hips to talk, but never stopped them completely. He pulled back to look at your face.

“I –” you started to say.

“I reckon not, then. That's ok, darlin', it'll happen."

“Only in my sleep.”

“Good, good.” You kept riding the wave of his hips. “That’s your body takin’ care of you. It’s good for you." He looked at you like he was starving. He breathed heavily. "Gonna take this belt off, k?”

He reached under your skirt to his belt. He unbuckled and swiftly removed it, then his hands found your hips and he resumed his rhythm. “That better, baby?”

You nodded, captivated by the lust in his eyes. You could feel it gathering in your core like a storm.

“Wanna feel me without my pants?”

“I dunno,” you hesitated. Your clit throbbed.

“I got shorts on,” he reassured you, but you didn't come around yet.

“That’s okay darlin', we'll do whatever you want,” he said. He looked into your eyes and kissed you deeply, one hand guiding your hips. As his lips released your mouth, you felt a rush of need. “Whatever you want, baby,” he said.

"Okay, your shorts" you said, and dismounted him. You put your elbow against the back of the sofa and rested your head in your hand, admiring him. The way his biceps stretched his flannel. His muscular neck. His hair falling out of place. His patchy beard and the flecks of silver caught by the fire light. His thighs as his jeans came down.

"C'mere darlin'," he said and helped you back onto him. Your moist panties met the stiffness in his boxers and your mouth fell open. The tension thundered in your core.

"Yeah, that's it, baby," he said. He gradually sped up the rhythm of his hips. "Go on, let your hips go."

You throbbed madly and your arousal began to take over. "It's ok, go on," he said. "s'posed to let'em move." You rolled your hips down for more contact and were rewarded with an immediate rush of pleasure. "Mmmm, just like that, baby."

He let you drive the rhythm for a little bit, and you felt it getting closer and closer, that release that evaded you all your waking life. He saw it on your face, too.

"Ok baby, trust me for a minute."

You nodded. He slipped a thumb inside your panties. He took a deep breath, then exhaled, "yeah," when he felt your ample wetness. He began to stroke your clit.

Then he took out his stiff cock, and the sight alone almost sent you. The sight of his hand around it took your breath away. Then, under your skirt, he nestled it against your panties, right up against your clit, and you rolled into him and felt yourself twitch and throb.

"That's it, baby, c'mon."

You were so close, then you started having doubts. You didn't want to fail in front of him.

"I can't," you whined.

"Yeah you can, darlin'," he said. "Stay with me, it's okay, you're okay."

He lifted his hips in short, fast bursts, bouncing you on his cock. "I got you, baby." Ohh, he was hard.

Your face screwed up and you felt like you might burst.

“Good girl,” he said.

Finally, the tension burst and seized your whole body before it released. “I got you, baby.” You clenched around nothing, and your poor neglected clit pulsed against his hard cock as you rode massive waves. “Doing great, baby.” Your body jerked, and he wrapped his arms around you and slowed his rhythm, “Doing great.” Your eyes welled up in tears and you gasped for breath as your climax waned and you collapsed into him.

"You're okay, baby. You're okay." He slowly rolled his hips while you caught your breath. Then he gently nudged you back, making space to slip his flattened fingers into your panties to gather some lube for himself. He vocally exhaled as his digits gently dragged along your seam. He brought your slick to his cock and began to stroke himself.

As he pleasured himself, his other hand went into your panties, then he sucked his fingers. "Mmm," he said, still stroking himself.

Your eyes were wide as you looked down at his cock.

"First one you've seen?"

You swallowed and nodded almost imperceptibly.

"Like it?"

One side of your mouth crept up as you looked at him.

"It's ok, darlin, you're s'posed to." His breath deepened. “And I know I’ll like what you’ve got, too. Show me, darlin’.”

His free hand moved your skirt out of the way and he looked at your panties hungrily.

“Just a peek, baby.” His thumb tugged at the soaked crotch of your panties.

“Okay,” you said and tilted your hips. He pulled it to the side. He inhaled sharply through his nose, and stared at your pussy, hypnotized. He ran his thumb up and down your slick folds. “You’re perfect. . .so perfect. . .”

You felt like you could cry at those words.

He looked you in the eyes, then let your panties go.

"I wanna be inside you so bad, baby'," he groaned. And you wanted him inside you, too.

The pace of his strokes quickened. "It's okay, baby, we'll get there." Agony spread across his face, then he leaned back and erupted with a groan. You watched his cum spill into his hand.

He caught his breath, then after he was cleaned up, he came back and took you in his arms.

You both fell asleep, and when you woke up, you sat up to look at the clock, which woke Joel up, too. The fire had burned out.

“It’s after midnight,” you said.

He yawned and stretched, then asked, "want me to tuck you in?"

You felt a little bad having him walk home at that hour. If it were you, you’d be terrified. But you still told him, "Not tonight."

He picked up his jeans and started pulling them on. He tucked in his shirt before zipping up. "Not tonight. . . alright, darlin'." He smiled as he put his belt back on. Then he kissed you good night.

As soon as Joel left, a heaviness fell over the house. You became so aware of the space around you, the space around the house, around the community. The emptiness that was too empty to truly be empty. There was something else there. You peeked outside and watched the shadows of branches sway under the white moon. You regretted letting him go. You still could have gone out to catch him if you wanted, but something held you back. “Not tonight.”

I'd guess 1-2 weeks for the next one.

Main tag list is full but you can comment to get on the reblog tag list.

Thank you so much for reading and engaging!

Ty @dark-scape for letting me talk about him all the time and test out my plans

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Lincoln: @fan-fiction-floozy @ivyblxnde @lhymer1995 @sugarspiceanthrax @isimpforfictionalmen @zynbsblogg @swedishscumfuck @sadgirlstoohightocare @steveharringtonswh0re @skythighs @aoziety @leeeesahhh @jupitersmoon-cal @peekymoon @dtfawn @pedrosbabygirl @shotgun-shelby @reader-without-a-story @shewantstoknow @jaxxiepup @yvonneeeee @elvinaa @internetobssesed1234-blog @jbcalway @afterglowsb-tch13 @kamcrazy123

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