#here ya go! middle of the day chapter | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

beardedjoel · 1 year ago

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pretty little wife | crazy 4 u

joel miller x f!reader one shot collection

series masterlist | main masterlist | ao3 | ✨kofi ✨

summary: valentine's day special! joel has historically made sure that valentine's day is special for his pretty little wife, but this year he's gone above and beyond. warnings: 18+ MDNI! no apocalypse au, pre-established relationship/dynamic, sub/dom relationship, soft dom! joel, free use kink, orgasm denial if you squint hard, unprotected piv, rough sex, fingering, oral (f receiving), nipple play, choking/breath play, pet names for reader, praise kink, romantic as fuck husband joel this chapter, some domestic fluff, alcohol consumption, maybe maybe maybe there is a breeding kink moment, reader has hair that can be pulled a/n: they're so in love it makes me SICK!!! thank you so much for reading and loving this couple along with me, and happy galentine's and valentine's day my loves! 💋💗💌

reminder i have no taglist anymore, follow @beardedjoel-updates to hear about my new fics!

You quietly squeal to yourself as you start to tear open the newly delivered package on your way back inside from the mailbox. You look down at the assortment of pale pastel candies, all strung up on thin strands, waiting to be devoured. Your own curiosity and lack of self control nearly has you reaching in the box to break one off for yourself, but you hold back, reminding yourself just who you bought this for and why.

Valentine’s Day is in two days, but you’d wanted to get a jump, giving Joel a more playful vibe today considering you know he’ll have gotten you something sexy and downright depraved to wear on the actual holiday. Your skin tingles at the thought, recalling all of the things he’d had you wear in the past. Your most memorable being crotchless panties under a skin tight dress at dinner one Valentine’s Day, so he could finger fuck you under the table at one of Austin’s finest restaurants. Keeping your face straight during that had been painstaking, but you’d loved every minute of the debauched public display. When you’d asked Joel why he hadn’t just had you go sans underwear that night, he’d smiled devilishly. ‘Adds to the forbidden factor, don’t y’think?,’ Joel had replied, ‘So premeditated I had to get my baby somethin’ to weep onto while I knew I’d be shoving my fingers so deep in her pretty pussy.’ Those naughty words from Joel still send a shudder up your spine to this day as they ring in your mind. He hadn’t even waited until you two were home that evening to use that same hole in the panties to fuck you dizzy, until you’d screamed in the back seat of his car for him. Even then, he hadn’t relented until you came too many times to even remember the count now, leaving his seats a soaking mess.

You sigh, bringing yourself back to the present, brushing the memories away for now to get yourself ready to make some new ones with your husband. Once you’ve changed, you take a quick moment to admire the scant pieces of lingerie, almost laughing at the absurdity, but wondering how in all these years you’d never thought to buy candy underwear for Joel to devour off of you. You preen yourself for a few more quick moments before heading downstairs, wanting to set yourself up to act casual for Joel when he arrives home. Sometimes you do this on purpose, knowing he gets off on interrupting what you’re doing just so he can take you, fuck you however he pleases. And even when you really are in the middle of something, you get off on it too - being of service to your husband, helping him feel good while knowing you’ll be well taken care of, too.

On the dot at 5:00, you hear Joel’s car pulling up and smile smugly to yourself, continuing to wipe the counters down. A prompt pop of your hips to push your ass out follows when you hear the front door open and close.

“Doll? Where are ya?” Joel calls out, voice slightly muffled as he bends down to put his shoes away.

“In here!” you call out, voice high and sugary sweet, imitating the lingerie plastered to your body right now.

“How’s my pr-” Joel starts, freezing the moment he enters the kitchen. He takes in the sight - you slightly bent over, only a tiny string between your bare ass cheeks, pink high heels, and straps of candy running over your shoulders and across your back. You whip your head over your shoulder, rotating your body just enough to give Joel a peek at the lines of candy also covering your tits. He laughs, head thrown back in playful amusement before stepping towards you, predatory and slow, his laugh fading into a contemplative smirk.

“What do we got here?” Joel says quietly, hands immediately pressed tightly to your hips, his body pushing you forward into the counter. You whimper when the edge of the counter starts to dig into your stomach, Joel’s massive form locking you into your spot. “A little snack f’me to enjoy after workin’ so hard all day?” Joel can barely contain himself, blood running hot as he contemplates how grateful he feels right now.

“Mmhmm…” you whine out, already feeling any semblance of tension leaving your body at Joel’s gentle but calloused touch, this feeling of home. You giggle when Joel leans down to where the straps come around over your shoulders and takes a bite out of the candies, a little groan leaving him as his lips also catch on your skin, mixing the taste of you with the sweetness of the candy.

“Delicious, baby,” he hums in your ear, then goes on to kiss your earlobe. You melt, head falling back slightly with a docile smile plastered on your lips. “How’d a man get so lucky?” He takes another bite, kissing along your shoulder as he does so.

“Thought we’d get a jump on Valentine’s Day, darling,” you coo back, turning your head to kiss his cheek.

Joel freezes, his eyes going wide and body rigid. “Fu-” he murmurs to himself, lips still practically attached to your shoulder.

“What?”

He tears himself off of you with the most disgruntled groan you may have heard from him yet. “Baby, we gotta get movin’. You… fuckin’ little candy underwear, god damn it…” he starts muttering, grabbing you tightly and spinning you around. He grasps your hand in his and starts leading you upstairs. “You gotta change, honey, we’re…” he trails off, looking guilty and a bit flustered.

“Joel, what the hell is going on?” you ask, stopping and pulling back on his hand.

Joel sighs, calming himself for a moment before finally meeting your eyeline again. His gaze softens and he smiles. “Had a whole thing planned, darlin’. A surprise. C’mon and see for yourself.”

You trail after him, suddenly feeling ridiculous in your candy underwear given the change in mood. He takes you into the bedroom, opening his closet and yanking out your suitcase. Your brows furrow as you watch him pull it to the center of the bedroom, then going back for another suitcase of his own. Your mouth drops open slightly before curling into a smile, realizing that Joel had planned a trip for the two of you. He’d mentioned to keep your schedule free around Valentine’s Day, but you’d figured it was just typical plans - dinner, a picnic, or a fancy hotel room, nothing this big.

“Joel… baby…” you breathe out, clutching a hand to your chest. You feel suddenly filled with warmth, like sunshine has started filling you from the belly outwards, making your entire being feel light and tingly. Effervescence. That’s what being with Joel is like.

He gives you a lopsided smile. “We’re leavin’ tonight. Planned it all, flight is at eight so we can wake up there ‘n get a jump on everythin’. An’ then you had to wear that,” he huffs, gesturing to your entire body with a wild movement of his hand. “An’ scramble my brain right up.” His eyes linger along your entire midsection, sincerely considering throwing these plans away just to sate his hard cock, but he shakes his head and looks you in the eyes again.

“A jump on…. what’s everything?” you ask, placing an impatient hand on your hip.

Joel reaches into the built-in shelves in his closet, pulling out a soft, cashmere lounge set and walking it over to you. “Jus’ get dressed an’ I’ll explain as we go. God damn it, this was s’posed to be so much more romantic.” He sighs, a hand repeatedly running through his hair during your entire conversation, looking flustered.

“Aw, honey, it is, promise,” you assure him with a kind laugh, starting to peel off the candy underwear, bringing it over to your dresser to deposit it for another time.

“Mm-mm,” Joel chants with a smirk, squatting down to unzip your suitcase and holding out his palm to you. “Those are comin’ with us.”

You’re over 31,000 feet in the air now, the sky dark outside the plane windows as you peer out. Joel had planned an entire long weekend to head to Aspen, where he’d booked you both skiing lessons and a cozy, romantic room at a lodge there. Your heart swelled as he explained it all on the ride to the airport, remembering how it was on your bucket list to learn to ski, but being from Texas there hadn’t been too many chances to learn locally.

You stretch your legs out, admiring the leg room in the first class tickets Joel had gotten you two, bringing the complimentary glass of champagne to your lips.

“Baby, this is too much,” you say with a slight frown, despite feeling overjoyed at everything about your current situation.

“Never. I’ve been plannin’ and savin’ for this for a while. Wanted to surprise you big time,” Joel says with a toothy, proud grin.

“Well, you did. Makes my candy underwear feel kind of… well, wimpy in comparison.”

Joel’s pointer finger flies to your lips, pressing down before your glass can reach your mouth again. “Not a chance, little doll. That’s all I need from you - skimpy little outfit to keep your husband happy.”

Your lips curl into a sly smirk and you part your lips, nipping the end of Joel’s fingers. He shoots a brow up, challenging you, but you back down. You and Joel don’t always have the most public decency, but you decide it’s not worth getting kicked off the plane just for an orgasm you could wait a few more hours for. You nearly roll your eyes at the thought though, your cunt aching from the unresolved moment you two had shared in the kitchen earlier. You can tell by his wide pupils and rosy cheeks that Joel must be feeling a lot of the same way and having the same conflictions.

“If we wait a few hours… it’ll be even better…” you lean over and whisper to him, voice betraying you as it escapes in a breathy, sultry tone.

“Plane never stopped us before…” Joel says, brows raised again.

You tut, but then smile at the memory of your one sexual adventure on a plane with Joel, when you two were on your way to your honeymoon. A discreet handjob and fingering in first class under blankets hadn’t been the most romantic start to your married life together, but it suited the both of you. “Aaand…” you trail off, placing your palm on his chest. “We almost got caught like five times, big guy. Promised ourselves we wouldn’t do that again.”

Joel grumbles quickly, and you know he understands, but you feel an anxious twinge in your stomach, like you’re breaking the rules. Your face falls a little and you turn towards him, more serious this time. “I know we have… an arrangement, and you know I love our arrangement.” Joel gets what he wants, whenever he wants - the words agreed upon by the both of you within your marriage, and you were all for it. “But just this time I think we shouldn’t break the law for it.” You raise your brows, stomach turning again as you wait for his reaction - Joel is always understanding and patient with you but as usual, you find yourself desperate to please him.

Joel bites the inside of his cheek, then he leans over to plant a peck on your cheek while he reaches down to squeeze your hand in reassurance. “No, baby, you’re right. Probably should be an exception ‘bout planes in there, huh?” He tilts his head playfully and you feel your tension dissipate immediately. “Always the rational one, ain’t you, honey.”

“Barely,” you tease, chuckling in relief. “I just don’t want to ruin the trip before it’s even started. Let’s just watch a movie or something?”

Several hours of keeping yourselves occupied and dozing off had you finally arriving in Aspen, where Joel gently nudged you awake as the plane landed. You rubbed your bleary eyes and made your way through the plane and airport half-awake, just letting Joel guide you with one of your hands gently grasping at his sleeve the entire time. You two get outside the airport with your suitcases, now bundled up in an adorable puffer jacket Joel had packed for you, along with a new pair of fuzzy earmuffs. You were starting to have a sneaking suspicion that there was a lot of new clothing in your suitcase.

Standing next to an impeccably shiny black car is a well dressed driver holding a tiny sign that makes you do a double take.

Mr. & Mrs. Joel Miller.

You tug on Joel’s sleeve with eager excitement as he starts towards the man and your mouth hangs open.

“Joel, you did not hire a fancy driver,” you scoff quietly in disbelief. Joel stops in his tracks, screeching the two of you to a halt before turning to face you.

“If you’re already questioning me at the airplane seats ‘n the driver, it’s gonna be a long few days, honey,” he says sweetly, his voice crackling and gruff with tiredness from the long day. Your open mouth turns to a smile while you tut and shake your head.

“You’re too much, Joel Miller…” you muse, following him to the car. The driver, Randy, takes your bags and stuffs them in the car, offering you an open car door to climb inside. Your stomach flips with butterflies, not having realized just how romantic of a weekend Joel had planned for you. You fight off a quick mist of tears as it pops up, trying not to get emotional at just how overwhelmingly thoughtful your husband could be sometimes.

When Joel sits next to you, you clasp onto his hand tightly, giving him a watery smile that he returns with a sympathetic one of his own, reading that you’re feeling overwhelmed. Sure, since Joel had become more and more successful in his business you’d been treated beyond your wildest dreams, but sometimes it all hit you hard in one big moment like right now, filling you with gut clenching gratitude for your life. Life with Joel oftentimes feels like a dream, something you’ve stumbled into somehow that you aren’t sure you deserve. Joel would never let those thoughts slide, always reminding you how lucky he feels to have met you in that bar, that fate intervened so spectacularly in his life.

You lean your head on his shoulder for the duration of the ride to your accommodation, feeling sick with nostalgia and gratitude as you get lost in your thoughts. When the lodge comes into view, you pick your head up, mind suddenly empty as your jaw drops while you take it in.

It’s dark out, the sky black against the warm, glowing lights peeking through window panes throughout the lodge. A mountainous backdrop is still visible despite the dark night, and you can’t help but ogle at everything, imagining how stunning it will look in the daylight. The lodge is huge, ornate despite the fact that it’s meant to look simplistic and cozy with its wood siding. Joel marvels quickly at the construction out of habit, being in the business he’s in gives him a certain preclusion to commenting his two cents on every place you stay. You’re stunned silent as the back door is opened by Randy and you step out underneath a large overhang, greeted by yet another person who offers to take your bags. It’s all fuzzy, your brain tired and overwhelmed by what you’re taking in right now, the fact that just hours ago you’d been at home, content to just stay in with your husband tonight. You blink back to reality, about to speak when Joel gets to it first.

“Please. Thank you kindly,” Joel drawls, quickly slipping them a bill from his wallet and then turning back to you, offering you his arm. You take it, practically ready to squeal loudly with excitement as you two enter the building. You admire the expansive lobby while Joel steps away to check in - high ceilings and wood beams, roaring fireplaces surrounded by cozy seating and tall, full but neatly arranged bookshelves. A winter dream if there ever was one.

You’re gazing around, tired, slow blinking eyes, too lost in it all to notice Joel come up next to you, his hand finding the small of your back. He leans close, lips and rough beard brushing your ear with a soft kiss.

“Room’s ready,” he practically growls, and your gut clenches at his tone, your thighs pressing together. Suddenly, your body feels alight, nerves buzzing and goosebumps peppering your flesh. Sleep is a far away notion now, recalling the way you’d begun this evening, only to have it go unfinished for the both of you. You smile, soft and docile like your husband likes, your voice a dulcet song so close to his ears.

“Lead the way.”

Your ass stings red hot from another harsh slap laid against it. Joel’s hungry mouth devouring you, your hat and coat discarded on the floor right next to the door to your room. Hair tangled from the way Joel is hanging on to it for dear life as he pounds into you. Your only view is the cream colored walls, your face pressed up against the cool, smooth surface as Joel’s body pins you there. The door had no sooner shut than Joel had thrown you here, as much clothing ripped off as he could stand before his cock was inside of you. You’d cried out, whimpered at the sudden heavenly intrusion despite your pussy needing a moment to adjust. Joel had pushed through it, anyways, delivering the first spank of the night on your ass, pants and underwear hastily pulled down, halfway down your legs - enough room for Joel to slip his cock in was good enough for now, he’d thought hastily. The pain had melded into pleasure, your cunt squeezing his cock and starting to weep, easing Joel’s firm thrusts into you.

“F-fuck…” you whine against the wall, lips hanging open as his cock hits deep, your g-spot crying out already from all the stimulation he’s giving it. He’s not going easy on you, and you’d already known he wouldn’t the second he got you alone. All those hours, the silent teasing going on in both of your heads as you’d waited for this moment.

“Takin’ my cock like such a good girl… my obedient little wife,” Joel grunts out next to your ear, his teeth scraping your earlobes, sliding to your pulse point. You shudder, your hips spasming down onto him as pleasure starts to rock your body. You’re close… so fucking close to that perfect paradise only Joel knows how to get you to. “I’d’ve fucked you right in that lobby, right in that car or that god damned plane. Want everyone to see what I do to my pretty wife, what I’ve got right here… fuckin’ mess only for me,” Joel murmurs, rambling on as he grunts over and over, giving you everything he’s got. His hands tilt your hips, holding tightly while he anchors you there. And he’s right, you are a mess. Dripping slick, coating your thighs, disheveled hair and makeup now from the pleasured tears rolling down your cheeks, wet, squelching sounds filling the hotel room that you haven’t even had a chance to see yet as your face is turned towards the corner near the doorway. It must be a sight, indeed.

“Y-yeah? Wanna s-show me off…?” you breathe out, voice trembling as much as your body is starting to. Your knees are jelly, shaking and barely able to hold you up when Joel delves deep, hitting that spongy part inside of you again, making your eyes roll back. Of course he does, you know he does - nothing brings Joel more joy than letting the world know exactly what he has.

“Fuckin’ know I do… all lookin’ at this tight little cunt takin’ my fat cock, my pretty pussy, all mine.” Joel’s body presses closer, and you’re trapped even more, the both of you damp with sweat and almost incoherent as you near your highs.

“B-baby… I’m -” you whine out, “Please…”

Joel has waited as long as he could, knowing what you need. He’d wanted you desperate for it, so close, your climax just within reach, before he took you over the edge. His hand on your hip curves forward, finding your clit, and you moan loudly at the contact on the sensitive nerves. Your body moves of its own accord, bouncing back into his thrusts wildly, barely noticing that Joel’s other hand has left your hip until it connects with your neck, hand wrapping around your throat. You gasp, the noise cut off into a small choke while Joel’s hand tightens and you croak out a moan.

“Oh my g-god… please…” you whimper again in a strained voice, hoping, no, begging for permission from him. He plays with you a little longer, feeling his cock harden beyond what he’d think possible, aching even inside of you for more, as he toys with you, making you wait. His hand squeezes your neck once more, a little harder, keeping the pressure on. You’re feral, your body screaming at you but you concentrate, holding back, your mind doing gymnastics to try to deny what your body wants so badly.

“Come.” Joel speaks the one word with finality, and you let go, your body shaking violently. His hand releases and you breathe in a full, round breath as you come, your pussy creaming so hard on his cock that you start to feel dizzy from it all.

“God damn, good girl… comin’ so pretty right now,” he whispers to your ear, the noise tickling your mind in the best way. Joel holds you up as you moan and whimper, his name falling off your lips in the way it always does in moments like these - worshiping him. You flutter and squeeze his cock like heaven incarnate, and Joel finds he can’t hold himself back any longer, spilling into you on the tail end of your own climax with a loud grunt, pretty praises for you off his lips.

You both collapse against the wall, Joel leaning against you, and you both catch your breath, the need gone for the moment after hours of waiting. You sigh, smiling in satisfaction when Joel pulls off of you, gathering you quickly into his arms, kissing you all over your head.

“That’s better, ain’t it?” he says teasingly, and you chuckle, nodding in his grasp. You both readjust yourselves, Joel helping you situate the clothing he’d haphazardly pulled aside in his frenzy earlier.

“Much,” you say with another sigh, leaning into him. “What time is our lesson tomorrow?”

“Not ‘till noon. Had a feeling we’d be… up late,” Joel replies wryly, and you laugh again.

“Such a planner,” you poke at him, raising your brows before tilting your head to kiss his cheek. You slip out of his hold and start to meander further into the room, jaw dropping for what feels like the hundredth time tonight while you take in the vaulted ceilings with those same warm wooden beams and white painted walls, a stone fireplace roaring in the center of the room across from the massive bed, adorned with rose petals. More roses sit atop the small breakfast table in a vase near the windows, and when you venture over there, the view you’re taking in is beyond stunning - the mountains in full view, moonlight shining over the entirety of the landscape and your eyes start to tear up. Champagne in an ice bucket, boxes of chocolate, fresh fruit, the entire works are all laid out - such a lavish, gorgeous display for the traditional romantic in you. You turn around finally, meeting Joel’s gaze, where he stands, a smitten look on his face as he watches you take it all in.

“Joel… What can I even say?” you gasp out, throwing your hands up before letting them hang back at your sides, defeated in the best way. “Thank you…” you say meekly, turning to peer out the window once more before walking towards him, throwing your arms around his neck.

“Thanked me plenty back there. An’ every day when you just be my good little wife, that’s thanks enough, doll,” Joel replies soothingly, stroking the back of your head. You lean your head against his chest, content to just listen to his heart beat for a few seconds, take in the memories of this moment. You lean back, tilting your head to give him a warm, grateful smile.

“Take me to bed?”

The next morning is far from the slow, romantic morning Joel had desired for you, realizing the both of you had forgotten to set any alarms and slept in well past 10:00 after your late night. It was barely giving the two of you time to get ready - a rushed shower and breakfast before hurrying to your skiing lesson. He’d dreamed about this hotel that he’d booked for months, the thought of waking you up with his mouth pressed deep into your cunt on that California King as he’d planned would have to be a distant fantasy as you two got on with your day.

Joel couldn’t help but stare at you the entire lesson, the way your face is lit up with pure joy in your ski gear as you fumbled to get the hang of things along with him. He’d gotten you ski pants, a jacket, gloves, and goggles - all the works that he knew was ridiculous for your first time on the mountain for that price tag. But he also knew you’d look just like this - adorable in your matching winter set, colorful goggles perched on top of your beanie and perfect lips curled into a never ending grin - and it made it all worth it.

Joel finds his own smile recounting the day as he keeps a steady hand on your back, the open back, low cut slinky dress he’d packed for you to wear to dinner tonight leaving plenty of skin for his hands to roam over as you two walk back to your room, full and contented. A candlelit dinner in the lodge’s shockingly expensive restaurant and a few drinks had you both feeling good as new again after your long day of skiing and mostly falling.

You two had laughed for hours as you’d fallen on your asses more times than anyone could count. Once you got the hang of it enough to get on the smaller slopes, you’d been unable to stop giggling the entire time, you and Joel catching up at the bottom just to ride the lift up again and again. You two flirted shamelessly the entire day like two teenagers, your heart swelling with so much love for your husband like it was your first date all over again. It was nice to have this uninterrupted time to just talk, get each other caught up on the other’s recent thoughts, feelings, and days that got lost amid the hustle of daily life.

Joel’s lips connect with the back of your neck as soon as the door to your room at the lodge is shut. “Like t’see those candy underwear again,” he mumbles to your skin, and you giggle a little too loudly, stumbling forward a bit.

Your brows wiggle as you try to crane your neck to look back at him. “That so, Mr. Miller?”

“Christ, y’only call me that when you’ve been drinkin’,” Joel teases, snaking his arms around to your front, holding you against him, the bulge in his dress pants becoming more obvious by the second as it hardens, pressing into you. “Can’t decide if it’s cute or jus’ makes me feel old.”

“No I don’t, Mr. Miller. And it is cute,” you demand, trying to hide the tiniest bit of a slur in your voice. Joel wasn’t wrong, you had been known to use that particular nickname for him after a few drinks, but you tended to be a bit of a bratty, indignant drunk.

“Thas right, ‘cause everythin’ you do is cute, m’little wife.” Joel says with a smile in his voice. His lips connect with your neck once again, trailing a few kisses down your spine. “An’ sexy…” he adds in a lower tone, one hand sliding to your hip, then your ass, squeezing hard before giving it a playful smack.

“Keep talkin’ if you want those candy panties to see the light of day again,” you reply, leaning back into him, your weight immediately welcomed by his warm, solid body.

“Oh, sweet girl, always gettin’ so bold with that wine, aren’t ya?” Joel’s hold tightens, one hand splayed across your torso and the other gripping your ass hard enough to bruise. “You forgotten who’s in charge here? Hm, baby?”

“A-actually, it was champagne…” you strain out, starting to pant as Joel’s hold goes even tighter, his domination quickly getting your thighs sticky, and you lament the fact you don’t have any underwear on right now. All at Joel’s request, of course, that you forgo any underwear at dinner tonight. You just whimper out a quiet moan, knowing you’ve gotten Joel riled up enough to keep going on his own volition.

“Think I don’t call the shots suddenly, huh? My sweet, sweet wife, we both know,” he pauses, mouth moving right next to your ear. A small nibble, his breath warm and tickling you in the best way right on sensitive skin sends a shudder through you. “That if I say put those fuckin’ candy panties on right this god damn minute, you’re gonna do it, yeah?”

Joel’s teeth suddenly sink into your neck a little, a tiny bite followed by a suck, and you nod desperately, silently cursing yourself for giving in so quickly, not giving yourself a little more time to play with him, let that tiny bratty part of you out of her cage for one of her rare appearances.

“Ain’t that right?” Joel repeats, giving your hair a little tug.

“Y-yes, Joel, yes baby…” you breathe out, and he releases your hair, his hold loosening on your body before he gives a loving pat to your ass.

“Good girl,” he coos, satisfied, sending another wave of heat to the apex of your thighs to hear his praise. A tiny moan slips out at the two words, still so effective after all these years. Joel chuckles, a tiny little huff off his lips as he spins you to face him. His hand cups your pussy through your dress, pushing the silky material between your legs before he tuts.

“Soakin’ yourself jus’ from gettin’ called a good girl…” he murmurs, lips getting dangerously close to yours. “Good. Girl.” he says with a smirk against your lips before kissing you. It’s long and deep, reminding you that behind the play and facade is an infinite amount of care for you - his wife, his forever.

He tears himself away, leaning his forehead against yours. “Now, go on and change f’me.”

You nod against him, then step back when he releases you from his hold. Breathless, on shaky legs, you rummage through your suitcase to pull out the candy set, smiling when you hold up the pastel treats, strung up on what might be the world’s flimsiest string. One minute in Joel’s rough, domineering hands and these would be toast, you think, almost laughing to yourself.

You see Joel go towards the fireplace, sinking himself down in one of the plush chairs there and crossing his ankle over his knee, settling back as he unbuttons the top few buttons of his crisp white dress shirt, watching you expectantly. You scurry off under his hot gaze, using the bathroom to change out of his eyesight before reemerging in his requested lingerie. You fight a giggle, wine still coursing through you while being reminded of the pure ridiculousness of this little stunt of yours.

Joel eats with his eyes first and foremost, sweeping them up your body as he finishes getting comfortable, unbuttoning and rolling up his sleeves. You stand in front of him, thankful for the warmth of the fireplace right next to the two of you in your skimpy ensemble, and take him in right back. Broad, muscled, just starting to show his age with more grays every time you blink, and you love it. Love every inch of Joel.

“On the ground,” Joel says coolly, and you smirk, trying to hide it into a submissive, coy smile. Your knees go first, the plush rug under them a welcome relief, pure fluffy luxury in a weekend full of it. You start to lay prone, chest heaving with anticipation, mind spinning and reeling, wondering what torturous loving Joel has in store, how much he’ll milk it all out just for your tiny bit of bratiness earlier.

“Jus’ like that, thas’ right.” He leans forward and smiles, a little devilish and boyish in one, and you think you fall in love again as you watch him moving, looming over you now. He quickly palms the outside of his slacks, just the quickest relief before sliding his hand away, starting to circle you.

“Where to start…” Joel trills, and your body heats up even more while his eyes dig into you. When he’s standing at your feet, he starts to come down, leaning his entire body over you. “Can you be a good little doll and lay still while I have my treat?”

Breathless, you nod. Your eyes roll back a little when you blink hard, trying to catch your breath. Joel’s lifted brow and stare prompt you without him even having to say it - use your words, darlin’.

“Yes,” you say more confidently, and Joel smiles sweetly down at you.

“Good.”

He starts slow, lips moving languidly across your belly, up to where the candy rests on your tits, lapping at the sweetness there for a few licks.

“Mmm…” Joel mumbles. He’s back on you the next second, sucking the candies right on top of your nipples. The friction of the hard candies combined with the tiny licks of his tongue coming through to the hardened buds has your back arching, hips searching for him. You squirm, panting now when he bites through the candy, grazing your nipple with his teeth. Joel’s hands come down, ever so gently guiding your hips back down to the plush rug underneath you.

“What’d I say about bein’ still?” Joel teases, holding you there now before going back to bite again, crunching the candies before using his sugary tongue to tease your nipple with a few flicks as it pokes through the hole he’s just made. You start to moan, already a lost cause for your husband, the thought of trying to keep your body still already torturous.

“I c-can’t help it… I’m sorry, sir,” you pant out when your hips lift again, his mouth working harder and harder on your nipples. He grunts disapprovingly and continues on until both of your nipples are free, surrounded by the rest of the candy bra. Joel seems like a man possessed, lost in it all while he devours the candies, sucking and licking each new patch of skin, a sticky, sweet mess all over your skin.

You’re aching, body tense and in hot, hot need of him now as he teases you over and over. Your thighs clamp tight, trying to avoid bucking them up into where his hard, clothed cock hovers teasingly right above you. His hand grips tightly to your hip, the string of candy taut between his fingers. He’s eaten enough of the bra that it’s starting to droop, fall off of you completely, and Joel tears it aside, scattering the rest of the candies along the floor with a tinkling sound that pulls you out of the moment for a beat as you turn your head to watch the treats roll away.

“Good girl, bein’ so good f’me… such a sweet little thing…” Joel says, lifting his head off of your chest, giving you ferocious, unhinged eyes and candy tinted lips, puffy and overused.

“J-joel… please…” you whine out, the way he’s looking at you pulsing right to your already soaking cunt. His hand slips underneath the panties while he keeps his eyes on yours, watching them roll back completely as he fingers your clit. Your hips buck, finally, unable to stop it and you feel your lip quiver as a shaky moan releases from them. Joel leans forward, his lips finding yours and kissing you zealously, a glace mix of him and the sweets has your head spinning as you lap the taste off of his lips and tongue eagerly.

“So sweet…” you mumble into his mouth, going back for more and more, until you’re feeling just as sticky and sweaty as he is, the slow burn starting to gnaw at you, your core dripping while Joel rubs the softest circles over your bundle of nerves.

“You’re perfect, y’know,” Joel breathes out, lifting his lips off of yours just the tiniest bit. “My perfect girl…” You moan when his finger suddenly sinks inside of you, too caught up in the moment to even notice when he’d delicately slipped it from your clit to your clenching hole. You suck him in greedily, desperate for anything he’ll give you and whimper.

Joel contorts himself, sliding down your body, keeping his finger moving at a languid, steady pace as his mouth now meets the candy panties, nibbling along the top of it. You’re losing control, unable to take the teasing anymore, the slowness of everything, your rough and ready husband nowhere to be found right now.

Your moans become breathier, urgent and panting out of you more quickly than you can handle, your mind going a little fuzzy and light as the feeling of Joel completely takes over you.

“There we go… jus’ float on away baby, let me take you there…” Joel coos from your hip where his lips graze against your skin as another few pieces of candy come off. You give him an affirmative noise, barely registered even by your own mind as your eyes slip closed, your body warm and tingling, so desperately close to the edge. Joel’s finger hooks upwards inside of you and you gasp loudly, your body wracked with spasms as you start to come onto his thick finger. Joel lets you freely writhe and shake now, not bothering to have you lay still while he fucks his finger against your g-spot relentlessly while you ride out the waves of pleasure. You’re whimpering, a complete mess, chest, face, cunt, all feeling sticky and completely used by the man you love.

Your head lolls along the rug a bit before you blindly reach your hand for Joel, grasping his shoulder with your eyes still lazing shut. “F-fuck me, please… please,” you whimper, lightly clawing at his dress shirt.

You hear one more crunch of the candies before Joel’s fingers hook on the sides of the delicate string and pull your panties off. You can feel him, his presence hovering above you as he sits back on his knees and you hear him unbuckling his belt, imagining in your mind the sight of his hard cock coming free, readying itself at your entrance. You can barely think about opening your leaden eyes right now, still on the heels of your climax as your chest heaves up and down. You can feel the warmth radiating off of Joel as he climbs on top of you, hands gripping your calves to lift your legs up enough for him to fit snugly between them.

You grit your teeth a little, grunting out a gratified moan when you feel Joel start to push himself in, your cunt fluttering as it accepts as much of him as he’ll give. You’re greedy tonight, you can feel it, just needing everything Joel can give you, how far away from reality he could take you tonight.

He pumps in and out, almost uncharacteristic in his tentativeness, more of his thick length going in each time, and you finally peek your eyes open slowly, hands reaching to his shoulders and pushing underneath the collar of his dress shirt, finding his warm skin. He’s moving slower than he normally would, and you find his face looking down at you with adoration, just content to watch your face twitch and contort with each unhurried drag of his cock along your silky walls.

“Lookin’ like an angel,” Joel comments, seeing your face sheening and glowing from your climax, hair splayed around your head like a halo - pure angelic beauty, a work of art that Joel could never tire of gazing upon. You smile softly, one of your hands stroking his cheek lovingly, soft moans streaming out of you while he keeps up the same pace.

“Baby…” you moan, “I s-said to fuck me, please…”

“I am, little doll…” Joel teases back with a slow push of his dick into you, and you shake your head.

“You know what I meeeeaan,” you whine desperately, fingers itching to reach down and grasp his hips, pull him into you harder. Joel’s hips twitch a little faster, starting to roll into you with more force and you sigh, head thrown back a bit more.

“What, like this?”

Uh-huh. You start to go a little breathless, legs wrapping around Joel’s waist, securing your calves tightly against him.

“You want me to use you up again, hm? That it? My poor baby, she jus’ wants this tight little hole to be so fucked out she can’t walk, doesn’t she?” Joel says, patronizingly sweet with the drawl of each word.

You nod desperately. “Please, sir, t-that’s…” you stop to moan loudly when he bucks into you harder and harder. “That’s all I want…” you finally choke out, Joel’s cock hitting you so deep you nearly feel your breath stolen right from your lungs.

“What my pretty wife wants, she gets,” Joel practically sings to you, bringing his lips down to yours for a kiss, letting his mouth sloppily work its way to your neck, starting to bite and suck while he crashes into you harder with each thrust. You can only make tiny noises, clutching him as your hands snake around his neck, holding him close to you. Joel grunts loudly between sloppy licks and sucks on your throat, his hips moving more clumsily as your walls squeeze him to the point he’s not sure how much longer he can hold back.

“God damn it baby, this little pussy wants me in there so bad, she’s so greedy,” Joel punches out right next to your ear. You shudder, hips spasming and only tightening you around him further. Joel groans loudly.

“Please…” is all you can whisper, out of breath as he hits deep inside of you with each new movement.

“Fuck, c-can’t… need to fill you up, darlin’, need you fuckin’ full of me…”

“Pleaaaase…” More urgently this time, lips dry from the way you’re sucking in oxygen in quick gasps, starting to feel your orgasm clawing at your belly, tingly and hot.

“Fuckin’ full of me… gonna fuck a baby into you, sweetheart. Give you my f-fuckin’ baby right now… m-make you swell up,” Joel pants, his face buried in your shoulder, biting down. You gasp, completely lost to the moment, fingers digging into his skin as you pull him in tighter, legs and feet crushed against his back. There are no two bodies here, only togetherness and sweat and breath - two people so lost in the moment and pure pleasure that they’re outside of themselves, becoming one frenzied movement to climb higher and higher to that sweet peak of relief.

“F-fuck… yes, yes, baby, yes…” you moan out. “Fill me up… d-do it…” you whine. With a stunted grunt Joel’s hips stutter forward, burying himself deep. The power, the emotion of it all as he starts to paint your walls tips you over the edge, fluttering tightly around him as you milk every bit of his seed into you, spasming and moaning as you reach another high.

“Oh my god…” you breathe out as you come hard, Joel’s ragged breath right in your ear softly moaning for you. The both of you fully collapse, Joel rolling to the side, clutching an arm around your chest. The crackling sound of the fireplace start to come back into your consciousness, the stillness and warmth of the room hitting you all over again while you lay back, feeling the stickiness of the two of you steadily leaking out of you. You’re speechless now, barely able to catch your breath, let alone process what Joel had hummed into your ear in the heat of the moment.

A baby. Did he really want that with you?

You two hadn’t discussed having children very often just yet, wanting to wait and enjoy being married, being just you two for a few years. But you felt your heart flutter a little, the thought of a little life inside of you, yours and Joel’s, a beautiful loved baby that you’d grow and nurture together. You can scarcely breathe at the thought, the love your heart swells with for this faraway notion, this unconceived child, already imprinting themselves onto your heart.

“Joel…” you murmur. His head turns towards you, and you watch light flickering around him from the shadows the fire is casting along his golden skin.

“I-” Joel stutters, seeing the look in your eyes. For once, he’s not sure he can quite read it. He knows he said something so much more tangible this time, beyond all the dirty talk the both of you love to get lost in. It was too much, surely, he’d scared you with it. “I’m sorry, honey, that was… jus’ caught in the moment, maybe…”

Your face falls a little, eyes dropping to peer past him with a sad look. “Were you?” you ask timidly, hands coming together on your belly and wringing nervously.

Joel’s eyes bore into yours, soft now, none of that feral fire that was there only minutes ago. He shakes his head slowly.

“N-no, no I wasn’t, doll,” he replies quietly. Your lips twitch a little, a small smile that you’re not able to hold back now.

“I, uh, I wasn’t either,” you tell him, and Joel’s eyes flash, lighting up a bit.

He turns completely on his side, and you do too, facing each other and scooting even closer. Joel drapes a hand over you, starting to rub lazy patterns onto your back. “So should we… uh, talk about this, then?” he asks, giving you a half, lopsided smile.

You give him a nod and a toothy grin, resting your forehead against his. “Get me those chocolates on the table over there and then we’re in business.” Joel moves without hesitation, winking at you as he pulls himself off the floor.

“Anythin’ f’you, darlin’."

You have no idea what hour it is, how long you’ve even been asleep when you feel Joel’s warm body pressing into yours, his chest now up against your back. The room is still nearly pitch black, making you take a moment to recall exactly where you are. You sigh, smiling softly at the memory of your trip thus far and you see a tiny sliver of light coming in around the blackout curtains in the room, clearly doing their job well by keeping you two asleep for god knows how long.

“Baby…” Joel whispers in your ear. You roll over slightly, your ass now rubbing into his crotch. Your eyes flutter slightly when you feel his cock, already half hard for you. Your insatiable husband, fucking you within an inch of your life for two nights in a row, and still coming back for more - a rare man of his age so voraciously consuming you over and over, never seeming to be satisfied.

“Hmm?” you murmur in reply. Joel wraps an arm across you, snuggling you closer, all warm heat against his broad, naked chest.

“Mornin’...” he mumbles back, lips pressed to your neck. “Sweet girl.”

“Morning, handsome,” you say, reaching an arm behind you to cup Joel’s cheek, running your fingers through his beard. He hums in pleasure, dipping his lips down to kiss your neck again. You shudder, digging yourself deeper under the plush comforter as you feel goosebumps covering your entire body. Joel’s hands start to roam, sliding over the skimpy, half see through pink slip you’d discovered in your suitcase last night.

Joel is suddenly shifting in the bed, and you feel the sheets rustling next to you before he’s bumping your legs as he climbs over them, settling himself underneath the comforter right in between your thighs. His touch just grazes over your plush thighs, soft and gentle, how Joel tends to be first thing in the mornings before he descends into the rough, possessive man that you’re more used to.

“So soft, little doll…” Joel murmurs from between your legs, his breath hot on your inner thighs while he leans down to kiss the outside of your panties. You just mumble incoherent noises of affirmation, still half asleep. Joel makes quick work of your panties, a pair to match the slip, of course, and pulls them down your legs, discarding them in the mess of sheets.

Your hips buck, a louder moan escaping you when his mouth finds your warm center, already wet and wanting for him.

“She’s ready f’me, ain’t she… waitin’ on her mornin’ wakeup,” Joel teases before running his tongue up your slit another time, flicking it on your clit a few times. A gentle suck there has your whining ramping up, hips begging him for more more more already. You’re barely even lucid yet and Joel is on the precipice of pulling yet another earth shattering orgasm out of you.

“J-jesus… please…” you beg, already feeling the familiar warmth pooling tighter in your core, your knees wobbling as they curl up, giving you some leverage to lazily push your hips against Joel’s tongue as it moves along your pussy.

“C’mon baby, fall apart f’me, s’okay it’s so fast…” Joel pulls back to murmur to you, kissing along your inner thighs as he speaks.

Your hand snakes below the sheets, burying your fingers into his lush, gorgeous curls, letting them massage his scalp as he dives back into your cunt, licking in just the right way he knows makes you go crazy with need, that makes you come within minutes, sometimes even much less.

You moan loudly, hips spasming as your climax surprises you suddenly, the waves of pleasure hitting you while Joel lets you ride it out onto his face. Your eyes roll back and you whimper quietly as you come down, flopping onto the bed with a content little sigh, body going limp. Joel kisses his way up your stomach, chest, and finally your lips, where you taste that primal honey of yourself on his lips. You quickly fall back into a dozing, lazy state before Joel wakes you again with his lips on your neck.

“Gonna order us room service,” he whispers near your ear, and you nod, finally opening your eyes to see your husband’s rugged, handsome face hovering above yours. Sharp smirk, stress lines, wild bedhead and all - he’s perfect, and you can’t help but smile sleepily in return.

“There she is,” he teases, giving your forehead a smooch. “One mention of breakfast and she’s all bright eyed ‘n bushy tailed, huh?” You stick your tongue out teasingly, waggling your head at him.

“How about we eat, then we can go explore the town, do a little shoppin’ f’you, see the sights ‘n all that, hm?” Joel asks, and you nod tiredly but excitedly.

“Mmm, sounds good,” you agree, blinking slowly as you try to wake up, finally coming to enough to recall the conversation the two of you had last night. The dreams you’d shared, hopes you had for having a child, all the ways your lives would change but also stay quite the same. The way your love would stay the same, deepen even, with seeing the other become a parent. Weighing it all carefully but with hopeful hushed voices, wondering if this was the right time for that next step for the two of you. When you’d both tearfully agreed that you’d start really trying in a few months after some more planning and thought, your heart soared higher than the clouds, than anywhere you could even conceive in your mind, chest tight with anticipation for all of it.

This morning that same feeling persists as you look upon Joel - so steady, so assured - everything you’ve ever dreamed of right here in this one man.

“How about we get some practice in while we wait for the food…” you suggest with your raspy, sleep laden voice, raising your brows at him as you feel his cock brush against you again, clearly hard and wanting.

“Baby makin’ practice?” Joel teases, scooping you up into his arms and peppering kisses all along the side of your face. “That kinda practice, hm? Not just an excuse to get me naked again?”

You laugh, turning your head to kiss him back, relishing in the familiar plumpness of his lips, the taste of your husband, all of it like a map you’ve traced your fingers over hundreds of times now, knowing every route, twist, and turn, filled with such a deep appreciation for the landscape laid out in front of you. You smile again as you two look at each other, feeling your cheeks starting to hurt from the way you’ve been grinning practically non-stop for the last two days because of your gruff but secretly so soft husband. Your hand moves upwards to cup his cheek, sincerity written all over you.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Joel.”

Joel smiles back, the same unspoken thoughts and deeply rooted loving care for you penned all over his features, entrenched in every weathered line, nook, and cranny of him.

“Happy Valentine’s, little doll.”

dividers by the amazing @/saradika-graphics <3

#fic: pretty little wife #joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #x reader #the last of us fanfiction

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stormz369 · 4 months ago

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☕💖 Can I Get Your Number? ☕💖 Ch 1

Jason Todd x Chubby! Reader (fem) A/N: I don't know what I'm doing here, I'm not even much of a DC fan, but Jason Todd has quickly become my latest hyper fixation character (Harley Quinn too, do I just have a thing for Joker victims???) so ... thank you for giving me a place to put this energy I guess! 😂 I'm not super confident on the characterizations, but I'm going with it because I like it. If it's wildly ooc ... that tracks, given that the only DC comic I've read is Batman: Wayne Family Adventures. Read it, or don't, I just needed to get the thoughts out of my head. The art doesn't belong to me, but the writing does. Please do not post elsewhere!

written with a female reader in mind, first person pov, no use of Y/N, starting out fluffy, will probably get NSFW later so minors DNI, let me know if there's anything else I should tag this with!

word count: 1.7k

Chapter Selection

In a city known for its masked fighters, you learn pretty quickly that everyone and everything is a potential threat. Every approaching stranger on the street, every loud sound behind you, every dark alleyway. Being bigger than me certainly isn't a prerequisite to being a danger, but it does have a way of setting off my mental alarms. I've found that big men are used to getting their way, and they get all sorts of bent out of shape if you deny them their wishes. Especially when they think they're doing you a favor.

It died down a bit after high school; I learned to exist in public with ‘fuck off’ stamped across my face. Headphones on, reading a book, intentionally seated at the table furthest from the other cafe patrons. All the typical signs of someone who wants to be left alone; nothing about me said ‘please come talk to me'. So I was understandably on edge when I noticed someone standing by the chair across from me. I look up just a bit, gesturing to the chair with a nod. Silent consent to take it back to his table and leave me to my book.

No such luck. The man simply smiled and mimed taking headphones off. Putting a bored look on my face, I moved one off my ear. “... Hm?”

“Hi! I'm sorry to bother you, but my brother thinks you're really beautiful and is refusing to come tell you himself.”

I could feel my expression turning to stone. “... What is this, middle school?”

His cheerful grin faltered ever so slightly; “hey, I know it's a bit silly, but he's awkward around cute girls, so what's a brother to do, ya know?”

I stared him down; “... You're not fooling anyone. Move on.”

“... Sorry, ‘fooling anyone’?”

“It’s not funny, it’s not even hurtful the 20th time, it's just annoying. Go. Away.” It was a lie; it was always painful to be on the receiving end of these pranks. But that was what these guys wanted, so I wasn't going to tell him that. My headphones back in place, the guy slunk away.

Ten minutes later, another person was standing by the chair. I pretended not to see him, continuing to read my book, until he plopped down in the seat. I looked up slowly and he smiled, another oddly warm smile, leaning forward on his elbows.

An incredibly put-out sigh later, I slid the headphones off one ear again. “What?”

“Hi, I'm Tim! I'm not sure what exactly my brother said to you, but I wanted to let you know - we're not trying to prank you or something. Our brother is just way too awkward with girls. It's painful to watch, really, so we figured we'd give him a hand.” He spoke much too fast for me to get a word in. I blinked a bit, raising an eyebrow.

“... You frat boys are really committing to the bit these days, huh?”

“Huh? No, really, I promise!”

My headphones were nearly back into place when a child showed up. His impatient expression matched how I felt about the whole situation. “As usual, Drake, your plans are far too convoluted to be effective. Watch and learn.”

He turned to me, nothing about his demeanor changing; “hello. Todd said we shouldn't bother you because you ‘clearly want to be alone’, but I am convinced the only way to stop their nonsense is if he comes over. May he have a moment of your time?”

Frowning a little, I stared at the kid. He stared right back, neither of us blinking for a solid minute as we sussed each other out. His expression barely changed, but the boredom in his eyes turned into determination. “... Well, you're definitely not a frat boy. So I'll make you a deal; you may report back that he has permission to come say hi. If he doesn't choose to, that's the end of this little charade. And if either of them” I gestured to the one sitting at my table; “comes back over here, I start stabbing. Got it?”

The boy nodded once, and I thought I saw a ghost of a smirk. “You have my word.” He dragged the other man out of the chair by his shirt, pulling him stumbling toward their table. That was when I saw him. The only person at their table who hadn't come over yet. Even hunched over the table he was enormous, probably close to six feet tall; exactly the kind of man I typically avoided. The kid spoke sharply, pointing in my direction, and his head shot up to look in my direction. Even from across the spacious patio, I could see his face turning red. The obnoxious, cocky smirk I was expecting to see was entirely missing; instead he seemed almost confused.

Headphones back on but turned off so I could hear if he approached, I returned to my book. But I only got through a few pages before the first one shouted; “and offer to get her another coffee or something!”

I looked over to see the tall one frozen halfway between our tables, a look on his face like he was considering jumping over the patio fence to get away. His demeanor reminded me of a lost puppy, and I couldn't help the chuckle that rose up out of my throat. I bookmarked my page, set the book aside, and slid my headphones down around my neck. I really thought he was about to bolt until I lifted one hand, curling my fingers to gesture for him to continue toward me.

He stopped short by a good several feet, eyeing the distance between himself and the chair, and took one extra step back. It seemed as if he was hyper aware of just how much he loomed over me; the way he stood was like he was trying to will himself to be smaller, and he kept his hands at his sides. “Um … hi. … Sorry, this is … this is really weird …”

I nodded, watching him. “It is a bit. … Todd, was it?”

“Jay… Jason.”

“Not Todd?”

“Jason Todd. Damian calls me Todd, he thinks using people's last names keeps them at an arm's length…” Jason Todd. The name felt familiar, but I couldn't place why. He continued to ramble about how important tone was in determining whether this Damian kid was referring to you with affection or disdain, and I watched him. He was admittedly very cute; he had a sort of a bad boy aesthetic -leather jacket, dark clothes, a white streak in his hair, some unusual scars on his face and arms-, which juxtaposed interestingly with the gentleness in his voice, bright eyes, and awkward mannerisms. That was actually the thing that made the most sense about this situation; bikers are often secret teddy bears.

“... Jason?”

He looked up at me, one hand sheepishly making its way into his hair. “Yeah, sorry, you want me to go. I'll get them to stop harassing you, so sorry-”

“Actually, I was going to say you don't have to stand the whole time.” I gestured to the chair across from me.

He hesitated, watching me. “... Y- you don't want me to go?”

I smiled softly and shook my head. “Sit?”

He quickly obeyed, a hesitant smile on his face, which was almost immediately hidden by his hand when his brothers whooped from their table. “... God, I'm so sorry … th- they mean well, really, they're not trying to be weird …”

I laughed softly, “it's fine, that's what siblings do, right?”

“... I guess so … I've been sort of … away for a while, but I guess this is pretty standard sibling behavior. … Right?”

“I mean, a little more insistent than mine, but not too far outside the realm of what I’d consider normal.” I shrugged, finishing my chai latte.

He smiled slightly, considering that. “... Hm … um … c- can I get you another?” He gestured to my cup.

“... Sure, I've got time.”

The pleased grin on his face as he looked away to flag down a server surprised me. Then again, everything about him was surprising. Still, no one had ever looked at me quite like that before…

The server sauntered over, clearly curious about my new companion. Jason smiled brightly; “Hi, can we get another for the lady? And I'll have a medium black coffee, sweet, please.”

Huh. He called me a ‘lady’. Not a girl, or a chick, a lady. That was … also surprising. We chatted for a little while, sipping our coffees, and tried to ignore his staring brothers. He was incredibly awkward, in a sweet, endearing way. I got the impression that he wasn't fully comfortable, but chalked it up to how weirdly this all started. After a while, the first one returned, a small grimace on his face.

I raised an eyebrow; “I'm pretty sure I told the little one that the next one of you to come over was getting stabbed.”

“I know, I know! I'm so sorry, but Jay, we gotta go. Bruce texted…”

That was when it clicked; why I knew the name Jason Todd. He was a Wayne … his death had dominated the news cycle for a week. His miraculous, frankly poorly explained, return was the story for at least two.

He looked, torn, between me and his brother. “Oh … um …”

The man I finally recognized as Dick Grayson leaned forward and fake-whispered, “the words you're looking for are ‘can I have your phone number'?”

Jason swatted him away, blushing bright red; “Seriously, Dick? … well, can I-”

His ears were turning red as I held my hand out for his phone. I added my contact info and, feeling unusually bold, I added ☕💖 after my name while Jason dropped a couple of bills on the table; I smiled a bit, realizing he was leaving enough to cover my first drink for me too. I passed his phone back, enjoying the look of wonder on his face when he checked the screen. The way he whispered my name, like a prayer meant only for god's ears, had my stomach doing backflips.

“thanks … I'll call you?”

“Sounds good. I'm a night owl, so not too early, yeah?”

He nodded eagerly. “Not too early, promise.”

Next ->

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chvoswxtch · 8 months ago

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a little more time

pairing: frank castle x fem!reader

summary: you're starting to question just how much patience you have left for frank.

warnings: swearing, frank getting ganged up on by our latest dynamic duo, more angst than an early 2000s emo playlist

word count: 3k

a/n: & here is the second half of this week's double drop. enjoy the calm while it lasts, bc the storm is right around the corner. as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated!

[previous chapter] | [next chapter] | [series masterlist]

Frank raised his right fist to knock three times against an apartment door labeled 6F. The person who the apartment belonged to was still a mystery to you. Neither you or Frank had spoken a single word to each other the entire short drive over. Instead, you’d sat stiffly in the passenger seat, arms crossed tightly over your chest, glaring out the window.

A minute later, the sound of a lock twisting broke the tense silence, and the front door was opened. A tall man stood in the doorway, his dark brown eyes wandering over Frank from head to toe and back up again. He was somewhat obstructed from your view since Frank was standing right in front of you, but you saw the way his full lips pursed in lighthearted disapproval before he lightly smacked them.

“Aw, shit.”

“Good to see you too, Curt.”

“Wish I could say the same. You know, most friends do normal shit. Go fishin’ down in Florida, maybe golf or somethin’, but you, you’re always draggin’ me into some bullshit. So what kinda trouble you bringin’ me now, Frank?”

“Told ya I needed you to look after somethin’ while I was gone for a bit.”

The man wore a light gray long sleeved henley, and the top of three buttons was undone. The waffle knit fabric stretched tightly over his biceps when he crossed his arms over his chest, lifting one of his dark brows in question with a look of suspicion on his face.

“Yeah, you didn’t say what though.”

Frank finally stepped aside, and the man fully came into view before you. When his dark brown eyes landed on your figure, an expression of surprise softened his skepticism. His onyx brows lifted in a show of disbelief as he glanced between you and Frank, giving him a pointed look.

“She’s with you?”

“Yeah. Curt, this is Y/N. Y/N, this is Curtis.”

Looking up at Curtis, you did your best to give him a polite smile along with a faint nod of your head.

“It’s nice to meet you, Curtis. Frank’s told me nothing about you.”

“Well that makes two of us.”

Indents of puzzlement creased along his forehead and without another word, Curtis reached his right hand out to wave his palm back and forth in front of your face, which took you by surprise and made your brows knit in curiosity while you blinked a few times. Frank looked at Curtis inquisitively.

“The hell you doin’?”

“Just checkin’ to see if she was blind.”

“Why?”

Turning his head to look at Frank again, Curtis looked him up and down once more with an expression of dubiety.

“Couldn’t think of another logical explanation of what the hell she was doin’ wit’cho ugly ass.”

Blowing a puff of air past his lips, Frank shook his head and turned to glance around to his left. Meanwhile, you had to cover your mouth to stifle the laugh that Curtis conjured with his quick response. Shaking his head, Curtis reached out to take your bag from you, stepping aside and gesturing for you to come inside, all the while side-eying Frank.

“Could’ve at least carried her bag for her, damn.”

Frank looked genuinely offended by the implied accusation that he hadn’t even attempted to be a gentleman, and you had to bite the inside of your cheek to stop from smiling at the way he scrunched up his face in defense.

“She wouldn’t let me.”

“Mhm.”

Curtis’ apartment was modest and simple, not overly decked out in furniture and decor, but definitely more homely than Frank’s. It felt awkward standing in the middle of a stranger’s living room that you had just met, knowing that you were supposed to be staying here for a few days. That thought had something from Frank and Curtis’ exchange suddenly sticking out in your mind.

Frank had told Curtis he needed him to keep an eye on something, not someone.

Turning around to face them, your narrowed gaze landed on Frank and creases of irritation swiftly knit between your brows.

“You didn’t tell him that I was coming, did you?”

Both men’s heads snapped in your direction when you spoke. Curtis glanced between the two of you with a comical look on his features as he picked up on the fact that Frank seemed to be in trouble with you. It was evident how hard he was trying to suppress a smirk. Frank on the other hand turned to face you fully, and he returned your expression of irritation with his own annoyed, broody scowl.

“Didn’t wanna ask over the phone-”

“And you didn’t think to ask in person before you packed me up and dropped me off?”

Curtis had his arms folded over his chest, and he was fighting to hide his amusement behind his right fist. His broad shoulders were subtly bouncing, and the sound of his snickering caused Frank to snap his head in his direction with a deep frown. Clearing his throat, Curtis turned to look at you with an easy going smile and gave a loose and dismissive wave of his right hand.

“Look it uh, it ain’t a big deal, alright?”

“It is when he’s the only one here who seems to know what the fuck is going on.”

The tension between you and Frank was thick, almost visibly lingering in the air, and Curtis quickly picked up on it. He’d placed your bag on the floor by his feet, but in an effort to diffuse the situation, Curtis reached down to pick it up in his left hand and loosely gestured with his right towards a hall around the corner from you.

“Here, why don’t we get you set up, alright? I uh…needa talk to Frank right quick.”

Curtis regarded you with a sympathetic glint in his eye, and it had guilt filling your bloodstream like lead. Your presence here was an imposition, whether he would say that out loud or not, which you figured by his kind nature he wouldn’t. It wasn’t fair of you to stand in the middle of his living room and argue with Frank, disrupting the peace of his home and causing him to feel uncomfortable. Silently nodding your head in agreement, you gave Frank one last forlorn glance before you turned to follow Curtis.

In the midst of your disappointment, both in Frank and yourself, you noticed that Curtis seemed to walk with a slight limp. It wasn’t overly apparent, and you’d only observed it because your eyes were on the ground in front of you following the heels of his shoes, but it stoked your curiosity. Frank hadn’t told you anything about him, you hadn’t even known he existed until today, but he was clearly someone important if Frank was leaving you in his trusted care. Your mind began to wonder where that integrity stemmed from. When he placed your bag down on the edge of his bed, you quickly shook your head and spoke up.

“I’m not kicking you out of your own room.”

Curtis turned his head to look at you and studied you silently for a moment. His deep brown eyes flickered between the door of his bedroom and your own gaze. Taking a step in your direction, he reached out with his right hand and gave your shoulder a comforting light squeeze.

“We’ll talk about that later. Why don’t you just sit down for a minute, take a deep breath. Unclench your jaw and relax your shoulders.”

You hadn’t even been consciously aware of the fact that you were doing all of those things until Curtis pointed them out. Sucking in a deep breath, you let it out in a slow exhale through your lips, trying to release the frustration and stress in your body along with it. When you sat down on the edge of his bed, your shoulders slumped in exhaustion, and you folded your hands in front of you with your forearms resting on your thighs, staring blankly ahead at the wall.

“So, this kind of thing is normal with him?”

Slipping his hands into the pocket of his jeans, Curtis looked over at you while leaning back against the wall and granted a nod of his head.

“I’ve known Frank a long time. Kinda gotten used to him bein’ a pain in my ass.”

“And you put up with it?”

There seemed to be an unspoken understanding between the two of you at that moment. The way that Curtis looked at you told you that he knew what you were really asking him with your veiled question.

Should I continue to put up with it?

Letting out a deep exhale of his own, Curtis pursed his full lips and a contemplative look covered his features. After a moment, he returned your interrogative stare with an expression of empathy and lightly shrugged his broad shoulders.

“I’ve never known Frank to do somethin’ without a purpose. Whether it’s right or wrong, I can’t say. But, the intentions come from a good place. Most of the time.”

The way he spoke that last part caught your attention, and you looked up at him in intrigue. He had trailed off a bit, his dark brown eyes wandering towards the empty space next to your side. You wished you could read the thoughts currently passing behind his eyes. Curiosity creased along your forehead as you tilted your head to the side in question.

“Most of the time?”

Curtis’ eyes focused back in your direction and he held your gaze silently for a few seconds. You could see on his face that he knew he had said maybe just a little bit too much. He turned his head to glance towards the open bedroom door once more before returning your look of query. His lips faintly tugged into a reassuring smile when he nodded his head in your direction.

“Like I said, there’s always a purpose.”

While Frank and Curtis were conversating in the living room, you took a moment to look around the quaint space of Curtis’ bedroom. Eventually your eyes fell on your bag that sat on the mattress to your right, and all of a sudden it seemed to dawn on you that Frank had packed it for you. Unable to deny your curiosity, your fingers reached out to tug back the zipper, peering inside to see what clothing and necessities he’d chosen.

On one side of the bag, a pile of clothes were folded neatly, and on the other was your toiletry case. Thumbing through the pile of clothes, you felt a tightness in your chest seeing that Frank had chosen outfits that you would’ve picked for yourself. They were ones you wore regularly, and he’d even packed your favorite pajamas. Knowing that you liked to be overly prepared and have options in case you changed your mind, he’d made sure you had enough choices for a week, and he even managed to fit two other pairs of shoes in the bottom.

Frank had grabbed all of the essentials to pack in your toiletry case, everything that he knew you used regularly, and even a few things he must have just thought you might need. He hadn’t just randomly grabbed a bunch of things to shove in a bag and go. Frank had thoughtfully chosen every single item in this bag with you in mind. While you sat there with your bag open, staring at the contents inside, an unexpected wave of emotion built up along your waterline, and you hadn’t even noticed until you felt a trail of wetness cascading down your cheek.

A light knock on the bedroom door made you quickly wipe away the evidence of your emotional turmoil with the sleeve of your shirt, and when you turned your head, you saw Frank standing there in the doorway. He looked considerably calmer than he had twenty minutes ago, and seeing the remnants of sorrow shining in your eyes, his rough features softened into raw remorse. Glancing at your open bag sitting beside you, Frank looked down for a moment and cleared his throat.

“I uh…grabbed what I thought you would.”

Hesitantly lifting his head to meet your gaze, you saw that his warm brown eyes were full of unspoken apologies. Giving a faint nod of your head, you dropped your gaze down to your lap and spoke quietly.

“Yeah, thank you.”

Both of you had so much you wanted to say, but neither of you knew where to start, or what the right words were. The silence echoed loudly and the walls felt like they were tauntingly closing in around you. A sinking stone of intuition in the pit of your stomach had you prophesying the very real possibility that this would end with you left in bereavement, and that the romantic daydreams you had hand crafted in the back of your mind had been false fortune telling.

Frank took a few cautious steps towards you, and you could see his boots come into view in your peripheral as you kept your eyes downcast towards the floor.

“Sweetheart.”

God, the way he uttered that one word made your chest ache. There were a million different emotions packed into those two simple syllables, and you could hear the tender longing in his deep voice softly calling to you. Frank knelt down in front of you, his large hand reaching out to cup your face. He slipped his fingers into your hair right beside your ear, gently grasping the back of your neck and he tucked his thumb under your chin to lift your head slowly.

“Hey-”

Frank dipped his head to try and catch your eye. Swallowing thickly, you slowly lifted your line of sight to look at him, and the expression on his face broke your heart. His warm brown eyes were desperately pleading with you, darting between your lips and crestfallen gaze.

“-c’mon I don’t…I don’t wanna leave it like this.”

The warmth of his breath could be felt against your lips, and his eyes were frantically searching every inch of face for something…anything that could temporarily relieve this anguish until he returned with a permanent fix.

“Look if I could…if there was another way…”

Frank let out a deep sigh that trembled past his lips, and it was clear he was struggling to find the right words.

“Just…please. I’m gonna make this right, okay? I swear to you. I just…I need you to give me a little more time, alright? Just a little more. Can you give me that?”

It was hard to see Frank like this, the somber sheen to his eyes and the misery weighing heavily on his shoulders. He was asking for another strand of patience, but you didn’t know how much you had left, and it scared you to even think about what would happen when you ran out. It was unclear in your mind whether the love you had for Frank that was embedded deeply in the chambers of your heart could be enough to salvage the pieces he was leaving you with.

“Okay.”

Frank could hear the lack of conviction in your defeated tone, and it killed him. Deep down he knew he was asking too much of you without giving you any concrete reassurance in return, but he couldn’t see another path. All he could do was hope that your faith in him wouldn’t run out like grains of sand slipping through the narrow bridge of an hourglass, and that the consolation of your forgiveness could still be earned.

His soft lips parted, and there was an intense emotion in his eyes when he stared deeply into yours. It looked like he wanted to say something so badly, but he cut himself off before he could. Leaning in, he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead and let it linger for a moment before pulling away and retracting his hand from your face.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can. You’ll be safe with Curt, alright?”

A pang of disappointment quickly spread through you. For a second you thought Frank might be the first one to speak those three words. If there was ever a time you needed to hear them, it was now. But then again, you didn’t know if you were ready to say them back.

Running your hand through the roots of your hair and pushing it out of your face, you sucked in your bottom lip and grazed it with your top teeth before letting it go and nodding.

“Yeah.”

Frank eyed you wearily for a moment before hesitantly rising to his full height. He didn’t want to leave things between the two of you so unfinished like this, but he didn’t have a choice. He didn’t know if he’d made things better or worse in attempting to leave on a smoother note. When he reached the doorframe, he paused and turned to look at you again, and it bothered him that you wouldn’t look at him.

“I’ll see ya soon, sweetheart.”

There was no verbal reply from you, just another nod of acknowledgement. Frank lingered there for a moment in the doorway, silently begging you with his eyes to look at him, but your gaze seemed to be permanently fixed on the floor. The image of you sitting there looking so dejected and disappointed burned into his memory, and he knew it would haunt him, even long after this was all over. He wouldn’t forget the moment he’d let you down so badly.

The only goodbye you got was the resonation of Frank’s heavy boots fading, getting fainter and fainter the further away from you he got. A few seconds later, the front door opened with a soft creak, and a murmur was exchanged before the sound of heavy wood sliding back into a worn frame was completed with the soft click of a lock.

The golden hour dripped through the thin plastic blinds, coating the entire room in a sundrenched glow, but the warmth couldn’t penetrate the endless and echoing loneliness that dug deep into your bones knowing that Frank was gone, again.

tags: @thyme-in-a-bubble @day-dreaming-goddess @messymissy @itwasthereaminuteago @strawberry1042 @queenofthenoobs @wanda2themax @xcastawayherosx @avengerstower-houseplant @stevenknightmarc @ponyosmom35 @babygal-babygal @wellwwhynot @oldermenaremyreligion @combustiblemeow @tired-night-owl @fairykiss32 @danzer8705 @calkissed @fxckahs-blog @lemon-world1 @polskiperson @imperihoe @v4leoftears @harperdoodle @spideyvibez @joalslibrary @cherry-berry-ollie @sorrowfulfragmentation @kdogreads @sumo-b98 @blackhawksfanatic @gloryekaterina @whistle1whistle @starbritestarlite @callmebrooklynbabes @hallway5 @scarletfvckingwitch @bifuriouslatina @soupyspence @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @wonwoosthetic @linguist-breakaribecca @nerdytreeflower @mrs-bellingham @smhnxdiii @s3riou2 @slavic-empress

#frank castle #frank castle x you #frank castle x y/n #frank castle x reader #frank castle x female reader #frank castle x fem!reader #frank castle x f!reader #frank castle fic #frank castle series #the bodyguard series #bodyguard!frank castle fic #bodyguard!frank castle series #bodyguard!frank castle x reader #the punisher #the punisher fic #the punisher series

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zepskies · 1 month ago

Text

Against the Wind - Part 3

Pairing: Alpha!Dean Winchester x F. Omega!Reader

Summary: You wake up in a strange alpha’s cabin in the middle of a snowstorm, all with a busted ankle. He holds shadows in his eyes, even though his hands are gentle. There are iron shutters around his heart, even though he saved you. You might just save him in return.

AN: Merry Christmas! I'm dropping this chapter a day early for you guys. Now, here's the full story, and what Dean is going to do about it…

Jacklesverse Bingo24 Prompt: True Mates @jacklesversebingo

Song Inspo: “Against the Wind” by Bob Seger

Word Count: 3.8K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only. Angst, mentions of blood, hint of spice.~

Series Masterlist || Bingo Masterlist

Part 3: Nothing Left to Burn

“We should start heading back,” you say, looking up at the mid-afternoon sky. It was starting to dip toward the top of the trees in the distance. “It’s going to take a couple of hours to get back before nightfall.”

“Yep, it’s about that time.” Your dad groans as he starts to haul himself back to his feet, where you two had been taking a rest against a tree. “Jesus, I need a new pair of knees. Help your old man, would ya?”

You smirk as you help the middle-aged alpha to his feet. His joints pop and his back cracks as he stretches his arms high.

“Damn, Dad. You’re creakier than the trees,” you quip.

He tosses you a wry look. “Just you wait. In a few years, after wrangling a couple of pups, you’re gonna feel my pain.”

“A few years?” you laugh. “Did I miss the part where I actually met a decent guy, let alone one worth mating?”

“Oh, you’ll find him,” your dad nods, slinging his rifle back over his shoulder. “Or he’ll find you, like your mother did with me.”

You follow his lead with your own rifle, falling into step with him through the forest clearing. It’s a beautiful day in late November. Already you can see the edge of frost on the shrubs and half-barren trees. The ground is littered with dead leaves painted in browns, oranges, and dappled with reds.

“You met her in college. It’s not like you guys defied fate,” you say.

“Yeah, but if she hadn’t walked into my psychology class by mistake, and stolen my latte at the campus café, maybe you wouldn’t be here,” he teases.

You huff and roll your eyes. Yes, your parents are a walking cliché. And by far, your dad’s the bigger sap.

“I’m telling you. Sometimes, the universe does us a solid,” he says, reinforcing his point with a literal pointed finger your way. You push it away from your face in exasperation.

“You might wanna watch where you’re going,” you say, “before you roll your ankle on another pebble.”

“You kidding me?” he exclaims. “That thing was the size of my fist! You’re lucky I didn’t break an ankle. Make you carry me all the way back to the car.”

You snort. “Right. Think I’ll just leave you for the bears…”

You trail off when a sound reaches you and your father. The sound of leaves crunching in the underbrush, quick and light. Your father’s shoulders straighten with alertness, the alpha’s head cocking toward the sound.

“Maybe I spoke too soon about the bears,” you whisper. He shakes his head.

“Nah, too light. It’s probably an elk.” He tosses you a smile. “We’ll have one hell of a haul to bring home, plus a good story to tell your mom.”

Your mother, the vegan veterinarian?

“Yeah, because she loves elk meat.”

“Would you quit being a smartass for two minutes? You go a little west. I’ll see where it’s at,” he says.

He quietly wracks his rifle and steps away from the clearing, farther into the woods. You do what he says, veering west. You don’t see the elk, and soon enough, you don’t see your dad either. You do hear a whistling on the wind, and the cold of it cuts right through your coat.

Unease prickles down your spine, though you don’t know why.

“Dad?” you whisper-yell, trying not to spook whatever animal might be out there.

A gunshot rings out, along with your dad’s voice in a shout. Your eyes widen in alarm, and you call his name, taking off in a run to find him.

You end up rising over a hill you hadn’t crossed before, but you see your dad below; you recognize his bright blue puffer jacket that Mom got him for his birthday. You call his name, and he looks up at you with fear in his eyes.

Not for himself, but for you.

“Go, get out of here!” he shouts and waves you off.

“What? What is it?!” you yell.

He shakes his head, like he’s unable to answer your question. “Run! Run and don’t stop!”

He moves further into the denser trees until you can no longer make him out. With a frustrated huff, you sprint down the hill and try to follow his tracks with your gun at the ready. On the wind, in the distance, you still hear his voice.

Until it cuts off abruptly, along with the terrible cracking of bone.

You gasp and halt in your steps. What the fuck was that?

Tears fill your eyes and blur your vision. Despite what you heard, you realize just how very alone you are in the clearing. Fear and adrenaline make your breath tremulous and shallow, but you can’t just give up. You search for a while longer, making yourself hoarse calling out to your father.

No matter what direction you take, you never find him.

“I ran back to town to get the rangers,” you say, brushing a couple of stray tears from your cheeks. You sniff, licking your lips and swallowing a hard lump of emotion in your throat.

Dean continues to listen intently with his brows furrowed.

“It was too late,” you sigh. “He disappeared. They explained it away, thought a grizzly bear got him, but I know it wasn’t a damn bear.”

You shake your head as the tears come harder and faster, all over again. Dean’s jaw clenches in sympathy.

“No one believed me about what I heard, not even my mom,” you confess. Your mother had been too distraught to entertain “anything else.” No matter how strongly you’d felt about your suspicions, you understood that she just wanted to put your father’s death behind her after his funeral. Part of you had stopped believing yourself.

A stronger part of you hadn’t been able to let it go, however. So you had to come back here and try to find any trace of your father.

When you finally run out of words, you see the proverbial gears turning in Dean’s eyes.

“What’re you thinking?” you hazard to ask. You can’t help but reach out and grab at his wrist. “Do you…do you believe me?”

Dean’s gaze softens a fraction. He lays his larger hand over yours.

“Yeah, I do,” he says. “I’m willing to bet on what took him too.”

He squeezes your hand before he lets you go and gets up from his seat. He soon returns with his father’s journal in hand. He reclaims his spot across from you, sitting close to your thigh on the end of the chaise. His gaze falls away from your face to the journal in hand, and he flips it open to a page he knows from memory. You suck in a subtle breath to steel yourself when he turns it toward you—to the very page that had given you nightmares the first night you read it.

Wendigo.

“Nasty son of a bitch,” he says. “It hibernates for decades at a time, but when it surfaces, it knows how to get through long winters like this. It takes a handful of people at a time, feeding on its victims slow.”

You feel sick at that, but still, his words elicit a sliver of hope.

“So there’s a chance he could still be alive,” you say, in a brighter voice. Dean gives you a measured look, dragging a hand over his mouth.

“Look, I’m gonna be straight with you,” he says. “It’s been months, right?”

You nod, though you realize what he’s saying. Don’t get your hopes up.

“But there’s a chance,” you insist, with tears in your eyes. Dean holds your gaze for a moment, and he nods. He squeezes your knee this time, then shuts the journal with one hand as he moves to stand.

You follow him on your crutches over to the kitchen. He pulls out a drawer and retrieves a folded-up map. Tossing the journal on the kitchen counter, he opens up the map and lays it out flat next to the sink. It’s a map of the mountain, and the entire forest surrounding the mountain of Big Sky. Dean’s eyes flick up to yours.

“Where did it happen?”

Dean has packed up his supplies and put on his winter gear. You watch him from the living room sofa, trying to hide your unease. You know he’s doing this for you, but there’s part of you that doesn’t want to see him leave, for his own sake, and selfishly for yours.

“Try not to go outside again unless you absolutely friggin’ have to,” he warns. “And if you do, don’t go too far. Make sure you take a weapon, preferably a gun and a knife.”

“Dean, I know,” you reply. You get up and hover by the couch while he finishes lacing his snowshoes and hooks his backpack on. You’re unable to hide your concern.

“You shouldn’t be going out there alone,” you say.

Dean tosses you a grin. It has the shade of how he was with you before the “journal” incident—self-assured, a hint teasing.

“Don’t worry. This isn’t exactly my first solo mission,” he says, though his devil-may-care attitude soon subsides into something more serious. “If I’m not back inside a week, you need to ration out the supplies here as best you can. That new meat in the fridge should last you a while.”

By new meat, you have to assume he means the bear.

“When you’re healed up, you can make your way down the mountain and back to town with that map I left for you. Kitchen counter,” he says.

Your frown worsens. You step closer to him with the pretense of closing and locking the front door for him after he leaves.

“Dean,” you say, stopping him at the door. He turns to look at you over his shoulder. You hesitate, fidgeting slightly, but you gain your courage.

“If you don’t come back, I’m going to find you,” you warn him.

Dean frowns. He turns to you fully and tilts his head as if to say, come again?

“No, you’re not, Omega. You understand me?”

His terseness doesn’t scare you anymore. You glare up at him, quite literally standing your ground.

“You didn’t leave me out there when you didn’t even know me. You think I’d do that to you?” you counter.

At that, Dean has to pause, tilting his head slightly. He almost smiles at your stubbornness, and just like that, his annoyance dissipates. It softens him, making him reach for your arm in an assuring squeeze.

“I appreciate the thought, but trust me. I’d rather you look out for you,” he says.

Right now, you don’t really give a shit about what he’d rather, but you don’t say so. It’s written across your face anyway. Dean’s mouth tugs at a smile.

“All right, I’m out,” he says. “Save me some of Yogi in there.”

You huff, but you shut the door behind him after he steps out onto the porch, down the steps, and beyond. You move to the living room window and watch him get farther and farther away from the cabin.

Despite the crackling fireplace, you begin to feel cold inside.

After the first three days, you’ve managed to clean the entire cabin, top to bottom. With the “new meat,” you make a large batch of soup to last you throughout the week. You freeze a couple of servings for Dean.

For when he gets back.

You try to fill up your time in other ways, like attempting, and failing, and trying again more successfully to make bread from scratch. You haven’t binge-watched every season of The Great British Bake-Off for nothing.

Then you organize all of the alpha’s books by author. You wash all the laundry you can find and fold everything neatly on his bed, and you put away the couple of sweaters you’ve borrowed from him into your own dresser.

On Day Four, you create a nest of pillows and blankets in the middle of the living room floor. In your anxiety, it’s a reflex you can’t help. Your initial instinct was to nest in his room, but you thought that was too invasive of his privacy, so the living room was your next best option. At least his scent is still somewhat imbued into his favorite chair, and around his records. (You do steal another shirt of his to sleep with though.)

On Day 8, your worry becomes a living thing. You pace the living room and the kitchen on your crutches, probably wearing down the wooden ends of them while you debate what to do. Despite what Dean told you to do if he didn’t get back, you know you’re not just going to leave him out there. But the reality is, you have a problem of mobility.

With a frustrated huff, you decide to try setting your problem foot down normally. Your ankle hurts, a sharp pain shooting up your calf and nearly sending you to the floor.

“Fuck!” you gasp, both in shock and aggravation.

You know this isn’t just a sprain. At best it could be a fracture, since no bone is protruding under the skin. It still means you shouldn’t go after him either.

But you’ll have to try.

After you manage to clamber back onto your feet using the crutches, you put together some supplies, including the extra med kit in case he’s hurt. (Or in case something happens to you while you’re out there.) This is a bad idea, you think, even as you heave on your jacket.

Then, you hear the sound of a lock turning, before the front door shoves open.

A yelp of surprise escapes you, though you soon realize that it’s Dean, looking worn down and ragged, but alive.

“Home, sweet home,” he says wryly, but he looks relieved to see you too.

You help him sink down onto the chaise, where he stretches out with a groan. He tips his head back on the cushion. His jacket is torn in a few places. Blood has dried on his cheek, his neck, and near his hairline, and you worry about where else he might be hurt.

You quickly go to the kitchen and pour a bowl of warm water and grab a hand towel. You bring it all back to Dean, where you set your supplies on the floor and sit down beside him on the cushion.

“Are you okay?” You try to calm down your racing heart (and the nauseous feeling in your stomach) as you help him work open his jacket, followed by his shirt. Discreetly, your eyes take in the expanse of his tanned skin and pebbling nipples exposed to the cool air, even with the fire roaring nearby.

“Yeah, just peachy,” he says.

You smile a little. You take the towel, dampen it, and begin to clear the blood from his cheek, his neck, and the upper part of his torso—even his scuffed hands. Then you squeegee out the blood in the bowl and continue your task. Dean subtly watches you, his gaze a bit softer than usual.

He eventually looks you over with a frown as he takes in the way you’re dressed, and then the backpack by the door.

“What, about to go for a little afternoon stroll?” His sarcasm turns to annoyance. “Didn’t I tell you to stay put until you can actually walk?”

Your mouth flattens into a line, but any anger you might’ve felt is waylaid by your relief. It brings tears to your eyes.

“I thought something happened to you,” you say.

Dean hesitates. Your hand has stilled on his chest. He softens a little more, grasping your hand in his larger one.

“I’m fine,” he says. “The job’s done.”

Your eyes widen. “You found the…thing? The wendigo?”

His mouth pulls at a cocky grin, tempered only by his tiredness, and the way he’s looking at you. “Sure did. Tried to take a chunk outta my ass, but a little aerosol deodorant and a lighter’s all you need to barbecue that ugly son of a bitch.”

You smile in amusement, but all too soon, it fades.

“Did you find my dad?” you ask.

Dean’s expression sobers as well.

“Yeah, I think so.” His face gentles. “Was he wearing a blue puffer jacket?”

Your lips tremble. As that horrible realization dawns, you break down into tears. You already know from his tone that your father was dead when he found him.

Dean guides you down to him by your shoulder and wraps his arms around you. You bury your face into his neck, and your body shakes with quiet sobs.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he murmurs into your hair. “Believe me, I am.”

He holds you close, warm and secure. He allows you to stay there as long as you need, where you feel safe, even if this world has become a colder, darker place.

After a few minutes longer, your intense sobs begin to subside. You don’t mean to, but you turn your nose into Dean’s neck, scenting him on reflex. It calms you down, but it has the unintended effect of arousing him. The alpha rumbles in pleasure.

You blink in surprise and lean back enough to see his face. Dean’s lips press together as he looks down on you; he seems embarrassed, but you also see the heat reflected in his gaze, so intense in those forest greens. Your face begins to warm in a blush.

He brushes your cheek with his thumb, collecting your tears there. You glance down at his plush lips again, your own parting with a breath. His hand moves to cup your cheek, framing the side of your face. Please…

He finally drags you to him in a kiss.

It’s heady and passionate, and also comforting. Your fingers wind into his hair, your nails scraping along his scalp. He growls as his arm tightens around your waist. You shiver in delight.

You press a hand to the center of his chest, giving you leverage to rise up and slide your thigh over his legs. There you sink into his lap. Your breasts pillow against his chest when you lay on top of him, your elbows digging into the cushion on either side of his head. His hands move down your body, feeling down your sides, squeezing your hips, and then your ass. You hum into his mouth and roll your hips into his. Already you feel him hardening through his jeans.

But somehow he breaks away from your kiss, even though your hands are still in his hair.

“Sorry…we can’t do this,” he says, with difficulty.

He sits upright and nearly makes you fall over in the process. He grabs your arm before you tip over, but he keeps himself at arm’s length from you after you’re forced to slide off his lap, sitting on the end of the chaise instead. Your eyes glisten with hurt and confusion.

“Why?” is all you can ask.

He doesn’t want to answer.

“Dean?” you ask, inching towards him. He raises a hand to keep you at bay.

“Just…it’s not a good idea, okay?” he says, with the clenching of his jaw.

That cuts into you even more. Your heart pulses with pain.

“Do you know what your scent is to me?” you ask, in a voice slightly trembling. You glance at the fireplace that has dimmed to embers. “It’s better than that fire at full blaze. Every time I went camping with my dad, that’s what I loved the most. Sitting by that fire, talking, laughing, and for the millionth time, telling the story of when I gave my sister micro bangs in her sleep when I was ten.”

You wipe a stray tear from your eye, but you respect the distance he’s put between you two.

“The second I met you, I knew what this was,” you say. “I think you know it too.”

Dean shakes his head. His face betrays his wariness, his desire, and his obstinance.

“Look…even if that’s true, you don’t want this with me,” he says. His handsome face becomes marred by a frown, his brows knitting together. “I don’t even own this place. Besides my car, I ain’t got much of anything to give.”

You shake your head in dismay. “I know that’s not true.”

“I’m not bullshitting,” he says. “Listen…I’ve never had much. And what I did have, I found a way to lose. I’ve let my people down. Just about everyone I’ve ever…”

You can’t help but reach out a hand for him, your heart hurting, but he leans away, pressing himself back against the seat. It cuts even deeper into you; now though, you wonder if it’s because he feels the same gut feeling you do when he’s this close—close enough to touch, but almost afraid of the burn.

“They’ve been hurt, almost always because of me.” His voice shakes imperceptibly, with a wry, humorless turn of his lips. “So take it from me, sweetheart. You’ll wanna steer clear.”

“Dean,” you say. You expel a breath, digesting his words, while thinking of what you want to say.

“I’ve never not felt safe with you,” you confess. “Even when I screwed up and drove you crazy, I’m sure, I knew you’d never hurt me. The same way I know…”

You reach out a tentative hand to lay in the center of his chest, over his heart. Your thumb brushes the edge of his strange tattoo, over the dark ink in his skin.

“You’re my mate. My one, true mate in this world,” you say, meeting his eyes. “And I want to know you.”

You see inner conflict in the depths of Dean’s eyes, dark green and troubled. You take a chance and lean in, brushing your cheek against his, nuzzling, laying a soft kiss to his cheek.

“Omega,” he warns, but the grit in his voice has little heat.

Or at least, it’s heat of a different kind, as his strong hands once again find your waist. They hold you still, but also hold you to him. Your gentle affection is making him ache, deep in the shadowy cavern of his chest. He’d never admit it, but loneliness had set in there, burrowed deep with a stronghold on his heart. Without knowing, you’ve been carving it out with those gentle hands.

You now slide your hands up his chest and over his shoulders, warm palms on his skin.

“Alpha, I want to know you,” you insist. Quiet, but steady, your voice is a mere brush of words near his ear, against his cheek. “Please.”

Dean’s brows furrow as he briefly shuts his eyes tight. With your whispered plea, the brittle chain of his restraint finally snaps free.

He cradles the back of your head and guides you back into a feverish kiss.

AN: Sorry to cut it off there lol, but the big (steamy) finale is coming up next week! Perhaps a little earlier than Friday. 😘

Next Time:

“Were you nesting, Omega?” he teases, between the sinful meetings of his lips with yours. You hum your affirmation before his tongue swipes across your lower lip, seeking entrance.

You open yourself to him in more ways than one; you slip your hands across his naked shoulders and explore the smooth planes of muscle, the dips and softness in between. You encourage him to lower down, to cover you with the length and broadness of his frame. His weight is a welcome one between your thighs and against the softness of your body.

“Was worried about you,” you whisper a confession against his lips. Dean briefly pauses, meeting your eyes.

“Thanks for waiting up,” he says, with a hint of a smile.

Your lips curve upwards in return.

▶️ Keep reading: Part 4 (Finale!)

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space-mango-company · 10 months ago

Text

Stranger | Chapter 5

Chapter Links: [1], [2], [3], [4], [5]

TW: Descriptions of Violence, Mentions of Cannibalism

Tags: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Atreides!Reader, Arranged Marriage, Eventual Smut, POV Second Person, No use of y/n, Original Characters, Canon What Canon

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: Not proofread!! Holy moly. Here it is, folks. The scene that inspired this whole fic. I had fun writing this so I really hope you enjoy it. Once again, I appreciate everyone who likes, comments, and/or leaves kudos so much. I really started this fic for myself but good golly, that dopamine rush whenever I get a notif might be more addicting than spice. I'm glad to be part of the bald man brigade.

Also, I can't believe I'm only now questioning why I decided to write this in the second person? I guess maybe I thought this fic would be a lot shorter and not that deep, lol. At this point 'y/n' probably has enough personality to just be a straight-up OC. It's funnier because I don't even find second-person or y/n fics any more engaging either. I always detach myself by giving 'y/n' her own name and only seeing her as a character in the fic.

ANYWAY, sorry to ramble. Stay safe and have a good one, ya weirdos.

You step out into the dark cul-de-sac of the guest hall, illuminated only by the large suspensor lamp in the middle. Feyd-Rautha looks you up and down, seemingly entranced by how the dim light casts his shadow on your modest dress. Atreides green, he recognized.

"Trying to sneak into my rooms again?" you say arms crossed, leaning on your door. "I didn't appreciate the last time, by the way."

"It's my house," he says cooly, "and I did knock this time."

You stare at him indifferently.

"Quite the display from you yesterday morning, using The Voice on me." His voice low and raspy, "I should have you drawn and quartered."

You scoff in his face. "You almost choked me to death. Are you trying to start a war?"

He takes a step closer and his face is inches from yours, you can feel his breath on your cheek, "I didn't think I'd like you this much, little hawk."

"What do you want, Feyd-Rautha?" you had no patience for him right now.

"Ah," he steps back, a dark smile on his face, "I've been waiting to hear my name from your tongue." His hand reaches for your lips. "I've grown quite tired of 'na-Baron'."

You grab his wrist before he can touch you. "If you're only here to toy with me, I would rather be left alone to prepare for bed." You release his hand and turn to open your door.

Feyd-Rautha props an arm against the doorway to block you. "We're to be married in three days," he says, "and I just can't seem to bring myself to let go of my 'harpies', as you called them." He meets your gaze. "You said you'd kill them. Did you mean that?"

You look up at him with steely eyes. He towered over you but your heart felt no fear, "Yes."

His coy smile returns. "Good. Come to my training hall tomorrow," he says, walking away.

"What?" you call after him.

"Dress to fight," he says over his shoulder. "I want to see what you can do, Atreides."

You needed no help from Zora in putting on a loose shirt and long pants. The plain beige outfit certainly wasn't as elegant as the dresses you had been wearing so far. But it was comfortable and you could fight in it, which was all that mattered. Still, you look yourself in the mirror. The soft, airy fabrics draped over your figure well but perhaps you were not in the best shape as you once were. Your muscle mass is much less than your brother's and he wasn't particularly built himself. You admit you did wane off your training sessions with Gurney and Paul leading up to your departure from Caladan. Nevertheless, you were still a skilled warrior. Another secret you've been keeping from the Harkonnens.

You were 14 when you started learning the blade. Watching Paul, 2 years your senior, practice with the Atreides Warmaster lit a fire in you. You didn't hesitate to pester your father to let you train with them and of course, there was nothing he could deny his darling daughter. You were a fierce and determined student. Gurney Halleck was a man you genuinely believed to be one of the best fighters in the Imperium, along with Duncan Idaho. Gurney would train you and Paul on even days. On odd days, your mother would teach you the Weirding Way. These lessons, much like the rest of your mother's teachings, your father wanted to know nothing about. After becoming decently adept at Prana-Bindu and gaining almost complete physical control of your body, Lady Jessica insisted that you also be skilled in the Bene Gesserit style of combat.

You were far from mastery in either but the combination of both trainings made you a formidable fighter. Despite this, you could never seem to beat your brother in a sparring match. A fact that frustrated you to no end, though you appreciated that Paul never went easy on you. You'd always blame it on him having trained for longer than you have. But in truth, you knew there had just always been something special about him.

"Are you ready, my lady?" Zora's soft voice wakes you from your thoughts.

"Hm? Right. Yes, let's go." You quickly tie your hair out of the way and grab your father's dagger from atop your dresser.

There was no fanfare when you entered the hall. On one end, the na-Baron's concubines sat chained on the steps of the shallow recessed pit in their leathers, their glares piercing through you. Your eyes linger on them as Feyd-Rautha and his Warmaster greet you.

"I was starting to think my lady bride was bluffing," Feyd-Rautha says as you approach him. The older man beside him offers you a polite bow.

"Perhaps she wasn't so keen on your brutish games," you bite back. "Your lord uncle won't be joining us?"

"No," Feyd-Rautha crosses his arms, "but he'll be hearing about your victory. Or your demise."

"Right. Well, I assume you'll be releasing them from those chains," you nod towards his pets "Not sure why they're necessary."

"Oh, trust me, little hawk. They're necessary." Feyd-Rautha motions to a servant.

"Your blade and shield, my lady," they bow, presenting you with a knife and a small device you recognize as a Holtzman shield.

"I've brought my own," you unsheath your father's dagger. You contemplate taking the shield but remembering that the na-Baron forwent it during his gladiator fight, you decide to do so as well. "They've no weapons anyway, the shield seems pointless."

Feyd-Rautha shrugs, "If you insist."

You take a deep breath, "Let's get this over with."

You lightly stretch as you walk down the steps of the shallow pit to stand opposite the na-Baron's concubines. You had come into this on the pretense of righteousness. For Iassa, you told yourself. But you've known her a mere two days. A part of you wanted to show off. You were good and you knew it. You could probably kill anyone in this room, even Feyd-Rautha. You craved the respect of the people here: the Harkonnens, the people of Geidi Prime. You figured this was one way to get it.

Feyd-Rautha walks around the pit to one of his concubines and kneels to whisper something in her ear. You assume a fighting stance when he moves to release her from the chains. When you meet her eyes, they are filled with feral bloodlust.

Suddenly, you weren't so bold. The veil of courage you have maintained since you arrived, even when Feyd-Rautha had your neck in his grip, is torn apart when you face this woman. You could tell no part of her would hesitate to rip your throat out with her bare teeth. You were almost relieved they were unarmed, but you weren't sure if that would make them any less lethal.

Fear grew in your chest and you had less than a moment to recite the Litany in your head before the concubine lunged at you.

You crouch down in time and slash at her abdomen as she approaches you. You turn to face her on the other side of the pit and she wastes no time in attacking you again. She attempts to grab your armed hand but you take hold of her wrist first and move to pin it behind her back. Quickly, your blade drags across her throat and she falls to your feet.

The kill has not yet registered in your mind but your heart is racing. You can almost hear your blood coursing through your veins. You held your arms outstretched, your eyes focused ahead, ready for the next one.

Across the pit, Feyd-Rautha licks his lips, smiling as he releases his second concubine. This time, you walk toward her while she moves to attack you. You clock her head with the pommel of your dagger and knock her a few steps back. She reaches a hand to wipe the blood beginning to drip out of her nose. After examining it, she snarls and bares her sharp teeth at you. Your mind is blank now. She dodges your first slash then manages to land a blow to your jaw. You seethe from the pain. You spit out the mixture of blood and saliva filling your mouth. The anger at the hit drives you to rush at her. Seeing an opening, you duck down to her waist and stab her twice. As she falls to her knees, the look of determination doesn't leave her eyes until the very last moment.

When you turn around, Feyd-Rautha has already released the last concubine. The ruthless scream she lets out disorients you. She pounces and knocks you over. She straddles you and pins your arms to the ground, your blade sliding inches away. She screams again in your face at the death of her sisters. You wedge your right knee between you and her abdomen, the only thing keeping her teeth from reaching your throat. You grunt as you struggle to free your hands. In your periphery, you see Feyd-Rautha, wielding his own blade, take a step into the pit.

"GET BACK," you roar, and he is powerless to refuse.

You turn back to your opponent still on top of you and you butt her head with your own. She loosens her grip and you kick her off to hastily crawl to your weapon. When she reorients herself and attempts to grab you again, you hook a knee under her arm and flip the both of you over. With your weight on her chest and both your knees pinning her arms down, she thrashes underneath you, claws digging into your right ankle. You take your blade in both hands and her screaming is silenced when you sink your knife deep into her heart.

When you rise, the room is quiet. Your chest heaves. The stark white ceiling lights don't help the lightheadedness that begins to wash over you in the post-adrenaline rush. Feyd-Rautha says something from behind you but his speech is garbled as you reel from the thrill of what just transpired. You were electrified. You almost... wanted more.

Then, the realization of the revolting scene you are in settles upon you and you are knocked off your high. You look at the leather-clad bodies scattered around you, the grotesque way they lay on the floor, the red blood pooling around them made brighter by the sterile grayness of the room. You did this.

A hand on your shoulder snaps you out of it. In reflex, you turn and raise your blade at the offender.

Feyd-Rautha holds his hands up, "Whoa, easy, Atreides. Trying to kill me? Don't want to start a war, do you?"

You yield your weapon. Your eyes dodge his as you look to your feet and try to steady your breathing.

"Enjoy your first taste of blood?" Feyd-Rautha says, the look in his eyes indecipherable to you. He raises a hand and swipes his thumb on your cheek. It comes away covered in crimson.

You gasp and reach for your face with your own hand. You don't even know if it's your blood or theirs, or when it got on you. Your heart pounded, unable to decide whether you were repulsed or proud.

"Look at you," he says licking the red off his finger. You could not help but stare at him through the strands of your hair that had come undone in the fighting. "You're beautiful like this," his hand reaches for your face again.

"No," you say low and quiet when you swat his hand away, "you're sick." You didn't know if you meant him or yourself. You calmly turn to leave. No one stops you when you make your way up the shallow steps of the pit. As you pass Iassa—no, Zora—by the doorway, you tell her flatly, "Prepare a bath."

You had never taken a life before. Today, you took three. You were glad you didn't know their names. You decided you'd never find out.

After Zora pours a final pitcher of hot water into the bath, you tell her, "You may go. I'll dress myself later, thank you."

She bows and makes her way out of your rooms.

In your solitude, you bring your knees to your chest. You had been quick to wipe the blood off your cheek before you even reached your quarters. Now, you cup the water into your hands and rub it into your face, the slight sting of the heat comforting you.

He was a cruel man, your betrothed. This is what you've decided. Having you kill the concubines he claimed to want to keep so much. But wasn't it you who threatened to kill them? He started it, you argue with yourself, when he had Iassa killed. You felt like a child.

When you used to hear of Feyd-Rautha's exploits, you had to mask your disgust. And yet now, you had killed so easily in that pit as he had in the arena. What was this place doing to you?

When you left Caladan, Paul had never killed anyone either. You wonder if he ever does, would he feel the same exhilaration you did when you slit that first concubine's throat. No. Your brother was fierce but, like your father, he had a good heart. You beat him by three. You hoped it would stay that way.

You think about your future here, marrying Feyd-Rautha. Producing heir after heir under the Baron's watchful eye. You were a broodmare. Despite all your fancy training and education. Despite your little demonstration earlier. It was the bitter truth.

You missed home. You missed walking along the beach at night with your father. You missed your mother's gentle hands brushing your hair. You missed the banter and teasing with your brother. You missed Gurney, and Duncan, and the cold breeze on your balcony, and getting to roam free and going anywhere you pleased. When the tears come, you sink deep into the bath so they might fade away in the water.

Chapter Links: [1], [2], [3], [4], [5]

Taglist: @torchbearerkyle @austinswhitewolf @dreamlandcreations @emeraldsgirl @strawberryfieldsforevermore @bornslippys @vexis-world @aoi-targaryen @alexandrainlove @mamawiggers1980 @sstardussty @aboutthenabaron

#feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha x you #feyd rautha fic #feyd rautha #feyd rautha harkonnen #atreides reader #dune #dune part two #space-mango-company #fic: stranger

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golden-cherry · 1 year ago

Text

deal - cl16 (11/?)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.

Chapter Summary: The dinner is in full swing. And friends sharing a dessert is pretty normal - right?

Warnings: FLIRTING, PINING (you've been warned!), Charles is sweet, a bit of angst (at the end, beware)

Word Count: 3.5k

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A/N: if my story is tooooo slow burn, feel free to tell me! feedback is appreciated! love ya.

According to Google, cold water on the wrists helps against heat, because the blood circulating in the body is cooled there quickly and thus the body temperature should drop.

So why the hell are you getting hotter?

About five minutes ago, you fled the table after Charles sat down next to you and your brain stopped working and before you could sweat through your clothes. Charles had looked at you with a concerned look after he made room for you to get up from the bench, but you had just smiled at him kindly and once the table was out of sight you were able to take a decent breath.

About four minutes ago you were frantically googling for a way to get rid of the heat Charles was causing inside you, and since you don't have lukewarm showers here at the restaurant, nor do you have any essential oils with you, the only solution was cold water on your wrists.

And for about three minutes you've been standing here, letting water run over your skin, and as long as you don't have to think about Charles and his touch, your body seems to cool down as well. But how could you not think about him when he is all your thoughts revolve around?

How silky his hair must be? Or how soft his skin? Or how gentle his touch?

You lean your forehead against the cold tiles on the wall, though you would have preferred to bang your head against them.

You can't think that way about Charles. About your roommate. Your friend. And especially not after two days together. You two don't even really know each other. So why can't your thoughts stop spinning around him?

Before you can actually bang your skull against the wall, the door to the ladies' room opens.

"Are you okay?" asks Kika, leaning against the wall opposite you. She glances at your hands, which you're still holding under running water, and then looks at you with raised brows.

You clear your throat before turning off the water and reaching for a paper towel to dry yourself off. "I'm fine."

Your new friend reaches out her hand, and you hand her the paper so she can toss it into the trash can beside her. "You can talk to me, Y/N. You know that, right? There is nothing you confide in me that I would ever tell anyone." When you raise an eyebrow, she nods slightly. "Not even Pierre."

You lick your tongue over your teeth once. "I appreciate that. Thank you."

Kika smiles. "I mean it. You can call any time of the day or night. I promise I'll always be there for you. Even if we've only known each other for a short time."

"I'll keep that in mind." You move toward the door. "But then don't complain if I really do call in the middle of the night and wake you up."

She pushes off the wall and puts an arm around your shoulder. "As long as you don't make me get up at six in the morning, this is going to be a super friendship." She gives you a quick squeeze before dropping her arm. "You ready?"

Together, you walk back to the table, where the guys have their noses stuck in the menus. Charles is still sitting in the seat next to yours, a fresh beer in front of him, and as you girls approach the table, he looks up. His look is more unsettled than concerned as he gets up so you two can sit down again. This time, however, he leaves some space between you, for which you are very grateful.

"Is everything okay?" he asks quietly, so that only you can understand him.

You nod. "Everything's fine." Seeing that he doesn't believe you, you come clean. Well, part of the truth. "I was just a little warm. It's okay, I promise."

He seems to buy that a little bit more, because he slides the menu on the table so you can both look at it. "We were going to order dessert before we leave. Would you like some?"

You take a look at the map and have to concentrate on every single letter so that you can ignore Charles' gaze on you. But that's easier said than done, because out of the corner of your eye you can see how his gaze drifts from your eyes, over your nose and further down, before he licks his lips and also turns back to the card.

You think you read something about tiramisu somewhere on the menu, which is why you suggest just that. When you find it, you put your finger on the card. "This." Your finger follows the letters and finally gets stuck on the price, which is pretty high for a dessert. You draw air through your teeth. "Or maybe not."

Charles leans back and runs a hand through his hair once. "The tiramisu is actually meant for two people." He points to the heading above some of the dessert offerings. "Look. Dessert pour deux."

And indeed. The dessert menu is divided into individual servings of ice cream, panna cotta and chocolate souflée, and desserts for two like a moist slice of chocolate cake and dumplings filled with pureed fruit. And tiramisu.

"Then I'll have something else," you answer him, but before you can say anything, Charles leans forward.

"If you want, we can share the tiramisu." His voice is low, but deep.

You don't even dare look at his face, because then you'd have to disappear right back to the bathroom to cool off. How can the suggestion of sharing a dessert sound so seductive? And why doesn't your heart realize that it doesn't have to beat so fast because of it? After all, friends can share dessert without ulterior motives. Or longing. Or anything else.

You smile at him. "I'd love to.""

When the waitress comes back to the table to take orders, Charles orders the tiramisu with two spoons. As she disappears, he turns back to you.

"So, what do you think of my friends?" he asks, taking a sip of his beer, which you only now see is non-alcoholic.

"They're all pretty awful. Hardly bearable," you answer him. He almost chokes on his drink as he lets out a snort. "How can you be friends with them?"

He puts the bottle back on the table. "Good question. They were just there at some point and I guess I missed the time when I could have gotten rid of them. I guess it's just too late now."

"If you want to get rid of us," Kika straddles the conversation, "all you have to do is say so." She scoots closer to you and reaches for your hand to intertwine your fingers. "But you do realize that we're definitely keeping Y/N."

"Ouch." Charles spins on the bench and puts his knee on the cushion, mere inches from your thigh. "So you already like her better than me?" His gaze shifts to you. "Nothing against you, of course. You know how much I like you."

You don't have a second to think about his words before Kika pulls you against her so that your back is against her front. "But of course! We're both going to be best friends eventually! Besides, you can't tell me she didn't immediately captivate you too with her beautiful smile and charm."

You lightly slap Kika's forearm and try to squirm out of her embrace, but she won't let go. Which is why you can only look straight ahead, directly at Charles, whose gaze is gentle and loving. Dimples bore into his cheeks as he smiles. "She did."

Kika lets go of you and you turn to her briefly, giving her an evil look that's meant to express "What was that all about?" as several waiters come to the table and place various plates and bowls with all variations of desserts in front of you. Charles puts a spoon down for you and places the plate with the huge piece of tiramisu between you so that you can both eat from it comfortably.

He smiles at you and points his own spoon at the dessert. "Ladies first."

Gratefully, you smile at him before using the spoon to cut off a piece and shove it into your mouth. On your tongue, the tiramisu seems to explode and your eyes roll back and you can muster just enough strength to keep from moaning out in pleasure. In all your life, you've never eaten dessert so delicious.

"That good?" asks Charles, who also slips a piece between his lips. A bit of cream sticks to the corner of his mouth and as he licks it away with his tongue, you have to swallow.

"It's perfect," you reply, taking another bite so you don't have to look at Charles.

"Don't be in such a hurry," Charles says, pressing his spoon down on yours as you go to take a third piece so you can't move it. "I thought we were sharing the tiramisu."

You jiggle your spoon a little to pull it out from under his, then point it at him. "You're already using my brush. I think I should get a bigger piece of this." You're about to dig the spoon back into the dessert when Charles pulls the plate away. "Hey!"

"So that's how we play, huh?" You can't even react as quickly as he's shoveling in the tiramisu. One bite after another, he pops it into his mouth before you can lean over and grab the plate to pull it away. As he goes to take another piece, you swat his spoon away with yours.

"You've already eaten half!" you scold him affectionately. "Leave some for me, too, you glutton!"

"First come, first served," he responds, already holding out his spoon, but you grab the plate and turn your back to Charles so he'd have to reach around you to get to dessert. That way you would still be able to take a few bites in peace without having to fight for it, because for sure Charles wouldn't come that close to you for dessert.

You feel the heat even before you can follow through with your plan.

Charles moves close to you so he can snake his arm around you. His chest presses against your back as he leans in to look over your shoulder, so he can just find the tiramisu he's so desperate for. His hot breath is on your ear, on your neck, and you're glad there's a sweater and blouse between you, because if you were touching - really touching - you'd have a heart attack, you're sure of it.

"Come on, just a little bit more," he breathes.

Your body freezes and you tear your eyes open as if you've seen a ghost. Your grip on the plate tightens, your fingers almost clench around the china, and Charles's scent in your nose fogs your brain.

Why does Charles have such an effect on you?

"Stop it," Kika intervenes, taking the plate from your hand. "You're arguing like an old married couple."

"We're not," counters Charles, who now also snakes his second arm around you to get at the plate Kika has placed in front of him. But it's a little too short, so he slides a little closer to you. "If we were fighting properly, this would definitely end differently." His fingers get a grip on the edge of the plate, and you're too frozen to do anything about it. He moves away from you, moving back to his seat and shoving two more bites between his jaws before pushing the rest in your direction. "I'm willing to share with you."

Kika nudges you, bringing you out of your stupor. You turn to face him. "And what do you want in return?"

Charles smiles at you. "Just your friendship."

You return his smile, not even noticing the slight twinge in your chest. "Deal."

"This is where deals are made?" asks Lando as he sits down in the empty seat in front of you - Charles' old seat. "How much money are we talking about?"

"It's not about money," Charles replies, his tone sounding somehow cold, very different from just a few moments ago.

You nod in agreement. "It's about something much more important." You point to the last bite of tiramisu in front of you, "It's about tiramisu."

Lando's gaze moves from your face to the dessert, then back to you. "That's actually very important. I know a pâtisserie in Nice that serves the best tiramisu in the whole world. Maybe we can go there together sometime?"

Before you can answer, the waitress comes to the table with the bill. As you are about to pay, Charles gives you a scowl. "I invited you, so I'm paying for you."

You roll your eyes. "You don't have to pay for me."

"I'd like to, though. I owe you that, as badly as I treated you today."

Since you can't argue with him on that, you let it happen and when all the bills are paid, the small group stands outside the restaurant. The wind has gotten even colder and inside you are scolding yourself for not taking a thick jacket. You blame it on Charles and his mood swings.

As you wrap your arms around yourself to get a little warmer, Charles hands you his jacket. "My sweater is thick. And I don't get cold easily."

Hesitantly, you slip the jacket on and are immediately enveloped by his scent. The fabric is heavy but feels comfortable on you and you have to suppress the urge to smell it. You feel warm and would like to snuggle into the jacket. You stifle a yawn and smile at him. "Thanks."

"So," Pierre props an arm on Kika's shoulder. "What club do we want to go to now?"

"The Jimmy'z is about to open," Lando suggests, looking at his wristwatch. "Or La Rascasse. There's supposed to be a cool DJ there today."

The clubs tell you something, but from stories you know how expensive the drinks are there. And since you don't want Charles to pay for you all night and you can't afford Monaco's nightlife, your evening is declared over, for better or worse.

Kika raises her hands. "I'm afraid I have to get up early tomorrow, which is why it's time for me to go to bed."

You're glad she's the first to get out. "I'm pretty tired. So I'm not in either," you fib, curling your lips into a thin, apologetic smile.

Charles head jerks in your direction. "Shall we go home then?" he offers.

"It's fine, you go party," you reply, moving a little closer to him. "Your day has been pretty lousy. So go get drunk with your friends. But call if you want to be picked up. Then I'll come get you."

"Are you sure?" he asks, unsure. "I don't have to go with the others either."

You wave it off. "I'm sure."

"Do you still want me to walk you to the car?" He hands you the car keys. "It's around the corner."

"I'll be fine, Charles," you smile, "I'm a big girl."

"I didn't doubt that," he assures you, but still seems undecided about whether to drive home with you or go with his friends. "Would you really be okay with me going?"

"If you ask me again, I'll punch you."

Charles smiles. "Will you let me know when you get home?"

"I will."

Charles seems satisfied with your answers, so he gives the boys a thumbs up. "Can I get a ride with you, Pierre?" When the latter nods, he turns to you. His smile is affectionate and gentle. "I'll see you at home."

The sentence sends warmth coursing through your body. "I'll see you at home."

Lando stands next to you, "My car is also around the corner. We can just walk the bit together," he offers and you nod gratefully before Kika wraps her arms around you.

"Well, you have my number. You can get in touch if you like," she says, giving you a hug. "And if you don't, I'll be very mad at you." Her grin is wide and she pokes you in the side before returning to the other boys. "Don't be a stranger!"

"Don't worry, I won't," you reply, nodding goodbye to Pierre and Max before your gaze drifts to Charles. You raise your hand and wave at him, which he returns. Then you turn and start walking. Lando walks alongside you.

"So, how about that tiramisu in Nice?" he asks, his hands buried in his pockets.

You laugh out loud. "You're not letting up, are you?"

He shakes his head and grins. "No way. Unless you want me to, in which case I'd let it go, of course. I'm not a stalker, after all." He looks down at you.

"Well, it wasn't on my shopping list," you retort, collecting a slight nudge in return. "What? It was meant to be nice!"

"You better believe it."

You both turn the corner and your Renault enters your field of vision. "I've never been to Nice before. So for all I care, we can go there."

"Great." He takes a deep breath. "Then wouldn't it be better if I had your phone number? Then we could set up a day to go there."

You raise an eyebrow. "You already have my Instagram, isn't that enough? Not that you'll actually turn into a stalker," you joke.

"Okay, wow." He grins. "If you don't want to, of course I can understand. After all, we've only known each other since today."

"It's all good, Lando. Don't worry about it," you reassure him, telling him your number so he can type it into his cell phone. Then he calls you so you have his number as well.

"Thanks."

"No problem."

You come to a stop in front of your car, Lando looking at you confused. "Is this your car?" When you nod, he looks like a light's gone on. "I thought you guys came in the Ferrari. Had me wondering why he'd let someone else drive his Pista."

You try not to let the confusion show. "Um, no. We took mine." You unlock the car and open the door. "Thank you for a lovely evening and for walking me to my car."

He glances sideways for a moment. His jawline is so sharp it could certainly cut paper. "You're welcome." He wraps his arms around you and squeezes. "And about Nice, I'll text you." He breaks away from you and brushes a strand of hair behind your ear. "Get home safe, okay?"

"I'll do my best," you smile and get in the car. As you drive off, you see Lando waving in your rearview mirror.

You can't help but think of his statement. Charles has a Ferrari? Those cars must cost hundreds of thousands of euros. How can he afford such a thing? Do people in the car business really earn so much that they can just buy a Ferrari?

And why does he insist on driving your rickety old Renault when he apparently has a super car at his disposal? Is he hiding something from you? And if so, then what is it?

Suddenly you realize how little you actually know about him. But surely he will have reasons for not telling you - right? You decide not to push him to tell you about his car or his job, but to wait for him to tell you on his own. Friends don't push each other to do that. And you are patient enough to wait for him.

Before you can think about it further, you turn onto the street where your apartment is and immediately slam on the brakes.

Across the street, directly across from your apartment, is a green Nissan with a license plate you are very familiar with. Your hands start to sweat. What does he want here? How long has he been waiting for you? There doesn't seem to be anyone in the car. So where is he?

You turn a little on the seat to get a better view of the street, but it is deserted. Not a soul is on the road, you are all alone. And for sure you're not stupid enough to go home now, where he's surely waiting for you.

You grab your phone and dial a number. It beeps a few times before the person on the other end picks up. "Y/N? Are you okay?"

You bite your bottom lip and feel your heart pounding in your chest. "No," you answer, and your eyes dart around, trying to spot anything out there. To spot him. But you can't see anything. Which makes you feel even more anxious than you already are.

"Nothing's okay."

next part

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc blurb #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc prompt #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc one shot #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc x female reader #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #lando norris #max verstappen #f1 imagine

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deanwritings · 3 months ago

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The Guest House - Chapter 12

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Series Summary: Dean Winchester is going through a nasty divorce. He doesn't have much left to his name, but what he does have is his house. Leave it to his soon-to-be ex wife to find a way to even ruin that for him. Enter Y/N, who is looking to get away from life for a bit, and stumbles right into the middle of it all.

The Guest House Master List

Word Count: 3,760

A/N: I'm back! Therapy has been great, I'm feeling like myself and that I can breath again. It's been a tough year and ya girl's mind needed a restart, but I am back and doing good.

Also, hope this chapter can be a bit of escape with the election insanity this week. Take care of yourselves everyone! 💖

Dean squeezes his eyes shut as he rests against the door.

What the fuck are you doing? Is all that rings in his mind.

Here he is, with some random girl who's staying in his guest house, put there by his bitch of an ex wife, basically groping her while his mother is a room away. Like he’s seventeen again.

Really and truly. What the fuck. Are. You. Doing?

Dean rubs an exasperated hand down his face, the heels of his palms digging into his eyes before his hands slap down against his sides.

It’s the whiskey. He tells himself. Just the whiskey.

It has nothing to do with your smile. Like when you lit up on the track when you found out Rick would be taking you racing in your dream car.

Nor your smart ass remarks that always seem to be waiting behind those pretty lips of yours. Or how you drive him crazy in the best and worst ways. Like making him say “please” in the garage this afternoon.

It definitely has nothing to do with the way you look at him, no longer with disdain, but more recently with shining Y/E/C eyes and something that makes him want to throw you against this damn door, his nose running down the delicate skin of your neck as he takes you in as his hands explore every part of you.

It also doesn’t help how you react to him; like when he turned your manners game around on you in the garage, and your eyes lit up in a way that made him want to throw you across the hood of Baby and have his way with you. Then just now in the hallway, how you seemed to want this as much as he did. How you leaned into him at his touch, the feel of your curves everywhere as he held you against him.

Those god damn hips.

Dean’s jaw tightens at the thought, his teeth grinding down as something besides his heart rate starts to rise.

Fuck. His head falls back with a thud against the doorframe.

Y/N is hardly the first woman he’s been attracted to since his separation from Lisa. Hell, in the beginning, women were what kept his mind off his imploded marriage. Benny had laughed that Dean was making up for lost time since he and Lisa had gotten together when they were so young, but in reality, Dean just hated coming home to an empty house every day. All he could think of was Lisa and Gavin in his house. In his bed.

But Dean would be lying to himself if this was only attraction. Ever since their hike, he’s found himself looking towards your cabin everyday before work, hoping to catch a glance of you before he has to leave. When sitting at his empty dining table, he would think about texting you, or maybe even going over and knocking on the cabin door, envisioning interrupting your own meal and riling you up in the process. Watching that fire come alive in you set something alive in Dean. It was like a wildfire, and he was happily caught in its path. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt like that. Somehow, at some point, you had drawn him in, and god damn did he want more. So much more.

And it’s not just your body he wants to get to know. He’s found himself wondering what your favorite color is, or what movies you like to watch. He wanted to know, besides him, what made you tick? What makes you happy?

Could I make her happy?

Dean shakes his head and toes his boots off, shaking his head, trying to rid his thoughts of you. He doesn’t want to think about that last question, because he knows the answer.

And while he tries to focus on undressing, his body is not willing to let go of the idea of you just yet.

He’s wound up, and god damnit did he need a release.

He undoes his belt and reaches into his boxers, feeling himself strain against the fabric as he takes a deep breath. He grunts, squeezing his eyes shut before pulling his hand out of his pants.

He shakes his head. He can’t do this. Not with you a wall away and his mother across the hall. He has some self respect. Not much, but he couldn’t sink as low as jerking off to you while you slept in his little brother’s room.

Sam.

And just like that, thinking of Sammy snaps him out of it. He relaxes with a deep breath, the tension finally beginning to fade away.

For extra measure, he pushes himself off the door and pulls it open, striding quickly down the hall to the unoccupied bathroom. He locks the door behind him and reaches into the shower and throws the water on. He drops his undone pants, letting them and his boxers pool around his feet before stepping out of them and throwing his sweater over his head before stepping into the shallow tub.

He takes in a sharp breath as the cold spray of the shower meets his heated skin, his teeth clenched tight as he drowns himself under the stream as he works to think about anything but you.

Your eyes flutter open, a glimmer of the morning sun sneaking through the gaps of the curtained window. You take in a deep breath, flipping from your side to your back and sigh as you look up at the ceiling.

Your mind is still reeling from last night; Dean’s hands holding you tight against him, his lips teasing your neck.

You shut your eyes and swallow.

It was simultaneously one of the hottest and most frustrating things a man has ever done to you. Of course you had wished he had done a hell of a lot more, but the tease of it somehow made it that much more exciting. It made you wonder what else was in store for you. Just a sweet little taste of the possibilities that was Dean Winchester.

Your phone buzzes on the nightstand beside you, and you shake off last night’s memories as you lean over to pick it up, the screen reading 9:52 with a few notifications beneath it.

Shit. You quickly sit up. Normally, this would be a regular wakeup time for you on vacation or on the weekends, but you were a guest in someone’s home, and it felt incredibly rude to be up here sleeping while they were most likely downstairs waiting for you.

As you scramble out of bed, the throb from last night’s wine is front and center in your head. You reach into your purse and throw back two Advil with a swash of water that you set out on your bedside last night before you throw on some fuzzy socks and a hoodie large enough to snuggle yourself into.

Before you reach for the door, you peek at yourself in the full-length mirror and grimace. You smooth down your hair and give it a fluff with your fingers before you reach into your makeup bag, dabbing on some concealer under your eyes and on a few of your red spots, with a light swipe of subtle blush on your cheeks before you deem you look good enough without looking like you’re trying.

You take a deep breath and open the door, taking in the quiet hallway and noticing both the doors to Mary and Dean’s rooms are ajar.

Fuck. You were at least hoping Dean might have also slept in after last night. But no such luck.

You head down the stairs, your hand on the rail so you don’t slip in your socks before you wander into the kitchen. Mary is sitting at the table in front of the windows, one of her legs propped up and her head hidden by a book. Dean is hunched on a barstool at the island, a plate of food in front of him, currently being shoveled into his mouth, his usual caveman behavior, you’ve noticed, when it comes to food.

“Morning,” you offer softly as you head over to the coffee maker, a half pot waiting for you. Mary had given you a tour of the kitchen while you cooked dinner last night, and you reach into the cabinet above the brewer and grab a light yellow ceramic mug and fill it about 3/4s of the way.

“Milk’s in the fridge.” Dean mumbles over the food in his mouth and you turn to face him fully. His eyes are cast down at a paper spread flat in front of him next to his breakfast. A smile you hadn’t intended falls at his lack of attention and you head over to the fridge, pouring until your coffee resembles the color of sand. Exactly how you liked it.

“Want some coffee with that milk?” That deep voice rings out again, and this time when you look up, you’re met with Dean’s enchanting, forest eyes. Your heart skips a beat in your chest and you recap the milk before putting it away and closing the fridge door.

“Some of us enjoy flavor.” You smirk at him as you lean against the counter behind you, your hands wrapped tightly around the warmed mug, the kitchen cool in this March morning.

“Milk doesn’t have flavor.” Dean grumbles, shoving a fork filled with eggs into his mouth. You frown at him.

It’s like the tale of two Deans. The suave, sexy sweatered Dean who looks at you like he’ll throw you over your shoulder and make you scream until your voice is hoarse, and the pain-in-the-ass, mannerless idiot you’ve mostly grown accustomed to these last few weeks.

Looks like you were getting the idiot this morning. You sigh at your own disappointment and swallow down your frown, wondering what that means about last night.

When you don’t respond, Dean looks back to you, a question in his eyes.

“There’s a plate for you in the oven.” Dean points his fork to said appliance. You turn your head, following the direction of his utensil-turned-compass.

“Oh,” your shoulders drop. “You didn’t have to save me a plate.” You feel your cheeks flush at the thought that they waited for you so long this morning that they had to keep a plate warm for you in the oven.

“Oh don’t worry, Dean made it fresh.” Mary peeks out from behind her book for a quick second before disappearing again behind the cover. Dean drops his fork with a clank and shoots his mother a look, one she misses.

You push off the counter and pad over to the oven. You pull open the door to find a blue ceramic plate.

No way.

You pull out the plate from the oven, the platter only slightly warm, and are greeted with two pancakes and a side of bacon.

You quickly close the oven and turn on your heel facing Dean.

“You made me pancakes?” Your voice catches in your throat as you stare down at the fluffy buttermilk pancakes sitting poised on the plate.

“Yeah, well, mom made eggs and I know your picky ass won’t eat those. Can’t have you starve before a big day.” Dean’s eyes met yours for only a moment before he shifts on the barstool and returns to his paper.

You smile, even though Dean’s not looking at you anymore. You maneuver around the kitchen, grabbing a fork and knife before settling down at the island, a barstool between you and Dean.

You turn and look at him, his shapely jawline adorned with a devilish level of scruff.

“Thank you.” You say earnestly. This catches Dean’s attention, his gaze finding and holding yours long enough to make your heart skip a beat.

“Don’t mention it.” He lingers on you for a moment longer before turning back to his paper and flipping a page.

Your lips quirk but you try to not think too much on it as you begin digging in; the pancakes, buttery and full of vanilla, melting deliciously in your mouth.

The rest of breakfast goes on in silence; Mary reading her book, Dean focused on the paper, and you left flipping through your phone since no one seemed interested in chatting.

As you load up your dishes in the dishwasher, Dean folders his paper up and slaps it down on the counter before sitting up straight and crossing his arms as he stares you down.

“Think you can be ready in an hour?” Your face falls.

“More notice would have been nice, but yes, I can be ready in an hour.”

“Good, cause we’re leaving in an hour.” You cross your arms, matching his stance.

“You don’t say.” Dean rolls his eyes at you and you huff.

“Just go get ready.” He shakes his head, and now it’s your turn to roll your eyes.

Such a pain in the ass. A handsome pain with a handsome ass. But still a pain.

“Fine. See you in an hour.”

Forty-seven minutes later, you’re showered, your hair is dried and curled into a soft wave, and you’re putting on the finishing touches of your makeup when there’s a soft knock on your door.

You peek at your watch.

“I still have thirteen minutes!” You call out.

Dean really was pushing the boundaries today. And it was driving you crazy.

He practically dry humps you last night, ignores you this morning, but makes you a delicious breakfast because he remembered you hate eggs. The man was impossible and it was starting to annoy you. And frustrate you, in a way you were not used to. You bite down on your lip.

“It’s just me.” Mary’s gentle voice calls back.

Shit.

You drop your mascara into your makeup bag and push yourself off the floor and scurry to the door.

“Sorry about that,” you apologize as soon as Mary comes into view. “I assumed you were Dean.” You offer a half smile as Mary chuckles.

“It’s okay. Mind if I come in.” You step aside and open the door fully, allowing Mary to step in.

“I just wanted to see if you need any help with your outfit.”

“My outfit?” Your brow furrows, and you look over to your bed where your black chunky sweater and jeans lay waiting for you. Mary’s eyes follow your line of sight.

“I’m going to guess Dean didn’t give you a heads up, since men never think about these things, but these car shows tend to be on the dresser side.”

Fuck. No, Dean did not tell you that. Your jeans were the nicest thing you brought with you.

“Yeah, he failed to mention that.” Now you stare at your outfit, anxiety flooding through you at the thought of sticking out for being underdressed.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Mary just smiles at you.

“Come with me.” She waves at you before heading out of the room, and like you’re told, you follow her, heading across the hall and into her bedroom.

The room is large and full of windows and natural light. The lake-chic theme of the downstairs continues through the primary bedroom, with white furniture, a canopy bed with a blue bedspread that matches the wainscot walls, and yellow accents throughout the room. On one of the dressers is a large, framed, selfie of Mary and John, which looks more recent than a lot of the pictures in the living room. Mary’s smile is bright as ever as John kisses her cheek, the two of them in heavy jackets and beanie hats, the hint of snow behind them.

Mary continues through the room, stopping in a short hallway before disappearing through a doorway.

“I’ve got a few options that will probably fit you.” Mary’s muffled voice carries through the open doorway before she steps back into view, several hangers in her hand. “You look to be about my size from twenty years ago. And luckily I’m terrible at throwing out old clothes.” She chuckles as she lays out her six options on the ombre comforter that probably matches the lake when it’s not frozen.

They’re all a mix of dresses, different colors and styles, but the fifth from the end catches your eye.

“Ohh, how about that one.”

Dean taps his foot as he waits in the foyer, checking his watch again. It’s now been an hour and seven minutes since you went upstairs.

“God dammit woman,” he mutters out in a sigh.

He meant to tell you last night what time you had to be ready, but the two of you got a little preoccupied. Now he was paying for it by not giving you more of a heads up.

He should have said something the moment you came downstairs this morning, but he wasn't ready to face you right at that moment. The dreams he had about you last night made it hard to look you in the eyes. And when he finally did, you looked absolutely beautiful, sleep still in your Y/E/C eyes and a glow in your cheeks. You looked like you belonged here, resting against the counter in his mother’s kitchen, cozied up in some giant hoodie and pajama pants with coffee-flavored milk in your hands.

The floor above him creaks and he turns quickly on his heel, his face dropping with his mood when he sees who it is.

“Is she ready yet?” Dean all but whines to his mother as she descends. Rather than answer him, she stops two steps from the bottom, standing slightly higher than her statuesque son, and smacks him right in the side of the head.

“Ow!” Dean’s hand jumps to where his mother landed her stinging blow. Not that there was much power behind her swat, but she hasn’t smacked him like this since he was a teenager.

“What the hell was that for?” Dean bemoans with a grimace, cradling his head.

“Dean Michael Winchester.” Dean’s eyebrows furrow at his mother’s use of his full name.

This was not good.

“You didn’t think,” Mary takes another step down. “To one,” she raises a finger. “Tell her that the car show is cocktail attire.”

Shit.

“And two.” The second finger goes up. “What time to be ready. So don’t you stand here with a puss face asking when she’s going to be ready.” Dean drops his hand at his mother’s scolding and rolls his eyes.

He starts to shake his head when Mary’s hand makes contact again, the surprise sending Dean stumbling.

“OW!” Dean yells louder this time, more annoyed than actually hurt. With how much smaller Mary was compared to him, Dean doubted she could actually hurt him even if she really wanted to.

“Don’t you roll your eyes at me, Dean.” Her voice is sharp as her grass-green eyes stare him down.

“I’m sorry, fine.” Dean concedes. “I just didn’t think about it.” But Mary doesn’t break eye contact.

“She’ll be down in a few minutes.” Mary gives him one last pointed look before taking the final step down and disappearing into the living room.

Dean watches her go before glancing back towards the empty staircase, sighing out his frustration and giving you a few more minutes of grace.

Three minutes and forty-two seconds later, Dean is leaning against the frame of the front door when the upstairs landing groans again.

Dean’s head whips in that direction as he pushes off the door, just in time to see you take the first step. You’re wearing the black heeled boots you had on yesterday, but it’s paired with a strapless beige dress, the edges trimmed in black with a matching belt wrapped tight around the gentle curve of your waist.

Without thinking, Dean lets out a low, impressed whistle, ignoring the pounding in his chest as he stands up just a little straighter.

Your hair is down, styled off to one side, with the most makeup Dean has seen you in so far; with full, dark lashes, pink cheeks, and bright red lips, which Dean can’t seem to look away from.

Something else is starting to stand a little straighter too.

Dean clears his throat, and offers out a hand as you get to the last step.

“Thanks,” you reply gently before you drop his hand and head for the coat rack.

“You look nice.” Dean’s now taking in the view of you from the back, leaving little to the imagination like those workout pants did a few weeks ago as the dress seemed to hug your body perfectly.

Damn. And here mom thought you weren’t prepared.

You spin on your heel, one arm shimming into your jacket sleeve, your eyes as bright at your smile.

“Thanks.” You repeat. “The dress is your mom’s.” You smirk.

Dean’s mouth drops open as his stomach falls.

“Please don’t tell me that.” Dean groans. The last thing he needs to think about is his mom in that dress. The same dress he was just checking out your ass in.

You just quietly chuckle as your other arm flails for your second sleeve, just missing the opening.

Without a word, Dean steps closer, grabbing your jacket for you and holding it steady so you can slip your arm into. Once it’s in, Dean raises your jacket just a bit before resting it on your shoulders.

You turn back to him with a smile of thanks, which he can’t help but return.

“Ready?”

“Sure am.”

Dean opens the front door for you and you step outside into the bracing afternoon air.

“Have fun, kids!” Mary’s voice travels behind the two of you as Dean steps outside and closes the door behind him.

You take gentle steps across the driveway, avoiding the few patches of ice that are still lingering. This gives Dean the opening he needs to step in front of you, getting to the passenger door of the Impala about three steps ahead of you.

Without a word, he pulls open the door.

“Wow, getting the full gentleman treatment today, huh.” Your cheek dimples with your half smile as you lower yourself into the passenger seat. Dean smiles down at you.

“What can I say, I’m full of surprises.” You chuckle as Dean gently shuts the door before heading around to the driver’s seat and hopping in.

With one last check of the mirrors, Dean backs out of the driveway, and the two of you were off.

#dean x reader #dean winchester #dean imagine #supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfic #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fic #dean x y/n #dean winchester fanfiction #the guest house

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countcvnt · 11 months ago

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Experiment

Chapter Four: Stamina

[Poly!TF 141 x Fem!Reader]

[Ch. Three] [Ch. Five]

Summary: After a couple days of rest, you realize just how much stamina you have. You train with boys to get some energy out. Warnings: Descriptions of broken bones, mentions of blood, slight suggestive language Word Count: 3.3k A/N: This chapter isn't as sad. Next chapter will have light smut! I got the idea of the chapter link thing from @going-to-ikea-for-the-fries so thanks Ikea!! Hope it's alright tag you just for that lmao. Also I just learned how to do the side by side gifs yay!!

It’s been a couple days since your nap… Since your realization. Simon has only been more distant. You’re sitting in the training area, alone, when Soap and Gaz walk in.

"We got ye this!” Soap extends his hand. “It’s a radio!” You look up at him with confusion. “I ken it isnae a phone…”

“Hey,” You grab it, “it’s better than nothing. Now I can bother all of you all the time!”

“Actin’ more and more like yerself!” Soap hits you on the back. It catches you off guard how hard he hit you. You are fine, you aren’t going to bruise, but you can’t help but wonder if he’d always nudged or hit you so hard. “How come yer here by yerself?”

You shrug. “Simon was supposed to meet me here. Do some training. Guess he skipped out on me.”

Soap lights up. “I can help ye!” He seems excited.

“We both can, actually.” Gaz interjects.

You nod, lighting up. “Okay! I’d like that. I’ll be sure to go easy on the both of you.” You smile at them as you stand up. You already stretched earlier, ten minutes before Simon was supposed to come in. So, instead of doing that, you walk to the middle of the room and stand there, eagerly awaiting Soap and Gaz.

“Now,” Soap puts a hand up, “don’ think ye have to go easy on us.”

Gaz makes a face, “You haven’t seen her strength yet, have you?”

You laugh. “I’ll hold back a little bit…” You reassure him. “But, I don’t want either of you to hold back. I promise, I can take it. Trust me.”

You take a fighting stance, ready for them to come at you. Gaz and Soap look at each other. Gaz gives a gentle nod to Soap, one you assume you were not supposed to catch, and Soap takes off towards you. You plant your feet and prepare yourself for Soap hitting you. His rough hands grab you, and the both of you grapple for a moment. Your arms get free and instinctively wrap around Soap’s ribcage, and get behind him at a speed he was unsure was possible.

You easily bring him up and over you, suplexing him into the mat below you. You stand up straight and look down at Soap. He groans, the air has been knocked out of him. You smile at him and he motions for Gaz to move.

“Yer suppose’ to ger ‘er now.”

Gaz looks at you funny. “I don’t think I want to be thrown like that.”

“It’s kinda hot, actually,” Soap smiles at you once he seems to be breathing properly again. Your face heats up. You look at Soap with wide eyes. He sits up and rubs the back of his neck. “What did they give ye?”

You, still hung up on the ‘hot’ thing, shrug. “I dunno.” Your mind is racing. You need to do something other than rest or eat. You want to throw Soap around some more, but you can’t stop thinking about his comment.

“Look,” Gaz motions towards you, looking at Soap. “She’s in shock. Ya told her that was hot, and now she’s in shock.”

“Same old bonnie,” Soap stands up and smiles at you.

“Uh, that was very cathartic…” You shift your weight, “can we continue this… 'training’?”

“Cathartic? Throwing him around eased your mind?” Gaz looks at you with wide eyes.

You nod at him. “Yeah, I think it’d also be fun if you both ran at me!” You smile wide.

“Yer outnumbered,” Soap places a hand on your shoulder, “that isn’ fair.”

You cross your arms. “Johnny,” You narrow your eyes at him. “They wanted to test my reflexes before you got me out of there. They improved a lot more than my strength, I just wanna test something out…”

The both of them look at each other. “If ya say so.” Gaz responds.

You excitedly nod back and get in your fighting stance once more. “Remember,” You point at them, “do not go easy on me! Please.” You smile at them. You want to know what you’re capable of.

Gaz and Soap don’t say a word. Instead, Gaz runs at you. It's your turn to grapple with him. While you’re fighting with Gaz, you can feel Soap running at you. You tense and throw Gaz to the floor and immediately direct your attention onto Soap. His arms wrap around your waist and you're sent sailing over him. He effortlessly suplexes you into the mat and you groan.

Soap and Gaz are both standing over you, looking down at you and smiling. “Was that payback?” You ask, catching your breath.

“We’re even now.” Soap puts his hand out towards you.

You don’t hesitate to grab it. Soap easily pulls you up and Gaz steadies you as you stand. As you’re thanking them, the doors of the training room opens. The three of you turn towards the door and you perk up.

“You’re finally here!” Your eyes hit Simon’s.

“What do you mean? ‘Finally’?” He looks at the clock on the wall. “I said 12:30… it’s now 12:29.”

“Oh, I thought you said 1200…” You feel embarrassed now.

“You’ve been here since then, waiting?”

“She’s been throwin’ us around.” Gaz rubs the back of his neck.

Simon approaches you and looks down at you, “Good, you’ve been warming up.”

Your stomach flips at how he says that. His tone… He has not come to just mess around, you already know that much. He walks past you and towards the end of the mat. Soap, Gaz, and you stare at him. He motions for Soap and Gaz to move, and they do. You blink at him. You quickly take your ass to the other end of the mat and wait for Simon’s next move.

Simon does not say a word. Instead, he rushes you. He easily grabs you, turns you around, and is holding you close to him, his arms keeping you from moving. You let you an awkward laugh, “What the fuck?” Simon doesn’t say a word. Instead he shoves you forward. You do not miss a step. You turn back to him and rush towards him.

“Suplex him!” Gaz shouts from the sidelines. Him and Soap seem just as curious as you about your strength.

You can’t help but wonder if you could… You want to try it. Simon is a big boy, and you want to test your new found strength. The both of you circle each other and your fingers are wiggling, you’re looking for an opening. You end up moving faster than Simon can register. You wind up behind him and grab his waist.

Simon does not let you get further than that. His elbow rears back, and you realize you are at just the right angle to get hit just a tad too late. Simon’s elbow slams into your face, harder than he had expected it to, and a loud pop echoes through the training room. You let go of him immediately. You fall to the floor, warmth covering your face. You let out a low, primal growl ready to fucking obliterate Simon. You want to maul him. Something in you is about to snap. Until suddenly his words replay in your head. ‘I trust you.’

Simon would never intentionally hurt you. And when you look up at Simon, his eyes tell you he truly did not mean to hit you so hard. Your eyes cut towards Soap and Gaz, who are watching you with anticipation.

You inhale sharply through your mouth and snap your nose back into place, stopping the bleeding pretty quickly. You sit up and Ghost puts his hand towards you. “Come on,” He sounds like he’s trying to keep himself calm. “You need to go to the med bay.”

Your bloody hand reaches for him and you grab it. You, in the spur of the moment, decide now would be a good time to take advantage of the situation and as you pull yourself up, kick your leg out. It slams into Simon’s shin and he’s doubling over. You slam your body into his and slide across the mat. You straddle Simon and you're holding him down. You’re breathing heavily and watching him.

The look in his eyes tells you he had not expected that. “Don’t let your guard down.” You heave out, a dull pain pulsating through your nose.

Simon sits there a moment. You move to get up and look at Soap and Gaz, who are watching with wide eyes. As you stand, a hand grabs you and you’re flipped. Your back slams into the floor and the wind is knocked out of you. You gasp. Your eyes shoot open and Simon is crouching above you, his large, rough hand wrapped around your throat. You watch him, unblinking. Not breathing.

Simon lowers himself to your level. His eyes stay on yours. You swallow hard and inhale shakily as his lips hover over your ear. “Don’t let your guard down.” He whispers in your ear. He stands up and walks off from you. “Get her to the med bay.”

You lie on the floor. The door opens and closes as Simon leaves. You, still laying down, look over at Soap and Gaz. You try to process everything that just happened. They rush over to you and Gaz crouches beside you. You look at him, eyes still wide, brain still processing. Neither of them seem to have expected that.

“Gaz,” Soap looks off towards the door, “I’m gonna check on Ghost…”

“Okay, I’ll get her checked out.” Gaz nods at Soap. He places a hand on your shoulder and you sit up. Gaz helps you stand and you look at all the blood on the ground and your hands. You know it’s covering your face. “Come on, love, let’s go.”

You're sitting in an exam room, mostly cleaned up. You look at the monitor across the room from you, your eyes stuck on it. The IV pole is beside it. “Are they gonna hook me up?” You ask Gaz, your eyes not leaving the monitor.

“No, love,” Gaz grips your shoulder. “You just broke your nose. They have no need to hook you up to that.”

The doctor walks in as he finishes his sentence. She's a woman. You feel yourself relaxing a little bit. Her lab coat isn't doing you any favors though. All medical coats must be the same, all you can think about is the facility. You exhale slowly and grab Gaz’s hand. He gives you a reassuring squeeze.

“I'm Doctor Johnson, I'll be checking on you, okay?” You can't tell if she used to know you or not. You nod at her. “What happened?”

“Well, I assume it all started when I was taken–”

“No, not that far back,” Gaz smiles at you.

“Oh, my bad.” You look at the doctor. “I was training with Lt. Ghost and we got a little too rough. Thankfully, I don't get hurt like normal people.” You say, kicking your feet off of the side of the exam bed.

Her face contorts. “Okay–” She drags out the word. “Is that from your…” She pauses. She knows. You nod. “Okay, Price should have brought you to me sooner.” She looks at Gaz and back at you. “Is it okay if he's in here?”

“Of course! I actually prefer it… him staying.”

Dr. Johnson nods. “That's fine, just wanna make sure.” She smiles at you softly. “Can I check your nose?” When you say yes, she approaches you. Her gloved hands gently touch the bridge of your nose. You don't flinch at her touches. She gently pushes it and it pops. Again, you don't flinch. “You can't feel that?”

“I mean, I know you're touching me. But it doesn't hurt, no.” You shake your head.

She hums. She checks inside and then looks at you. “Your nose, you broke it before.” She states it as fact. She knows you have.

“Well, actually, yes. At the facility, they broke it. They hit me with the butt of an assault rifle.”

Gaz’s drop on your hand tightens. You can see his whole body tense, his Adam's apple bobs. You say it so nonchalantly. He doesn't like it.

The doctor swallows hard. She seems stunned. She quickly gathers her thoughts and inhales through her nose. “May I ask what tests they ran on you?”

“Yes you may,” you reply sweetly. “But I can't tell you what they were. They never told me. I just know I'm quite literally built to take those types of blows and then some.”

“We could help you figure it out.” She suggests it. She isn't pushing you.

“No.” It's the first thing that comes from your mouth. “I'm already stressed enough sitting right here in front of you. I will not be hooked up to monitors, or poked with needles.” You stand your ground.

“It's okay,” Gaz calms you down. “We don't have to do that. Not right now.”

The doctor purses her lips, looking at Gaz. “It'd be good to know those things. It could help you.” She sounds so calming, genuinely trying to keep you from freaking out.

You do want to know what's up with you. But you don't want to put yourself in distress just to figure it out. You sigh. “Not right now.” You shake your head. “I need time to think about it.”

She nods at you. “That's fine. Your nose is completely fine. You're free to leave, if you'd like.”

You have never gotten up so fast in your life. You drag Gaz out of the room with you. He doesn't stumble once, but he does wince, causing you to realize how tightly you're holding onto him. You mumble an apology and let him go once you're out of the exam room. You stop in the hall and take everything in. The lights are bright and everything smells so… sterile. It's almost haunting.

“We can get out of here.”

“That sounds good.” The both of you begin to leave. “Do you wanna train again?” You ask him, cocking your head.

Gaz makes a gutteral noise, laughing. “After all that, you still wanna train?”

“Yes, it was nice. It was… relieving my stress. I still have a bunch of pent up energy.”

“We'll find you something to take that out on.” He leads you out of the med bay.

“After sleeping the last couple of nights, I've never felt better I don't think. I must have stamina for days. I feel like I could go at it forever.”

“Oh?” Gaz looks over his shoulder at you. “Forever? And what are you going at exactly?” His brow cocks.

Your face heats up. “Not like– That's not– In a sense–” You stumble on your words. “Fuck.” You want to bury your head in your hands.

“Oh, fuck?” Gaz smirks at you. “Really? I didn't know you were like that.” He nudges you with his elbow.

“Kyle, I'm going to die. I think I'm literally going to pass away.” You look at him with a pout.

“Sorry, love, you aren't getting out that easy. I think I have an idea on how to get your energy out though. We could always try the gym, or the track? There's a new recruit who beat the best time and I think– I know you can beat him.” He turns and grabs your shoulders. “I think it'd be really funny if you beat him.”

You smirk at him. “I'm an enhanced individual now. And you want me to beat some poor rookie’s best time on the track? You want me to destroy him?”

“Yes. Gotta keep the new guys in check. Plus, we can check that stamina of yours.”

You smile, “Okay!” You put a finger up, “But, I'm not doing it to pumble some guy's record. I'm doing it because I'm testing myself.”

“Hey, that's fine with me.” Gaz grabs your hand again. “Come on!”

You let out a laugh as Gaz drags you outside and towards the track. When you get outside there are several people stretching, getting ready to run. Most of them are men.

“Hey,” you look at Gaz, “do you think they'll be emotionally distraught if I outrun them?”

You sure hope so.

“Only one to find out.”

Gaz walks over to the track with you. You approach the group and they all look at you. Your grip tightens on Gaz’s hand and you smile awkwardly at them. Most of the people are new recruits. You are positive they don't know about your… predicament. You introduce yourself as Ace.

“Just came to run a little bit, burn some energy!” You release Gaz’s hand.

They don't seem to think much about it. You walk towards the track and ready yourself. The sergeant at the sidelines readies the group and you examine them. You're trying to pick out the fastest one. The one you want to beat. Or one Gaz wants you to beat.

“Three–”

Everyone is getting ready to run. You look at Gaz.

“Two–”

He motions towards a tall, slender man. You lock on.

“One!”

You take off. All of you take off. You know you're supposed to pace yourself when running. You watch everyone doing that, except one person. The one Gaz pointed out to you. You can feel Gaz watching you. You have an urge to show off for him. The urge to impress him is suddenly very strong. You don't fight it.

You take off. Your legs push you forward and quickly run by the man. You give him a smile as you run by him. He doesn't falter. He picks up his speed. So you do the same.

Before you know it you are speeding around the track. The man left in the dust. You reach the end of the mile and smile at Gaz. He's the only one you see. You don't notice everyone stopped and staring. The sergeant clicks his timer.

“Ace,” the sergeant waves you over. “You just beat the fastest time by three minutes…”

“What. The. Fuck!?” A scream echoes from behind you. “How did you do that?”

“Peter, calm down.”

“What the fuck,” He repeats himself, quieter this time. “That’s not possible… I did track for years! And you come up here out of nowhere–” His hands are in his hair. His eye on the ground.

Oh, he’s mad. You watch him closely. Gaz steps in between you and Peter. You feel butterflies in your stomach as he does that. Peter looks distraught.

“How did you do that?”

You aren't sure how much you can tell him. So you shrug.

“You don't know?” His eyes widened. “Did you do track at all? Have you ever even run in your life? You aren't even out of breath!”

“I don't know–”

“What does that mean?! You don't know? How does someone not know that?”

He's so fragile. He storms off. You look at Gaz and he turns his head towards you.

“Did I do okay?” You can't help but ask.

“Okay?” He asks you. “Love, that was amazing! You set a new record!”

“I wasn't even doing the best I could–” Your face is hot.

Gaz pulls you into a hug. He's proud of you. You don't immediately hug back, causing Gaz to pull away. You pull him back to you, keeping from crushing him. The last time you hugged one of them —intentionally— was when you hugged Simon two days ago. You hadn't realized how much you needed physical contact since then.

Gaz hugs back, his hand rubbing your back. It seems to be just as therapeutic for him.

“Okay,” the sergeant speaks up, “how did you do that?”

Gaz pulls away from you, and you look at the sergeant. You shrug. “I'm just that good, I guess.”

The sergeant narrows his eyes. He doesn't get a chance to say anything about it before your new radio goes off.

“Ace,” Price comes over the radio. “meet me at the barracks immediately, over.”

You groan. “Copy, over.”

He knows something. You grab Gaz's hand and begin back towards base. Gaz doesn't argue with you taking him with you. He does seem confused. But he holds your hand with no complaints, following you to the barracks.

Taglist:

@moonyinthestars @dory-98 @otto-s-alskling @aeilani @klutzy-kay24 @sher-ni @infpt-zylith @eustassh @kaoyamamegami @zoexme @reap3erslov3 @fruitymoonbeams-blog @cosmic-rich @bvxygriimes @waiting-so-long @mill7531

(tags are being weird again, i'm sorry if it didn't let me tag you... also think that's everyone? If i forgot you, just let me know I'll be sure to add you next chapter! I'm sorry im very forgetful and my list fills.. like it's missing someone)

#gaz x reader #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #john soap mctavish x reader #john soap mactavish #john price x reader #john price #call of duty x reader #cod x reader #call of duty #poly!tf 141 #cod mw2

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angelwings-crossbowstrings · 1 year ago

Text

Chapter 5

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Medical blood draw, allusions to abortion, poorly written smut

A/N: Even after figuring out where I wanted to go with it, this chapter feels weak to me. I’m sorry.

Moodboard by @dannyo000 💙

You looked over Daryl’s shoulder and squinted at the light before the man moved, wrapping a curiously gentle hand around your bicep to urge you into the building.

“Daryl, you cover the back.” Shane ordered quietly.

The lobby was eerily quiet, no immediate answer to Rick’s calls. You looked around for a moment and then tracked Daryl while he kept a keen eye out for walkers. A small hand squeezed your shoulder, startling you. When you turned, Carol was already pulling you closer to herself and her daughter. They were keeping the women and children in the middle, protecting them.

You wanted to balk at the idea. You could very well handle yourself if they would give you a weapon but apparently that was still out of the question.

There was the echo of a gun cocking, all eyes falling on the lone man at the end of the corridor, a rifle in his hands. “Anybody infected?” He asked, warily eyeing each member of the group.

“One of our group was.” Rick answered solemnly. You could sense the collective shift in the atmosphere, now heavy with grief. “He didn’t make it.”

The stranger didn't hesitate. “Why are you here? What do you want?”

“A chance.” Rick countered immediately.

“That’s asking an awful lot these days.”

“I know.”

There was a moment of contemplation, the gentleman once again scanning over each and every individual. “You all submit to a blood test. That’s the price of admission.”

Rick’s relief was evident in the tone of his reply. “We can do that.”

Weapons were lowered, the stranger nodding toward the doors. “You got stuff to bring in, you do it now. Once this door closes, it stays closed.”

There was a sudden burst of movement, bags and people shuffling about. Your own bag was pushed into your hands, Daryl’s eyes meeting yours for a moment before he jerked his chin to indicate you should follow the others into a rather large elevator. It was a squeeze but everyone managed to fit. Even if it did mean you were pressed tightly against the redneck.

“VI, seal the main entrance. Kill the power up here.”

There were beeps and rattles as the elevator closed. Introductions were being made, information shared but you could only focus on the heat radiating from the man nearly pressed flush against your back. With a careful step, you shifted closer to Carol.

Everyone filed out once the doors opened but remained behind Dr. Jenner, listening to him explain the facility and what had been happening within the government sectors since the turn. Your thoughts, however, were running circles around the blood test he would be doing. Maybe you could manage to be the last draw and ask him in private to run the extra test if it wasn’t already on his agenda to do so. You could only assume that his priority was to ensure no one was infected.

“Hey.”

Your head snapped up to find Daryl watching you with a narrowed, cautious gaze.

“Keep up.”

“Sir, yes, sir.” You mock saluted, hurrying by him. He muttered something as you passed that you figured was probably nothing you cared to hear.

Straight to business, Jenner began drawing blood samples. Chewing on your lip, you began to creep back toward the wall, ensuring everyone was in front of you until—

“The hell ya doin’?” Daryl drawled right beside your ear. You hadn’t realized he was still behind you. Snatching your arm from his grasp, you glared up at him.

“Just getting in line.” You sneered, side-stepping around him just as Jenner announced he was ready for the next person. Only you and Daryl remained. For the briefest moment, you pondered if his thoughts were aligning with your own, his blue eyes locked on you even as his blood was pulled into the tube.

You glanced around to find everyone else chattering about the facility and the things they had been informed of, not really concerned with the testing going on.

Except Rick and Daryl.

Fuck.

You plopped down on the chair and presented your arm, wracking your brain for a way of asking for him to run a pregnancy test without alerting Rick to your plight. As you glanced up, you found the man in question saying something to Daryl but the redneck wasn’t listening, his eyes burning into your own. You felt your stomach churn, an uncomfortable tingling sensation prickling at your hands and feet. Your ears began to ring just as Dr. Jenner announced he was done. With a minute nod, you stood, albeit slowly but it wasn’t enough. The world tilted, littered with black dots. The wavering image of the floor was coming up to meet you.

“None of us have eaten in days. She’s new so she could have gone longer than us without.”

Consciousness was prodding at the edges of your mind, sounds and voices coming back all at once. As you peeled your eyes open, you waited for the pain from hitting the floor but it never came. In fact, you weren’t on the floor at all. No one was looking down at you.

“There she is.” Jacqui smiled, patting your hand that was carefully held between her own. You offered the smallest of smiles back, your eyes flickering over to where your knees dangled off of something.

A hand.

You turned your head to find none other than Daryl looking down at you with an unreadable expression.

“Um, thanks.” You mumbled, pressing your hand to your stomach. You still felt nauseous but the dizziness was ebbing away. “You can put me down now.”

“I gotcha.” He replied. His voice was low, almost soft.

“No, really. I’m good.” You looked around, now extremely uncomfortable with all the concerned stares and hushed voices. “Please.” You added, just low enough for only him to hear. Daryl didn’t say anything but carefully lowered your feet to the floor, his arm remaining across the small of your back while you gathered your bearings. “Thank you.”

He merely hummed. While he was no longer touching you, you couldn’t help but notice that his hand was still hovering.

“I think some food would be the next logical course of action.” Dr. Jenner gave a tight smile and led the way from the room.

You followed on unsteady legs, but Daryl stayed close. You weren’t sure how you felt about that.

You decided to forego the table, standing at the small counter in the kitchen area to pick at your pasta dish while everyone laughed and celebrated at the table. Even Daryl seemed to be in good spirits, choosing Glenn as the subject of his pestering. Everyone seemed so carefree in that moment, your thoughts wandered to your own family. How your father would have looked smiling brightly at that table and enjoying a good, hot meal in relative safety.

You brushed away the tear that had escaped and began to poke at your food with your fork. Feeling eyes on you, a glance showed Daryl watching you with a bottle just in front of his lips. Heat began to burn in your cheeks and you looked away, forcing yourself to take a bite that you didn’t even really want, hungry as you were. When you dared to look again, he was smiling and partaking in the toasts to Jenner.

“Here’s to you, doc. Booyah!” He shouted before taking a generous swig straight from the bottle. Glasses clinked and similar praises were given. You raised your water glass when the quiet doctor’s eyes drifted over to you.

You could only hope that from where you stood, no one noticed you weren’t drinking. You could always blame it on the nausea but that might only fuel more suspicion. Lucky for you, Shane decided to steer the mood into the opposite direction and all celebrations died down quickly.

The meal was finished in relative silence. Even Daryl was leaned back against the counter with the bottle still in his hand, his expression grim.

Jenner showed everyone to the rest of the living area. Some rooms had beds while others had couches. There were two words, though, that seemed to halt everyone in their tracks: hot water. It was almost comical to watch the bodies scatter but you remained still, letting them go until only you remained in the hall. You could shower later. You needed a moment alone with the doctor.

You found him at one of the control panels, a centrifuge with tubes of blood sitting inside. You were wringing your hands as you approached, steps so quiet that he didn’t seem to notice you. Now that you had the opportunity to speak with him, you were petrified. He could say one word that would change your life forever.

“Hi, Dr. Jenner.”

The man was obviously startled, spinning in the chair to regard you with wide eyes. “Oh! Y/N, right?” You nodded, feeling your legs begin to tremble. “How are you feeling?”

“Better. A little. I guess.” You stumbled over words, twisting one hand within the other until it hurt. “That’s why—why I’m here, actually.”

“I thought as much.” He sighed, laying down his pen on a notepad with more care than necessary.

You felt your stomach sink. “You—did?” He nodded, expression almost sympathetic. “If you know why I’m here, then that means—” Your knees all but buckled, hands steadying yourself against the console before the doctor stood and offered his chair.

“I take it this wasn’t planned.” You shook your head, gaze as vacant as your mind felt in that moment. Dr. Jenner pulled up another chair and sat down in front of you. “May I ask, the father, is he alive?” You nodded absently. “Will you tell him?”

That gave you pause, cogs and wheels turning in overdrive to make your brain function. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“It’s my opinion,” Jenner tapped on the desk as if just trying to do anything other than focus too hard on the conversation, “these are the end times. It goes without saying that there are no blessings anymore. Nothing real to hope for anymore.” Words were failing you as you struggled to entertain his thoughts. “I can help you.”

You stopped breathing. Was he suggesting—No. No, you couldn’t possibly make a decision of that magnitude without Daryl. Regardless of how it came to be, the baby was just as much his as it was yours. He had to know. “I, um—thank you, Dr. Jenner. Really.” You stood, tripping over the chair when you stepped back. Jenner did rise from his seat to ensure you didn’t fall but promptly returned once you were able to remain upright. “I just—he has to know. I have to tell him.” You blurted another ‘thank you’ as you jogged from the room, miraculously making it to the final empty room before you allowed yourself to break down.

Sliding down the wall, you let one hand rest on your stomach, now certain there was a little life there. The halls were quiet; anyone could hear. Your other hand covered your mouth, stifling your harsh sobs.

You were pregnant.

You were scared.

You wanted your father. His advice, his embrace. You would have even taken his scolding just to have him there. What a cruel twist of fate, losing your family only to be gifted with a new one.

And then there was Daryl. Rude, angry, impulsive. What were you thinking? Well, you weren’t thinking of babies, that was for sure.

You needed to get yourself together, figure out what to do next. Deep breath through the nose, count to five. Out through the mouth, count to five. You continued, pushing yourself to your feet so you could start pacing the room.

You knew you had to tell Daryl. But when? If you waited, anything could happen. You could be injured or you could lose the baby. Fuck, or both. If he didn’t know and found out that way, he’d be furious. You hadn’t experienced the full scope of his anger and truly hoped not to, especially when it came to anything regarding the baby.

You couldn’t wait. You had to tell him.

“Like a bandaid. Just rip it off.” You told yourself when you opened the door and stepped into the hall. Quickly, you realized that you didn’t know what room he was in. “Fuck.”

“Wha’re ya doin’?”

Of course. You looked over your shoulder first, finding him leaning against the wall outside an open door. “Looking for you, actually.”

“Why?”

“Can we talk?” The smell of alcohol wafted into your nostrils within several feet of him. Distantly, you wondered if it was too early for your pregnancy to be responsible. His eyes drifted down your body and back up before he flattened against the wall to let you by.

Daryl had chosen one of the rooms with a couch, leaving you instantly feeling guilty for having a bed in your own. You didn’t choose the room, it just happened to be the only one open when you came back from meeting with Jenner. Maybe you could offer it to him to smooth things over after you had talked.

“Look, Daryl—” You spun to find him standing mere inches away, that unreadable expression firmly in place. “First of all, are you drunk?” You rubbed your lips together before pulling the bottom one between your teeth. You weren’t doing this if he was drunk.

“Nah. Take more than wine for that.”

Your eyes flitted over to the bottle of whiskey on the end table. “You mean, like that?” You pointed, raising an eyebrow when he actually turned to look.

“Ain’t had any.” He sniffed and crossed his arms. “Yet. Whaddaya need?”

“Daryl, I went to—well, when I—” The food from earlier began threatening to make a reappearance, worsening as his eyes continued to narrow. “I need to sit down.” The hard look faded and gave way to concern, something you hadn’t seen him openly convey. He didn’t say anything, but you felt his hand on your back, urging you toward the couch. “I’m sorry.” Like a bandaid. Like a bandaid. Your brain chanted at you, even as you doubled over to put your head on your knees.

“Jesus, woman. It ain’t that big’a deal.” His flippant tone made you yearn to smack him upside the head with one of the couch’s cushions until you sat up with something particularly snarky on the tip of your tongue, only to be met with him unbuckling his belt. Your mouth agape, you did little more than blink at him. “Finally,” he drawled, leaning down to cage you against the back of the couch with an arm on either side, “didn’t think ya’d ever shut up.”

You should have stopped him. You knew that. But the moment his mouth was on yours, you were a lost cause. All you could focus on was the warmth beneath your hands. Daryl ran hot, never failing to leave your blood boiling beneath your skin. In a world gone cold with death, it was a relief to feel something so alive.

“Saw ya in the truck.” He all but purred, pressing open-mouthed kisses across your jaw. “Would’a handled it for ya if ya’d asked.” He used his knee to force your legs apart, leaving it pressed into the couch just in front of your center.

“Didn’t—wanna do this again.” You breathed, arching up with your head back to grant him access to the full expanse of your throat.

“Yeah, ya did.” Daryl grinned against your flesh, his warm breath causing you to shiver. “S’a itch ya need scratched, same as me.”

Goddamnit, he was right. At first, it was all about the pleasure. The man excelled at making you feel good. Soon enough, it had gone beyond that. It was a connection with another person. You’d begun to crave being touched, being wanted. You lusted for the rush of making him feel good. You could die at any given moment and had wanted to live while you could.

You needed to tell him about the baby—and you would—but first, you needed this. You could revel in the feel of him without the looming dangers of being vulnerable in the outside world.

Your hand splayed open against his chest, pushing him back enough to enable you to pull your shirt over your head. Your slender fingers began undoing the button of your jeans while his mouth danced across the newly exposed skin. Lifting your hips, you slid down your pants and used your feet to rid yourself of them completely before you desperately pushed his trousers down his legs.

It was the first time you’d seen so much of his bare skin, wondering if he’d finally allow you to touch him without the barrier of clothing. “I want you.” The admission left your mouth in a breathless plea. Daryl kicked his pants away from his feet, never ceasing his onslaught against the swell of your breasts above your bra.

“Yeah?” He teased while a large hand slid across your ribs and around to your back, skilled fingers snapping open the clasp of your bra. You shed the article without care and tossed it. His mouth and hands were on you instantly. Lips and tongue taunted one nipple while he palmed your other breast. The calloused skin over your sensitive peak had you arching into him, breathy moans escaping your parted lips with abandon. “Thought I’s a asshole?”

You whimpered when you felt the light graze of his teeth. “You’re still an asshole.” Knowledgeable fingers slid your panties aside to massage your clit with just the right amount of pressure. “But I still want you to fuck me. Like now.” Pushing him away, you rose to your feet and shed your last article of clothing, nearly groaning when he allowed you to push his underwear down his legs. He was kicking them aside when you pulled up on the bottom of his shirt.

“No!” He barked, batting your hand away. You reeled back, caught off guard in the moment, eyes wide. While his expression was tense, shame and sadness overflowed from that beautiful blue.

“Okay.” You whispered, stepping hesitantly back into his space. He flinched when you placed your hands on his sides, on top of his shirt. There was a story there, a deep wound that he wasn’t going to reveal anytime soon. It wasn’t a subject to be pushed right then. Your mouth hovered in front of his, the wine on his breath tempting you to slowly dip your tongue between his lips. It passed across his own and withdrew, enough to spur him onward.

He kissed you hard, a dance of tongues and teeth. He was stepping backward while you walked him until the backs of his legs hit the couch. He fell onto it almost clumsily but his hands found your hips with ease as you climbed onto his lap.

Your slick coated his cock with a drag of your hips, pulling a moan from him that you eagerly swallowed. “I fucking hate this.” You growled, repeating the action.

“Think your pussy says somethin’ diff’rent.” He nipped at your bottom lip, his large hands roaming your torso, up up up to squeeze your breasts. You hissed at the hint of pain, grinding your hips down harder. “Grab a rubber from my bag.”

“Pull out.” You dismissed him quickly. If he objected, he didn’t voice it. What he did do was slide a hand down to your mound to circle your swollen clit with his thumb. “Damn you.” You tugged on his hair, earning a groan and a buck of his hips. Sliding your hips forward while lifting yourself slightly, the tip of him caught your entrance. Embarrassingly aroused, you were able to slide right down until your ass met his thighs. “Fuck, why does that have to feel so good?” The perfect stretch of accommodation had your cunt fluttering around him.

“Cause s’mine, remember?” Daryl growled, pushing his hips up with a satisfied hiss. You did remember. That tight feeling in your chest stirred to life, but you shoved it down, rolling your body over him to allow pleasure to swallow you. You couldn’t think about his words, the deeper meaning that you subconsciously wished they held. You couldn’t think of the baby inside you that he didn’t know about yet.

You shook your head and threw it back, riding him in earnest. Each bounce resulted in a slap of slick skin on skin, his cock hitting every nerve inside of you that had your toes curling within moments. When you looked at him, he was watching you with dark eyes, his bottom lip tucked between his teeth in an attempt to stay quiet beyond the occasional grunt. His hands had traveled back to your hips to help lift and lower you, successfully spearing you onto him.

Your own hands slid down his clothed chest before you leaned back and braced yourself on his thighs. The new feel of his skin had the pleasure knot twisting hard in your belly.

“Goddamn.” You heard him growl, one hand abandoning your waist to splay open between your breasts. “Slow down, woman.”

But you didn’t. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to focus on the good you were feeling. Your chest was growing tighter and tighter until it felt like you couldn’t breathe. With strangled moans and gasps that felt futile, you leaned forward and fisted your hands in his shirt. Your eager bounces melted into a desperate grind against him.

You just wanted to feel good.

“Y/N, stop!”

And you did. You fell forward and all but wailed against his chest, any pleasurable sensation dissipating entirely. Everything came crashing down all at once, leaving you cold and scared and alone, even with Daryl still very much inside of you. Your sobs continued, any thought of moving quickly dismissed.

“I’m—sorry.” You finally managed through the tears, your voice small to even your own ears. Daryl had yet to move and now, you were terrified to, fearing the look he was sure to be sporting. Still, there was only so long you could remain that way. When your sobs quieted to hiccups, you began to pull away from him only for his arm to encircle your back.

Daryl was careful and quiet when he slipped out of you, keeping you pressed against him even as he rose slightly. He caught you beneath your legs to keep you from falling when he twisted to lay you across the couch. You stayed as he had placed you, watching him grab up his pack and head into the bathroom without a word. The shower turned on a moment later.

You waited a moment more and then sat up, testing your legs before starting to gather up your clothing. You had really fucked this up, once again letting carnal desires outweigh any form of logic. How could you even face him after that, let alone tell him you were pregnant?

“Damnit.” You whispered, finishing up getting dressed before you reached for the doorknob. You hesitated, taking a step toward the bathroom before ultimately turning around and leaving the room.

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trippinsorrows · 7 months ago

Text

with me + part nineteen

authors note: the infamous chapter is finally here! a lot of questions you all have asked me are finally answered. i hope it's enjoyable and worth the wait!

status: in progress // masterlist

warnings: angst (discussion of child loss), language, suggestive themes

song inspo: with me by destiny’s child

faceclaims

words: 10k

taglist: @pixiedust4000 @yolobloggers @msbigredmachine @southerngirl41 @wanderingreigns @romanreignsbae

To say your 2024 Bingo card has been filled with nothing but surprises would be the understatement of the century.

The past six months, really, have been mostly wonderful but also chaotic as hell.

And if someone had told you, way back when it was just you and Joe in your own little fantasy world, that his wife would one day text you in the middle of the night, wanting to meet and join forces to combat your apparently psycho-ex best friend, you’d laugh your ass off. Laugh your ass off harder than a guest at a Katt Williams special.

But, life is funny, and God clearly has a sense of humor, because that’s exactly what happened.

It’s also why you’re sitting on Joe’s bathroom counter at 4am as he finishes up in the shower, readying for his early flight.

“I’m sorry, it completely slipped my mind to tell you I gave her your number.” Joe shuts the water off, and you immediately redirect your attention to anywhere but him as he walks out. It’s bad enough you two didn’t have enough time to get in another session before his departure, but it’s another thing to be so cruelly taunted by your sexy ass man in all his buff, your favorite pastime on fully display but unable to be touched.

Sucked.

Rode.

All of the above.

Joe continues, and your eyes land on him just as he’s knotting the towel around his waist.

“I should have asked you before I did so, but with everything going on—”

“You don’t have to apologize, Joe.” Cutting off his unnecessary apology feels like a good move, the right move. You’re not mad at him about that at all. “I know you would have never done so if you believed she had any ill intent.” And it’s the truth, especially on the eve of this Mariah mess. “Sure, I would have liked a heads up that my boyfriend’s ex-wife would be texting me asking to meet and essentially do an interview together, but it wasn’t a necessity.”

He chuckles, looking over and asking, “what are your thoughts there?”

A heavy sigh leaves your mouth at his equally heavy question. “I don’t know. I feel torn. On one hand, it’s kinda weird, ya know? Truth be told, I always figured if by some miracle I ever spoke to her, she’d try to kick my ass sooner than she’d want to grab dinner.” You quickly add, “emphasis on try because ain’t no bitch beating my ass.”

He chuckles, reaching for his deodorant. “Well, you better not be fighting nobody with my baby in you.”

Rolling your eyes, your hand naturally rests on your stomach. “I know, I just….what do you think?”

“I think you should do whatever makes you most comfortable.”

“None of this is comfortable,” you murmur, and it’s the truth. This whole thing sucks all around. “And that’s not an answer.”

He shrugs. “I can’t tell you what to do, babe.”

“Technically, you can, but you’re choosing not to. There’s a difference.”

Joe moves over and caresses your temple, sharing quietly, “I want you and Callie to come down to Philly a few days before WrestleMania. They’ll put me up in an Airbnb. I’ll make sure it’s big enough for all of us.”

The abrupt change of topic confuses you, yes, but there’s more excitement at the thought of being reunited with him than bewilderment. It brings a small smile to your face. “Are you sure?” Any chance to see Joe will always be taken advantage of, you just don’t want your and Callie’s visiting him at such a time to cause any sort of distraction. “I don’t want us to get in the way. You need to focus.”

“You two could never get in the way, and my focus is exactly where it should be.” His hand snakes under your shirt, feeling your soft belly. “I also want you to come to the Hall of Fame Awards with me.”

That definitely takes you by surprise. You’ve never attended any sort of formal, public event with him before, and the WWE Hall of Fame awards is like the event. “Are—are you sure that’s a good idea?” Being careful with your words and honest with yourself, you confess, “I’m not sure if it’s a good look for you to be seen so publicly and openly with me right now. Your fans already kinda hate me.”

Limiting your media consumption has been a saving grace in all this. Not that you were big on it to begin with. However, you have read a couple articles and made the even bigger mistake of reading the comments. To say some, if not most, of the internet wrestling community have nothing nice to say about you would be putting it lightly.

There’s people cussing you out, people saying you should burn in hell for what you did, even some saying if Joe (Roman) loses at WrestleMania, it’ll be your fault.

That last one is at least a little funny to you, because for such big fans, they sure don’t know how WWE works.

Roman’s gonna retain the same way he has for almost three years.

Ain’t shit stopping that.

“I told you before, and I’ll keep saying it until I’m blue in the face—I don’t give a fuck what they have to say about us. I love you, and I’m going to be with you, regardless of what anyone thinks. The Hall of Fame, Wrestlemania, hell, I’ll take you in the fucking ring with me if I want to.” His defense is so strong in its delivery and conviction that it almost instantly takes away any and all reservations on your end. “And they’re not fans if they have some negative shit to say about the woman I love.”

“Well, in their defense, Mariah did a damn good job making me out to be some Jezebel.”

“That’s partially why I think you should do the Live with Jadah.” His tone and expression soften, thumb rubbing against your stomach. “They don’t know you like I do, and they don’t need to per se, but they can at least see you’re not what she’s made you out to be.” He brings his mouth to your temple, lips lingering. “They can see why I love you so much.”

“Knew you had an opinion on what you think I should do.” But, regardless, you’re thankful for him truly allowing you to decide what is best for you. And you think you have. With a big breath, you settle on your final answer. “I’m gonna do it, but not even to let people see I’m not this horrible person. I just….I haven’t really had a chance to use my voice in any of this. Like…..” You work hard to help him understand where you’re coming from. “I didn’t have a voice in the DCFS situation outside of defending my parenting, but in this….there’s a chance for me to speak my side, to be able to defend myself. And I feel like I need to do it.”

“I agree.” You’re not surprised. Joe is anything and everything, including forever supportive. “Ya’ll are gonna use my Instagram to do it too.”

“Wait, what?”

“Baby, Jadah doesn’t have any social media, and you don’t need all them damn people on your page, nor do you want that.” He’s right. You hadn’t thought of it that way. “Mariah had an audience. You get one too.”

Fair. Very fair. “Okay.”

He taps your hip, informing. “I’ll leave you the login info." It sometimes still amazes you how much he trusts you, how easy it is for share so many things with you that are objectively personal. His banking information, his fucking social medias that are literally tied to his career.

It means the world for him to have so much trust in you.

“We’re going to Disney after Mania.”

Joe is just full of surprises, jumping from subject to subject. “What? I thought we were going for Callie’s birthday.”

“We are, for a second time, but the first time is gonna be that Tuesday after Mania. A day for you and Callie to rest.”

You’re still trying to settle on the fact that this man is proposing two Disney visits literally back to back when something else hits you. “Wait, the week after WrestleMania? Don’t you have to work?”

“I’ve got it handled,” is all he says, all he offers, all he provides.

“Joe, what does that even mean? How does that work? How do you just win WrestleMania and disappear right after?” Something’s not adding up. There’s something he’s not telling you, and it pisses you off for a lot of reasons, but mostly because you just hate being kept in the dark. “Is it being written into the storyline or—”

“I’ve got it handled, okay?” His tone is exasperated, which you find ironic considering you’re the one on the receiving end of his vague ass answers. “Just….trust me.”

That’s a hard one. Not trusting him. That comes second nature at this point, but trusting him and not knowing if whatever he’s handled causes any sort of problems for him. You worry about any hits he might take sometimes because of his decisions that are usually for the sake of you and Callie.

It shouldn’t bother you, but it does, especially because you know how important his career is to him.

“What about you?” That’s your biggest concern. This man has been ripping and running for what feels like months. He deserves a vacation. He needs a vacation. If he’s gonna be off for a couple days at least, why not use them to recharge? “You need to rest too, Joe. I can tell you’re exhausted, baby. There’s no need for us to go twice. We can just stick with May for her birthday.”

He shakes his head, preparing a guaranteed disagreement. “You’re gonna be five months pregnant by then. You don’t need to be walking around a damn amusement park while that far along. I don’t know if you’ll even want to.”

“Baby, trust me when I tell you, I could be nine months pregnant, and I’m still going to waddle my big ass around that park. I’m fighting any kid that tries to get in my or Callie’s way.”

He shakes his head, muttering, “the May visit might not happen if your ass gets us banned.”

“I can behave,” you murmur, recognizing you’re being a bit dramatic. Just a smidge. Disney has been a dream visit since you were a kid, so there's an immense amount of excitement at going.

“And why are we going twice anyway?” Eyes narrowing in suspicion, you realize and point out, “you’re up to something, aren’t you?” He rolls his eyes but says nothing. “You are. Oh my God, Joe, you’ve already done so much for us, we don’t need anything else. I don’t need anything else.”

It’s the truth, too. Going to Disney twice in one year when some people never get to go at all is absolutely not a necessity. No matter whatever he clearly has planned that requires two trips.

Joe looks like he wants to say something but decides against it. Annoying ass. “It better not have anything to do with a damn dog.” He laughs. “Especially with me pregnant now. Two kids under the age of 5 is gonna be a lot in and of itself.” Since you’re already on the subject, you add, “I’ve been thinking maybe my mom can come stay with us a little after the baby is born? So, I can have some help when you can’t be there.”

There’s something in Joe's expression that gives you pause, like he wants to say something but decides against it. “And I mean, I’d be fine with your mom coming too, I just—another adult will be great.” You throw that out, an honest thing, thinking maybe he’s wondering why it always has to be your mom and not more of his side of the family.

Although deep down, you know that’s not it.

“Of course, whatever you want.” He kisses your forehead and moves away to finish getting ready to go.

As much as you don’t want to feel annoyed, you do. This is at least the second or third time you’ve tried to broach the subject of post-baby, and he’s been elusive, borderline dismissive.

It’s hard to tell if it’s because he’s maybe nervous about something, if he truly doesn’t understand why you’re wanting to discuss this now, or something else, but regardless, it’s annoying.

And you don’t like it.

You don’t like it at all.

———-

Things happen fast in Florida, or maybe it’s just you and the reality show that your life has been the past week or so.

Because one minute you’re celebrating an unexpected but welcomed pregnancy, and the next you’re the subject of major media articles, publications, and news segments. Followed up with being hit up by your boyfriend’s ex-wife, the same wife he had when you first started sleeping with him.

The same woman who you’re anxiously awaiting to ring your doorbell at any minute now.

The silence of the large house doesn’t help either. You're greatly wishing you could be distracted by Callie’s loud singing, running around, laughter, something. But, you asked Alexis to take her out for a few hours for you, not wanting her to be around in the event that things turn ugly.

And that’s a bit of an irrational belief on your part.

You would have never invited her over, accepted her invitation, agreed to even meet with her if there was any thought in the back of your mind that she has any ulterior motives. In a weird twist of fate, you’re both kind of in the same position, the subject of all kinds of public scrutiny. Granted, from what you have seen on social media, majority of the people are on her “side.” Some going even as far as starting and using the hashtag #TeamJadah.

And you can understand that, understand why the public would “side” with the wife versus the mistress, but it’s also based upon a shit ton of Mariah’s lies and smear campaigns that have painted you in such an ugly light.

That’s ultimately why you’ve agreed to this, agreed to this highly uncomfortable team up, because it’s the only and best way to reclaim your voice.

To reclaim your narrative.

The sound of the doorbell ringing literally makes you jump from where you sit criss-crossed on the new expensive ass sofa Joe picked out for the house. It is comfortable though, and for a second, you almost choose to stay in the comfort of the sofa versus answering the door.

But, you know that’s not an option, for Jadah to fly out on such short notice only to be stood up by the other woman.

It’s not a good look.

Clearly.

So with a deep breath and quick mental pep talk, your feet carry you to the door that you unlock and hesitate only a second before opening.

Instantly, you’re hit with two things: the sweet smell of Jadah’s perfume and Jadah herself. Right off the bat, you can’t get over how gorgeous she is. Her deep complexion is absolutely flawless and moisturized as hell, thick eyebrows that frame her almost slender facial shape perfectly. Full lips pulled back into a sly smile. She’s wearing a pair of jeans and thin sleeved top that show off her shape, both slim and thick where it counts.

She’s as drop dead gorgeous as you imagined her to be. You can’t be attractive as Joe is without someone to match your aura.

“Well, let no one say Joe doesn’t have good taste. You’re even prettier in person.”

Receiving compliments from your boyfriend’s ex-wife was also nowhere on your 2024 bingo card, but clearly all projections need to be discarded at this point with how many stunners have happened.

“Thank you.” It’s strange. You’ve always been super good with compliments, taking them at face value, because you know that you’re pretty, always having the high self-esteem to recognize as such. But, hearing it come from her of all people feels a little…..off. Like, she shouldn’t be complimenting you. “Umm, come in, please.”

She does so, walking and looking around, almost inspecting. “This place is beautiful.”

All of the compliments are throwing you. It’s not what you were expecting. Then again, you’re not sure just what you were expecting.

“Thanks. Do you…want some water or something?”

She shakes her head, “I’m good, thank you.” Jadah gestures with a manicured finger between the kitchen and the living room. “Preference?”

Shaking your head, you leave that up to her. “Whatever you like.”

She nods and heads into the living room, sitting down on the sofa where you just sat, anxiously awaiting her arrival. Wordlessly, you follow suit, sitting on the sofa opposite of her.

“Thank you for agreeing to this,” she says, placing her purse on the coffee table. “I know me reaching out must have taken you for a loop.”

“A little.” A lot. But, she doesn’t need to know that. “I—I can understand why. I’m so sorry you got caught up in all of this.”

“One thing you don’t have to do is apologize. For any of this. For anything. From what Joe told me, this girl is just psycho and has some weird obsession with trying to ruin your life.”

Scoffing bitterly, you can’t find a point to disagree with. “That sounds about right….”

No one says anything for a good, solid minute. Or two.

“Okay, why don’t we get the awkward part over.” Her voice takes on a new tone, one similar to boredom and insouciance. “We both dated and slept with the same man. I happened to be married to said man when you started sleeping with him, but that shit doesn’t even matter, cause you already know what our deal was.”

The deal…..

No, you have no idea what the deal was. That’s part of why you’re happy to finally be talking to her, because you have so many questions. Granted, that’s not the reason she’s here in the first place but still.

Your facial expression must give away the confusion because Jadah’s indifferent tone shifts to something else, something more serious. “Y/N…..how much do you know about my marriage to Joe?”

It’s a bit difficult for you to navigate how honest you should or shouldn’t be with her. She’s a stranger for all intents and purposes, but given why you two are now even sitting across from each other, maybe honesty is the best option. “He’s never really said anything about you or his marriage, and I won’t lie to you, it’s not like I’ve made a lot of effort to find out.”

There’s a part of you that still struggles with a level of guilt for the intentionality you had at the beginning of dating Joe to not ask about his wife, to pretend that you didn't see the wedding band on his finger.

Avoidance makes justification a hell of a lot easier.

She chuckles, gaze settling on her lap. “I shouldn’t be surprised. Joe’s always been a good man. He was probably trying to protect me, protect my privacy.” Jadah shakes her head. “The irony, huh?” She leans forward, hands on her knees. “Alright, we’re doing this.” She seems to be speaking more to herself than anything, and you get it fully. You’re still giving yourself mental pep-talks just sitting across from her. “I’m gonna tell you the truth about us, but I’m telling you now, certain things Joe, even with how much he clearly loves you, may never talk about. Really, it’s years of therapy that’s why I can talk about it now.” On one hand, the warning is appreciated. On the other hand, it only increases your anxiety at whatever you’re about to hear. “I also have this thing where I use dark humor to cope with heavy shit, so just pretend like you don’t notice.”

The conversation with Kaylah in Vegas returns to the forefront of your mind, and you start to feel bad for opening the door for Jadah to have to revisit a clearly painful past. But before you can protest, she starts sharing.

“Joe and I met in college. I was 20, going on 21, and he was 22. He was playing football, I played soccer. I thought he was attractive and vice versa. We had a class together, and I approached him first. Next thing I know, we’re fuck buddies. It wasn’t romantic. We didn’t go on dates. He didn’t want that, and neither did I. It was just sex.” She says it so simply, so casually, and for a second, your mind goes towards comparisons. That’s kind of similar to how it was with you and Joe at the beginning. Just all about sex.

“Well, like two dumb college kids, we were having unprotected sex, and we both know what can happen there. I ended up getting pregnant. And this….this is where shit gets bad, because both his family and my family were of the belief that because we were having a child together that we should get married, so guess what we did?” She rolls her eyes, leaning back into the sofa. “I think that might have been our first mistake.”

A mistake….

Joe has also made a comment at least once or twice insinuating he viewed the marriage as a mistake. Had stated they initially married for the wrong reasons, and hearing the full story, you sort of agree.

It’s such an outdated belief that two people need to be married in order to have a child.

“We did it, we got married. My family is in real estate, so we moved into an apartment they owned off campus and prepared for the baby. That was really the only time we talked and interacted. When it had something to do with the baby. And looking back on that, I can see now that even if we wanted it to work, it wouldn’t have. I felt nothing for him outside of the fact that we were having a baby together, and I know he would say the same because we discussed as such when we finally decided to get divorced. But, I’m jumping ahead of myself.”

Slowing down would be wonderful, because this is a lot for you to take in and digest. Jadah sounds like she’s essentially stating she never loved Joe, never had feelings for him. And it seems like he felt the same way, like they were only trying to make it work for the sake of the baby and their families.

She’s quiet for a second, and you already know the next thing that’s about to come out of her mouth. “There’s—there’s no easy way to say this, so I’ll just say it.” Another pause. “We lost the baby. I–I had a stillbirth. I was just about 8 months along. I—grief is so damn weird, because some days I’m okay, and then others, I feel like it just happened.”

Shaking your head, you advise gently, “Jadah, you don’t—”

She lifts her hand, stopping you as she explains, “today….today is an okay day. I’m….I’m good.” And you hope, for her sake, that she’s being honest with both you and herself. The last thing you want is to unintentionally trigger her. “We coped the only way we knew how at the time: avoiding each other and having sex when we weren’t avoiding each other. Both of which were unhealthy, one of which resulted in me getting pregnant again. But, I—I ended up miscarrying.”

That….that you especially weren’t expecting to hear. The loss of one child seems unfathomable, but the loss of two children is just so wrong. Like, it shouldn’t be allowed to happen. No one deserves to experience that kind of grief, and while your heart aches for Jadah, it’s hard not to think mostly about Joe.

To think about how that kind of experience had to have torn him up. How could it have not?

“After that miscarriage is when we tried to make things work, tried to actually be a real couple. It was mostly on my end but also that loss was the first time we actually tried to heal together instead of separate. I did most of the initiating, and I can be honest with myself now in admitting it was mostly because I wanted to try again. I wanted to try to have another child.” Her attention is mostly focused on her lap as she recalls what had to have been one of the most difficult times in her life. “Through therapy, I learned that I thought if I could finally just have a child, my grief would go away. Obviously, that’s not how that works, and I learned the hard way because I did get pregnant again, but I….I also ended up miscarrying again.”

Words. There are none to properly describe what’s going through your head right now, the emotions all circulating throughout your entire body. Tears brim your eyes listening to this heartbreak. You have such a tremendous amount of compassion and sympathy for the woman sitting across from you.

For the man not before you currently but you’d give anything to be able to hold and hug right now. You had no idea he’s been through so much, lost so much, and yet he still stands tall, forever being your backbone.

Being your saving grace.

“That was the last time Joe and I were ever intimate,” she continues, dabbing at her eyes. “He refused to touch me unless I got on birth control. Said he didn’t want to see me go through that anymore, and I believe him. But, I also don’t think he could handle another loss either.”

You’re not sure anyone could handle that kind of loss a fourth time.

“I was the one who cheated first, but it’s hard to call it that when I nor Joe ever really saw our marriage as real. It was legal, yes, but he never loved me, and I never loved him. We had love for each other, but we weren’t in love with each other. And I think the little we did feel was because of our shared losses.”

This almost feels like a discussion that needed to happen in separate sessions, because it’s so much to take in. You’d always wondered about this marriage, wondered what the real story was, but hearing that real story almost has you wishing you would have never asked. It’s just all so heavy.

“And then he started becoming more famous and up there in the WWE. I don’t need to tell you how crazy his schedule can be. I barely ever saw him. We essentially became roommates. He did his thing and who he wanted, while I did my thing and who I wanted.”

It’s hard on you hearing all this, for obvious reasons, but there’s also a part of you that is grieving for different reasons. Grieving what maybe you and Joe could have been if you knew all of this. Knew his wife wasn’t the high school sweetheart turned wife, knew he wasn’t going home and playing house when he wasn’t in your bed. You always just assumed this was the case, the few times you even allowed yourself to think about him being married. It was more toward the end of your relationship as you realized you needed to start being honest with yourself about your relationship with him.

“I know for a fact Joe never initiated a divorce because he felt like it was wrong. Like it was wrong for him to leave me because I couldn’t give him what he wanted, a family. I can’t speak for him, but I’d bet that’s why he didn’t divorce me even when he met you. Because he’s a good man who still felt a sense of loyalty to me because I had tried to give him a child. I just….I couldn’t.”

Your chest tightens at her words. Did she just….. “Joe wanted kids?”

Jadah is quick with the response, reiterating. “He always wanted to be a dad. Even with our first pregnancy, we were both nervous and young, but he told me that he wanted a big family because he came from one.”

It’s getting harder and harder to keep the tears at bay. You hadn’t the slightest clue fatherhood was something Joe always envisioned for himself, something he always wanted. It makes sense, it makes all the sense now why he reacted so strongly as he did when he found out about Callie. The way he looked at you with such love and appreciation on Christmas when you apologized for not getting him anything, the way his eyes fell on Callie is he calmly told you that you already did.

A child.

You’d given him a child, something he always wanted but could never have.

Shaking your head, you admit aloud but gently, “I didn’t—I didn’t know that.”

“Do you know what Joe told me when we finally realized we needed to just file?” She doesn’t wait for a response, most likely already knowing what your answer will be. “He said he was never supposed to be with me, because he was always supposed to be with you.” A tiny gasp leaves your mouth. “And he’s right. Joe never spoke about me the way he speaks about you, the way his eyes light up, the smile on his face…... He was never in love with me, because his heart was always supposed to be with you.” Any effort to refrain from crying is null and void. “And I’m happy for him. I truly am. I couldn’t give him what he wanted, and that’s okay, because you have.”

Her comforting you is the last thing that should be happening, but it’s exactly what occurs. She reaches over, placing her hand on top of yours.

“Y/N. I don’t hate you. I don’t think you’re a whore who ruined my marriage. That marriage was a sham from the beginning. If anything, I was more upset at you when Joe told me about Calista. I was upset because I wish you had told him from the beginning that you were pregnant. We could have gotten divorced sooner, and he could have finally experienced fatherhood. I could have finally figured out what I want in life.”

Sniffling, wiping at your eyes, “All this time…..I thought that I had been that woman, that I took him from you. That’s why I didn’t tell him about Callie, I thought—I felt like it was wrong, wrong because he was married.” It’s that along with your unaddressed daddy issues, that whole trauma, but while Jadah is relatively open with you about her struggles. You’re just not there yet.

“You can’t take what never belonged to me. I’m able to admit now that I never had Joe, and to be honest with you, I never really wanted him.” She frowns almost, continuing to share more with you than you ever expected her to share. “I wanted to do humanitarian work after college, and I didn’t do that because I was too busy living my life the way everyone said I should. I don’t blame Joe either. I guess I just wish all three of us didn’t have to wait so long to finally have what we wanted.”

In a strange sort of sense, all three of you are victims of some type of circumstances, different in various ways but still victims.

“Are you….are you happy, Jadah?”

In all that you’ve heard her divulge, a no wouldn’t surprise you. She’s such a strong woman, but in the midst of all this, you getting Joe, Joe having you, where’s her happy ending?

“I’m bisexual.” It’s such a strange first initial response, one that you’re not sure how to reply to or take. Not that you’re judging at all. Good for fucking her. But, where is the relevance? “It’s not a secret, either. I’ve been out since I was in middle school, but I’ve been in a relationship with this amazing woman for almost a year now, and it’s with her I’ve realized I just tend to form deeper connections with women than men. Especially emotionally. It’s gotta be why I never felt anything for Joe, because we both know that man is objectively gorgeous, insanely sweet, and the D is fire.”

That makes you laugh, the first in the midst of this heartfelt conversation. “You’re not wrong about that.”

“But, she’s amazing, and we’re so happy, so yes, I am more than happy.” Her eyes light up the same way you’re certain she’s seen with Joe when he talks about you. “But, you know what will make me happier?” She announces with attitude and determination. “Getting on Live together and blowing up this bitch whole spot.”

Another laugh that’s followed up with. “I’d rather beat her ass, but this is second best.”

“I mean, we can do that too. I don’t really know how to fight, but I’ll cheer for you on the side.”

There’s more laughter as you realize Jadah has that dry sense of humor that can have you dubbed over in tears from the humor, meanwhile she’s got a straight face the whole time.

“I wish, but I can’t be fighting in my condition.”

It leaves your mouth before you even realize what you’re basically confirming, and before you can freak out, scolding yourself for being so insensitive, Jadah is already two steps ahead.

“Seriously? Congratulations!” Her smile is just as genuine and happy as all the outdoors, as she explains. “Y/N, just because I can’t have kids doesn’t mean I can’t be happy for people who can. I know Joe must be over the moon happy.”

“He is,” you answer with a matching smile, hand going to your stomach. “I’m really happy I got to meet you, Jadah. I think….I think we both needed this.”

There was something so healing about all of this, some sense of solace and closure that feels like it’s been provided for the both of you. Her being able to talk this out and be honest about her feelings, and you learning that maybe, just maybe, your relationship with Joe was never wrong in the first place.

Because it was always supposed to be.

“I agree.” She squeezes her hand. “Now, let’s get started on our strategy for this Live, cause I’m ready to shut that ex best friend of yours fifteen minutes of fame down.”

———-

In another life, you and Jadah could have been the best of friends.

There’s such an ease that comes with talking to her. Not only is she just as laid back as Joe promised, but the bitch is funny as hell. The strategizing your game plan for the Live is filled with her dry humor that almost has you in tears at one point. And it amazes you how someone who’s been through so much can still find it in her to laugh, to still be filled with so much joy.

It’s admirable.

And maybe there’s a way where you can be friends of some sort, because there’s truly no ill feelings towards her on your end. You’re also almost certain it’s the same for her as well, but right now, the focus is on this Live.

Well, sort of.

“I definitely think the cool tones will really compliment the white theme of the house. You guys don’t plan to paint, right?”

Joe never mentioned that Jadah is an interior designer, not that he needed or even had a reason to, but it definitely comes in handy considering you have this big ass house to decorate without a lick of knowledge about decorating.

It didn’t take long to figure out how you’re going to tackle the Live, and you two even got your iPad set up in the kitchen, deciding that’s where you would hold it. She even set up the practice live so you two could familiarize yourself with the layout before actually going live.

So with that out the way, it only took one question from Jadah about designing for her to be assisting you with some options for different rooms in the house.

“No. Joe hasn’t mentioned anything about it.” You then remember. “We are getting a mural painted in Callie’s room. I guess Joe knows someone.”

“Oh, that’s awesome.” She beams, asking, “what’s the mural gonna be?”

Smiling, you answer, “disney. She loves Disney.”

“Y/N…..do you….do you think I could meet her?” She quickly adds, almost as if she’s nervous about even asking in the first place. “I know you probably need to talk to Joe first, but—”

“Of course, you can meet her.” There’s no need to think about it, no need to talk with Joe about it. “I was actually going to ask you if you wanted to meet her. She’s out with my best friend right now, because I didn’t want her overhearing our Live, but I’d love for you to meet her.”

She seems so moved and appreciative of this. “Thank you.” She motions down the hall, “you don’t happen to have any food, do you?”

Laughing, you answer. “Girl, I was just thinking we need to get this Live done, cause I’m hungry.”

It’s not too surprising on your end. In the past few days, you’ve noticed your appetite increasing, a strange symptom to have so early on in your pregnancy. Annoying, too.

“Well, let’s pig out on snacks, and maybe we can get actual food later,” she suggests. You’re down for that, thinking about asking Alexis to stop and pick something up on her way back to the house with Callie.

“Sounds good to me.” She then looks around, noticing the speakers located throughout the house. “Do those work?”

Already knowing where she’s headed, you pull out your phone, opening up Spotify and reaching it to her. “What’s the vibe?”

Jadah sucks her teeth, taking the phone. “Girl, you already know.”

She moves her fingers around the screen before music starts to play.

Knuck if you buck boy

“Oh my god, you taking it way back.” And it’s so appreciated, cause this always has been and always will be your song. It’s aptly appropriate as well.

“We gotta be in the zone.” She’s dancing along the way to the kitchen, tossing you your phone as she walks backwards. “You still remember Princess verse?”

Is water wet? “Don’t play with me.” Making it to the kitchen, you’re barely able to open the cabinet where the snacks are before the verse starts.

Yeah we knuckin' and buckin' and ready to fight

I betcha I'm'a throw dem thangs

So haters best to think twice

Word for word, you don’t miss a beat, and Jadah is right there with you, dancing and playfully twerking to the soundtrack of every middle school fight back in the Y2K era.

The two of you share a laugh at your silliness as she forages through the cabinet for her preferred snack while you open the goldfish and glance at the iPad. Frowning, you move closer, asking, “why is the screen still on? It’s supposed to be on auto—Jadah?”

She’s distracted, caught between Cheez-Its and Pretzels, answering distractedly. “Yeah?”

“Why does this say we’re live?”

At your question, she answers half-heartedly, “it’s in that practice mode thing, isn’t it?”

That would provide a heavy layer of relief if your eyes didn’t land on the number of the corner of the screen.

The number that reads over 100,000k people are currently watching this live.

“Jadah! It’s fucking live!” She spins around, confused. “Like, we’re on Live!”

“Oh, shit,” she curses, running over and also looking at the screen. “Damn, we are.”

Panicked, you back up to the opposite counter, lecturing, “I thought you said it was in practice mode!”

“I thought it was!” She defends, shrugging and reminding you of her naivety with technology. “You should have never left me in charge in the first place! I haven’t used social media since Tom and I were besties on MySpace!”

“Oh my god.” your hand remains over your mouth as you take in the fact that this thing has just been sitting here, live for the whole wide world to sit and watch.

“I don’t know why there’s so many people here. Were ya’ll just sitting here staring at her fridge?”

“Jadah.”

“It’s a valid question!” She sucks her teeth, pulling out the bar stool and plopping down. “Well, since everyone’s here, we might as well get started.” She reaches for your phone, simply saying “music.”

Believing she’s going to turn off Crime Mob, you hand it to her, but that’s too good to be true. Because instead of silence, you’re hit with Megan Thee Stallion.

I just want to kick this shit off by saying, "Fuck y'all!"

I ain't gotta clear my name on a motherfuckin' thang

“Jadah!”

“I said we were getting started. We need to set the tone.”

“We can’t be playing this kind of music on Joe’s account though.” At least, you think so. You’re not entirely certain what exactly his public image is supposed to exemplify. But, songs about fighting and cussing people out don't seem to align.

However, she waves you off, focusing on the screen. “Hello, everyone, and welcome to this special edition Live. I’m sure most, if not all of you, recognize Y/N, thanks to a basic bitch we’re about to roast alive in this here video.” She gestures to you, and unsure of how exactly to respond or act, you simply offer a sarcastic wave. “But most of you may not know I am because I’m pretty sure there’s only a couple of photos of me online, which is the way I prefer it.” She places one hand on her chest. “I’m Jadah, the infamous ex-wife who apparently hates Y/N and pulled up ready to knuck if you buck, but we’ll get into that later.”

Feeling more comfortable after making active efforts to push away your nerves, you tease, “bet ya’ll didn’t see this one coming.”

Jadah’s face lights up with a mischievous smile. “We figured there’s so much being said about us by this delusional bitch, that it’s time we speak our truth. And I’m just gonna say right now that while we’re doing this to clear up the lies, there are some things we’re not going to touch on because it’s nobody’s business.”

“None of this is really anyone’s business,” you add, the confidence growing by the second. “It’s all really fucked up how we even have to come up here and defend our characters and talk about personal, real life situations. I never wanted any of this, never wanted to have my face be out there, to have my daughter’s face be out there.”

“And that’s the thing, too,” Jadah seems to be feeding off your energy just as much as you’re feeding off hers. “I don’t have any social media at all. I hate it. After today, I don’t plan to ever do anything like this ever again. But, it’s also the fact that people are saying such cruel things about an innocent child that absolutely disgusts me. Like, people are attacking an innocent little girl and saying that it’s in defense of me, which is so insane because none of you know the truth.” She looks over at you, asking, “mind if I start off?”

“No, go ahead, please.”

“Bet.” She claps and announces. “I’m gonna keep this super easy for all of ya’ll. First things first, I have never spoken to that Mariah person a day in my life. Have zero clue who she is. The texts? Never happened. Phone calls? Never happened. Screenshots of said messages? Never fucking happend. Why?” Jadah makes a triangle over her mouth so her voice projects. “Because I don’t fucking know her!”

“More facts: Joe and I were married, yes. We got married when we were like 21 and 22 because I was pregnant, and that’s when people still believed children could only be raised by married couples. That’s the only reason I married that man. We were never in love. Never even dated. We were just horny college kids who didn’t use protection.”

As strange as it may be, you can tell there’s a bit of hesitation on Jadah’s end before she goes into the next part. “We, unfortunately, lost that child. And experienced some other forms of loss that I won’t get into because it’s very personal, but to make a long story short, we ended up having an arrangement. Essentially, he did what and who he wanted, and I did the same.”

She pushes some of her hair back, continuing to explain bits and pieces that are still true but protect her from having to lay out her darkest experiences. “I don’t even consider it an open marriage, because outside of us legally being married, we never had an actual marriage. As most of you already know, professional wrestlers have insane schedules, so when I tell you he was at the crib maybe a month out of the year? I’m not even exaggerating. That man was my platonic roommate.”

There’s a small smile on your face as her humor and sass melt into her delivery after carefully maneuvering around the specifics of her personal loss. “Ya’ll are all up in arms, coming after this girl talking about she broke up my marriage, blah blah blah. But, she couldn’t break up what didn’t exist. I never loved that man. Joe is a great guy, but we never loved each other.” She gestures to you with her thumb. “This is who he loves. This is who he has a family with. And the fact that ya’ll can sit there and claim to support him and be a fan while attacking the people he loves blows my mind.”

“So, it goes without saying, Mariah lied her ass off about all of that for clicks and views. She’s a liar. And you can print that in your tabloids.”

“I also wanna clear up some things about her if that’s cool with you?” Jadah nods, and motions for you to have the figurative floor. “I need people to understand that this is somebody who I thought was my best friend, who I’ve called a best friend since I was in kindergarten. Matter of fact, we met because some boy was picking on her, and I went up and pushed him, standing up for her. I’ve always prided myself on being a loyal friend, especially to her. So for her to do all that she’s done to me has been so fucking hurtful and confusing.”

“I found out that she’s been sleeping with my very first boyfriend, the boy I lost my virginity to and dated on and off up until I was in my mid-twenties behind my back since we were teenagers.” You have no intention of stooping to Mariah’s level, but if she wants to lay out your information for public scrutiny, then you damn sure can make sure they know just who they’re believing. Know her character, or lack thereof. “Mind you, he ain’t shit either and he can go fuck himself just as much as she can. Like, it takes two, but here I am calling this girl my best friend, crying and confiding in her about all he’s putting me through, and the whole time she’s fucking him behind my back.”

“That’s so foul.” Jadah looks just as disgusted as you feel just thinking and talking about it.

“But you know what? As fucked up as that is, that part is well with my soul because I have a man who treats me so damn good, a beautiful daughter, and a loving, supportive family. So, that’s fine. What really fucks with me though, still—” There’s an unplanned pause as emotions get the best of you, just revisiting this subject. “Fuck, I said I wasn’t gonna cry.” Taking a deep breath, you do your best to continue without breaking down in front of the whole damn internet. “What gets me is that this girl who I considered a sister, who I literally made the legal godmother of my child, called DCFS on me, made up horrific lies and stated my child was in immediate danger—”

“Oh my god—”

“They took my baby away from me and placed her with my mother, so I legally could not have any contact with my child or my mom for three days. And that may not seem like a lot of time to ya’ll, but I love my child. She’s very attached to me, and I’m kinda the same. So those three days were torture. I couldn’t sleep, I couldn’t keep anything down, my chest hurt. I had to hire a lawyer, be interrogated like I’m some criminal. It was awful.” Your attempts to hold back the tears failed epically, and Jadah’s hand is on the small of your back, rubbing in a comforting motion. “And now she’s sold all these personal photos and videos of my daughter to the highest bidder, so now I worry about what kind of fucking disgusting perverts now have access to them. It’s been fucking hell dealing with girl. You all have no idea.”

Up until this point, you’ve made an active, concerted effort to keep your eyes away from the comments, not wanting to lash out or be unintentionally triggered. But, an accidental glance reveals a slew of incoming comments including hearts of all colors.

It’s then you can’t help but to read a few, also needing to get your shit together. Crying on the internet is something you used to make fun of people for. Now, you’re in the same position.

The comments are a complete 180 from the last time you decided to torture yourself by viewing the public’s general opinion on you.

There’s a tremendous amount of sympathy, support, and newfound understanding. For both you and Jadah, though, the majority of them seem to be aimed towards you.

A lot of apologies as well.

“And this is the kind of person you all have been deceived by. The only thing she was truthful about is that yes, I met Joe because of her. She won a contest years ago that gave her tickets and backstage passes to a Smackdown show, so she invited me, and I met him that night.” That’s probably the only thing you could ever be grateful to Mariah about, the fact that her letting you be her plus one resulted in you meeting the love of your life. “But, I’m not a whore. Not a golddigger. I’m very intelligent. I got nearly a perfect score on my ACT and my SAT back in high school. I was student body president, homecoming queen, prom queen. You look up Ms. Popularity, and you’ll see my fucking face. I have a bachelor's degree in education, I’m a licensed teacher in my state. Like, I don’t need attention from strangers nor do I want it.”

“And here’s the thing, my daughter is almost five, so I’ve been in the picture. If I was this big attention whore like she says I am, why have I not gone public or made my presence known? The only reason ya’ll even know who I am now is because I was essentially outed, but I don’t want this shit. Joe is famous. Not me. I don’t want that. I just want to live in peace and privacy with my family. That’s all.”

It’s a bit of playing with the truth, insinuating that you’ve been in Joe’s life consistently the past five years, but that’s one of the parts of this that doesn’t need to be shared on the world wide web.

“We black and educated excellence over here. We don’t need validation from strangers.” Jadah says it better than you can as you continue to blot at your eyes, grateful the tears are drying up. “We need some church in here to lift the spirits.”

“Oh, Lord, what are you going to play now? We are about to get Joe’s account banned.”

She clicks around on your phone before the song starts playing.

We lift our hands in the sanctuary.

We lift our hands to give You the glory.

“You’re so stupid.” This laughter is so good for your soul, it’s the most you’ve done in such a short span in a while. And it feels good. “But why would you pick this damn song, knowing good and well it never ends.” Reaching for the goldfish bag on the island, you open and grab a few.

“Y/N! Why are you eating? We are in church.”

You give her that ‘girl, please’ look, justifying. “Girl, I’m hungry. It’s snack time, shit.” You’re craving more than a snack, more like a full course meal, but Callie’s snacks will have to do for now.

“Now you’re cussing in church. Don’t drag me to hell with you, whore.” She leans closer into the phone, taunting, “you liked that one, didn’t you, Mariah?”

You almost spit out your food. “Jadah!”

“What? You are a whore. That’s why I pulled up at your house blasting Sideline Hoe by Monica in my 2007 Toyota Camry, wearing my Baby Phat bomber jacket to fight you that one day.” At this point, you’re about to piss on yourself. Jadah’s sense of humor is golden, because she’s saying all this with such a straight face. Never once breaking scene.

You decide to play along, correcting. “No, it was The Boy Is Mine, remember?”

She snaps her finger. “That’s right. My bad. And then the second fight, it was Jolene. I played that when I snuck in your hospital room at Grey Sloan and caught you flirting with Dr. McDreamy.”

Turning your head, you try your best to hold in your laughter, but it’s impossible.

And Jadah also breaks a bit, speaking to the phone and viewers. “You see how ridiculous and stupid this all sounds? That’s exactly how stupid majority of the shit that came out of Mariah’s mouth is. I literally just met Y/N for the first time today, this morning. And as ya’ll can clearly see, we good over here. She got her man. I have a wonderful, beautiful girlfriend. Stop being so invested in lives you don’t live.”

You start to add something else when Jadah interjects, “and let me just say this, cause I saw some people having the audacity to say this girl is ugly. Ugly where? The bitch is gorgeous. Look at her!” She gestures to you, adding, “she’s stacked in the front, and it’s sitting in the back. Shit, I would hit that too.”

“Girl, you better stop before they start making up rumors and shit about us all being poly.” Snickering at just the thought alone of that being the latest on the rumor mill, you jokingly coin it prematurely. “Roman’s Harem.”

“Roman’s Hoe House,” she suggests, and you’re nearly in tears from laughter. This bitch is hilarious. “Plot twist, everyone. This was all a publicity stunt for a new season of Flavor of Love featuring Roman Reigns.”

“Jadah, oh my god, stop.”

She lifts her hands to silence you as you lay your head on her shoulder, laughing your ass off. “We will be taking applications following this Live. If you are a woman of color with ass and boobs, please apply. Slim thick girls, ya’ll can apply too with the understanding your chances are a bit slimmer. No pun intended. Skinny girls….maybe try the Bachelor or something.”

“Jadah, you are a menace.” You are dying for her to meet Alexis. They seem very similar in a lot of ways, and it seems like they’d vibe well. Hopefully.

“Y/N, please, I am trying to build recruits for the harem.” She finally cracks, shaking her head and leaning forward to read some of the comments. She then asks you, “should we answer questions?”

That’s an easy pass, though you also know this is your one chance to really show who you actually are versus who you’ve been painted out to be. “Sure. A couple.”

Jadah gets to reading, “uhhhh, okay this one is tame. What’s the sexiest thing about Roman?”

“Jadah, how is that tame?”

“You should have seen the other one,” she mutters. Something tells you that it’s better you didn’t.

“All of him. That’s such a generic, basic answer, but it’s the truth. He’s the full package. Tall, handsome, amazing body. Insanely kind.” Big dick, not that that needs to be shared with the whole world. “I will say though, like, seeing him parent our daughter, how good and patient he is with her. That is immensely attractive. Him being such an amazing dad and partner. That shit is sexy. If you’re grown, you agree with me.”

“You better be grown if you’re watching this Live.” She’s not entirely wrong. Jadah then reads the next one. “What’s something most people don’t know about Roman?”

Looking over at Jadah, you ask, “do you wanna….”

Immediately, she’s shaking her head, admitting, “I don’t know him well enough to really speak on that. Like, we knew each other better in college, but obviously who we were in college is vastly different than who we are now.”

It really does stump you to hear her say that aloud, not that it upsets you, but just the mere fact that you spent so long viewing her relationship with Joe in one way, but in actuality, they were more strangers than anything.

Strangers only bonded by loss.

“Ummm, a lot, actually.” You finally answer, trying to figure out how or even what to share. “He’s actually very quiet, like, borderline shy. At least when you first meet him. Once he warms up, you see more of his personality. But yeah, it’s fascinating how well Joe encapsulates Roman cause they’re totally different people.” You glance at Jadah, murmuring, “maybe one more.”

This Live has gone on long enough, and you feel that you and Jadah touched on all the points you wanted and needed to address.

She nods, clearly searching for a good final one. A couple seconds later, she reads aloud. “What’s one thing you’d like to say to Roman’s fans?”

Damn.

What a final question.

There’s a couple seconds you utilize to gather your words, wanting to articulate effectively and clearly. “That regardless of how you feel about me, please don’t let that change how you viewed him before you even found out I existed. Joe—sorry—Roman, no, fuck that. Joe is so damn passionate about what he does, his work is everything to him, and he does it like he does everything else in his life—with full passion and dedication.” Your eyes are starting to water again from unexpected emotionality. “I’m so proud of him and all he’s done and accomplished, and I know it’s just the beginning, so I’d love for you to continue to support him on his journey.”

“Damn.” Jadah mumbles after a minute of silence. “That was deep. We need another song—”

“Jadah, I swear to God, if you play one more song—”

“You’re going to like this one!”

“I think we’re just about finished anyway.” It’s not a think. It’s a know. Callie’s been gone long enough. You miss your baby. “What—”

Roman’s theme song plays louder than the previous songs Jadah played, and a smile is instantly on your face. “Okay, you were right.” The two of you vibe for a minute, because your man’s song really is an actual vibe.

“Alright,” Jadah laughs. “You all have been a wonderful crowd now, but we’re hungry, so we’re gonna go eat—what are you thinking?”

“Hmmm, maybe Chinese?”

“Good call.” She then focuses on the screen again. “We’re gonna go pig out, listen to some more amazing music and….yeah.” Jadah grabs you and pulls you right next to her, so you can say something too.

“Thank you for listening to our side, the truth, and please be kind. To everyone. Not just the people you know.”

“And don’t forget to send in your applications for—”

“Jadah!”

#roman reigns x black!reader #roman reigns fic #roman reigns #roman reigns x black!oc #arisnotebook

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domesticgoddess22 · 26 days ago

Text

wish upon a cowboy

chapter 3: down bad

pairing: raider!joel miller x fem!reader

Summary: A rugged raider takes you under his wing after hunters leave you for dead. The two of you form a team and you quickly grow attached to him–mumbling, grumbling, protective Joel Miller. When you divulge your wishes to experience life before the outbreak, Joel decides to make them come true. All of them.

warnings: age gap (early 20s/mid 40s),praise kink, breeding kink, daddy kink, unplanned pregnancy, unprotected piv, canon-typical violence, light choking, dom!Joel, angst word count: 3.3k (chapter 3) rating: 18+ explicit MDNI masterlist here

A month had passed since the cabin getaway, and you hate to say it, but things between you and Joel have pretty much gone back to normal. No kissing, no sex, just the usual surviving the lands of good ol’ Texas.

Not a word of what transpired that night ever came up in your conversations to the cornfields.

Not even the morning after when you crawled out from underneath his naked body, quietly lifting the weight of his arm that pinned you to the couch. You slipped outside and washed yourself clean of what he spilled between your legs with the well water.

By the time you returned to the cabin, Joel was awake and fully clothed with his bag slung over his shoulder. “You ready to go?” he grumbled, his face forming that same hard-lined frown he’s had since the day you met him, the man before you receding into his shell.

The cabin vacation had come to an abrupt end.

Now, you're back to the old grind of survival, tension thick in the air between you two. Each night, you sleep on opposite sides of the camp you’ve put together. It’s been your temporary home for a few weeks now. It’s deep enough into the woods where no one will stumble upon it, but close enough to the city rubble for you to run and do raids.

“Joel, can we stop here?” You ask as the faded red of a once-was Target comes into view.

“No,” he says firmly.

“Joel.”

“How many more places do you need to stop at?”

“I need pads.”

He rubs the skin between his brows, squeezing his eyes shut. “Alright, Jesus Christ,” he mutters. “Why didn’t ya just say so?”

You watch his muscles tense as he digs the sharp curve of his crowbar into the crevice of the sliding doors. Metal scrapes against metal until there’s an opening that fits your width and you take a step inside. When he follows after you, you tell him that you’d rather do this alone.

“It’s nothin’ to be embarrassed about,” his voice is low, softer.

“Can I just go alone, please?” you groan, shifting uncomfortably as your eyes dart around, refusing to meet his.

“Fuck. Fine… Just… be careful. We don’t need any trouble.”

“Careful is my middle name,” you say, stepping over the door frame and leaving him behind in your little white web of lies. You weren’t going in for pads. In fact, pads were the last thing you needed right now, and careful was definitely not your middle name or even an adjective that describes you.

The truth is, it had been six weeks since your last period, and you were never late–a stark reminder that your night with Joel hadn’t been your imagination.

This morning you felt your stomach curdle at the sight of food, and when Joel had asked if you were alright, you just told him that you had some bad canned tuna the night before.

Stepping into the faded red walls of Target, the ceiling has caved in the center of the store, allowing light to pool in and illuminate the rubble. The cold air stings your cheeks as you stare at the shelves, littered with remnants of another time.

Please have it please have it please have it.

As much as it terrified you to have an answer, especially one you knew would change your life–lives?--forever, it was better to know now than later.

You swallow, fingers brushing across the shelf as you pass scattered boxes of pads, vitamins, empty condom boxes, and–there, a box labeled First Response in weathered lettering.

You snatch the box, disappearing somewhere behind a different shelf, just in case Joel came stomping in to scold you for taking so long.

So you squat and pee on the damn stick right next to an old hot dog machine and a cardboard cutout of some family looking chipper in their new home filled with crap from Target.

And then you wait. And wait.

Wait for the little stick to show you one line so you'd laugh and run back to Joel and pretend it never happened.

You chew your lip, willing the line to appear, and in the seconds that you wait, there's a fleeting thought in your head of you and Joel and your baby and there's a warm feeling in your chest when the images of your little family flash in your mind.

Joel's protective nature would make him a perfect father, and you want to scream at your ovaries to shut the fuck up.

That little daydream could never happen because he doesn't love you. It was a one-night thing, and he sure as hell doesn't want a kid, in the apocalypse–with you.

Everything's gonna be alright.

That’s what you tell yourself as you take a deep breath in, squeezing your eyes tight and then peeling them open to look at the little device that held your future. Tears well up at the corner of your eyes when you see what the little stick reveals.

Two pink lines.

You’re pregnant.

Somewhere towards the front entrance, Joel is hissing your name and your head jerks up. You shuffle the little stick into the back pocket of your jeans.

“The fuck are you doin’?” He says when he finds you, now standing by an old cash register twiddling your thumbs. “Thought you were gonna grab ‘n go?”

You shrug when he looks at you expectantly.

“Well? Did ya get what ya needed?”

“Yes I got what I fuckin’ needed, Joel.” You brush past him, anger fueling each stomp out the door.

You half expect him to scold you again. To use the same irritated tone when he asks what the fuck your problem is, but he doesn't.

He says nothing and lets you stew in silence while the two of you walk to a safe spot for the night, a little clearing in the woods. Joel pitched the tent you found back in Woodcreek. You’ve gotten into the habit of switching shifts so one of you is always on watch, and neither of you is ever in the tent at the same time.

“‘S everythin’ okay?”

“Right as rain. Why?”

“You've been quiet. Thought maybe you were still feelin’ sick or som’.”

I'm pregnant.

“I’m fine,” you say, your tone even and dry.

“Hm.”

The truth sits on your tongue, a heavy weight that rolls around but you can't quite spit it out. Goosebumps decorate your skin at the thought of telling him about the two pink lines–the possibility of him rejecting you for it. The thought of him abandoning you by morning has your stomach doing summersaults.

When did you become so attached to him?

You knew for a while now that you've had a crush on him, and the thought of losing him left you feeling empty, but now that felt juvenile. There was so much more at stake, a baby that needed to somehow survive this cruel world and would have a better chance with Joel as their father than not.

This realization gives you enough courage to try to tell Joel the truth. “Hey. Maybe we should…” You trail off, trying to find the right words. Are there even the right words for something like this? “I think it’s time we talk about somethin’.”

“I’ve been thinkin’ the same thing–look, about what happened between us that night…”

You straighten your spine, cranking your neck up, swallowing back a lump in your throat in anticipation of what Joel is about to say. You weren’t expecting him to take the lead in the conversation, but you shouldn’t be surprised, Joel takes the lead in everything he does.

“I had a lot to drink that night. More ‘n I had in quite some time… so I figured I’d just say uh–” Joel’s hands are on his hips as his eyes bore into the pebbles next to his boots.

Your heart is pounding like a drum, your hands are clammy, and you’re starting to think you might actually be sick.

Big brown eyes flit to yours and you swear this is the first time he’s fully looked at you since that night. “‘M sorry, darlin’. You’re so young n’ it just wasn’t right what I did–it was a mistake. ”

A mistake.

“Of course…” You feign agreement, hoping that you can somehow conceal the look of disappointment in your expression. Your eyes flit to anything and everything at the campsite that will take your mind off of this horrific moment.

“It won’t happen again,” he says with booming finality, the final arrow to your bleeding heart.

“Ain’t gotta feel guilty about it, Joel. It’s fine. We can forget it ever even happened.” Eyes cast downward, you awkwardly avoid his gaze.

“Right–okay let’s do it then.”

“Are we gonna still be…?” Your mouth twists into a contorted angle while you chew at your lips, anxiety still settling into your bones.

“I think we make a pretty damn good team–if you’ll still have me.”

You scoff, a playful smirk creeping up across your face. It’s a facade, but you’re going to have to fake it til you make it. “Who else is gonna get me food?”

“‘S that all I’m good for? Twizzler runs and huntin’ game for you?”

“Ya aren’t much for conversation, but you aren’t terrible company either. In all honesty, though, I wouldn't survive a week out here alone–so you’re good for a lot more than that.”

“You’d make it without me.”

Your eyes narrow into slits. “Don’t patronize me.”

“I’m bein’ serious, darlin’. You just need a little bit of trainin’ and the right attitude and you’d survive out here just fine” He takes three long strides in your direction until he’s towering over you from where you sit, hand resting on your shoulder. “We’ll start your trainin’ tomorrow mornin’, first thing. Be ready.”

The weight of his hand abandons your shoulder once more, but his warmth still lingers. He heads into the tent, taking the first shift. Usually, Joel only slept a few hours at a time. You’d wake him by eleven and then it’d be your turn to sleep until morning.

“Goodnight,” you say with empty enthusiasm. He grunts in response and then zips the tent shut.

**********

Early morning light peeks through the crack of your tent, illuminating the threads of your blanket from dark purple to a soft shade of lilac. You can tell from the color of the light that it is far too early for you to be awake yet, so you snuggle back into the sleeping bag–which still smells smokey like Joel–and doze off.

“Rise and shine, sweetheart!” A gruff voice rips you back into reality and your eyes peel open. At the front of the tent, you see Joel, bent at the knees, peering into the opening of the tent. “Today, we’re teachin’ you to hunt.”

“Five more minutes…”

“No can do, sweetheart.”

“You’re such a fuckin’ stickler!” Mornings were never your cup of tea, there was no good reason to be up before the sun lifted its ass from the horizon. Maybe there was a reason before, but not now.

“What happened to wantin’ to experience school? If you were in school, class would be startin’ soon.”

“Did you know that the world ended?” You sit up, making sure to cover your bosom with the sleeping bag–not that it was anything he hadn’t seen before.

“Not for the whitetails. They’re are out ‘n about in these early mornin’ hours, so now is the perfect time to catch ‘em by surprise.”

“First class of the day: huntin’.”

“Is that part of a normal university schedule or are you just pullin’ this outta your ass?”

“Pullin’ it outta my ass.”

“Then you better make me a delicious school lunch.”

Joel bellows into a roaring laugh and your heart flutters at the sound.

“That funny?”

“More ‘n you know. Ain’t no school lunch that was delicious, least not where we’re from.”

“Huh, you’d think they’d feed the kids the good stuff.” The more you hear about life from before, the more it feels like a distant alien planet where people did odd things.

“Get your stuff on ‘n let’s go. Next class’l be math.”

“Math?!”

“Come’on.” He zips the tent shut and leaves you to change.

After you slip on your cargo pants, you tug on your boots, mumbling under your breath as you fumble to tie the laces. From inside the tent, you still converse with Joel. “I’m startin’ to sound like you old man, no wonder you’re so cranky. You don’t even get any sleep!”

“Yeah, I’m busy huntin’ food while the princess sleeps,” he says from a distance.

“And I thank you for it every day, Joel.”

It was playful bickering, really, and there was a tugging feeling inside your chest that made you feel like the two of you were an old married couple.

“Just want you to be able to take care of yourself if ya ever have to.”

Something about that doesn’t sit right with you as you're bent at the knee, tying the knot on your left shoe, holding the once-smooth lace between your fingers, frozen in thought for a beat of time before you give it one final tug.

The opening of the tent feels cool against your palm as you enter the camp, sticks crunching beneath your feet as you make your way to Joel, his back is to you, broad shoulders tense underneath the green flannel of his shirt. He’s strapped with his rifle and working to fill a bag up with ammo when he notices you.

“What are we bringin’?” You’re at his side now, getting yourself familiar with the gear he’s packing for the hunt when he turns to you.

The silent response has you spin to face him, hand on your hip as you gesture for him to respond.

His eyes are fixed on yours, left hand flexing as he looks at you expectantly.

“What?” You mutter, still very ripe with early morning grouchiness.

And then he says cooly, “You gonna wear a shirt, darlin’?”

A shirt. You forgot to put on a damn shirt.

You swallow, cheeks probably stained red as your heart pounds violently from the embarrassment of it all.

He probably thinks you’re trying to seduce him by showing up in a frilly pink bra that barely holds the weight of your breasts–not by choice but more so thanks to lack of availability. Your last bra had the straps snap. A push-up bra was about all you could find on your recent raids and one that was about one size too small at that.

Play it cool.

“I was gettin’ to it,” you say, real snippy and sharp. “Wanted to see what all the noise with all your packin’.”

“Same noise I’ve been makin’ every morning. Loadin’ my bag with ammo.” Joel’s eyes are firmly locked onto yours and not on your nearly bare chest. Either his behavior is out of respect or disinterest, you can’t really say.

Your mom once told you that men typically get bored once they’ve laid with you.

“Very good. I’ll finish gettin’ ready then.” You wiggle your brows and then dip back into the tent, grabbing a plain white T from your humble selection of three shirts. The mundane task of pulling the fabric over your head helps calm your nerves.

About twenty minutes deeper into the woods, Joel finally speaks. “You should try coffee. Might help ya in the mornin’.”

“Hmm, maybe. Never tried it before.”

“That’s another thing we gotta add to the list.”

“Not the crap you drink, I meant real coffee from a real coffee shop.”

“We’ll see what we can do.”

“We really don't need to do the whole list thing–” you begin before Joel hushes you, the elbow of his arm is pressed to your breast to stop your movement. You swallow, your eyes trailing on the veins of his thick arms and then he points to something in the distance.

If you squint hard enough, you can see a deer up ahead, golden coat stark and shimmering against the green landscape of the clearing.

Joel loads the chamber and then rests his trusty .308 in your arms. You’re shocked by how heavy it is, having seen Joel effortlessly sling it over his shoulder for weeks. It’s been his prized possession since he found it, because it means the two of you can eat something more than just canned goods.

Your face starts to feel clammy and the grip feels slippery in your now sweaty palm.

“No, I can’t do this–really.”

“Yes, you can, darlin’.” His voice warm against your ear and you feel his chest against your back as he guides your arms to hold the gun.

“Right hand on the grip, left on the handgrip. Let her butt rest steady against your shoulder. Does it feel steady?”

“Yeah.”

“Press your cheek to the stock and aim down your sight. Aim right above the shoulder, don’t miss ‘n hit the stomach otherwise, she’ll bleed out. You want to get her in one shot and put ‘er out of ‘er misery.”

“Wait what? You’re telling me I can’t miss?”

“You’ll be fine,” his tone is nonchalant.

“I can’t do this…”

“Just aim your sight.”

His calloused hand steadies your shaky hold on the handgrip, tilting the gun up slightly as he urges you to check your sight. You do, and when you land right on the spot he gently removes his grip on you and tells you to breathe and squeeze the trigger.

With hesitance, you obey, swallowing hard before you hook your finger on the trigger and pull. Palms still slippery with sweat, you feel the gun shift just a hair to the right the very second before the bullet launches.

The problem is that you forgot to breathe.

“Shit! I missed!”

“Nah, you didn’t.” Joel leaps up, bolting through the trees and into the clearing. You dart after him, but his long legs and ferocious stamina take him to the fallen deer before you.

When you reach your kill, you realize very quickly based on the heaving chest and labored breathing that she was still very much alive.

Tears water your eyes and cascade down your face at the image of another being suffering because of something you did. It was one thing to hunt for the sake of eating, it was another to hunt poorly and leave the animal to suffer unnecessarily. How can you live with yourself?

“W-What do we do?”

“Close your eyes,” Joel reaches for the handgun tucked into his belt and then the blaring noise of a gunshot leaves your ears ringing. Your heart is pounding like a drum, your stomach swinging, and you feel the blood rush out of your face in a matter of seconds.

“I told you to close your eyes.” His voice is muffled and there’s an odd sense that you, and him, and the whole world is deep underwater, and for some reason it makes you want to–

Vomit. Violently.

Your fingers are tangled in the grass beneath your palms, yanking on the green strands to stay balanced on planet Earth. Everything is spinning so you heave, and heave until you can’t anymore.

“Baby…”

The next thing you know, you’re in Joel’s arms, head pressed to his chest. You sway to the rhythm of his footsteps as he carries you through the trees and back to camp. He lays you down in the tent and for a brief moment of consciousness, you catch him watching you, his eyes piercing into your soul as he appears deep in thought. And then he leaves, zipping up the tent behind him, his footsteps fading off somewhere into the trees as you drift back to sleep.

~~~ Thank you for reading, more chapters to come soon <3

masterlist here

#joel miller #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel x reader #joel x reader smut #joel x you #the last of us #fanfic #joel miller fanfiction

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maryangelex · 1 year ago

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Never Let Me Go

Captain John Price x f!Reader

Part 2 here

Summary: You worked at a coffeehouse, your life is filled with mundanity and you wouldn't change it for anything else. That is, until one crisp autumn morning, you meet the handsome Captain John Price and there’s an immediate, undoubted connection between the two of you.

WC: 3,352

Warnings: fluff, smut in other chapters, cheesy coffee shop au, inaccuracies, soft!price, barista!reader, some reader descriptions, slow romance, pet names, meet-cute.

A/N: Remember that Price series I mentioned? Here ya go!!! Each chapter will be the title of a song I feel is related to it or that I was listening to while writing it hehe so make sure to check that out ;) I'm planning for 6 chapters but there might be more. Smut will happen eventually, of course!

The song for Chapter 1 is I'm On Fire by Bruce Springsteen, but also the covers of it by Awolnation and Gus Dapperton.

Happy reading!!

Dawn was breaking through the clouds. The waking sun broke through grey clouds that poured a steady, incessant shower of rain; the contrast of the glimmering rays against the somber clouds painted a watercolor sky.

You walked down the cobblestone street, the heel of your shoes clinking with every stride as you walked into the coffeehouse at a speedy pace. It was the middle of autumn, the weather was tepid and chilly. You worked at Roasts & Poets, a hybrid of a cafe and a bookstore that your sweet aunt had left your favorite cousin, and she had been gracious enough to let you run it alongside her.

Every morning was the same, and you wouldn't change a thing about it. You arrived at the crack of dawn to open the cafe, you were alone until your cousin arrived much later; you had always been more diligent and work-oriented than her when it came to running the cafe. You went through the whole process of the opening shift: setting the chairs and tables, stocking the sugars and napkins, picking up your cousin's slack from yesterday's closing shift, and setting out the freshly baked pastries.

That's how you start your day every day. Your life was simple yet rewarding. Alone behind the counter, you took in the sight of the deserted shop, the smell of the books on their shelves collecting dust hitting your nostrils while sleep was still weighing down your eyes. The stillness and silence of the shop every morning made you content and warm.

About half an hour later, your cousin arrived. The energy in her contrasted your mellowness. The minute she walked through the door, the sound of her cheery greeting and of the edge of the door's swing knocking the bell atop it sparked you awake. You gave her a wide smile as she stormed in, the rays of sun being her spotlight.

"Morning, cuz," she beamed, you returned the greeting mid-yawn, followed by you letting out a loud sigh. She set her coat on the hooks next to the door beside yours -- you two had set those there as a cozy detail for your customers.

"I had the best night last night," she started, walking towards you behind the counter and tying an apron around her waist the same as you. "Remember that guy I told you about?"

"The Birmingham one?" you scoffed, remembering the drunken night when your cousin could not stop rambling about the bloke from Birmingham who stood her up.

"No," she rolled her eyes, "the hot one my friend set me up with!"

You vaguely recalled, giving her an affirmative nod as your eyes drifted up, trying to remember the details of her extensive, messy love life. The two of you had been close and very similar since you were kids, but what stood out between you was how much of a hopeless romantic she was. You were more reserved about it; even though you knew it sounded cliche, you had decided long ago that the right man for you would come to you one day. Your knight in shining armor, your prince charming, perhaps. So you'd rather wait passively for that moment rather than how your cousin approached men head-on.

You listened to her fawning over her most recent rendezvous with her new suitor, amused and enjoying her experience vicariously.

As the day progressed, you welcomed and attended more patrons. You and your cousin took turns between taking orders and ringing up anyone who purchased books. There were a few regulars who came in every morning for a quiet space to work in, and others who just liked to lounge and read a book they had purchased along with a coffee in the comfy sofas you and your cousin had picked out when setting up the shop -- you had lost count of how many years ago that had been.

When the shop was slowing down, you liked to prop your elbow on the counter, resting your chin on your hand as you people-watched. You loved the tranquility of it, thinking about each one's stories, reading them like books.

One of the regulars was a man who always came in a burgundy knitted sweater and sat down with his laptop and headphones. He was quiet and reserved but always left you gratuitous tips; you knew his order and routine like the back of your hand. Another one was an older lady who always wore something pink, no matter what the rest of her outfit consisted of or what the occasion was. She was kind as well, but when she was feeling chatty she would sit at the counter and talk your ear off; today was a quiet day for her as she sipped her chamomille and read her novellas.

As much as you enjoyed the peace of the shop, today was not a great day for silence for you. You hadn't gotten the best sleep last night, you had opted for binging the show you had been obsessing over and downed an entire bottle of wine by yourself. So, between your early start to the day and the light thumping of the headache you had medicated was making your eyes heavy with sleep. You couldn't wait for your shift to be over, maybe you would ask your cousin to let you lie down in the back.

The sound of the bell as the door swung open jolted you awake for the second time today. You stood upright, fixing your posture and glancing at the door to greet the incoming customer. Your eyes captured a man you hadn't seen before around the area. He was tall with a bearded face and had a burly physique, sporting a navy blue sweater and grey coat that matched the beanie he slid off his head. You gave him a welcoming smile, not paying him much mind because of the sleep that still crept into your eyes. He returned the gesture as he made his way across the store, disappearing from your vision.

You let out a sigh as you rubbed your knuckles into your lids. You desperately need a coffee if you want to get through the day, you thought, turning on your heels to pull yourself two shots of espresso. You poured the shots into a cup of milk you had frothed, making yourself a latte to spark some energy into you.

As you turned back around to face the counter you were caught off guard by--

" 'Scuse me, miss?" a smokey voice startled you, making your body jump in place with a gasp escaping your lips. The latte in your hands splashed in your grasp at the sudden response of your body, its contents lightly spilling over your apron.

"Shit!" you hissed, setting the cup down on the work counter behind you and grabbing the nearest rag to wipe your hands clean from any coffee that got on them. You looked up to the man across the counter, laughing at yourself in a mix of embarrassment at your clumsiness and lighthearted amusement.

At that moment, your eyes caught onto the face of the mystery man who had recently walked in. His expression was genuinely concerned and apologetic, truly not knowing what to do with himself as he stood across the counter.

"I'm so sorry, love, didn't mean to startle you," he stumbled over his words, "you alright?"

His voice was raspy and deep, sultry even. You noted the details of his face: blue eyes stared back at you, surrounded by long lashes and bushy eyebrows, his pink, velvety lips slightly parted as if having more apologies to let out, his nose pointed and narrow, and his beard neat and full. He was handsome, truly, and you couldn't look away.

"No worries!" you finally let out, a large smile on your face. "That's what these things are for!" you let out an awkward laugh, too loud to not give away the fact that you were flustered by his looks. Your hands worked the knot of the apron that tied at your waist as you spoke.

The man let out a nervous chuckle as he watched you, still dumbfounded and itching to help in some way like he was uncomfortable with himself for just standing by.

"What can I help you with, sir?" You asked, tossing the apron in a bin under the counter, where you and your cousin kept any kitchen cloths and rags that needed to be washed after your shift. You didn't break eye contact with the man as you did, you found it impossible to when his blue eyes sucked you like the depth of an ocean.

The man cleared his throat and fixed his posture, a nervous smile pulling at his bearded cheeks, "I was just wonderin' if y'could help me pick out a book" he pointed his thumb over his shoulders to the shelves behind him, "Any recommendations? 'M not sure where to look."

You responded with an eager 'of course' as you circled the counter, leading him to the array of shelves. "Are you looking for anything in particular?"

"Erm, up to your suggestion, really," he stood behind you, letting you take the lead, his eyes weighted on you. You responded with a pensive hum as your eyes scanned the shelves, hand holding your chin. You mumbled something under your breath and moved on to a different shelf. You reached for one of the books and turned back to him, handing the selection over to him. He took it from your hands.

Large hands, you observed. You hadn't realized until now how much taller the man was compared to you. You weren't a petite girl, but, this man stood tall; the way he carried himself proudly made him look even larger.

He eyed the book, taking a moment to read the cover. He chuckled lightly to himself and glanced over to you.

"As You Like It," he read.

"You read it?" you asked a bit flustered, afraid you had made the wrong choice, "I recommend it to everyone."

"I haven't, actually," he looked over to it again, "Not very well versed in Shakespeare."

You chuckled a bit, "Well, this is a good one to get you into it."

"I trust you," he said, a smirk on his face that made your cheeks burn.

"It can be a bit hard to read but..." you shrugged, "It's one of my favorites."

"I'll come to you if I need help, then."

Your stomach fluttered at his words. Was he flirting? Maybe he's just a charming guy, nothing special.

"Would you like anything else?" you stuttered. His gaze made you shift and adjust yourself, making you feel vulnerable to have it on you.

"I'd like a tea to keep you company while you finish your coffee if that's alright," he flirted, his husky voice made the hairs on your arms stand up.

You simply nodded with a smile and he followed you back to the counter. He sat on one of the stools as you stood behind the bar, he had asked you for a black tea and you steeped it for him, setting down a creamer and cup of sugar for him to add to taste. You went back to the latte you had made yourself, pouring it into ice after having let it get cold, and observed the man as subtly as you could manage. You noted he liked his tea on the sweeter side, maybe you would use that information for the next time he came around. You hoped he would.

You watched as he took a sip from the cup, humming to himself and licking his lips as he set the cup back down. 'Good tea', he said softly as if to himself. You couldn't help but let a smile tug at the corners of your lips; something about him enjoying it was pleasant to you.

"I'm John, by the way," he spoke up, his arms crossed on the counter. His eyes were on you again, and they were amiable and warm as they held contact with yours. You responded by telling him your name.

"Are you new around here, John?" you reclined on the counter behind you, your coffee in one hand.

"I am, I just moved in nearby," he took another sip from his cup.

"What made you pick this place, if I may ask?"

"Well, military accommodations, mainly," he cleared his throat.

Military, you thought. No wonder he was such a large and buff man. You noticed the flexed muscles that bulged under his sweater. That sweater did them no justice, you were sure.

"So you're a soldier?"

"Somethin' like that, yeah," he scoffed with a smirk. You gave him a small smile as well but chose not to press any further.

"What about the shop, what made you come in here?"

"Seemed like a cozy place to spend the day," he gave you a once over, not very conspicuously, "the pretty barista's a bonus."

You rolled your eyes at his comment but couldn't help the reddening of your cheeks or the growth of your smile that you tried but failed to suppress.

At that moment, your cousin walked through the door. John's eyes didn't budge to look at the door, though, they were glued on you. She passed behind him, giving you the most excited expression you had seen on her face thus far, and mouthed something along the lines of 'He is so fit!" as she made her way to the back of the store with bags of ingredients in her hands. You scoffed at her and returned to look at John.

"You flirt with all the baristas you find pretty, John?"

"Only the ones that look like you," the man quipped, chuckling lightly to himself as if acknowledging how cheesy he was being. His comment made you laugh wholeheartedly, shaking your head at it.

John finished his tea and fished into his pocket for his wallet, "I hate to leave, but... how much do I owe you, love?"

"It's on the house," you crossed your arms over your chest, giving him a cheeky look, "for being a first-time customer."

John gave you a smile with lightly flushed cheeks himself along with a grateful nod. He left his wallet in his pocket as he stood up from his seat and dressed his head with the beanie he had come in with.

"I'll come back 'round to tell you how the book's goin'," he signaled the book in his hand on the way out the door, "You make great company, love."

"Likewise, John," you bit your bottom lip to keep yourself from gushing at his words. You were using every atom in your body to not let yourself completely overflow with glee.

John gave you a final look and raised his hand goodbye before exiting the shop. You returned the gesture and watched him walk away down the street until he disappeared from your line of sight.

Once he was gone, you let out a deep breath you didn't know you were holding. You felt your heart skip a beat, maybe two, or even three beats as all the blood from your body surged to your face. Your cousin came skipping giddily from the back of the store, squealing like a schoolgirl as she embraced you. You couldn't help but join her in excitement. The two of you spoke in loud whispers behind the counter.

"That man is in love with you!"

"Oh, don't be ridiculous, he was just flirting!"

"Don't you be ridiculous! His eyes were devouring you, idiot! He might as well have fucked--"

You shushed her loudly and cupped your hand over her mouth, the two of you giggling. You two realized you were still on the clock, with some of the patrons shooting glances at you. It made you both adjust and compose yourselves as best you could, but shot each other knowing looks as you returned to work, cleaning dirty dishes and whatnot.

"So what's his name?" she asked.

"John, he just moved around here-- says he's in the military."

"Agh, hot!" she sang the last word. You rolled your eyes.

"What book did you give him?"

"As You Like It"

"Should've given him Lady Chatterley's Lover, maybe he would've taken the hint," she laughed as you pushed her with a hand playfully.

The rest of your shift went by uneventfully. You continued to serve more customers, tended to the regulars, and maintained the space. When it was closing time, the rays of the sun entered through the large windows, this time casting the golden glow of dusk. You mopped the floors of the shop and let yourself go deep into your thoughts.

You thought about John, of course, studying all the details you had taken note of. The way his lashes fanned over his deep, crystal blue eyes; how much care was put into maintaining his facial hair and how soft it looked; how chiseled his nose was; how the sweetness of his smile complimented the sweetness he liked in his tea. He looked much older than you, but you didn't mind the slightest, it was a minor detail to you, if anything. You recalled how he called you pretty, and it made you blush and gave you butterflies. You really hoped he'd come back, but didn't want to disappoint yourself if he didn't.

Once you two had finished closing, you stood outside the door with your cousin as she turned the key and locked the shop. She continued to tease you about John, making both of you laugh and making you blush with the innuendos and childish taunting she kept telling you. You bid each other farewells until tomorrow, walking your separate directions.

You lived just a couple of blocks away from the cafe in one of the many apartments nearby. A flat you had all to yourself and you enjoyed the solitude, you had learned to be with yourself from having been your only company, besides your cousin, throughout your life.

It made you think about the fact that it had been a while since you had liked someone. Did you like John? The question stood out in your mind. It was definitely too early to tell, you had just met the man quite literally today, hours ago even. But you would be lying if you didn't say you felt some sort of attraction, chemistry between the two of you. Those hopes for seeing him again only grew the more you suppressed them.

But you kept telling yourself 'Don't get too excited,' because you might not see him again, after all. For now, let's simply call it a crush, it's all it was, really. Just a man you found attractive, a kind stranger you made you feel pretty and flattered momentarily, after so long of not hearing any men do so or having their attention.

John certainly gave you a lot of his attention, you thought. Those blue eyes of his. He entrapped you with them. An act as simple as being looked at by him made you feel undressed and vulnerable.

You shook your head when you were in your flat, just standing there in a trance deep in thought. You sighed and cursed at yourself under your breath.

You practiced your nightly routine of eating dinner by yourself, showering, dressing in your coziest pajamas, and sitting on your couch alone with either a book or a movie, and maybe a glass of something, maybe wine or a soothing tea.

And for once in your life, you hated being alone.

For once you wished there was someone to keep you company. A company as nice as John had kept you today even if it was brief. You sulked a bit on your sofa as you let that forlorn feeling take over just a little bit.

And though as much as you loved mundanity, the feeling of having someone new and exciting disrupt your routine sparked a warmth in you.

God, you hoped you'd see John again.

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pleasestayawayidonotlikeyou · 2 months ago

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@itsastridsart I'm so so so sorry this took so long to write and yet it's still going to be split into parts, but I've got a plot for this story!

Featuring: Passive/Nightmare sans x reader

Masterlist

Once in a Nightmare.

|First Chapter(you're here)|Next Chapter|

You met Nightmare before everything. When he was still the pure soul of the past. Your AU had been destroyed by it's own creator, as they thought it was "too cringe", you didn't know how you managed to escape, but your wings came in handy, being an angel-demon hybrid has it's vantages.

Having nothing else to do, you decided to travel through the multiverse, passing from universe to universe without really caring about the people there, it's not like they could replace the missing feeling of your dimension.

And then you discovered dreamtale.

There was something off with it, you felt it the first time you visited. And the second. And the third. That skeleton that was always next to that tree.. he looked so.. familiar.. as if you had known him before..

You just snug it off and appeared right next to him, ready to start a talk and never return!

But your grin faded away when you saw his beat up, having injuries all over his bones and skull, his face facing you in terror as you touched his cheek.

"What... Happened to you..?"

Silence.

"...I can't leave you like this."

You came prepared for situations like this, for fell universes people, for yourself, it didn't matter for who it was. What mattered was that you were already wrapping his injuries up, disinfecting and cleaning them.

It didn't take much time for him to warm up to you, the only person who didn't have a burning hate for him, and it didn't take long for him to gain feelings.

He adored you, everything, the way you treated him, your sweet and caring touch as you treated his injuries, it hurt so bad, but he loved the way you'd be with him, making sure he's okay...

And when you accepted his feelings after he confessed? Oh dear he was head over heels, he was almost crying of happiness.

"..(_____)?"

"Yes?"

"Can you... Promise me something..?"

"Of course Nightmare!"

"Please.. never ever leave me alone.. please promise me we'll be together.. forever.."

"I promise Nightmare, I promise."

He held your hand, a ring on his finger and a ring in yours, you both are going to be married soon...

He made you promise. Promise never to leave him.

Until the accident happened.

One day you came back and everything was... Destroyed. Dream was stone, everyone was dead. And the worse, a gloomy skeleton standing in the middle, sitting at the now cut tree. You recognized him. The moon ring on his finger gave it all away. It was Nightmare. The man who you once loved, even with a different visual, you knew who he was. You didn't think twice and fled, you couldn't just believe it... This was just a bad dream... Right?

You kept the ring on your finger, it was the only memory that remained of him.. even after decades, centuries, you refused any man's advance, like you were waiting for a certain someone..

Rumours spread around the multiverse, and quickly found a skeleton's attention..

"Let me go!"

You screamed as your body was carried by three skeletons who had just broken into your house and kidnapped you, restraining your movements with ropes tied around your wrists, wings and legs.

"Heh, afraid we can't do that, boss told us to bring ya to him"

"Who?"

No response.

The skeleton with black eyes only chuckled and continued walking, you saw a gloomy gigantic castle in the distance.. you feel like the energy of this place is familiar..

It didn't take long for you to be inside, fancy cyan decor filled the halls, the skeleton, whose name you learned to be Killer in the way here, led you to a dinning room and sat you on one of the chairs, telling you to wait for his "boss".

Some paintings of someone who looked oddly similar to you with a black skeleton decorated the walls as a cyan-purplish light coming from a gold chandelier illuminated the room, you looked at the elongated dark wood table that had an irregular oval pattern in front of you and then at the dark cyan chairs with small golden details surrounding it.

You suddenly felt a tentacle wrap around your eye line, you tried to get it off, yet the ropes tied around your body didn't help. But as soon as it came it left, facing you with a plate of food placed on the table and the same skeleton of the paintings sited right in the chair in front of you.

"My my, look what we have here.."

The sound of his rough and deep voice filled your ears, his eye looking into the depths of your soul as a smirk formed in his face.

"Missed me, (_____)?"

".. W-who on earth are you.."

His expression shifted to an offended one, one of his hands touching his chest.

"Don't even remember your own fiance my dear?"

He exaggerated, showing the moon ring in his bony finger making you freeze for a second.

"I don't know where you found that ring, by my fiance is long dead."

"Oh no no no darling, is it too difficult for you to understand?" He pauses. "I'm your fiance, my dear."

He laughs as a tentacle untied the rope of your wrists and grabs your hand, showing you the sun ring on your own finger.

"My sunshine... I know you remember the promise you made. And I know you still love who I was... So.. why not love the new me huh?"

#undertale #undertale au #sans au #sans undertale #sans x reader #sans #dreamtale nightmare #nightmare sans x reader #nightmare sans #x reader

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morgana-larkin · 10 months ago

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okay okay okay, this is silly but i just need a fic where mel goes all silly and awkward when r is around, abbott staff notices and so does the camera crew where sometimes they caught / filmed when mel is being like all goof around the girl, and when the crew interviews her about it she threatens them and tries to make them wipe off the tape but r pops up to the interview and was like "no, no, you're too cute in there mi cariña, and once again, Melissa who's always in her so tough bravado, immediately folds in live action and makes a fool out of herself and r thinks it's cute. I just need a fic where Melissa loses her sht and melt because of a girl lol bahsjjajaja

Ask and receive 😉. I really liked this prompt and had a lot of fun with the fic so thank you for suggesting it. As always, not edited at all and I hope you like it!

And just so everyone knows, I’m working on another prompt. And for all the Worth It fans, I am working on chapter 7 so don’t worry, it’s not abandoned or forgotten. Everyone feel free to send in any prompts you want.

Part 2

Caught on Camera

Warnings: none

Words: 2.1k

Melissa is leaning against the wall looking at the camera, arms folded, getting interviewed. She was getting asked a question when you walked by and smiled at her. Melissa looked at you and smiled back, then she lost her balance and stumbled for a second before immediately correcting herself. “Melissa?” The interview person said, getting her attention. Melissa turned to look at them. “Sorry, what was the question again?” Melissa says and continues with the interview.

Melissa was walking down the hall with Barb when you walked by. “Good morning girls!” You told them as you walked by them and Melissa looks at you and turns her body a bit. “Hi sweetheart!” Barb says “hi y/n” Melissa says to you with a smile. As you walk away in the opposite direction, Melissa stares at you while still walking and accidentally walks right into a wall. “You ok Melissa?” Barb asks and tries to hide a snicker. She knows her best friend has a little crush on you. “Ya I’m fine.” Melissa tells her. Unknown to Melissa, the camera caught it.

“I’m telling you it’s true!” Jacob says to Melissa one day in the break room. “No it isn’t.” Melissa tells him, she wasn’t going to change her mind no matter what he says to her. “Y/n, back me up here.” Jacob says as you enter and Melissa whips her head around to see you. “Back you up about what?” You ask. “That Misty Quigley is totally into girls.” He says and you laugh. “Oh she definitely is, even if they don’t outright say it.” You say. “Melissa doesn’t think she is.” Jacob says and you look at Melissa. “Wel-well I guess she could be. I-I just, well they would need to confirm it for it to be 100%.” Melissa stutters and everyone looks at her. “Melissa, she totally is, like she was so obsessed with Natalie and even asked her to go to the reunion with her, basically as her date.” You tell her. And just like that, Melissa switched sides. Everyone looks at each other, wondering why Melissa switched so easily and quickly as soon as you said your opinion. The cameras on the other side of the room caught the entire conversation.

All the teachers are gathering in the gym for a meeting before school. Melissa is sitting next to Barb in the middle aisle at the end, with the trio right behind them. She has her arms crossed and feet out , and half on the chair. You walk by and smile at her and give her a wink. Melissa stares at you and proceeds to slip forward and falls off the chair. All 4 of them asking if she’s ok while they all try to hide a laugh. One of the cameras caught the exchange.

Melissa was getting interviewed out in the hall about the read-a-thon. “Oh I still got this, Janine’s class is going down.” She says and you walk by. One of the cameraman asks if you could be a part of the interview. You agree and are told to stand right beside Melissa. You get asked about the read-a-thon and who you think will win. “Oh Melissa’s class for sure. Her class wins every year.” You said confidently and Melissa blushes and has a goofy smile that she tries to hide, but the camera caught it.

On another day, Melissa is getting interviewed again, you walk by and get asked to be a part of it again. When Melissa gets asked to speak again she doesn’t know what to say. All her brain processes is that your arm is touching hers and all that comes out of her is a stuttering mess. The interviewer smiles after you two left to continue the day, he sees that Melissa acts differently only around you.

The next day, Melissa is interviewed again. This time she gets asked about you. “What about y/n?” She asked. The interviewer smiles “we have a bunch of moments where you act differently when she’s around.” Melissa blushes. You heard the question as you were walking by to the bathroom and you stop to listen. Melissa glares at them, “delete all that footage or I know a guy that will make you.” She tells them sternly. “Delete it? Melissa no, you’re too cute in them mia carino.” You say and she freezes, her mouth open and eyes wide in shock as she processes what you just said. Then her cheeks go red and closes her mouth as it goes dry. “Oh, ok, ya..of course, ya, they should keep the footage.” Melissa says, stuttering and stumbling through the entire sentence.

After the camera crew figured out that Melissa likes y/n, and her entire tough bravado falls when she’s around, they try and get moments of them together on camera and try and interview both of you together as much as possible. And every time, without fail, Melissa blushes and smiles, and her tough Philly girl act is basically non existent. While they know Melissa’s feelings about you, they don’t know how you feel about Melissa.

“How do I feel about Melissa?” You say the question they asked. “Oh, well she’s nice and very passionate about what she does, it’s kinda cute.” You say, trying to hide a smile, the camera catches it.

The rest of the Abbott crew caught on to Melissa’s feelings, and they have fun whenever Melissa’s personality completely changes when you’re around, which is every time.

Then the PECSA weekend comes. When you get there, you find out the hotel accidentally overbooked and they don’t have a room for you. You sighed, disappointed and defeated, you turn and go to walk out. You walk right into Melissa as soon as you turn around.

“Oh Melissa! I’m sorry, I wasn’t paying attention to my surroundings.” You tell her.

“Y/n, hi, oh it’s fine, it happens. Shouldn’t you be heading the other way though to bring your stuff to your room?” Melissa says to you with a blush.

“Oh actually they overbooked and I don’t have a room. So I’m gonna go see if another hotel close by has a room I could stay in.” You tell her.

“What? Nonsense, just stay with me.” She says and your face goes red.

“What? Really? Are you sure?” You ask her and Melissa’s brain catches up with what she just said. She isn’t going to back out now though, especially when she sees the hope on your face.

“Ya, ya of course. Let me just check in and then we can go up.” She tells you and you accept her offer with a huge smile. The camera in the lobby caught you two.

After she checks in, and gets 2 keycards, you and her go to the room and you freeze when you see only one bed.

“I promise I don’t bite. But I do want the right side.” She tells you. And on the inside, she’s freaking out, the fact that she’ll get to share a bed with you for a whole night…she feels a rush of happiness run through her whole body.

Once you two get settled in, you go downstairs to where all the teachers in Philly are and the convention booths and Barb is there waiting.

“Hey Barb.” Melissa greets her. “Sorry I’m late. They overbooked and y/n here didn’t have a room, so she’s staying with me now.” Melissa says with a grin, and Barb gives her a look then looks to you.

“Oh, sorry that happened sweetheart. I’m glad Melissa was able to help you out.” She tells you.

“Ya I’m glad she was too. I won’t get in your way though. I’ll let you two do your thing.” You say as you go to walk around by yourself.

“You can always join us sweetheart.” Barb says and Melissa snaps her head to Barb as Barb gives her a smirk.

“Ya of course, just join us, more fun when you’re with other people.” Melissa says and smiles at you.

You smile and accept their offer. You stay close to Melissa the entire time and vice versa. They don’t stay long though, they go to leave after they run into Janine. The smile on your face falls when you realise she’s leaving to go to the pool, and are about to ask Janine and Jacob to walk around with them when Melissa grabs your shoulders with her hands.

“You can come with us hun.” Melissa says and she lights up when you accept. You’re glad you packed a bathing suit, you knew there was a pool and packed one just in case you get time to swim.

You come out of the bathroom in your bikini but with a little beach dress covering you. You two walk down to the pool and meet Barb there. They find some lounge chairs and order drinks. You put your towel on your chair and take your dress off, revealing your body in a bikini. Melissa is sipping on her drink when she sees you take your dress off and she chokes and starts coughing. You go and gently pat her upper back and rub and Melissa’s face goes red and her breath hitched. Melissa has a hell of a time trying to keep it together and try not to stare too much when you’re swimming in the pool. She feels like life is testing her when you climb out with the ladder, with your hair and body all wet and you walk towards where they are to get your towel. Melissa can’t help but stare at your body as you dry your hair with the towel. Barb had to give her a small nudge to snap her out of it.

It only got worse for Melissa when it was the big party time. You come out with a black dress on that stops mid thigh and has a revealing neckline that shows off your chest amazingly. Melissa stares at you as you walk out of the bathroom, and if she was paying any attention, she would have noticed you staring at her. Melissa stares at you almost the entire night. At one point they were going to sit down until Melissa’s sister comes and sits down and they get up to leave.

“Hey guys, are you leaving? I was just about to come join you at the table.” You say as you make your way over. Melissa immediately sits back down again.

“No we were just going to walk around a bit but that can wait, come sit.” She says and gets a look from her sister and Melissa sends her a glare. You look and see that there isn't another chair around and before you do or say anything, Melissa grabs your waist and pulls you down to sit on her lap. You freeze and Melissa wraps her hands around your waist and smiles.

The more into the night it gets, the more drunk you and her get. At one point you guys are walking to get drinks and you stumble a bit and crash right into Melissa, and she’s tipsy too and she stumbles back into a wall. She freezes and blushes like crazy when she sees that she’s trapped between you and a wall. You look up at her to apologise but freeze when she’s already looking at you and she licks her lips when she looks down at yours. You lean in and kiss her and her whole brain freezes. You go to pull away when you realise she isn’t kissing back, but then she pulls you back in and kisses you back. The cameras caught all of it.

The next morning you, Melissa and Barb are sipping energy drinks to help ease the hangover. When you all step out of the elevator, Melissa wraps her arm around your waist and pulls you to her and kisses the side of your head and you smile at her. The entire Abbott crew saw as you catch up with them.

“Um, what was that?” Janine asks you both.

“What was what?” Melissa asks. And they all know not to question it further, but they still all smile at the two of you. As you guys walk out, you pass by a camera and Melissa looks up at it and smiles. She got her girl.

Taglist: @esposadejoyhuerta

@imaginesmultifandoms

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If you wish to be added then let me know!

#melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti x oc #melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti #x reader #fanfic

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