#i didn’t want to show off too much of this fic since i’m almost done but :) hehe

[chryzure-archive]

WIP quote

Princess Gillian sits in the sun, the beams of light filtering in to caress her form. She closes the sketchbook in her hands, setting it beside her on the cushion of her high backed chair. "When can I convince you to stop being this formal with me, Lyric?" She smiles at him as he raises his head.

“Am I special?” he asked over his shoulder.

Chryseis clicked her tongue.

“You don’t need to be special. You just need to be mine.”

[mystic-writings]

just a twisted ankle | newt

PAIRING – newt x fem!reader

REQUEST – @heliads - hi monty!! saw you wanted some newt requests so i simply could not hold back. could i please request a newt x reader fic in which newt and reader are both track-hoes and obviously in love with each other but pining in silence? alby and minho are doing their best to get them together but they're both excruciatingly oblivious lmao. thank you so much!!

SUMMARY – you and an overly protective newt are in love. the only problem seems to be that everyone but you and him are aware of it.

WARNINGS – weird behavior, obliviousness, fluff, semi-crack?, friends to lovers, minor injury

WORD COUNT – 3,031

NOTES – AAAA this has been in my requests for forever and i’m just now writing it?? i absolutely loved writing this and a big big thanks to @shmaptainwrites for being my lovely beta reader!

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There were very few downsides to being a Track-hoe. You enjoyed being outdoors all day, breathing in the fresh air and the amazing smell of fresh plants, chatting with your fellow track-hoes and generally enjoying yourself. 

The main issue you had was the dirt. 

Sure, it was essential to your job, but it was the worst possible thing about it. You didn’t even mind the sweat and aching muscles most of the time, because that just meant a job well done. But the dirt? If you could plant and grow things without it, you would. The way it stuck to your clothes, your skin. How it buried itself into your pores and underneath your fingernails and took forever to scrub off your skin. 

The biggest upside, however, was Newt. 

You’d been here almost 2 years, and he was quite possibly your favorite person in the Glade. He was the first person besides Alby to reach out and connect with you, not really caring or fearing the fact that you were, and still are, the only girl. Minho was the second person to do the same. 

Newt, over time, had become your biggest confidant about almost everything. You spent pretty much all of your spare time with him, and he with you. After long days, you’d take the time after dinner to walk around the Glade. Sometimes you’d talk, and sometimes you’d just enjoy one another’s presence. Everyone knew not to mess with you, and the Greenies that didn’t usually learned their lesson pretty quickly. 

You liked to call him your protector with a smile, mostly because he’d always flush bright red at the compliment. 

It’d been a few days since the box came up, and the newest Greenie, Jason, was still getting his bearings around the Glade. He’d only learned his name yesterday, and that was after he threw up watching Winston show him how the slicers do their jobs. Today, he was with you and the other Track-hoes. 

He’d been mostly hovering near Zart and Newt, who were showing him the ropes. You, however, caught him glancing over at you a few too many times. It was normal for a Greenie, and for you, since you were the only girl. But it didn’t stop you from feeling slightly uncomfortable. 

Jason had been staring at you — as Zart was showing him how to de-weed the vegetables — until Newt clapped him on the shoulder. Faintly, you could hear them talking. 

“Stop staring, mate. Focus on the job.” Newt said, his tone laced with that all-too-familiar protectiveness. It made you smile, the way his eyes pierced into Jason’s and struck him with a fear he seemed to make all the Greenies feel when it came to you. 

After a while, you felt Jason resume his staring, even after Newt’s ‘warning’. You knew that he’d learn sooner or later, you just hoped it was the latter. While you were digging up some carrots, knowing it would take you forever to clean under your fingernails before dinner, Newt’s shadow blocked your view of the sun, forcing you to look up at him.

“Come on,” he nodded to the deadheads. “Zart said we need more fertilizer.” 

Extending a hand upward, Newt pulled you to your feet before handing you the second bucket. As you departed from the gardens, you swung the empty bucket and sighed. “I don’t know why he never just sends one of us. There’s no way this is a two person job.” 

“I’ve stopped questioning Zart,” Newt shrugged. “He’s the Keeper, what he says, goes. That’s all.”

Contemplating Newt’s words, you looked up at the leaves for a moment and tripped on a root. Newt barely caught you as you lurched forward, both buckets landing on the forest floor. “Besides, I think if you tried to do this yourself, you’d trip and break your neck.” 

“Well,” you exaggerated a sigh, “can’t have that, can we?”

Newt shook his head, grabbing the buckets. “No, we can’t.” 

After making it to the fertilizer pile and back with no further injury, the day carried on as normal. Newt and Zart continued training and carefully watching the Greenie to see if he was exactly up for the job of Track-hoe. 

By the time the dinner bell rang, you were exhausted. You felt like this most days, but today you had to devote more energy than usual on making sure the Greenie wasn’t staring at you as if you’d solve all of his problems just by talking to him. 

You and Newt took off at the same time, chatting about the Greenie and whether he was good for the Track-hoes or not. “I hope not,” you groaned. “He keeps staring at me. He’d spend more time looking at me than doing his actual job if he got put with us.”

“I know,” Newt chuckled. “I spent the day with the poor shank. You have no idea how many times I had to divert his attention back to his work, it was unbelievable.”

You shook your head. “Trust me, I know. I could feel him staring at me all damn day.” 

The dining hall was already pretty full of Gladers, milling about or grabbing food or sitting down. Quickly, you could smell Frypan’s beef stew wafting from the pots on the table. Your stomach suddenly felt empty, and you couldn’t wait to pour yourself a bowl. You and Newt moved in tandem, pouring out soups into your own bowls from ladles hooked on the edge of the metal pots and grabbing cups of water from the table beside you. 

Minho was already sitting at your usual table, peacefully eating his soup amid the usual chaos. Joining him, you and Newt sat across from him, digging into your food. Minho usually ate in silence, with the exception of joking around when the others got to the table, so you didn’t mind listening to the din of the conversations happening around you for a little while.

Soon, Frypan joined Minho’s side of the table, already boasting about how well received the stew was. Just as he was about to ask how everyone liked it, and as you were spooning more into your mouth, Jason approached your and Minho’s end of the table. 

“Hi.” He said, entire body stiff, as if unclenching his muscles would make him disappear. 

“...Hello?” You replied. “Is there something you need, Greenie?”

Jason laughed, but it sounded more like he was choking. “No, no. I just— I, um, I was wondering—”

“Cool it, slinthead,” Minho interrupted. “You’re not going to get anywhere with Y/n, here. She and Newt are practically married, even if they don’t know they are.”

With a disgruntled air around him, Jason admitted defeat and left the table to go find somewhere to eat his dinner. 

You furrowed your brows at Minho. “Me and Newt aren’t married, what the shuck was that all about?”

As if things couldn’t get worse, Gally stepped up to the table on Newt’s other side. “Are we talking about you and Newt? Have you finally gotten your clunk together and started dating? Because I’ve been waiting for this for almost two years.” 

“Nah,” Frypan said. “They’re too scared to admit something like that, Gally. You know that.” 

“Yeah, and it’s getting on all of our nerves.” Minho said. “It irritates me more than the Newbies do.”

“Could you stop talking about us like we’re not here?” Newt snapped. “It’s really annoying.” 

The group exchanged looks and you couldn’t help but smile. The rest of the dinner passed, and soon Alby joined you at Frypan’s side. The conversation flowed, as per usual, and you were able to let go of the pain your joints carried as you went back for a second helping and relaxed with your friends until sundown. 

It was no surprise that Newt left when you did in order to walk you back to your room in the Homestead, where he bid you goodnight and headed to his own just down the hall. Just as he reached the door, though, he turned back and walked over to you. 

“Just letting you know,” he began, “The Greenie’s staying on as a track-hoe tomorrow. Alby doesn’t want him doing a trial as a Medjack just yet. But I won’t be there either. Me and Gally have to be in the council hall tomorrow to talk with some of the other Keepers about scheduling. Stay safe, please.” 

You giggled. “Don’t worry, Newt, I’ll be just fine. The most that Greenie’s gonna do is stare at me, and I can’t die from something like that. Plus, I’ll have Zart and the other Track-hoes with me for the day.”

He sighed, almost reluctant to go most of the day without you. “I’ll see you at breakfast then?”

“Yes, you will.” You nodded. “And dinner. Now go to sleep, Newt.” 

With another goodnight, you and Newt headed into your respective rooms to settle in and go to bed, an unusual day ahead of you.

Despite waking up and starting your day with Newt as you usually would, it felt odd to split from him after Frypan served breakfast. It felt odd to not turn to him for casual conversation as you de-weeded the tomatoes and harvested carrots for tonight’s dinner — some sort of fried rice, you remember Frypan telling you at dinner last night. 

Your day passed in relative silence aside from occasional chatter with the track-hoes or receiving orders from Zart. You avoided Jason as best as you could, and it seemed his embarrassment from last night still lingered as he was determined to stay on the opposite side of the field, despite still staring at you when he got the chance. 

Sometime near the end of the day, you’d run out of fertilizer, and as usual Zart had sent you with both buckets to refill them. The trek was definitely boring without Newt to talk to, but you managed to fill both buckets and head most of the way back without incident, injury, or going crazy in the silence of the deadheads. 

However, your luck was bound to run out at some point. 

Just as the rays of sunshine were poking out from the field ahead, you tripped on a particularly large tree root sticking out of the ground. Both buckets flung from your hands as you stuck them out, attempting to break your own fall. Pain radiated from your ankle, palms, and wrists as you landed harshly on the ground, staining your clothes and skin with dirt. 

After you processed what happened and pulled yourself up, you first inspected your palms. Wiping away the dirt, several scrapes and cuts revealed themselves, accompanied by irritated and angry skin surrounding them. Taking a moment to catch your breath, you tried your best to stand, but crumbled when you put weight on your right foot. 

Hissing, you pulled up your pant leg and tried to touch around the area, only bringing yourself more pain as you did so. Figuring out how to get out of here was going to be difficult, especially without abandoning the buckets of fertilizer. After some time, you managed to find a particularly large stick to support the weight you would’ve put on your injured foot, hooked one bucket handle on the crook of your elbow, and took the other in your free hand. 

As best as you could manage, you brought the fertilizer to Zart, who quickly took notice of your condition. 

“What the shuck happened to you?!” He exclaimed as you shifted your weight. 

Looking down at your foot, you sighed. “A large tree root got the jump on me, Zart. Now will you please help me to the Medjacks so I don’t have to use this shucking stick anymore?”

Almost jumping into action, Zart wrapped an arm around your torso and pulled your right one around his neck, helping you along to the other side of the Glade. You were beginning to see now why he usually sent Newt with you. 

Upon reaching the Medjack hut, Clint and Jeff took over for Zart, ushering him away to get back to work. You were grateful for the Medjacks and the care they seemed to take with you. They made sure it was relatively painless for you as Clint examined your ankle and Jeff cleaned the cuts on your palms, keeping casual conversation with you as they did so. 

It was only as Clint was wrapping your ankle ��� Jeff already having done so with the heels of your palms — that Newt came barrelling into the room. 

“We were wondering where you were,” Jeff quipped as he put away the roll of gauze he’d just used. 

Newt ignored the other two people in the room and came to sit on the edge of your bed. “What the bloody hell happened to you?”

“It’s not like I almost died, Newt.” You told him, but let him take your hands into his to look at. “I was getting the fertilizer from the deadheads and tripped on a root. It’s nothing more than a twisted ankle, I promise.”

“You promised you’d be fine today without me.” Newt corrected you, and you couldn’t help but chuckle. 

“And I was. I just lost my footing to a root. I’ll be back up and running in a few days. Right, Clint?”

The boy at the end of the bed nodded, taping the tensor bandages into place. “Exactly. After three days of no work and constant elevation, you’ll be just fine.”

Newt looked back at the boy. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I am.” Clint said. “I’ll even have Jeff come check up on her twice a day to make sure her foot heals. Okay?”

Newt considered Clint’s words for a moment before nodding. “Alright.” 

Soon enough, the Medjack’s left you and Newt alone in the treatment room. It was silent, and Newt still held your bandaged hands in his, not daring to say a word. 

“Are you okay?” You asked eventually, feeling that you’d studied the boy’s face enough to gather that he was still deeply upset and in thought. 

Newt’s eyes snapped from your hands to make eye contact with you, and you could see the emotion pooling in his dark irises. “I dunno. I know it’s stupid, you’ll be fine, but… you were hurt. On the one day I wasn’t there with you.”

Turning your hands over in his, you grabbed his palms and squeezed. “But I’ll be fine, Newt. Look, I’m still healthy, aren’t I? Breathing, talking. That’s what matters. And it’s not your fault, it was just a silly accident.” 

“I know, I just… the thought of you getting hurt makes me want to go crazy.” Newt admitted. “You being safe is all I care about.” 

Your heart stuttered in your chest as your face warmed. “I… I didn’t know it meant that much to you.” 

“You do.” Newt stated. “You mean that much to me.” 

“Newt…” you whispered. “I think those slintheads were right.”

His face scrunched up. “What d’you mean?”

“I think… I think I like you. A lot more than I realized.” You gathered more courage with every word you spoke. “Newt… I think I’m in love with you.” 

You watched his eyes widen as you spoke, hands still interlocked. Newt seemed to be stunned by your impromptu confession, and even you were surprised by it. Up until ten seconds ago, you were unaware of how big your feelings for Newt were, but now that they were out in the open, it was easy to see as you looked back on things. Your thoughts ran at a hundred miles a second, flashing with the memories you made with Newt and how close you’d gotten over the past few years.  

It took you a second to pull away from the memories and realize that Newt had yet to respond. 

“Newt?” You called out, trying to get his attention. “I shouldn’t have said anything. Look, we don’t have to do anything about it, we can forget it ever happened—”

“No.” Newt interrupted. “I don’t want to do that.” He adjusted his grip on your hands, stroking your knuckles with his thumbs. “I… I love you, too. I think I have from the moment I met you.” 

Your lips stretched into a wide, blissful smile, and Newt’s expression soon matched yours. Slowly, he leaned in closer to you, shortening the distance until his lips were inches from yours. 

“Can I kiss you?” He whispered.

“I’d like nothing more,” you told him, and in seconds, his lips were on yours and your hand was touching the back of his neck and you were both in a state of bliss you could only dream of until now. 

You spent the next few hours with Newt, who sat next to you on the bed with an arm around your shoulders, talking mostly about how you both failed to notice your feelings toward each other for so long, occasionally disrupted by mini-makeouts. When the dinner bell rang, Newt promised to explain your injury to your friends and bring dinner for you both to eat in the Medjack hut. 

When Newt came back, two steaming bowls of chicken rice in hand, the blush on his face was unmistakable. 

“What happened?” You laughed as he passed you the bowl and sat on the bed. “What did they say to you?”’

“They didn’t say anything.” Newt corrected you. “They heard about my hauling ass across the Glade to get here from the council hall, that’s what. And they basically figured us out.” 

“Really?” You fake gasped. “It’s like they’ve been trying to tell us about this for the past two years or something.”

“Ha, ha,” Newt rolled his eyes. “Eat your rice. After you’re finished, I’ve got to take you to the Homestead.” 

“My hero,” you smiled, and Newt couldn’t help but to kiss you once more before you both dug into your meals. 

Once your ankle was healed, it was no surprise the uproar your friends caused when you were finally able to walk to breakfast hand in hand with Newt. After all, they had been waiting years for this.

forever taglist: @mazerunnerrose @theboldandthebootyful @miraclesoflove @heliads

newt taglist: @superduperswitchbitch @jessimay89 @newtsmyhusbend @hehehehannahthings @fr-ogii @ghostofscarley @badbatch-simp24 @xhenix @letosart13 @erospecies @pariahsparadise @imabee-oralizard @ella33 @ellablossom @bluesongbird @1-800-isabellapotter @ajordan2020 @alexxavicry @uncontainedsmiles @thethreeeyed-raven

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[afterglowkatie]

pair of pests: tattoo ˏˋ°•*⁀ kyra x catley!reader, short fic/blurb

kyra cooney-cross x reader | 1.2k | based off of this ask

‘Kyra, Kyra!’ A fan in the stands shouted out to try and get Kyra’s attention since she was walking by quite close. Kyra looked towards where she heard her name being called out, lifting her hand up to wave while smiling at the fans. Until one of them, the one that had tried to get Kyra’s attention, looked quite familiar to her.

Kyra made her way over to the girl, though she couldn’t exactly pinpoint why she felt so familiar to Kyra. She didn’t try that hard to figure it out, putting it down to probably having seen the supporter at multiple matches, ‘Hi,’ Kyra smiled at the girl, greeting her and leaning slightly on the barrier.

‘Kyra, could you get Tiny please. I want to show her this,’ The girl lifted her arm and that's when it all clicked for her. 

You and Kyra were going around to all the Arsenal fans after one of your matches at home. Laughing, messing around and taking what time you had to spend it with all of the fans that came to support you. You were signing jerseys and taking photos until you had come across this one girl who’d asked you to sign her arm instead of her jersey.

‘Are you sure that’s what you want?’ You laughed, not used to being asked to sign a part of someone’s body. It was the first time you could recall where someone wanted your signature on their body, ‘I’ll sign your jersey too if you want,’ 

‘I’m going to get your signature tattooed,’ The girl told you right before you went to sign her arm. Your face dropped in shock before a little smile formed. You didn’t know what to say. You were flattered that you could mean that much to someone you didn’t know personally enough that they wanted a tattoo dedicated to you, ‘Wow,’ was all you could speak, almost freezing in place for a minute, ‘Are you sure?’ Your voice wasn’t your usual confident self that you normally had while you were with fans.

‘Definitely, you’re my favourite player. I love watching you play, you’re amazing and one of my biggest inspirations,’ Your smile kept getting bigger, listening to how one of your supporters was talking to you. 

‘Keep talking like that and she’s gonna get a big head,’ Kyra laughed next to you, shaking your head slightly before placing a little kiss to your temple when she noticed the small pout directed at her, ‘No pressure babe,’

‘Yeah,’ You breathed out before grabbing the marker from the girl and steadying yourself before signing her arm, making sure you did your best version of your signature, writing your jersey number underneath. You gave the marker back and leant forward bringing the girl into a hug, ‘Thank you so much, you’re the first person who’s asked me for something like this. If you post it make sure to tag me, I want to see it when it’s done,’ You pulled back, looking at where you just signed. You were still in awe at the entire situation.

‘Yeah I’ll go get her for you,’ Kyra stared at the tattoo, she felt a sense of pride wash over her. Kyra would forever be proud of you, a little bit more when things like this happened. It’s just a reminder of how far you’ve come in your life and career. The way you can connect with others through the sport you chose to pursue when you were just a kid. 

Kyra loves your interactions with fans, the way she knows that you help people so much. She made her way over to where you were, you were never too far away from each other so it was quite easy to spot you. You were on your way back to the tunnel when you’d stopped for a group of fans that had gotten your attention and you being who you are, just couldn’t not stop for people.

‘I’m sorry but I’m gonna have to steal her away,’ Kyra made sure to wait for a break in you signing jersey’s and taking photos before she slid her arms around your waist pulling you into her a little. You turned your head and smiled towards Kyra, leaning into her touch. Fans loved seeing the two of you interact, being quite carefree whenever you were in places where you were the most comfortable.

‘What’s up Ky?’ You gave the supporters you were talking to one last smile and a little wave before following where Kyra was leading you towards.

‘Tattoo girl is here,’ Kyra beamed at you. Your eyebrows shot up in surprise, you knew exactly who she was talking about.

‘Ky, baby, look,’ You and Kyra were just laying on the couch, cuddled up watching a movie and scrolling through your phones. Your head laying on Kyra’s chest, her fingers playing with your hair. Kyra gave you all her attention when you’d looked up at her while holding your phone up so she could see, ‘That girl from the match that day, she actually got it tattooed,’ You couldn’t stop looking at the photo. 

You thought it was crazy that someone had actually gone through with something like that. Still in disbelief that it even happened, it’d all felt like a dream. Some days you still felt like that same little kid that used to just kick the ball in the backyard with her older sister, not feeling like you were grown up enough or good enough for something like that to happen. 

You were just a girl who liked to play football, who was good enough to make a career out of it. But you had to remember, and things like this reminded you, that you were a girl who was inspiring others, someone who was good enough for people to look up to and to be someone’s favourite. You don’t think you could ever get used to it.

‘Wow, that’s so cool,’ Kyra took your phone to have a closer look at it. She looked down at you, smiling softly, her eyes holding so much love for you, ‘I’m so proud of you,’ Kyra kissed your lips gently first, then placed little kisses all over your face, making you laugh a little.

‘Stop, I didn’t do anything,’ You felt your cheeks heat up, hiding your face in Kyra’s neck.

‘You do so much more than you’ll ever realise,’ 

‘I still can’t believe this,’ You smiled so wide when you’d gently reached out holding the girl's arm while you looked closely at the tattoo, ‘I love that I get to see it in person,’ You gently ran your finger over the lines of your signature on the girl's arm. The more you looked at it, the more it was beginning to feel real and sink in, ‘Thank you,’

‘No, thank you for everything you do. On and off the pitch you’re incredible,’ You were never one to accept compliments all that well, so you stumbled over a response. The only thing you thought that could ever say ‘thank you for choosing me to be your favourite’ enough was giving your jersey.

So you quickly pulled back and slipped off your jersey, borrowing a marker so you could sign it before giving it to the fan and one last hug before having to go. When Kyra could tell when the thought of giving away your jersey ran through your head, she had already slipped off her jacket and held it up ready to wrap you up in it before you’d even taken your jersey off.

You had no idea that this would lead into others asking for similar things from you, opening the realm of possibilities and to many more tattoos in your honour being done.

[obbystars]

Encounter Nihilism

Synopsis: “Just because they don’t have any eyes doesn’t mean they don’t have other senses. Come on, you should know that by now.” Z-13 (Sebastian Solace)

Notes: Not exactly a Sebastian Solace x Reader fic but you can read it as such / read When Light Fades before reading this / Reader deaths, nothing too angsty though / Sebastian being an asshole (and we love him for it) / Experimental deaths + cutting off limbs / Brief angst at the end / may be a tad bit shorter than my usual (it bothers me)

Credits: dividers by @cafekitsune

(Is it obvious this is self indulgent? I really love When Light Fades, super proud of it. I haven’t decided if I’m gonna take this concept and use it for an OC yet, but oh boy, it’s getting strong. Anyway, this fic’s meant to explore more on the reader featured in When Light Fades while also continuing to experiment with Sebastian’s character.)

As you swam to the next door, you hear strange noises coming from the other side. It’s not the Good People, they can’t come into the flooded rooms. It doesn’t sound like an angler either. You continued forward and the next door slid open. Your eyes widened at the sight of the creature on the other side as it looked at you.

Panicked, you try to climb into a locker. You don’t make it in time as you feel its tentacles wrap around your head to crush your diving mask, but that isn’t what kills you. The creature manages to trick the operator behind the PDG by attempting to remove it, causing immediate detonation.

You woke up with a gasp in an all too familiar room.

“I heard that,” Sebastian leans on his hand as his lure flickers on, “What’d you run into this time… Ah,”

You looked down as he slides over the document. An image of the creature you encountered is shown and beside it was another photo that was redacted. Maybe in another death you’ll see what that other photo is.

Nihilism was the codename Urbanshade had given it. A lot of the text within the first page was left redacted, and only a few lines were on the second page were visible.

“If by chance any operative encounters Z-8 within any flooded rooms, it is advised to remain still and turn off any light source currently in possession. Wait for Z-8 to pass.”

That was the only line you were able to read. Sebastian begins to tap his finger against the desk. You sit back and he takes that as the signal you’re done, but it’s not like you read much anyway.

He sighs as he closes the document, “Think of if as Red Light, Green Light. Surely you’ve played that game before,”

“Ugh, this feels worse than Pandemonium…” you groaned, leaning on the table.

“Pretend you’re a corpse floating in the water. That should be pretty easy for you, yeah? I mean, you have died quite a lot,”

“Screw you…”

Upon your next life, you find yourself in the trench tunnels about 20 doors in. It was an area in Hadal Blacksite you despised since it showed you that the anglers can attack from the front. You stepped out of the locker once the angler passed by and turned on your flashlight. There’s no squiddles in this room so you decided to look through the drawers for anything useful.

In the corner of your eye, you swear you saw something moving in the dark water. It wasn’t the Eyefestation as you didn’t see a green glow. Instead, it was Z-8. You freeze once you finally realized it, and you clicked your flashlight off. They looked like they were just passing by, but they suddenly turned to look at your general direction. Did they somehow sense you turning it off?

“Are you alive?”

You actually freeze up this time. It was a voice inside your head, but it wasn’t like Eyefestation where it tried to mimic the voice of the person in the PA. This was its own voice.

“I can sense you there,”

You start taking shallow breaths, almost resorting to holding it.

“Don’t worry. I can’t reach you. But when I do, it’s not personal,” it continues, “We’re both fighting for what we want, right? Freedom from this place?”

You try to not listen, thinking it’s only try to persuade you into meeting up with it. Maybe even striking up some sort of deal.

“I wish this wasn’t how we met, but I owe Sebastian. This is my favor to him,” its tone suddenly changes, “We can’t let you get that crystal,”

“…they owe Sebastian?” You whispered to yourself.

The Eyefestation suddenly emerges from the dark, and Z-8 swims out of her way as her eyes turned red. A new voice cried inside your head, pleading for you to look into its eyes. The next thing you knew, you were back in the room with Sebastian who stifled a laugh as he slides over the document to you. You had questions concerning what Z-8 had said, but maybe now’s not the right time to ask.

“For unknown reasons, Z-8 is somehow able to communicate with Z-317 “The Eyefestation.” Should operatives see Z-8 outside the windows, or hear its voice, DO NOT LISTEN and keep moving forward as they cannot reach you. They have already called “The Eyefestation” and are trying to keep you in the room.”

Sebastian closes the document, still trying to keep himself from laughing, “A tag-team! Who would’ve thought, huh?”

You rolled your eyes, “I can’t believe that’s how I died,”

“Like a deer in headlights,” he smirks as he leans closer, “Happens to all of us, but man, I thought you’d be used to seeing that shark considering the amount of times you looked at her,”

“She just startled me! I’d love to look at her if she wasn’t able to kill me just by making me look at her,” you shrugged, “She is a beautiful shark,”

Sebastian gives you an odd look and groans, “Get out of here already,”

“Fair enough,”

The next few deaths to Z-8 were more of trial and error. In your most recent death, you learned the hard way that Z-8 does not like the flash beacon and did not hesitate to detonate your PDG. You felt like it was a strange reaction considering it took them a moment to even react when you used any other light source.

“Got grabbed again, did ya?” Sebastian laughed.

He then slides the document to you, now revealing the entire document with some text still left redacted. Some documents contained those, such as his own, and you learned to stop caring about it. At least it wasn’t like the Multi-Monster. Previously redacted photo was now uncovered. A person whose face was obscured.

Z-8 - Codename: Nihilism. Real name: ▇▇▇▇ ▇▇▇

In early 2011, five LR-Ps were selected to be a part of an experiment to achieve immortality. Out of the five selected, only Z-8 survived the first round of tests. Z-9, Z-10, Z-11, and Z-12 all succumbed to different effects as each subject was given a different dosage. Although Z-8 survived, they were not immune to the effects their dosage brought. As a result, the experiment was left on hold until researchers found a better source to reach the desired goal.

By 2013, the experiment resumed using the immortal jellyfish as originally planned along with the mimic octopus, the ▇▇▇, and ▇▇▇▇. Z-8 was used again for the next test and hasn’t experienced any side effects on the first day. Two days later, a guardsman escorting Z-8 noticed they have been stumbling and bumping into the walls. On the seventh day, Z-8 had gone completely blind. However, it has been noted that Z-8 is capable of sensing where there is light and where someone is even if they are not moving.

Z-8 soon began to struggle walking and can’t seem to have a tight grip. It didn’t take very long for them to lose all feeling in their arms and legs. They were still able to move their torso as well as their head. They were still capable of speech, but Z-8 has been refusing to talk.

Z-8 was meant to be executed due to the state they were in, but thirty minutes after their heart seemingly stopped, it soon started to beat again. They wake up an hour later as if they had just taken a nap with all of their memories still intact, but Z-8 still cannot see and still cannot walk or move their arms. This resulted in having to move Z-8’s location into a more suitable cell for testing.

Z-8 has endured 5 deaths before changes in their body started becoming clear. Shortly after, testing and studying the regenerative properties Z-8 should have began. Due to poor execution during the procedures, Z-8 ended up enduring 7 more deaths. By the 4th death, a new side effect to Z-8’s resurrection was noted. Upon death, coral (polyps) begins to form on their body.

Their body soon takes the form of a humanoid jellyfish, leading to having to relocate them again. Z-8 no longer turns to others when they are near until they shine a light. The behavior they show gives the impression they like the light and often try to follow it, sometimes moving their head or even their entire body.

Z-8 will then be used to study the regenerative properties further until it can be refined in a way that is desirable.

Before the lockdown was in effect, Z-8 was going to be sold at The Anomalous Auctions as Z-8 had been deemed of no monetary value, nor can be used for work. 5 hours into the lockdown, camera footage caught Z-13 transporting Z-8 to an unknown location.

If by chance any operative encounters Z-8 within any flooded rooms, it is advised to remain still and turn off any light source currently in possession. Wait for Z-8 to pass.

DO NOT move as Z-8 can sense you nearby, but they can’t differentiate between a corpse and a living person until you move.

Turn off any and all light sources in your possession as Z-8 can sense it and become curios. Your window to turn it off is narrow, but it’s still wide enough to not raise their suspicion.

There is a chance where operatives may find Z-8 roaming in a dark flooded room with S-Q. If the room prior has lights on, Z-8 will go into that room. It is safe to move in the dark room as Z-8 cannot tell the difference between you and the S-Q.

For unknown reasons, Z-8 is somehow able to communicate with Z-317 “The Eyefestation.” Should operatives see Z-8 outside the windows, or hear its voice, DO NOT LISTEN and keep moving forward as they cannot reach you. They have already called “The Eyefestation” and are trying to keep you in the room.

Unlike Z-13, operatives are instructed to contain Z-8 as it is impossible for the subject to stay dead.

You’re not exactly sure what to say to all of this. Sebastian is being much quieter than usual too, not even closing the document when you sat back. You look up at him, building up the courage to speak.

“So that’s what they meant when they said they owe you…”

“They don’t owe me anything,” his voice lowered into a growl, “It was their choice to stay much like that shark,”

You look down at the document again and sighed, “Kinda feels like there’s much more than that,”

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

You sighed again as you stood up to leave. Sebastian watches you go and looks back down at the document, then closes it without another word.

[nurse-floyd]

Broken Promises - Part 2

Max Verstappen x Leclerc!Reader

Anon request: I wanted to make a request for an angst by Charles Leclerc, where they have an argument because he has been very distant but he doesn't want to accept it and end up saying hurtful things without knowing how to fix things later.

I took this request and ran with it deciding it would be a good continuation of this fic

Warning: mentions of crash, ICU and hospital stays. Angst with a sweet ending.

The evening spent with Max had been amazing, if you were being honest you dreaded going back to your apartment to the loud noise and people and just wanted to spend it by the ocean with him. He managed to convince you…or maybe it was the birthday cake that was waiting. It was definitely the cake. 

He led you back to your apartment and you managed to sneak back in, Arthur and Lorenzo had kept your guests entertained and told them you needed a moment. Turns out the break was exactly what you needed, and of course you were still mad at your brother but it didn’t matter tonight. You smiled as Max brought out your cake and you made a wish before blowing out your candles. The pair of you cut a slice to save to enjoy later when all of your guests had gone for the night. 

The next morning you woke up to a text from Charlies and your bad mood started all over again. 

Charlie: I hope you enjoyed the night, Arthur and Lorenzo said it was good. I’m so sorry once again. 

You didn’t care for his apologies. You were done with him and his promises. 

He must have seen that you’d opened his message but didn’t reply because the next thing you knew his caller ID was lighting up your screen. 

“What?” 

“Is that any way to speak to your brother, sœurette?” 

The tone of his voice just irritated you in a way only one of your brothers could. How could he speak to you like that after how he treated you yesterday. 

“What do you want, Grand frère?” You almost spat the pet name you use for him. 

“I told you I was sorry, y/n. Did you have a good time?” 

“No, Charlie. I didn’t. I wanted you there. You promised me. Arthur and Lorenzo were there and Max. The only reason I didn’t cancel was because he convinced me.” 

Charles knew there was no point arguing with you further when you were like this and he’d been beating himself up ever since he’d sent that text; but duty called. He had to work and he couldn’t get out of it, especially with how last minute his team had called him in. 

He sighed, “will I be seeing you at the race this weekend?” 

“Yes. Unlike you, I keep my promises. I’ll be there, but not for you Charlie. I’m going for Max.” 

“Y/n wait-” 

You didn’t bother listening to what he had to say, “goodbye Charles.” You hung up, cringing at the use of his full name. You never called him Charles. 

Max walked into the kitchen where you were sitting at the breakfast bar and kissed you as he passed. “Was that Charles?” 

“Yeah, just asking if I was coming to the race this weekend.” 

“You need to for-” 

“If you say forgive him so help me Verstappen,” you warned slightly playfully but also not wanting or willing to forgive your brother just yet.  

He held his hands up in surrender, “just, don’t give him too much of a hard time, he’s probably been beating himself up over it.” 

You knew Max was right, but still he’d hurt you. Two days later as you made your way through the paddock holding onto Max’s hand you decided to forgo seeing Charles, he was probably too busy anyway. You both made your way to the Red Bull hospitality tent avoiding Ferrari and Charles at all costs. 

Luck, however, wasn’t in your favor. Charles had heard about your arrival and seen it on his socials. He’d seen you in your Red Bull jacket and baseball cap, not a hint of Ferrari red on you. Usually you’d have a piece of merch from both of the drivers in your life, wanting to support the pair of them; but you knew this would piss him off. This was a final act of defiance to show how much you were still angry with him. 

You knew you’d gone too far when you saw a red shirt moving through the crowd of blue. Charles was in your face before you had a chance to react,  “Why are you doing this?” your brother asked. You’d never seen him look so angry and hurt; maybe now he’d understand how you felt the last three years. “I’m your brother and you’re not even supporting me, how is that going to look to the fans?” 

“To the fans? Is that all you care about? Maybe now you know how it feels to have your own sibling not show up for you. Besides, I’m not here to only support you Charlie, Max is my boyfriend and I support him too. He is just as important to me.” 

His face fell, “you know what? I’m done. Do whatever you want y/n but just don’t expect me to be okay with it.” 

You couldn’t help the tears that welled up in your eyes as you watched him walk away. 

The few people who were around for your argument slowly went back to their business leaving you alone. Charles nearly slammed into Max as he left the tent to prepare for the race. 

“Charles?” He called but his friend ignored him. He turned back to see you nearly in tears and rushed to your side. 

“What happened?” he asked as he put his arm around you to lead you to somewhere more private, where prying ears couldn’t listen in. 

“I don’t want to talk about it. Let’s just get you ready for the race, yeah?” You wiped your tears and turned your attention to him. 

You made your way to the monitors and placed the headset on your ears, standing with the rest of the Red Bull team as the formation lap began. Then it was lights out. 

Max pulled away first, closely followed by Lando, Carlos and Charles. They battled for first place as they inched round the first corner. It always made you nervous seeing your brother so close to the other drivers but thankfully they made it through unscathed. 

You could tell Charles was driving aggressively, the way he inched closer to the McLaren’s on the corners and pushed his car to the limit as he overtook them. You watched nervously, trying to focus on enjoying the race, Charles knew what he was doing. 

Suddenly, a gasp went through the room and time seemed to go in slow motion as Charles' car clipped the back of Lando's, sending it into a horrific flip. Charles’ car somersaulted through the air before it finally crashed down and skidded to a halt, only stopped by the wall. 

Your heart was in your throat as you waited for any signs of life. “What’s going on? Is he responding?” You asked as you all watched on in shock. 

“We don’t know.” 

“What do you mean you don’t know?” You called back, you wanted nothing more than to rip the headset off and run to the Ferrari garage. You heard the red flag being called and the cars were called back to the garage, but your focus was on the screens as you watched the medical car rush to the scene. 

You didn’t know how much time had passed, but Max had made it back and was at your side. He walked you over to the Ferrari garage where you were met with red rimmed eyes as they tried to get any information from the track medics. Max could tell you were in shock. He kept tight hold of you, his touch a grounding presence as you waited for any news. 

One of Charles’ engineers made his way over to you and Max as he noticed you standing there. “The medics are with him now, he’s alive but he’s unconscious. They’re working on getting him out.” 

You finally let the tears you’d been holding fall. If it weren’t for Max holding you up you would have fallen to the floor right there. The race was called off, none of the drivers wanting to continue after that. 

You were in a state of panic, your breaths coming in short painful gasps. You wanted nothing more than to be with your brother. “I need to go with him. Let me go!” You cried. 

Max held you tight against his chest, his own face etched with concern for his friend. “We’ll go to the hospital. I’ll get us there, okay? He’s going to be okay. I promise.” 

“You don’t know that,” you looked up at him, tears still streaming freely down your face. Your mind was a whirlwind of guilt and worry. The last words you’d both spoken to each other ran over and over through your head. You couldn’t let this stupid argument be the last thing you both said to each other. 

When you got to the hospital, the news wasn’t what you wanted to hear. You wanted nothing more than to go into his hospital room and see him sitting up; to be able to tell him how sorry you were and how you hated fighting with him. The news wasn’t good though. Your brother was in the ICU, unconscious and his condition though stable was critical. You sat in the waiting room, your hand in Max’s as you waited for a nurse to bring you back to see your brother. 

Hours felt like days before a doctor and nurse finally approached you and Max. They updated you on his injuries and you were finally allowed to see him. Your heart broke as you saw him through the window hooked up to various tubes, machines and wires. 

You hid your face in Max’s chest as your tears fell once more, not being able to look at how broken he looked. You weren’t sure how you even had any tears left to shed. 

“I should have been there for him. I shouldn’t have said those things. He wouldn’t have been driving so recklessly -“ 

Max cut you off, “we all drive like idiots sometimes, it’s the nature of the sport. This wasn’t your fault. He knows how much you love him.”  

You nodded, knowing he was right but the guilt was still there. 

“Do you want to go in and see him? I can come with you or stay out here?” Max asked. 

You nodded and gripped your boyfriend's hand tighter as you both entered his ICU room. All you could do was sit and wait and pray. Pray for Charles to wake up, pray for a chance to make things right. 

You sat by his side, never leaving. You barely slept, your eyes fixed on your brother, willing with everything you had for him to wake up. As the days went by the news was getting better, the machine breathing for him was removed and he was showing signs of recovery, but he still hadn’t woken up. 

It was late into the third night when you felt his hand tighten around yours. You thought you had imagined it at first but your heart leapt when his fingers twitched around yours once more and his eyes began to flutter open. You jumped to your feet, tears flowing down your face once more but this time out of relief. 

“Charlie?” You called hopefully, your voice thick with emotion. 

Charles blinked against the harsh bright lights, disoriented but a small smile came across his lips as his gaze landed on yours.  

He coughed weakly, his voice raspy from disuse, “y/n?” 

“I’m here. I’m right here, Charles,” you reassured, smoothing his hair back. 

He looked at her with a small smile playing at his lips despite everything he’d just been through, “you’re wearing a Ferrari hoodie?” 

You let out a shaky laugh, tears still streaming down your face, “couldn’t exactly be representing Red Bull at a time like this.” 

He laughed, followed by a groan. 

“I’m sorry, Charlie. I am so sorry for everything. For my birthday and the fight…” 

Charles squeezed your hand weakly, “I’m sorry too. I should have been there, I promised and the fight at the race…I just wanted your support as well. I didn’t realize how much I’d hurt you.” 

“None of that matters now. I’m just glad you’re awake. I just need you to be okay.” 

Charles nodded, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I’ll be okay and I promise I will make it up to you,” he held up his pinky which you linked with yours. 

You both stayed like that for a moment, your hand clasped in his. Max stood at the doorway happy to see his friend awake and the pair of you making up. 

As the doctors finished their checks and left the room, you sat down beside Charles, holding his hand. 

“You scared the shit out of me, you know? Why were you driving like a dumbass?” 

Charles let out a small chuckle, “not my finest moment, huh?” 

“No, but you’re going to be okay and that’s all that matters. We can figure everything else out later.” 

Charles nodded, his grip on your hand growing a bit stronger. “Yeah, we will. Together.” 

You leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. “Together.” 

The road to recovery wasn’t going to be easy for him but you knew he’d be back to racing and annoying you in no time. He was going to be okay and you two would work through your issues when he was better. That’s all that mattered.

[hogans-heroes]

Maybe a new series of drabbles based on ideas that will never become fic?

#1: Gale’s escape turned out differently and he arrived at Thorpe Abbots with a lot of bruising and wounds, especially around his neck, and he’s not able to talk. Bucky arrives weeks later in a much weaker state as well.

***

Gale had almost believed he was done with pain now that the war was nearly over. He made it out, made it back to base, made it through each day with the throbbing in his neck and spikes of agony when he moved too much. His legs didn’t hold him so well either, but he hadn’t needed them to after Bucky showed up and Gale planted himself at his bedside.

Bucky had been carried from the prisoner transport to the medical ward on base, and for days had been too weak to even hold up his head. Gale never left his side, stroking his sweat-damp hair and the sharp edges under his skin where he had gotten even thinner after Gale left him.

Gale had left him. He threw himself into the guilt now, letting it drown him, choke him as he stared into Bucky’s worn eyes looking at Gale with devastated worry.

“What happened, Rosie?” Bucky rasped, alternating looks between Gale’s neck and the now-experienced major sitting on Bucky’s other side, his usual spot of late.

Rosie crossed his arms, more holding himself than anything, and his sad gaze never moved from John.

“We don’t know,” he said. “We don’t know anything. He hitched a ride on some cargo flight, just showed up one day.”

“Like this?”

Rosie’s lips pursed and and the benevolent mask cracked just a little. “Worse,” he said quietly.

It had been weeks since Gale arrived, since the shock on Rosie’s face had morphed into horror and grief as he recognized Gale and realized the state he was in. Rosie was usually good about keeping emotions off his face, but not then, couldn’t keep the stutter out of his breathing as he cradled Gale’s head to his chest after he had collapsed in a bundle of too-big overcoat, dizzy with exertion and bones rattling with coughing. Rosie’s steady hands and voice were all he remembered after that, Croz and Blakely’s presence added and never leaving as the doctors prodded and examined, finally pronouncing a we don’t know on his recovery.

Gale wondered if Rosie remembered what his vocie sounded like from before he was shot down. All he’d heard since was the cracked rattling when Gale was trying to scream in his sleep.

“What did they do?” Bucky growled. “Can he physically not speak or is it something else? He faltered, swallowing. “It’s not permanent right?

Rosie didn’t answer as Bucky slid fingers into Gale’s hair and coaxed him closer, brushing his neck and his chin with gentle touches as Bucky inspected the harsh marks. A warm finger trailed over his pulse point and Bucky looked like the breath had been stolen right from his chest.

“Can you make a sound, darling?” He begged. “Anything? Please?”

Gale swallowed, trying to conceal the wince as he did so, and watched Bucky’s soul break apart, devastation bleeding into Gale where his hands cradled battered flesh and Gale shuddered at the ghost of memories fighting to surface.

“God what have I done?” Bucky choked out. His hands trembled in Gale’s hair but he wasn’t looking at him anymore, eyes aching and distant in a way that had Gale’s brain screaming to soothe. “Rosie, it’s my fault, I made him escape, I goaded him. He wouldn’t have tried if I wasn’t— What did they do?”

I’m sorry! Gale wanted to sob, to grab Bucky’s arms and lungs and heart and force his words into them, to make him understand and take the hurt away. I’m sorry!

When Bucky pulled him closer Gale slumped immediately, burying his face in Bucky’s sweet-smelling skin. He longed to soothe him, to make promises he could only hope to keep, but all he could force out were tears to wet the hollow of Bucky’s throat.

[neontokyoo]

What comes now?

Just a cute little fic I put together today after looking through my camera roll and finding an old pregnancy announcement for my husband. I desperately needed to write something so why not do it now while I’m inspired by two little gremlins, and old memories? 😂🫶🏻

Pairing: Halsin x Fem!Tav Genre: fluff Summary: After finally defeating the Netherbrain Tav finds herself expecting Halsin’s baby after years of trying without success. Warnings: mentions of infertility and miscarriages, possible bg3 spoilers, implied bear sex, let me know if I’m missing something.

Like this post? Join my new community!

It was about nine AM when Tav finally rolled out of bed and decided to do something more productive than being a bear in the morning and refusing to get up. There was always something to be done around the house. Right?

Getting out of bed, she quickly changed into better clothes to wear around the house or working outside, and threw her hair up to keep it out of her face.

The house was almost spotless, as she had nothing better to do everyday while her husband was away working in the woods behind her house, but there was a garden she could tend to, at least.

But it wasn’t until she started to move that she was hit by a sudden nauseousness. Her stomach lurched as she ran back towards the washroom to vomit.

She had a suspicion to what might be causing the sickness, but she found it hard to believe considering she and her husband have been trying for years and haven’t had any luck. And when they went to check with a doctor to see if everything was alright, they had told the couple that they couldn’t find an issue in either of them.

But she knew that she was pregnant. Somehow. Even though the baby was as big as a poppyseed and she wasn’t showing yet. She’d known since the day before, and today, she was going to tell Halsin.

Tav didn’t really have much time before her lover returned home, trying to get everything set up and ready within the next fifteen minutes. But she had just enough time to run into town and pick up some baby clothes and a pair of tiny brown shoes to match the little bear onesie. And when she got home, she placed the clothes and the shoes on the small wooden shoe rack by the front door. And to finish it off, she hung up and small wooden board above the shoe rack that read: ‘Starting our new adventure! Baby Silverbough, 1495!’

She didn’t want to get him too excited since she was still in the early stages of pregnancy and it was a pretty high risk, but she didn’t want to wait until she was showing to tell him, either, so this would have to do.

About two minutes after Tav finished setting up the house, the door flew open and she went to greet Halsin, who was taking off his shoes.

“Welcome back love,” she said sweetly, “would you mind putting your shoes on the shoe rack today please?”

Halsin froze, confused. She’d never had to ask him that before. But she didn’t give him enough time to question her before she spoke again.

“Put your shoes on the shoe rack.”

He was still confused, but he decided to follow her commands, placing his shoes on the wooden shoe rack. He froze when he saw the baby clothes—the sign. He was speechless. His eyes wandered from the baby clothes to his wife, back to the baby clothes before staring at Tav in disbelief.

“You’re being serious?” He managed to choke out over the growing excitement.

All she could do was nod, tears swelling in her eyes as she spoke again. “Dead serious.”

Halsin, too, had tears in his eyes as he took a few steps forward to embrace his lover. It was almost a bear-hug, but not quite. It was less suffocating.

They began to sway back and forth, crying into each other’s arms.

“You truly are amazing, you know that?” Halsin praised, looking down at his lover with a small, loving smile. “You never fail to surprise me, always making the impossible happen.”

“It truly is a miracle, isn’t it?” She purred.

He wrapped his arms around her waist as he leaned in to kiss her. The kiss was sweet and passionate as he involuntarily started to explore her body, only for her to push him away.

“Don’t get too touchy, now. I’m not taking the risk of losing this baby after only knowing about it for two days. We both know how wild you get during sex.”

[roachesbf]

You already know who it isssssss!!!

If you’re up for it, considering you’ve already done a bear courting fic with König if I’m correct.. anywho, if you’re up to it! Bear!Price.

He’s just so big and hairy, and likely musky with an earthy scent. Probably constantly scenting your room or clothes, sometimes even your person as a whole. Big hands keeping you as close as possible.

He’s so possessive at times, keeping you in big bear hugs as he huffs and growls towards anyone too close for liking. He just wants you to himself, can’t risk having someone else’s scent on you.

The man is a heavy sleeper, and refuses to let you go once you’re in bed with him. Keeping you borderline hostage as he purrs and hums pleasantly.

And he’s big on providing. Living up to his little fishermen’s hat as he constantly goes out and brings you back the nicest fish he could find. He wants to show you that he can provide! The perfect mate, no?

He’s just so big on making sure you’re safe and loved. He wants you to know it too. Doting on you constantly and spoiling you with his love.

Anywhooo, per usual, keep up the amazing work!!<333

- 🪶

Bear Price Headcanons

Hohoho you’re totally right about Price’s scenting obsession, he loves having you wear his clothing. Hats, jackets, shirts you name it, at this point his clothes are your clothes. He’s got such an aggressive scent to others though, it’s almost impossible to not smell him on you since he’s with you any chance he gets. Holding you close or nuzzling his beard into your neck, tickling you in the process. It quite literally makes everyone sick and they complain to him about constantly scenting you but he just looks away and says he has no idea what they’re talking about. 

This mf is so funny though because in his sleep he’ll accidentally roll onto you, a few smacks on his back he wakes up and with a grumbly tone says “Sorry about that love :3” But he’s not sorry at all because he thinks it’s pretty funny and you’re lucky if he doesn’t do it again later that night. If he's not on top of you he’s got you in a strong hold on your waist, keeping you close that he’s practically suffocating you but shittt nobody here is gonna complain.

I feel like he’s very embarrassed about being jealous and possessive, because what does he have to worry about at his grown age. If he was doing something and he saw someone interacting with you in a way he didn’t like, he'd immediately pause whatever he was doing, it’s a simple way of body language to show that he’s distressed. Afterwards he’ll go and wrap an arm around your waist and give you a kiss on the lips before asking what you were talking about. 

If you tease him about it he’ll just gruff and say “So what..” Of course make, him feel better by giving him a kiss on the cheek. It's very sweet and domestic, always managing to calm him down. 

Tbh Price to me is that one image where it’s like my bitch wife tells me what to do, if he sees you being too rowdy, he’s picking you up over your shoulder. Or he’ll place his bucket hat on you, which surprises you so much you don’t even remember what got you acting out in the first place. He also does that to be smug, he knows everybody hates it and thinks it's ugly…but they also simultaneously want it, it's a need. So when you walk in with the hat, they’re just so jealous because how do you have it???

In my heart I know he is a great cook, and it’s one of the biggest things he does to show off to you. Not only is he strong, smart, but he’s an incredible cook. He’d bend over backwards to impress you with his cooking, he also knows cooking is a thing a lot of guys lack in so it’s just another thing he has over others that proves he’s better.  

[msbigredmachine]

Coming In London (Jey Uso/OC)

A date night for the ages across the pond. Post-Money in the Bank 2023. Jey Uso/OC one-shot.

Warnings: SMUT

Word count: 5.5k

A/N: New Edition's 'Can You Stand The Rain' was my muse for this fic. It kinda fit. I'm not weird I promise.

Enjoy!

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

Money in the Bank was so much fun! 

Zainab had attended a number of WWE shows with some great audiences in the past couple of years, but there was something about the atmosphere in the O2 Arena that could not be replicated elsewhere. They were on fire all night, especially for the main event, yet another one her boyfriend and his twin brother were headlining this year. Watching him feed off the fans’ energy and tear it up with his three brothers was mesmerizing. Emotions ran high afterwards and she ended up hanging out in the hotel lounge with the Bloodline and several other Superstars till the early hours of Sunday morning. It was hard to fall asleep with how happy everyone was about the great show they’d put on.

Jey was still passed out at breakfast time, buried beneath the white sheets of the plush bed of their hotel suite. Deciding not to disturb him, Zainab went alone, and ran into Jimmy and Roman at the buffet table. They were still buzzing from last night. As she kept them company, she noticed there was something else exciting them. They kept checking their phones, smiling from ear to ear and sharing secret looks. Her curiosity was piqued, but before she could press for more info, both men finished up their breakfast and quickly kissed her goodbye before leaving for their flights back home.

When she returned to her man, he was awake but still in bed, with his phone in his hands, the sheets pooled around his waist and his hair all disheveled and sexy. Damn, he looked so good. Like, “I woke up like this” kinda good.

“Morning, sexy. Hope you didn’t miss me too much,” she greeted, giggling when he yanked her down to the bed the moment she was within reach, almost knocking off her glasses. She accepted his soft, gentle kisses as his arms wrapped around her. He tasted like mint, like he’d just brushed his teeth. “I brought you a couple of muffins, a banana and some yogurt. How ya feelin’?”

“Like I been hit by a damn truck,” he murmured, sitting up to rest his back against the headboard while keeping his hold on her waist. “How was breakfast?”

“Good. Your twin and Roman were there. They were acting real sus. Kept smilin’ all wide and shit and checking their phones like you’re doing now. Who are y’all gossiping about?”

“Haha, no one, babe. We just goofin’ around.” Clearing his throat and putting his phone away, he smoothly changed the subject. “Date night at the London Eye is a go. Tonight gon’ be lit, baybeee.”

Zainab pursed her lips and adopted her most neutral expression. “Are you sure we’ll be able to go? You still look really tired.”

Jey couldn’t hold back his laugh at her faux concern. “Z, I’m good. We goin’. Don’t know why you so scared.”

“You know I don’t like heights, Mr. Day One Ish,” she rolled her eyes.

“Last time I was in London, I went on the ride. The view was unbelievable and I told myself I’d take you there if we ever got the chance. Don’t be a scaredy cat. I’ll keep you safe, I promise.”

Whenever his mind was set on something, he went through with it no matter what. Since he only wanted to show her a good time, she decided to indulge him. “Fine. Bianca invited me for afternoon tea. Imma do a little shopping afterwards, maybe get my nails done too. I’ll be back in time for tonight.”

Jey reached for his wallet and handed her his black American Express card. “Here. Go crazy with it. Just make sure you look sexy for me tonight.”

Zainab sighed dramatically and plucked the hard plastic from between his fingers, previous back-and-forths reminding her that he would not take no for an answer. “You spoil me too much, babe.”

She tried to sound stern, but that smile he loved was bright and happy, and he couldn’t stop himself from stealing another kiss. “For you, baby, ain’t no such thing as too much.” He meant it. She had him sprung, head over heels for her. He would give her the world if she asked for it. She worked so hard on the daily and she deserved to be spoiled and pampered all the time.

Zainab’s fingers trailed over his pec tattoo as a fiendish idea came to her. “Hmm. Would you like something in return then, Daddy? It’ll be unfair for you to do all the giving.”

“Well, if you insist…” he rasped, taking her hand and putting it between his legs, making her cup him through the sheets. His other hand curled dangerously around her neck, squeezing lightly, watching the flame of desire ignite in her gorgeous eyes, “...You can gimme that throat.”

His gruff demand, topped by his darkened irises and his bottom lip tucked between his teeth, had her pussy purring. She drew the sheets off him and exposed his mouth-watering erection. Adjusting her frame on the bed, she closed her fist around his dick, leaning down to flick her tongue over the slit of his head, and her smirk widened when a sharp hiss escaped him. 

“Whatever Daddy wants, Daddy gets,” she said to him with a wink, licking him one more time. As her mouth sank lower down his shaft, Jey felt his bones melt, and he laid back with a relaxed sigh and let her work her magic on him.

Today was going to be a great day.

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

The weather was nice, mostly sunny with none of the infamous London rain showers in sight, thank God. After tea at the highly esteemed Fortnum & Mason, she headed out to the High Street with Bianca Belair to find a knockout outfit for tonight. The odds were in her favor as she quickly found a pair of heels that would rock her man’s world once he saw them. That inspired her to search for an equally stunning dress, and several stores later, she came across one that made even notoriously-hard-to-impress Bianca’s jaw drop. So that was settled. Next stop was Agent Provocateur. The store was stacked with so many beautiful designs of lingerie, it was tough to choose. With Bianca’s approval, Zainab finally settled on a blood-red, backless lace push-up bra and matching thong. She was highly impressed with the amount of cleavage the bra afforded her and how the color made her skin pop. She looked forward to watching it get torn apart by her boyfriend tonight.  

Her predictions were headed in the right direction, as said boyfriend was already drooling before they left their suite for dinner. “Damn, girl. I ain't sure I wanna let you leave this room no more,” Jey drawled, resting his hands on her shapely hips. “You look good enough to eat, baby.”

Laughing as he tugged her backwards right up against his crotch, Zainab didn’t take her eyes off the mirror as she bumped him away with her backside. “Down, boy, before you make me drop my contact lens. This was your idea so we’re going. But who knows?” She locked darkened eyes with him through the round shaped mirror and twerked her ass for his benefit. “If I enjoy myself, I’ll be sure to let you…eat me…later tonight.”

Damn. “We’re gonna have an awesome time tonight, later and afterwards,” he declared loudly and confidently, finishing with a suggestive wiggle of his eyebrows that made her laugh. Her boyfriend could be so goofy sometimes.

—-----------

Dinner was quiet and intimate, and Zainab couldn't help but feel loved up and romantic as her man kept sweeping her off her feet. He was super attentive and she was enjoying the attention and their playful banter. She loved that he topped up her wine glass whenever it emptied, loved that he fed her the last piece of his steak. Being together like this was really nice; thanks to their busy careers, this kind of alone time was a luxury, one neither Jey nor Zainab took for granted.

The walk from the food market to the world famous ferris wheel was thankfully a short one. Zainab beamed as she entered the structure known as Cupid’s Pod and was greeted with rows of red roses and candles decorating the enclosure.

The ride came with a complimentary bottle of Rosé Champagne and a luxury box of Pink Champagne Truffles, set up on the wooden oval bench in the middle of the pod. Jey was right about the views from inside the London Eye. They were unbelievable, overlooking the boats gliding along the River Thames and several high rise buildings. The higher they went, the quieter it became, save for the personalized playlist playing softly in the background. Snuggled up with Jey on the bench, Zainab sipped some more champagne, indulged in some chocolate and basked in the ambience and the safety of her man's arms, which currently were around her waist, the heat of his body pressed against her from behind. His soft lips dispensed tender kisses along the curve of her neck, eliciting a small, welcoming moan from her at his gentle caresses. 

“You so damn fine, girl,” he complimented, pressing more kisses to her skin, absorbing her intoxicating scent. “I’m glad you’re in London with me.”

“Thank you, my love. I’m glad I’m here with you too,” she smiled up at him, lazily rubbing his thigh.

“We met on this day two years ago. Do you remember?” he asked.

Zainab sighed dreamily, her eyes closed as she nuzzled her face against his. “Like it was yesterday.”

“Mm-hmm. I also remember your stubborn ass ain’t want nothin’ to do with me.”

“I told you why. I dated a soccer player and a basketball player. They both put me through some shit. Didn’t want to deal with another athlete.”

"Naw, baby girl. None of them dudes was right for you, that's all," Jey stated matter-of-factly, his toothy smirk showing off his silver jeweled grill.

“Ha, ‘course you’d say that.” Their romance was a slow burn, as both were still struggling with recent personal heartbreak when they first met. But their deep attraction to one another was something neither could stop themselves from exploring. When he was still working in the Thunderdome, he would make the trip to Fort Lauderdale to see her after the show every Friday night so they could bond and get to know each other better. They didn't even start sleeping together right away, because they were more interested in learning about each other first. When he resumed traveling, Zainab was sure that she would never hear from him again. But nothing changed. Not a day went by when he didn’t call her; a month did not pass without them meeting up at least once. She had been afraid of falling for him, but it was impossible not to. The man was beautiful, inside and out; not without his flaws and bad habits, but who wasn’t? 

At first, she wasn’t sure how long they would last, given his crazy schedule and his history, along with her own bad breakups. But somehow she shelved all those fears and worked with him to strengthen their relationship. The fact that they were now one of the few couples in their circle still going strong to this day, meant they were doing something right. 

She studied his features as he took her hands in his. There was a nervous energy about him tonight he'd been trying to conceal, but it only felt more palpable now. “You okay, baby?” she queried. 

“Any regrets? Ya know, gettin' with me?” he asked, his voice quiet and shy.

She made a show of thinking about it. “About two or three, maybe,” she shrugged, and burst into laughter at his bombastic side-eye. “I’m just playin’,” she chortled, nudging him playfully. “We’ve had our ups and downs like any other couple, but it’s been incredible. I won't change a thing. You're an amazing boyfriend, Jey.”

“You’re amazing, Z. You’re a special person, and you been so good to me these past couple of years. I love you.” He smiled at her, and she couldn’t help but shiver at the intensity in his eyes. 

“I love you too.” The feeling was still so surreal after all this time. Every time he said those words to her, she had to catch her breath. She knew about what he had endured in his past and how long it took for him to open up again. Knowing that he felt this way about her made her heart swell. She had never felt as happy and as loved as she did with him.

The moment stretched with them gazing lovingly into each other's eyes. Zainab raised his hand to her lips and placed a soft kiss across his knuckles. With that same hand, Jey caressed her cheek, down to her jaw, cupping her chin. His thumb softly rubbed across her bottom lip. Boldly, she sucked the tip into her mouth, her heated stare locked on him, and he could not resist replacing his thumb with his lips, feeding her with warm, languid kisses that made her lady bits clench and her toes curl. 

Their little make out session was interrupted by the British A.I. woman’s voice announcing that they were at the very top of London. Jey reluctantly released Zainab and helped her to her feet. “The best of all the views is right here, babe. Take a look.” He pointed, gently rotating her and stepping back.

Summoning enough courage to go closer to the railings she’d been avoiding all evening, she cast a cautious glance out at the wondrous skyline before her. “You know what? I think I’m getting used to the height now,” she agreed, turning back around for his rebuttal.

Jey was down on one knee. A little velvet box was open in his hands with a sparkling diamond ring shining out of it.

Zainab burst out laughing and covered her face. “Oh my god you asshole! Are you fuckin’ serious?!”

Jey feigned hurt. “I know your ass ain’t cussin’ me out while I’m about to propose to you, woman,” he exclaimed, watching her walk away with her hands still on her face. He could hear her laughter gradually disintegrate, and when her shoulders began to shake with sobs, his eyes prickled. “Z…Baby, come here, I got somethin’ I wanna ask you,” he called out softly to her.

She was sure she was dreaming. It was a struggle processing this overwhelming surge of happiness, a happiness that only Jey Uso made her feel. She had to sit back down because her legs were shaking. She would definitely fall over and ruin this beautiful moment he'd clearly worked hard to set up. Luckily, Jey was kneeling before her, his hand resting on her thigh while holding up the ring to her. Her tears flowed freely, but he was there to wipe each one away, being there for her as he had been for the last two years.

“Fuck, I had a whole speech planned out and shit,” he whispered, his own voice clogged with emotion, “But now I got nothing, except that I’m so in love with you, baby. You changed my life, and I wanna be with you for the rest of it. Thank you for teaching me how to love again. Zainab Ortega, my queen, my love, will you marry me?”

Tears kept streaming down her cheeks, threatening to ruin her makeup as she stared at the man she loved more than anything in the whole world. She had only one answer. “Of course. Yes, yes I will,” she replied without hesitation, nodding enthusiastically as she watched him slide the stunning diamond ring on her finger. It fit perfectly.  

Jey’s head was spinning. He never thought he’d be in this position so soon after Nisha. He thought he would never find love again. The morning Nisha breathed her last breath, he all but lost his will to wrestle, to function, to live. Never did he imagine that just eighteen months later, at a fundraiser to combat the disease that took his wife, he would meet someone else that made his heart flutter again, that caused his skin to sprout goosebumps with just a smile. At first, he felt so guilty and so ashamed of his feelings. But before her passing, Nisha had made him promise to move on, to open his heart again if he ever found the right woman. 

So he did. Allowed himself to fall in love one more time. He couldn’t believe he’d found such a beautiful, caring, patient, sexy ass woman like Zainab. Her kind soul, her perennial optimism and her zest for life inspired him to push on with his own. Now, his career was thriving and he was in the best shape of his life. In so many ways, she saved his life. Putting a ring on her finger made all the sense in the world to him. With this, everything between them would become that much more final, much more complete. 

Zainab stared down at her finger in complete awe. “It's so pretty! I can’t believe it. This must have been such a difficult step to take, baby,” she said, looking at him.

“At first, it was,” he confessed, wiping the corners of his eyes with the pad of his thumb. “But then I quickly realized how much in love I was with you, and I couldn’t live without you. I got that ring made two months ago, ma. This weekend wasn’t gonna go by without me poppin’ the question. Nisha will always be in my heart, but it’s you and me now, Z.”

She nodded in understanding and pulled him close, pressing her lips against his. “I would be honored to be your wife. I love you so much. Thank you.” She was literally on top of the world. She would never forget this trip to London, ever.

They spent the next ten minutes calling up family and friends to tell them the good news and show off her brand new engagement ring. There were a lot of happy tears and a lot of love. Apparently everyone had been waiting for this day to come. Roman and Jimmy had merely grinned proudly, and just as Zainab suspected, they both knew that this was going down tonight, which was why they’d been so cryptic and secretive at breakfast. Jey and Zainab were so happy to have the support of both their wonderful families.

She couldn’t stop fawning over the sizable diamond glowing on her ring finger. “Baby, this rock is so big.”

“Thought you liked big things,” Jey teased with a light squeeze of her waist, flashing her a knowing wink. 

“You know first-hand that I do. Oh my god, Jey…we're getting married!”

“Mm-hmm. I’m so fuckin’ lucky, babe, you have no idea,” he gushed. He cupped the side of her face and bent down to kiss her, gently at first, then harder, leaning into her. Zainab ran her hands up the bulge of his biceps, moaning into his mouth when his tongue lashed against hers and his hand slid over her ass, giving it a firm squeeze.

“You know, proposing to you wasn’t the only thing I imagined doing in this here pod,” he said.

One look at the heat in his eyes made her understand right away. “No. You wouldn’t.”

“That a dare, baby?” He moved his mouth down to her neck, a small groan rumbling through him as he nipped and licked her skin. It served as the perfect distraction for his hands to slip under her dress and massage the round, ample globes of her backside. 

“Babe, people can see us,” Zainab gasped, but melted into his arms anyway, “We’re gonna get in trouble. There’s cameras in here-”

“Fuck the cameras,” Jey dismissed. His penetrating stare shot tremors down her spine. "Do you know how fuckin’ hot you look tonight? Do you know the nasty shit I wanna do to you right now?”

She could already tell with the bulge pressing insistently against her. But she wanted to hear him say it. She couldn't quite think straight anyway. She wouldn't have been able to stop him if her life had depended on it. "Tell me, Daddy," she moaned.

"You drive me crazy when you dress up like this, baby, all sexy and provocative and shit…I seen dem thirsty ass motherfuckers at dinner, starin’ at you, wishing you were theirs...I wanted to bend your fine ass over our table and give you this dick in front of everybody. Let ‘em all know you mine."

“I will always be yours,” she whispered. "Always."

He walked her back to the bench, sitting down and pulling her to sit on him. As always, she fit perfectly on his lap, her ass resting between his muscular thighs. They hugged and kissed, his eager hands all over her body while she rocked back and forth against his hard erection. He took his time maneuvering her dress up to her waist, caressing her thighs the whole way and amplifying her already rabid need for him to be inside her. His fingers dipped beneath the lace edge of her panties, finding her wet and ready for him. He teased gently, lightly stroking her pussy lips, causing her to moan into his mouth. He knew just how to touch her, knew exactly how to make her body react to his every whim.

His hands slipped upwards to rest over her delectable bosom. “This a pretty ass bra, ma. You got it for me?”

“Yes, Daddy. You like it?” she asked. Jey answered her question by freeing her breasts from the confines like he was opening up a present. Her titties were nice and plump and made his mouth water. He eagerly took a nipple in his mouth and sucked while he massaged the other one.

“Baby…” she whimpered, hesitancy thick in her voice. 

“Z…” he growled, his lips giving her nipple a quick, audibly wet tug that momentarily short-circuited her brain, “Unless you tellin’ me to fuck you harder, ion wanna hear it.”

His mouth covered hers before she could speak again, and this time she completely surrendered to him, allowing his tongue to slide in and wrestle with hers to a no-contest. She unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants to get access to him. As she pulled him out of his briefs and dragged her palm up and down the hard, smooth length of his cock, she gasped as he immediately tugged her new lace panties to the side and lowered her down onto him. The stretch was incredible, and they both moaned. She looked at her new fiancé, who sported a sexy smirk on his lips, watching her mouth fall open as she sat all the way down on his long, hard dick. They’d had sex many, many times together, but each time something new was awakened in her, even more so now as it occurred to her that anyone in the surrounding capsules could take a close look through the darkness and see what was happening. Her heart pounded in her chest in anticipation. She couldn’t believe this was actually happening, but she wasn’t going to stop it. 

She moved on top of him, moaning as his dick twitched inside her, welcomed by her warm depths. He grabbed her breasts again, kneading them expertly, which made her bite her bottom lip harder than intended. When he pinched her nipples, her back arched and her head hung back. His long fingers then met her waist as he leaned in to suckle her throat and smell her, basking in the pleasure and feral desperation in her voice. Her thighs locked around his hips, giving her a little leverage to lift herself up and down on him with ease. She was dripping but still so tight around him thanks to how endowed he was. 

“Damn, baby…keep ridin’ me like this and you gon’ be a mama in nine months,” Jey choked out, his eyes rolling back as she kept grinding herself on him, squeezing her walls snugly around his cock. “Imma give you all the babies, fuck, you feel so good…”

He already put a ring on it. Babies were the next step, surely. The thought of conceiving his child on the night of their wildest sexcapade yet, aroused her to no end. “Hmm, then breed me, Daddy,” Zainab groaned. Threading her fingers through his hair, she gave him a kiss so passionate that he moaned into her mouth, he then forced her to do the same when he smacked her ass, the sharp sting zipping down to her loins. The bench was not comfortable, but they were so into it, and the ambience was so romantic and sexy, that neither of them cared. 

“Unnnhhh god, baby,” she whined with her lips parted over his own, tasting his heavy breaths, “Shit, you feel so good inside me.”

"I can see that, you creamin’ all over me,” Jey looked down at her gyrating hips with a smirk. Her creamy mess had visibly smeared his exposed gray-colored briefs. “You love this dick, don't you, baby?" he taunted, flicking his tongue over her lips.

“Yes Daddy.”

“I know you do. Fuck me, beautiful, bounce on this dick.” His moans had dissolved to primal growls now, mingling with the soft music and the wet, slapping sounds of their lovemaking. She pushed him down flat on his back, and the surprise on his handsome features evaporated when she began riding him harder, taking his dick deeper inside her with each drop down, with each salacious roll of her backside. Her moans mingled with his groans as he started to bounce her himself, his hands clutching the meat of her hips, moving her more vigorously up and down. His pouty lips were parted and gasping in stereo with hers as he made her fuck him, that big dick meeting the sweetest of her spots. 

“Shit, Daddy, that dick in me!” she groaned. The atmosphere was so incredibly hot, she buried her face in his neck, moaning her pleasure as she felt herself start to tingle and throb. "Oh, fuck, Jey, I'm gonna come,” she breathed heavily, her voice vanishing into thin air as she bounced harder and faster on his dick, hunting down that potent high. She nearly lost her balance as it seized her, a glorious cascade of orgasm, her thighs quivering and skin humming as the explosion eviscerated her senses.

She felt him sit back upright and rise to his feet with her still in his arms, his mouth moving against hers with more purpose than usual. It wasn’t until she felt something cool and hard pressing against her bare back that she finally broke the kiss out of curiosity. Looking behind her, her heart stopped cold inside her chest.

Jey had pressed her directly against the clear glass wall of the capsule, with nothing below her but the twinkling lights of London. Zainab screamed and squirmed against his body, her head spinning with both fear and the remnants of her orgasm as she struggled to get away from the glass.

"Jesus! Fuck, Jey, what…" 

"Hey, hey, shhh," he whispered, keeping a careful hold around her trembling frame. His lips swept tenderly over her jawline as he tried to keep her calm. She was shaking, her arms and legs gripping him with the strength of a boa constrictor. "Breathe for me, Zainab. Look at me. Look at me."

She twisted her face away from the view, her pretty eyes wide and frightened. 

“I-I-I…”

“Calm down for me baby. Relax.” His mouth brushed along her throat, doing his part to quell her nerves. Her squirms subsided, but only a little. He could tell she still wanted to get away, but he kept her body firmly secured between himself and the glass. “Do you trust me?”

Right now, on the cusp of grave danger, she wasn’t so sure she did. “Yeah,” she finally ground out.

“Then you know I’ll never let anything happen to you. I gotchu.”

His kiss was gentle but insistent and full of reassurance. She felt his hand sneak along her hip, then the sharp tug of her panties pressing into her skin, and a tearing sound and the flimsy material falling away. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him tuck the ruined undergarment into his back pocket. Keeping his body flush against hers, he molded her bare ass cheeks in his hands, grinding against her for a few seconds before sliding his dick back home. She clenched around his girth immediately, greedily, and Jey groaned softly as he worked himself into her with slow, winding circles that touched every single sweet spot her pussy possessed. He was a tight fit, always was. It felt so good that she couldn’t stop the moans that spilled from her lips.

“You like that, huh? Daddy’s gotchu,” he said, repeating the action again and again. He stared with wonder in his eyes at his love, the most wonderful woman in the world. “You so beautiful, baby. I love you so much.” Placing another gentle, calming kiss on her lips, he increased his pace. Zainab did what she could to block out the very real threat of the deathly drop behind her and focus on her fiancé now pounding into her. The sound of his body meeting hers was almost deafening in the exposed enclosure.

“Damn, Z, you soppin’ wet. I knew you’d like this shit. Love this pussy so much.” His expression was one of lust-filled triumph as he studied her face, the parting of her lips panting for him, goading him to angle his hips and fuck her harder and deeper, bottoming her out. “This turnin’ you on, huh, your ass and titties out, all of London watching you take my big dick…”

With another whimpering moan, her head rocked back against the glass as she felt her climax creep closer again. Her eyes fluttered shut as her nerves settled and more erogenous sensations took over. Her legs tensed around his waist as she rotated her hips in rhythm with his thrusts, each one pressing her ass deeper against the glass, making her wetter and wetter and bringing her closer to succumbing to that euphoric feeling that only her man, now her betrothed, could give her. Her breath was stolen from her as his dick continued to toy with her g-spot, his grunts and gasps warming her neck, her pussy walls quivering and rippling around his girth in reaction. “Fuck, Jey, right there…Mmm fuck, you ‘boutta make me come again!”

Holding his girl in place with his big strong hands, Jey intensified his strokes, his gruff voice grunting with the effort. "You fuckin’ right, baby, gimme that nut,” he mumbled, himself starting to unravel from the near-crippling pleasure. “Give it to me cuz it’s mine. Drain your pussy all over my dick."

Zainab hugged him even tighter, her nails digging through his shirt and into his back as her moans devolved to whimpers, and the faster he thrust into her, the further their bodies seemed to plunge from the same dizzying heights as the capsule they were in. She cried out as her release tore her apart, her walls suffocating his cock. Jey was right behind her, his guttural groan at the pulse of her throat, his dick lodged in the back of her pussy as he came just as hard for her. Desperately, she clenched around him, taking it all, milking him for everything he had as the world seemingly collapsed around them.

Seconds later, the A.I. woman’s voice popped up again to announce that the ride was descending in ten minutes. Jey leaned in for a breathless kiss as he pulled out of her and finally edged her away from the glass. She clung to him as he carried her back to the bench. He pulled wet wipes seemingly out of nowhere and cleaned her up, sharing more kisses with her while helping each other redress. 

“You good?” he asked, smoothing her hair back into place and drawing her legs onto his lap.

Zainab nodded, biting her lip as the last of her climax rippled between her squeezed thighs. “I can’t believe we just did that.”

“You loved it though,” he said, his deep voice seductively low as he stroked her thigh. “Don’t lie to Daddy now. I could tell you loved every second, you got so wet for me, babe...”

There was so much amusement and cockiness and love in his eyes. All for her. “You always make me wet, Daddy,” she admitted, glancing back at the sheet of glass she’d been trapped against just moments ago. She had to give him his props for his highly unique sense of adventure. “You think we’ll still be this lit after we’re married?” she questioned.

“Ay, as long as we work on it, together, like we been doin’, and we don’t let none of that outside noise creep in…we’ll be good. That’s what I want for us, Z.”

She liked that answer a lot. It was what she wanted, too. “I made you a promise earlier that if I enjoyed myself, you can eat me when we get back. My offer still stands,” she noted, batting her long lashes at him.

Jey smiled like the cat who got the cream. Literally. Picking out a truffle from the box, he popped it into his mouth and licked up the morsel that stained his finger.

“Mmm. I bet this goes great with pussy,” he commented with a sly smirk.

Fuck. Zainab’s throat went dry and her body instantly flooded with heat, despite having been thoroughly fucked just minutes ago. “You might be right,” she uttered back.

The capsule finally came to a safe stop on the ground, bringing the ride to an end. Jey and Zainab settled for a few more chocolatey smooches as the pod's doors opened. Expecting to be confronted about their antics by someone in authority, they were relieved when no one approached. The newly-engaged couple walked out hand in hand with big dreamy smiles on their faces, eager to retreat to their far more private hotel suite to continue their raunchy celebrations.

They took the box of chocolates with them…for research purposes, of course.

THE END

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

I really enjoy writing soft Jey.

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[ornii]

Saw your Cate Dunlap fic and loved it! Can you do another one pls 🙇🏽‍♀️

My Favorite Second Best

Real short one don’t worry

“Mr Summers, Focus.”

Professor Brink was in your ear, chastising your ability and trying to make you lose focus, all sort of the training. The class was outside for their Training for their powers. Maybe it was Brinks idea to keep everyone’s eyes on you, made staying calm and lot harder.

The hard stone discs were launched and you looked to the sky, you tore off your glasses and let the beams loose, like an arc of light your beam shattered though all the launched discs. You put your glasses back on and look at brink, who was writing something down.

“Good work, still can’t focus your beams though..” he etched down, the backhanded compliment. You bit your tongue to speak and simply walked back to the group. Luke was up next and effortlessly slung fireballs are the targets, a much better time than Mr Summers. It was obvious the favoritism that Brinks was showing to Luke and while you two had a solid relationship, Binks was the single iota that kept it from perfect. You simply put your hands in your pockets and walked off as class ended, Cate followed trying to keep up with you. You already got to the hallway to your dorm before Cate got you.

“(Y/n)? (Y/n)? Holy shit slow down!” She yelled and you halted, fuming. You turned to face Cate who gave you a sad look. “Cmon, it’s not his fault.”

“I know it’s not his fault, I’m not mad at Luke.” You replied and attempted to keep walking, Cate caught up to you and grabbed your hand, for a moment you expected her powers to activate but you felt warm leather. Her gloves wrapped around your hand in a desperate attempt to hold onto you. Cates grip was oddly tight.

“My sweet Cate.. what have you done?..” You thought, and you looked at her once more, though the Purple haze of your glasses you saw the desperation in her eyes.

“What?” You responded defeated, Cate pulled you in closer. “Is being number one that important?” She said, and much of who you are relied on that question. Jean and Scott summers, your parents wanted a super abled child like them ever since they got together in their old Hero Group. Unfortunately it seems that Compound V isn’t fully hereditary. So they did only what they though thought was best. Compound V. Cate could see it weighed a lot on you, the expectations, the pain, the.. accidents, your eyes flaring purple and with a single blast you almost caved in a man’s skull with sheer force alone.

“Hey… look at me.” Cate could hear your thoughts, self destructive, self hating. “That isn’t you, you don’t have to be any of that, they.. shot you up full of some drug to make a wonder child.” She took her glove off, but didn’t touch you. She brushed her body against yours to listen to your heartbeat.

“You can be great, you don’t need to be number one.” She whispered, your arms instinctively hug her body and you closed your eyes, feeling her presence and care. “I’m sorry Cate, I.. I just can’t, I want to be number one..” you whispered back, and a look of sadness was on her face.

“I’m sorry too…” and she touched your hand, like a fog filled your head you couldn’t remember the last few seconds, why were you mad? I guess it didn’t matter, you needed to talk to Lucas about the next party anyway. Cate hugged you and looked into your glasses “It’s okay… it’s okay to be number two.” She said, “Shit jokes are above you.” You replied and gently kissed her forehead, earring a giggle from cate, and an uneasy smile for her.

“Yeah… that’s what I meant.”

[perpetuallydaydreaming]

aren’t promises meant to be broken?

at 17 sirius promised to always be there for you whenever you need him. now 3 years after your break up, sirius has yet to break this promise.

tags: sirius black x f!reader,, magical nuisances,, exes to friends to lovers,, hurt and comfort,, fluff,, angst,, slytherins + pandora,, no voldy

a/n: took me an embarrassing amount of time to finish but i’m kinda soft for this fic ngl

people never stay friends with their exes. even with the promises of being one when breaking up. most find it, understandably, too awkward to continue any sort of relationship with them.

you would have been one of those people, at least you think so. but certain circumstances have deemed this preference a futile thought.

“i can’t believe you got me here to clean your bathroom.” sirius glared, peeling off the rubber gloves off his hands and slumping down on the breakfast nook.

“someone had to do it.” you shrugged, “it wouldn’t be the first time,” you smiled, vanishing the gloves and cleaning the table too. before placing a plate in front of him filled with sausages, toast and beans.

“that’s the fucked up part! it isn’t even my first time doing this.” he groans, grabbing a fork that you immediately slapped away.

“wash your hands first, you animal.”

he whines a protest but gets up anyway, rubbing his slapped hands as he does so—pouting because he’s dramatic like that.

“aren’t you going to eat with me?” he asks, his back turned to you as he washes his hands.

you were almost going to say yes, out of habit, having done so numerous times before. but remembered belatedly, the date set up by regulus with one of his work colleagues. a proper fit to you, he said. “no, i’m meeting somebody for dinner later.”

he closes the tap, turning to you again. “dinner? with who?”

you clicked your tongue at the dripping mess he’s making on the floor. grabbing paper towels and tossing it to him to wipe it himself. “some bloke from regulus’ work.”

“regulus? another date then?”

you nodded, feeling a bit uncomfortable at the idea of talking about dates your ex’s brother set you up with.

he frowned. going back to the table and grabbing the fork to start eating the warm food. “i see,”

and that was, thankfully, the end of that.

you didn’t really want to delve into your dating life with anyone, much less your ex-boyfriend of all people—no matter how many times he cleans your bathroom. it was already morbidly pathetic, how your friends seem to think you needed help finding someone new and to move on with.

but in your defence, it is rather difficult finding someone who would be okay with your, er, arrangement with your ex.

it is all sirius’ fault, really, but what isn’t? accidentally making a magically-binding promise to you, seems just like the type of thing he would do. and he has.

ever since he made that promise at 17 when you’ve just started dating, sirius has been showing up in your life, ready to help you with anything you need. you thought of this is in a more figurative sense, but no. that was too simple.

instead, whenever you need something. maybe something as simple as scratching your back, to partaking in a monthly bathroom cleaning, sirius would just appear out of thin air into your house, or wherever you need him, and he would be required to do it else he wouldn’t be able to leave.

when you were dating, this was something you both enjoyed, sometimes even looked forward to. using it as an excuse to latch unto each other the whole day. but now, having been spilt for how many years now (3 but who’s counting?) you can imagine how this magic promise has become a nuisance in your everyday life.

you tried resisting it, of course. though the power of will and mental fortitude can only do so much when you can’t reach the top shelves of your kitchen. forget about avoiding your ex, when he can just pop in whenever, wherever, when you get so much as a paper cut. you can see how the novelty of the situation can run its course. so much so, you sort of just learn how to deal with it instead of fighting it.

you’ve learned to use this to your advantage, of course, making him do chores around the house, makes him a great house elf without the moral issues of owning one.

he was also quite reluctant, when you both broke up, but that was to be expected. he had tried moving away to france, thinking the distance might prevent him from showing up. but that only made it difficult to explain to the travel officers how he can exit the country without violating travel wizarding laws.

regardless of the reluctant acceptance of such peculiar arrangement, you still have that hope you can somehow reverse it.

this particular hope always trampled by your friends’ insistence to utilize your situation to your extreme satisfaction.

“i don’t understand why you would want to remove it, to be honest.” dorcas frowned flipping through the pages of magical vows and contracts, vol.2. “i mean if i had someone doing things for me all day long, i certainly wouldn’t complain.”

“are you joking? why would anyone want to stay bound to their ex?”

she looked over to you, tone playfully mocking, but mocking regardless. “you mean an ex who does everything you need him to?”

“well, how would you feel if lily was always around you doing stuff for you?”

“oh please, if lily was bound to me, cleaning my bathroom wouldn’t be the only thing she would be doing.”

you grimace, “spare me the details, i beg of you.”

“so you wouldn’t like it if you and sirius partook… in certain late night activities?” she hummed.

you sputter out scandalized gasps, face feeling gruesomely warm, “don’t be disgusting! i have no intentions of ever doing anything with him and i assume he share the sentiments, a-and it is appalling that you think so—!” you breathed in deep, willing your face to relax and to settle your wild heart. “i don’t need him to be anything other than a reluctant acquaintance.”

pandora laughs from the floor, “not even considering him as a friend? poor sirius.”

you huff, embarrassed and frankly a bit betrayed.

you friends have convinced themselves of sirius’ intentions to be more than what is required of him. pushing you of all people to act upon seducing him using your gods given womanly assets, as pandora had once labelled.

you abruptly stood up from the table, going over to the stove to reheat the water to make more tea. “besides, i am perfectly capable of handling things by myself, thank you very much.”

it’s dorcas who laughs this time, “what do you mean? just last week, he had to bandage your finger for you because you bit your cuticle to blood. you are entirely dependent on him at this point.”

you huff, “i am not. i am a woman capable of attending to my own needs. that was the bind’s requirements of it all, i have to let him do these things or the bond won’t ever let him leave, you know this already.” you groan, rolling your eyes. “my point still stands. i don’t need him, nor will i ever need him. i just want all of this out of my life and in the past, like it should have been.”

“doesn’t he have his own room in this house by now?”

“it’s not his room, it’s a guest room— that he frequently uses. there’s a difference.”

it was pandora munching on peanuts, wholly amused that responded next, “right,” she drawled, “and that’s why he has his clothes folded and tucked away in the closet.”

“oh piss off, the nuisance sometimes happens in the middle of the night. how could i let him go home so late? what kind of host would i be?”

“couldn’t he just go home straight after?” dorcas asks.

“is it a nuisance, still?” pandora asks.

you cross your arms, petulant, “he can, but he chooses not to. and yes, still.” you scoff, “i know you think something filthy is happening but i particularly don’t enjoy his impromptu trespasses, believe me.”

“i don’t know, you two seem to be getting along quite well.”

“me and that useless oaf? are you joking?”

pandora smiled sweetly, “hardly useless now, i hear.”

“and what did you hear?”

“takes care of you quite well, what with dinner invites with the potters and even travelling?”

you turned around, fiddling with the tea cups, hoping to hide your darkening flush. but you know it did nothing, judging by their giggles.

“travelling?” dorcas inquired, interest piqued.

you don’t see her but you can sense her teasing smile.

you have yet to share that tidbit of embarrassing info to her. mainly because you don’t know how to squeeze it in and you don’t know how to even begin.

you did go to the potters for one random dinner. the invite came after sirius had come and helped you arrange your home library. it was just a simple dinner. filled with other people, hardly anything scandalous.

the travelling together was accidental. you were off to travel with bloke #4, as graciously dubbed by sirius (someone regulus had set you up with at the time) off to a romantic getaway for the weekend to a hot spring up the mountains. only to get thirsty halfway through your trip and have sirius show up in your train compartment only in his boxers and fluffy bunny slippers.

there were no other stops in the train. anti apparition wards set up and the floo connection was severed in the hotel to promote exclusivity, sirius had to join in on the activities through his relentless insistence. he had ate and laughed obnoxiously loud - sitting dangerously close to you the entire trip. he had constantly went on a tangent, reminiscing about your past relationship ranging from random dates to the make out spots you’ve frequented together in hogwarts. safe to say that was the last time you’ve heard from bloke #4.

but you could hardly think to be upset about that. you quite… enjoyed yourself.

but you’ll be damned before you admit that to these two vultures.

taking a deep breath, “there was no dinner invites nor travelling. it was—“

“magical nuisance, yes, yes.” pandora waves off.

you roll your eyes again, grabbing the hot kettle to steep the tea. “stop trying to make things—ah! fuck, ow.” you hiss, holding your painfully warm, stinging fingers. you see the tiny boils already appearing on your skin, the piercing pain shooting through your fingers. you squeezed your hand, hoping to elevate some of the pain.

sirius made a quick move to grab your wrists to pull you to the sink. you didn’t even hear him arrive.

“what happened?” he asks, silver eyes looking at you in intense worry. softly holding your hand under the cold running water gliding down your hand. he was standing so close to you you could smell a tiny hint of his soap. you slowly start to relax.

that is before you catch dorcas’ glinting gaze and pandora’s knowing smile. both of which you vehemently ignore, as you stare at your red fingers and his much larger hand on yours.

“i burned my fingers on the kettle.”

“goodness love, you have to be more careful.”

“sorry.” you mumbled, but having no idea why you would even apologize in the first place. still, you feel the heat of your hand spread to your body.

dorcas, having stood up to help you sat back down again, “hello, sirius. right on time as always.” she called, a cetain lilt in her voice you nervously recognized.

“sirius black, what a coincidence.” pandora sing songs, no subtlety whatsoever.

oh, they are just the worst.

he regarded them both in an overly familiar smile (an ex shouldn’t give to his ex’s friends) and in a light teasing tone as he says “good evening, ladies. why do i get the feeling like you’ve been gossiping about me?”

“you might have been mentioned once or twice.” pandora shrugged.

sirius softly laughs, the sound barely heard over the sink, before he stares at your fingers again, rubbing his thumb over the sensitive skin. before looking at you with a teasing smirk to which you only roll your eyes at.

you see shuffling in your peripheral, meeting your friend’s eyes, you see them gesture to you and sirius. trying to wordlessly communicate to you with wide smiles. you imagine something akin to, see? what did we tell you? not useless right? nuisance my ass. look at you guys holding hands under the water.

as if just realizing it now, you pull your hand away from his grip in an embarrassed haste, as he slowly lets go with a small frown etched on his face.

drying his hands on the towel, as he leans down to unnecessarily whisper to you. “i’m going to get a burn salve, i’ll be quick.”

“it’s in the—“

“bathroom, yes, angel, i know. just wait for me.” he drawled, giving you a wry smile.

you stare at his retreating figure. you almost want to laugh at his serious reaction to a simple burn from a kettle. hardly calls for any salve. but you kept the comments in, for whatever reason. a fluffy, dangerous feeling erupting in your chest.

you hear dorcas whistle to get your attention, a smirk on her face, “angel?”

when the promise first happened, it was during graduation from hogwarts. absolutely gutted by the fact that your parents didn’t show. they’ve been vocal about their disappointment that you weren’t able to finish at the top of your class. but you had hoped they would still show. you were, after all, still their kid.

but there was noticeably empty seats in an area reserved for your family. so, naturally as any teenager, the next best thing you could do in the situation is cry alone in a bathroom.

though the lack of company didn’t last too long, because then your boyfriend appeared, looking to be in a middle of taking pictures if his big and goofy face is anything to go by.

he heard you, before he saw you. hearing your soft sniffles and the tiny hiccups from your mouth. at the time, you both didn’t question what had happen. why he was inside the girl’s bathroom, why is there a strange pull to follow your every whims. but he was suddenly there to comfort you, and make you smile again—who were you deny his services?

you both only managed to understand what was happening by the third time it happened. sirius suddenly appearing by your bedside, wet and covered in suds. he was in the middle of showering and you promptly freaked out, seeing large bits you weren’t ready to see yet.

but understanding why it was happening didn’t mean both of you would be prepared anytime it actually happened.

the bind didn’t pick and choose when, where, and why he would appear. there was an embarrassing moment when he showed up in the bathroom when you’ve ran out of tissue paper. also at your house during dinner when you needed salt, to which your parents justifiably freaked out at the sight of a boy, claiming to be your boyfriend.

this hasn’t changed years later.

now as you lie in your bed, feeling the scratchy feeling in your throat. you knew by the tingles in your arms. the thrumming static of your magic within you— letting you know of his arrival before you could even sit up.

there he was, your ex-boyfriend, like the days before. it was terribly late, and he was struggling to even stand straight as he yawns in the middle of your room, wearing a set of well-loved teddy bear pajamas.

“somethin’ wrong baby?” his voice deep, hoarse and low. something exciting spiking through your veins, making you more awake.

you knew, if he was more alert he wouldn’t have called you that.

you try not to think why you feel miffed by that fact.

“jus’ some water please.” you call softly from your bed.

he yawns again, rubbing his flat belly, “okay.” he breathes, walking in the darkness of your room with practiced ease.

you hear the small sounds of clanks in the kitchen, and the fridge being pulled open.

he knew you liked you water cold. he knew where your drinking glasses were. he knew where you keep the salves. he knew your apartment in the dark.

in the beginning, especially after your relationship ended, you associated this binding promise as an act of forceful requirement. at best, you see it as a favour you give to a stranger. but lately, especially in the quiet of your house, the pet names that keeps slipping out of his mouth as of late—you start to dangerously think of this as something else. as something more. as something painfully familiar.

he comes back quiet, siting on the bed near your thighs, as he hands you the cool, moist glass. his hair was tousled more than usual. there were sleeping marks on his face. he was probably already asleep before you needed him here.

you feel a little bit guilty, but you see his flushed cheeks through the soft glow of the moon outside your window, and the hooded gaze he desperately tries to keep open. you fight back a smile instead.

“is that all, baby?” his hand softly smoothing your hair at the back of your head. your room felt ridiculously warm.

“thank you.” you murmured before setting the glass on the bedside table.

he gives you one last sleepy smile, eyes closed and his hair toppling over his eyes. “okay, if that’s all—“

“are you going back?” you cut in, holding his wrist, your finger on his pulse. keeping him seated before he could even stand. before his warmth leaves your bed.

“i don’t have to..” he offers. like always, giving you the choice to draw the line.

you hesitate before you answer, letting go of his wrist, “it’s late..” and that’s all you say, and apparently that’s all he needs.

“is it alright then, if i stay the night? then i can leave in the morning?” he whispers back. his warm hand, touching your thigh over the covers. he felt so far away.

you don’t do this, not usually. but in the dark space of your room you feel more confident. more assured. braver.

you move slightly to the side, giving him space, “if you want.” conveniently forgetting the existence of the spare room. choosing to blame it on the lack of sleep.

he smiles, moving the covers. the short moment of exposure making you shiver in the cold. he notices, quickly sliding into bed with you. arms stiffly on his sides and yours crossed across your chest.

still not brave enough.

you feel him shuffle, laying on his side and facing you. his fingers just barely grazing your sides in a soft touch.

you fell asleep faster than any other night, hearing him breath near your ear.

you dream of a teary conversation from a time not so long ago, of desperate pleas not to leave you. and when you feel his arm curl around your waist. you dreaming of nothing for the rest of night.

the next morning, you woke up later than you would have, and see the too empty space next to you. the pang in your chest, grossly familiar.

it had been a month since the night he’s stayed with you. not a breath has been acknowledged about that night. choosing to ignore the lingering tension, the long stares and the awkward dispositions.

you don’t know whether to feel relieved or frustrated.

of course, your friends had noticed this - because hadn’t they been analyzing each of your move when it comes to sirius black?

dorcas eventually had to force it out of you. to which pandora squealed and teased you in delight. insistent of the blooming change in your relationship.

“blooming change?” you repeated.

“what? it’s poetic!” she argues.

“it’s dumb,” regulus calls out. “y/n isn’t the kind to return to an ex, especially not to my dumb brother, right y/n?” he looks so earnestly confident. so much so that you couldn’t even lie to agree with him. truth be told, you have no idea if you were even the type to go back, regardless if it was reggie’s dumb brother or not.

because sirius has been your first boyfriend and if this bind continues on, he might be your last. you don’t know if that’s a good thing, all things considered.

everyone has turned to you now, in varying degrees of smugness, amusement, pride and playful pity.

dorcas laughs, saving you from answering. “i don’t know reggie, seems like y/n’s getting a little swayed.”

reggie reacts for you, as if offended. “she is not! she is actively going on dates and meeting new people.”

“oh?” dorcas smirked.

barty, sitting up straighter, “doesn’t he have a room here or something?”

you say, “no,“ “yes.” pandora quips, at the same time.

you rolled your eyes, “it’s a guest room—“

“one that conveniently went unused in one random night.” evan hummed, smirking, as he blew his smoke out the window.

pandora and dorcas ooh’ed.

“it was late! he was practically dragging himself from the floor, i couldn’t let him hurt himself after i interrupted his sleep, a-and he was already there, it’d be rude not to—i don’t even know why i’m explaining myself to you!— i don’t have to explain myself, because i did nothing wrong.” your met with four amused looks and one gut wrenchingly, disappointed one.

dorcas clicked her tongue, “i don’t know why you’re even fighting it at this point.”

“what do you mean by that?”

“i mean, you clearly want to be with him still.”

you sputter, sitting straighter, indignant as you say, “what gave you that idea?”

“the longing gaze.”

“acting all shy.” barty adds.

“the late night rendezvous,” evan hums.

“giving him his own room.” pandora pointedly looked at you.

“the inability to pursue any other relationship after him.” regulus tutted.

you gasp, betrayed. “even you reggie?”

regulus rolled his eyes, crossing his arms and legs, “i am running out of eligible acquaintances to set you up with, you know.”

you don’t even know how to respond to that.

frankly you can’t. because you know they were right, and dammit if that didn’t hurt your pride just a little.

still, ridiculously hung up on an ex that didn’t even love you. a joke, really.

but you relish in the idea of sirius being near you. it sends a certain tingle down your spine just knowing he’ll arrive anytime, and be there for you. you like how he always stands so close to you even if he doesn’t have to. you like how you don’t have to tell him what he has to do before he does it. you like the pet names naturally slipping past his pretty mouth. how he’s always touching you in some way. how familiar it feels. the habits, the conversations, the feelings—how easy it all seems.

but it isn’t. you know it isn’t.

because you’ve tried and failed.

you fell for him, loved him the way you know how. leaving nothing for yourself as you give everything for him. loving him with no expectations for him to do the same. and so, he doesn’t.

he couldn’t love you back. at least not in the way you entirely feel for him.

he couldn’t look past his life and the experiences he’d endured just to reach that moment in the past. it wrecked you. you didn’t expect anything, but it still hurt when you got nothing for everything you had.

you don’t like the reminder, but you know you need it. you know how destroying it is to forget. you’ve tried being with him already and it didn’t work. you say this to them, whispered, as if ashamed.

you don’t even feel the tears sliding down your check as you say this.

dorcas’ smile dropped and pandora immediately sat down beside you.

“hey, you know it won’t be like that again.” pandora rubbing your shoulders.

“do i?” you rasped. “what’s so different about now than before? what’s to stop us from breaking up again?”

“it’s going to be different because you are different, and so is he.” dorcas said. “you were just teenagers, you barely knew yourselves back then. you weren’t ready for each other yet. he had issues to work out, and you had to grow up a little to understand that.”

you sniffled, “and you think we’re ready.”

“yes,” they all said.

dorcas reaching over and squeezing your hand, “i know you’re both ready.”

you shake your head, you don’t know if that’s true, “our forced proximity lasted longer than our actually relationship. and it’s only lasted this long because it’s just that—forced.”

pandora shook her head, dangling earrings clinking together. “that’s not true. it’s lasted this long because you wanted it to. you both wanted it to.”

evan nodded, smothering his cigarette butt and throwing it outside, “i, personally, wouldn’t want to spend any second with any of my exes, but you both didn’t even try finding any sort of solution to break the promise.”

barty gives you an awkward smile, as evan continues “if you had wanted to call it quits you would’ve found a way to end all of this the moment he had broken up with you. but you didn’t—“

“that’s because i couldn’t—“

“don’t lie,” regulus cut in, pouting, looking a bit like a petulant child. “we all know you could have found something in this ridiculously large library of yours.”

“why are you suddenly advocating for sirius and i to get back together again?”

regulus clicked his tongue, looking away. a slight flush on his cheeks. “i’m not advocating anything.” he huffs. “he’s an idiot who doesn’t deserve you. but if it’s sirius that ultimately makes you happy. then so be it.”

you swallow a lump, breathing a staggering breath, “i don’t know if he even—“

“he does.” regulus looking at you, eyes clear and sure. “he wouldn’t be so cross with me for setting you up with dates if he doesn’t.”

that same night, sirius, for once, was not summoned by you but of a call from regulus.

he already feels the natural flare of irritation, bracing himself for another round of teasing hums and provoking stories about how you’re on a date in an exclusive restaurant, with a bloke who’s ready to give you everything you need.

standing up from james’ couch, going to the kitchen to block the noise from the muggle telley, as remus called it. then accepting the call,

“i swear if you’re calling just to gloat about another conquest you’ve put her through then—“

“she needs you.” regulus slurred.

feeling an immediate spike in his heartbeat. already grabbing his jacket and hurrying to the front door to leave.

“we’re in a pub, bring your motorbike or something, she can’t apparate right now, too drunk.”

“i’ll be there in 10.” grabbing remus’ keys off a bowl in the entrance.

“oi, where the hell are you taking my car?” remus shrieked from the couch.

without looking back, “she needs me.”

peter whines from the living room, “but the game-!”

and he only slams the door close as a response.

“we’re in the east village, near a fountain.” regulus sluggishly explained before hanging up.

sirius wasn’t the best driver. in hindsight, he probably should have asked remus to drive him to you. but this was about you. he could hardly think about anything else when it comes to you. he would do anything for you, binding promise or not.

he found it particularly odd and extremely worrying, why you’re drinking on a thursday night. he knew you couldn’t handle your alcohol well, always ending up drinking too much and passing out.

considering regulus had to call him to come get you didn’t help his nerves as he drove faster than the limit allowed.

when he arrived expecting the worse, he found himself smiling at the sight of you.

you were laying your head on regulus lap as you both sat on the bench. he can hear barty and pandora trying to lift each other. dorcas and evan cheering them on.

but all he can see is you laying there. eyes closed and cheeks darkly flushed, dress splaying over your thighs. regulus smoothing your hair, lulling you to sleep. when he met his brother’s eyes. the younger black rolled his eyes and beckoned him over.

“took you long enough.” regulus grumbled, now sounding sober than when he called.

“is she okay?” sirius asks, crouching down and staring at your sleeping face for any signs of discomfort or pain.

regulus sighs, “just got a bit carried away, this one. she was… upset tonight so we let her have her fun an—“

“upset?” sirius cuts, couldn’t help the finger tracing your cheek and jaw. your nose twitching at his action. “why was she upset?”

regulus waves his hand, making vague gestures but offering no explanation. sirius frowns.

“i can take her home,” standing up, now as he calls out to the others. “does anybody else need a ride?”

all four heads, shook their heads and offered varying words of thanks. “you reggie?”

“don’t bother, i’m perfectly capable.” he tuts. “be careful of that metal beast.”

with slow movements, sirius slides his arms under your neck and the back of your thighs. making sure your dress stay tucked and you comfortably napping before lifting you up.

once lifted, your head turns to the crevice of his neck, burying your nose and breathing in deep. wrapping your own arms around his neck with practiced ease and familiarity.

his heart thrumming and slowing all the same. he likes you like this, so close to him and looking so content as you do now.

nodding his goodbyes to the others, as he walks to the car again. opening the car door proved to be a challenge what with an armful of you. but he managed to do so without jostling you too much. he didn’t want to wake you, but such actions proved to be futile as the moment you were placed in the passenger seat, you froze awake.

he tries to appease you with a gentle smile, brushing your hair behind your ear. “hi love, i’m getting you home today, is that alright?”

“siri?” you rasp, looking at him like he wasn’t real. his chest pounding as he sees your eyes glossing and shining with unshed tears. he immediately crouch down in front of you, grabbing of your hands, and peppering soft kisses on your knuckles.

“what is it, my love, why are you crying?”

“you’re here?”

he nodded, kissing your knuckles again. “i’m here.”

you said nothing, just staring at him. looking so lost and tearful. he feels a little guilty thinking you to be heart-clenchingly adorable, right now. looking so soft and precious, the urge to stay the night in the parking lot and just stare at you was strong but he knows he has to take you home, else you get sick.

he thought you were to say nothing else. so, he stood to close the door and head to the driver’s seat but you whined. tugging at his hand still in your clasp and pull him to you. tucking his head into your neck and burying your hand in his hair.

this is entering dangerous territories now, he thinks. one he very much like to continue venturing but he knows you weren’t sound of mind right now. so he refrains from touching you anymore than he has. his hands desperately clutching to the cold, hard car, substituting for your soft, pretty skin.

you whine, “don’t go.”

“‘m not going anywhere, baby. i’m just going to the seat next to you.” he mumbled, his lips agonizingly grazing your skin, he ignores the way your body shivers and the filthy thoughts that come with it. his hands gripping the car tighter.

“next to me?”

“yes, next to you.”

you eventually let him go, but not without constant coaxing.

he drives, slow and steady. avoiding potholes and uneven roads. you fell asleep again, from the slow, quiet drive and the soft, mellow music coming from the radio.

then sooner than he had liked, he parks in front of your house. he kills the engine and he whispers his calls to you. not sure whether he wants you awake to be feeling okay enough to walk or asleep so he can touch you again.

he moves when you stay quiet, doing everything he can to keep you from waking up. letting out a soft hiss each time a creak or a thump echoes in your quiet house.

when he finally, finally reaches your bedroom and lays you there, he’s quick to take off your shoes. then the realization of his next move taunts him. although, you looked very pretty with your dress, he doesn’t know if he should change your clothes into something more comfortable for you.

he knew an intense hungover when he sees one. getting up to change clothes isn’t pleasant with a raging headache. he stares at your laying figure. the thin strap of your dress slipped down, and your legs looking longer than he remembers.

he looks away before he sees anymore. it didn’t feel right, looking at you that way. especially whilst unconscious.

he open your dresser, knowing the drawer you keep your pajamas.

he sees a familiar, more faded than he remembers, shirt he always wore. the thought of you wearing his clothes makes him too happy and giddy for an adult man.

he fights his heart from beating too loudly. afraid you’ll hear. bites his lips to stop his giddy grin, and forces his eyes to focus on his search. but eventually did land on his old shirt and some long bottoms so you’d be warm.

he slid the bottoms first. careful not to touch your skin but very much feeling the heat of your thigh. he held his breath as he reached the curve of your bum. stopping and not knowing what to do next. with one arm he lifts you slightly off the bed. and with his eyes clenched tight, fast and frantic hands—holding his breath as he went to pull it up.

next was his your shirt. he had you sit up, head laying heavy on his shoulders. softly pulling back from you to slip the shirt over your head before letting you lean into him again. guiding your arms and pulling the soft tee down.

with a bated breath, he feels for the zipper at the back of your dress.

fingers touching and sliding over your back. the touch leaving a lingering static in his fingers. when he clutched the thin tiny thing, he slide it down. slowly, careful not to pinch your skin.

he hears you sigh from relief, letting himself smile, knowing he did a good job.

he lets you lay back down, properly this time, slip off your dress, cleans your face with a warm wet face towel.

he knows he should go. he knows to let you get your rest and sleep. knows he should return remus’ car. knows the lads are probably waiting for him. but there is no urge to leave. instead he stares at your clean bare face, the soft lines and pretty marks on your face just adds more to your allure.

he didn’t know how long he stared at you. it could’ve been a minute to a full hour, too busy studying your face, seeing all the new marks and the familiar ones, committing them to memory.

he was about to leave, lest he bothers you and wake you up. but you stirred.

stretching as you did so. and blearily stared at him. expectant and quiet.

your voice hoarse but genuine all the same. “it’s late..” he knew what you mean. the unspoken invitation, just like last time.

and he wants to—god he wants to.

“i can’t baby,” you were drunk, he wasn’t. it wouldn’t be fair.

“you’re leaving again?”

that did him in, slumping down on the bed. rubbing your outer thigh through your covers. “i’ll stay then, just rest.”

“but you’ll just leave me like last time.” you mumbled.

he gives you a lopsided smile, apologetic and painfully endeared all the same, “i had to, my love, i had work.”

“no,” you breathed, softly shaking your head, letting out a staggering breath like you were going to cry. “i meant the first time.” you whispered.

it was shameful the way he slowly realized what you had meant. you didn’t sound angry or bitter. or even resentful even if you had all the rights to.

he didn’t respond. letting your words stew in his mind. the quiet in the entire house emphasized by the ringing in his ears. he didn’t know what to say.

what words you were waiting for him to say. what words he can say to make it all better.

he didn’t even know you still think about that. still thinking about your relationship, and what had happened, and why it ended the way it did.

still thinking about it like him, who sometimes find it difficult to sleep thinking about you and the pain he caused you. the regret heavy in his veins like lead.

he should apologize, probably beg or grovel about the way it ended.

he was about to.

but he hears your soft breathing again. the stillness in your body, only sleep can make that he realizes he’s lost his chance.

again.

he rubbed your thighs, still. hoping to lull you into a deeper sleep. he grabbed a glass of cold water and put a statis charm so it would stay cool. he petted your hair, and caressed your cheek. it was painful, and he struggled. but he eventually left. feeling the same amount of fulfilled and disappointment altogether.

it was the next morning where sirius was beckoned again, this time not by a call from his baby brother but by the usual pull of your magic. he had expected as much, even fixed up his hair and wore fresh clean clothes and even put on perfume.

he did it whenever he could. in case you were to need him.

he even has a couple of hungover potion in his pocket just in case.

when he got summoned, popping into your familiar bedroom like the nights and mornings before. he was greeted with you still buried under the covers, eyebrows scrunched and eyes already open. you looked like you’ve been awake for some time now, but still refused to move.

you looked so tired and groggy and so soft and warm and homely and pretty.

someone with a hungover shouldn’t look as good as you did. but you are. he ignores the flutters in his stomach, tightening into a coil and puts on an easy smile.

“good morning dizzy girl.” he sing songs. plopping down on your bed, making sure to bounce you a little as he did.

you groan some more, turning away from him, holding your head.

he softly laughs. reaching over to smooth out your hair, “did you drink water?”

“hn.”

he took that as a no.

“up you go, c’mon. drink, you’ll feel better.” he grabs the glass. still filled full and cool like last night.

sliding his rough hands under your neck and the other to your back. slowly sitting you up so you can drink. you give little to no protest at all at his touch and considers this a win. his lips feeling a little wobbly as he fights a smile.

you took a small sip and then a larger gulp, sighing after finishing the whole glass.

“i also have a hangover potion and a headache one that lily made, so you know it’s good—“

“you left again.” you rasped, a small frown on your pretty face, still turned away from him.

he stops.

it suddenly dawns on him how you’ve yet to look at him, or greet him like you do when he always appears. he chalked it up to you being hungover or the highly probable headache you must have. not sulking, or possible moping over the fact that he hadn’t waited for you until morning.

he feels his heart take up larger room than normal in his chest. the loud thrumming under his veins as his magic comes to life, the burning desire of it all, the ringing in his ears, his pulse loud and the heat coming to his face.

you weren’t playing fair.

“i’m sorry,” he whispers, scooting near you. reaching out to wrap his arms around your shoulders, then lightly tugging you to him, to lean on him like you did the night before. it was through his absolute delight that you let him.

giving him the courage to continue his ministrations.

“you said you’d stay.” you softly whined, voice muffled by his neck. your hands gripping his shirt.

so unfair.

he’s fully hugging you now. he tries to fight the sigh that threatens to come out of his mouth from having you in his arms again.

he hadn’t expected for you to remember last night, what with constantly falling asleep. he should’ve prepared for it though.

“i’m sorry.” he repeats. this more graver than the last. this apology carrying more weight and more reason, when he remembers your last question.

“you always leave.” he feels something wet touch his neck. his hearts clench, the image of your tears too clear for him. “always leaving me.”

he tries to lean back to get a good look on you but once you felt him move away, you tightened your grip. now wrapping your own arms around his waist. sirius doesn’t know how to feel. suddenly wrapped in your warmness and the familiar feeling and the guilt that you’re crying over him.

again.

causing you pain, again.

“i know, i’m sorry.” he hates that it’s all he can say. hates he can’t say anything else.

so you ask, “why?”

why?

he knows what you’re asking isn’t about why he’s sorry for leaving. he knows you’re asking something else. one withheld from you from the very beginning.

why do keep calling me nicknames?

why do keep touching me?

why do i feel this way?

why can’t you stay?

why did you leave?

why didn’t you love me back?

there’s a lot of answers he’s withheld from you but he starts from the one heavy on his mind.

he suddenly wonders if you’ve been left wondering too.

if it keeps you up at night, and having no one to answer it. if it eats you up and if you regret being with him, the same way he regrets ever leaving you.

“i didn’t think that— you would want me to stay, after what i did. i didn’t dare myself to even think you could still want me— or even be around my presence at all.” he says this quiet and so close to your ear.

you let him go now, leaning against the bed post instead.

sirius instantly wishing for you to come back into his arms again, but he refrains.

“you thought i didn’t want you?”

“who would?” he laughs, albeit a bit self-deprecating but hoping you’ll take it as a joke. you only frown. “sirius, of course i would still want you. you’re the best thing that happened to me.” your eyes looked so clear then, so sure.

so sure it burns him.

“but i hurt you. i caused you pain, i’ve disappointed you again and again—“

“you didn’t disappoint me.” you grab his hands, your touch still so soft like he remembers it. “i was hurt, yes, but that wasn’t your fault. it was my own fault for giving you more than what you were comfortable with.”

he shook his head, frowning hard. “don’t do that.”

“what?”

“be understanding,” he laughs, incredulous. “taking responsibility for me being a shitty boyfriend to you for being a complete arse to you.”

“you did what you could. what with everything you went through?”

he turns away, but you grab his face with your other hand, and tilts his chin up.

“all the things you’ve had to endure? i know you try to hide your struggles with it all. but i see you. i see all the things, all the extra steps you have to take to become better than what your parents set you out for. and now look at you, making it out on your own. making new friends, no trace of the anger and bitterness they tried so hard to embed in you. i loved you for it all, and i understood why you couldn’t, even if it hurt. because that’s how people love. you love someone even if they have all the capabilities to hurt you more than anything in the world— and i have loved you for so long. and i might’ve not understood this when we were younger, but i do now. i wasn’t asking for apologies because i’ve long forgiven you for everything in the past. but i wanted to know what it is you felt. why you felt the need to hide the reasons from me.”

he lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

you let his face go. but he grabs it. incasing your hand in his.

mind sticking to one thing he feared.

loved?

has he lost his chance again?

have you deemed him unnecessary?

“you don’t—?” he sighs, stopping himself, that wasn’t important right now. especially not if you were looking at him, looking so patient.

he started slow, contemplative if he can articulate it well enough for you to understand. “i didn’t think i could ever be capable of love, or be anyone you could ever want and need. because you’re amazing. when you said you loved me for the first time, i thought i was dooming you. my family. my circumstances. i thought i was going to ruin you and i couldn’t live with the thought of doing that to you. so i thought that leaving would be for the best. i tried to leave. tried and convinced myself it was for you. that i had to let you go for you. but i couldn’t do it. selfish as it is, i couldn’t let you go.

“i even found a way to stop the bind, but thinking that my last connection with you would be gone, and you would forget about me—have a life without me there, i couldn’t. because, because i love you. i have loved you from the moment you smiled at me. it terrified me, how much i love you and how much i was willing to do anything for you. i love you more than i could ever understand and i’m sorry if i couldn’t say it that time, i’m sorry if this is a bit late, but i love being needed by you. i love being around you. i-i need you, more than you could ever need me.”

he didn’t notice the tears spilling to his cheeks before you wiped it away for him.

your eyes looking so soft.

“you love me?” you breathed.

as if it was unbelievable.

as if it wasn’t possible.

sirius hates himself a little more at the thought he might have caused some insecurity for you.

because it was ridiculous.

“i love you.” and like a broken record, he repeats it. again and again and again. much firmer than the last.

and you smile, so big and beautiful. and your eyes shining and so pretty. it was like the sun was shining so much brighter that day. like the clouds were opening up in the sky and bathing you in a golden glow.

he repeats it again, because he’s spent so many years holding himself back. and if your reaction is the same every time he says it then he’ll say it everyday. with every sentence, with every greeting, with every meal you cook for him. with every night he picks you up from a pub absolutely sloshed. with every irritating conversation he has with his baby brother. with every teasing quips from the lads. with every secret smile you give him. every time he touches you, every time he looks at you. because gods, don’t you look absolutely magnificent and unbelievable right now.

“i love you,” he repeats.

“i love you too.” you laugh. like your smile was getting too wide and too happy that you had to laugh.

and his heart soars. couldn’t stop himself even if he tried, as he leans in and captures your lips like he’s done so many times before.

thinking himself a proper idiot if he ever thought he could ever live without touching your lips ever again.

he touches your face like he did the night before. he grabs your waist like he always does. and he tilts your heads like a time before. he tastes a salty thing as your tears slides near his lips and he relishes in its taste.

he feels the warmth spreading to his entire face and body. feels the humming of his magic intertwining with yours. your soft mouth moving against him. and the stretch of your lips, smiling into the kiss.

he pulls away even if he didn’t want to.

“i love you,” he says again, and you smile at him so sweetly.

he repeats it because of your pretty smile.

and again. because he can.

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Betrayal part 2:

Synopsis: Sam and Dean are at odds after what happened, and Sam tried to make up for his mistakes

Author’s note: not my best work, but I wanted to wrap up the fic a little more, so enjoy!

Sam had never wanted to share a bed so badly in his life. In all the years that he and Dean had been responsible for you, it was always a good day when he got a motel bed to himself. He and Dean would trade on and off with who had to share a bed with you, and who got a bed to himself.

But now, it had been two weeks since the demon blood incident. Fourteen nights, and each and every one of them you slept in Dean’s bed, even after Sam had completely detoxed from demon blood.

Sam was beginning to wonder if it was you choosing this, too scared to be that close to Sam without Dean in between you, or if it was Dean, too angry at Sam to trust him near you.

Either way, each night was just a reminder of how completely and utterly he had screwed up. He couldn’t decide what was worse; his own guilt eating away at him, the way you seemed to gravitate towards Dean whenever Sam got too close, like you were looking for protection, or the way that Dean refused to let you anywhere alone with Sam. And Dean was barely speaking to him, which was also pretty bad. Dean wasn’t one to hold grudges, at least not against family. But this was different. If Sam had failed you somehow, that would’ve been one thing. But this was so much worse. Failing you as a big brother would’ve been letting you get hurt somehow. But what he did…

He didn’t let you get hurt. He hurt you.

That wasn’t something he was ever going to forgive himself for. But a little part of him was still holding out hope that Dean could forgive him. He wasn’t worried about you forgiving him, he was pretty sure you already had, which almost made him feel worse. The idea that you could forgive him so quickly, before you’d even stopped having nightmares about what he’d done to you, just made him feel even more like a monster for hurting you.

Dean, however, wasn’t about to let this slide. There was nothing Sam could do except try his best to make up for what he’d done, although he had no idea how.

“Hey, we gotta case,” Sam snapped out of his thoughts just in time to catch John’s journal that Dean had thrown at him.

“What is it?”

Dean shrugged into a jacket, “Not sure. Three mysterious deaths, only about an hour away. I’m gonna go talk to the families, you do some research.”

Sam noticed you putting your coat on and frowned.

“And she’s going with you?”

Dean turned, “Yeah, and?”

Sam scoffed.

“Well she’s a little young to pass for an agent.”

“So she’ll wait in the car.”

Sam glanced at you. You didn’t seem ready to jump into the conversation, so he kept going.

“Or she could stay here. Work on homework, help me with research. It’d be easier for everyone.”

Dean placed a hand on your back, leading you out the door.

“Nah, she’s fine. Have fun.”

The door slammed shut before Sam could protest.

…

Sam was ready and waiting with everyone’s favorite fast food order when you and Dean returned to the motel.

Dean gave him a gruff nod, but Sam grinned when you smiled at him. Any little thing that showed him you were coming around was basically Christmas morning. Well, not his definition of Christmas morning, but a normal person’s.

Sam and Dean compared notes on the case while you sat on one of the beds watching tv. By the time the boys were done, Sam looked over to see you fast asleep.

Dean stood, heading for the bed, but Sam grabbed his arm.

“You should get your own bed,” he insisted. “You need a good night’s rest, you did all the leg work today.”

Dean shrugged his hand off.

“I’m fine.”

Sam scoffed, “It’s more than that, Dean. You can trust me with her.”

Dean gritted his teeth.

“I would’ve thought so too, two weeks ago.”

“Dean, I’ve apologized for that a thousand different times, an-and I’m trying to make up for it! Let me do that.”

Dean stepped away from Sam and sat next to your sleeping form on the bed.

“No, Sam. You do what you think you should, try to make amends if it’ll make you feel better. But that won’t include asking me to trust you. Not after this, not until I say so. You don’t get to make that call.”

Sam dragged his hand over his face, dropping his head so he wouldn’t have to look Dean in the eye.

“Alright, yeah. Your call.”

…

Sam awoke to the jarring feeling of someone shaking his shoulder. He bolted up to a sitting position, eyes scanning for some kind of danger. Instead, he vaguely made out your figure in the darkness, standing beside his bed. He remained alert, unsure of why you would’ve come to him.

If you were in danger, surely you would’ve just woken Dean, who wasn’t even six inches away from you. The soft sound of your crying made him feel both relieved and hurt. If there was a danger, you’d be yelling, not crying, but he’d really prefer neither to be happening.

“Baby, what is it?” Sam kept his voice quiet, not wanting to wake Dean.

“The demons…the demons got you,” you were trying to whisper, but the lump in your throat made it hard to get the words out quietly. “And-and you wouldn’t wake up, and I-I thought…” you broke off, your whole body shaking as you tried to breathe through your sobbing.

“Hey, hey,” Sam pulled you into his arms, letting you climb up on the bed with him. “It was a dream, you were dreaming, honey. I’m ok, I’m just fine.”

“You wouldn’t wake up,” Sam felt you fisting his shirt in your hands, pulling him as close as possible.

“It’s ok, I’m awake. I’m sorry, N/N, I must’ve been sleeping pretty deeply.” Deep sleep was a pretty rare occurrence for him, and he was annoyed that now was the time for it to happen. How long had you been trying to wake him up, afraid that he was dead?

“It felt so real,” your tears had stopped, but you still clung to Sam with all your strength. He held you as though you were made of glass, too afraid to hold you tightly. Perhaps he was too used to being treated as dangerous.

“I know it did, I know,” Sam rested his chin on top of your head. “But it wasn’t. I’m ok. You should go back to sleep.”

You shifted in his arms, turning your head up to look at him.

“Can I stay here?”

If you weren’t so distressed, he would’ve grinned.

“Of course you can.”

He tried to lay back on the bed, and his stomach twisted when he noticed that you wouldn’t let go of him, not even for a second. He didn’t pull you away, instead he held you tighter and struggled a bit to lay down with you still in his arms. He didn’t want to scare you anymore than you already were, so if that meant letting you Velcro yourself to him, that was alright by him.

Once he was settled back on his pillows, he felt you shift so that your head was resting in the middle of his chest. He felt your whole body instantly relax, and he knew you must be listening to his heartbeat. He kept his arms around you, almost as comforted by your presence as you were by his.

To think that you were ok with being this vulnerable around him, even if it was because of your nightmare, made him think that maybe, just maybe, everything would be ok again.

…

Dean awoke with the sense that something was off, and it took him a moment to realize what. He was alone in the bed.

He forced himself to remain calm as he scanned the hotel room. Surely you were around here somewhere.

His brief look around gained him nothing, so he quickly stepped out of bed and did a thorough sweep of the room. Nothing; even the bathroom was empty. He was about to head out to see if you’d gone outside to stretch your legs, when he noticed something out of the corner of his eye.

A flash of Y/H/C nestled under Sam’s chin, the lump under the blanket too big to be just him. When Dean stepped closer, he saw your face, leaning against Sam’s chest, the two of you breathing softly, almost in sync.

At first he was taken aback, then confused, then torn. He still didn’t trust Sam, he couldn’t, not after what he’d done to you. Dean was determined to keep you at arm’s length from Sam, and he was even more determined to keep you close to himself. He hadn’t been watching you closely enough, and that was why Sam was able to hurt you in the first place. He wouldn’t let that happen again.

But at the same time, there was only so much he could do if you were this determined to forgive Sam. If you were this ready to just hop into Sam’s bed and fall asleep next to him, without Dean’s protection between you and Sam, how was Dean supposed to protect you?

He didn’t have long to ponder his dilemma, however, because just then Sam started to stir, and you let out a soft whine when he sat up, dislodging you from your comfortable place using him as a pillow.

“Sorry,” Sam mumbled as he blinked the sleep out of his eyes, turning his head to look at Dean. “Hey. We got any new leads?”

Dean just shook his head, his eyes still trained on you as you sat up groggily, rubbing your face.

Sam followed Dean’s line of sight before turning back to his brother, shrugging and mouthing, ‘nightmare’.

Dean resisted the urge to grit his teeth. A nightmare? He should’ve expected that would be the reason, but lately your nightmares had been about Sam hurting you. So why had you gone to him?

“Can we get breakfast? I’m starving,” you mumbled, slipping off the bed and walking up to Dean. Dean couldn’t help the way his body relaxed when you were close to him, close enough so he could protect you if he had to. He was really starting to hate this part of him; somewhere, deep inside, he knew that Sammy wouldn’t hurt you, but Dean’s protective nature wouldn’t let him let go of the image in his head, the image of your blood running down Sam’s chin, seeing you cry out to your big brother to help you, only for him to hurt you.

He wanted to trust Sam again, he really did. But that image was seared into his brain, and as long as it remained there, so did Dean’s instinct to jump between you and Sam any chance he got.

“Dean?” Dean blinked as your hand waved in front of his face. “You ok?”

Dean cleared his throat, a light smile coming to his face.

“Yeah, I’m good. Look, we got some work to do here, so why don’t you grab us some stuff from the vending machine for breakfast, alright?”

Dean handed you a few dollars, and you shrugged and left to find some food.

“When did she…” Dean barely waited for the motel room door to close before he turned to Sam.

“I don’t know, middle of the night sometime. Look, I know you don’t want me near her, but she was really freaked. I wasn’t about to push her away.”

Dean shook his head, “No, and I wouldn’t want you to.”

“Ok,” Sam sighed. “So what do you want?”

“I don’t know. I know I want her to be safe.”

“She is,” Sam’s voice was resolute. “She’s safe with me, I promise. Look, I know how bad I screwed up. I know I hurt her. I would do anything, anything, to undo that, but I can’t. And I know you’re never going to forget this, and that’s fine, because neither am I. I can live with that. But what I can’t live with, is you keeping her away from me. I need to show her, and you, that I’m sorry. And that this is never gonna happen again. So, do what you have to do, hate me, keep me in the doghouse forever, but just…just don’t keep her away from me.”

“I wasn’t trying to take her away from you,” Dean stood, checking out the window to make sure you weren’t coming back yet. “I just needed…” Dean dropped his gaze from Sam’s penetrating stare. “I need to keep her close, Sam. You think you’re the only one who screwed up here? You were in detox, and I didn’t watch her close enough.”

“Dean, it’s not your-“

“Yes, yes it is my fault,” Dean interrupted Sam before he could finish the thought. “You were unhinged, and unpredictable, and I didn’t keep her close enough. And she got hurt. I can’t let that happen again, she won’t get hurt on my watch, never again.”

Sam nodded, “Ok. I mean, I don’t agree with you but I get what you mean. So what, you just can’t let her be alone with me, ever? Because you think that-“

“No!” Dean cleared his throat, trying to calm himself before he spoke again. “No. I’m just saying…I’m not trying to shun you from her life. Just know that…and if I start to get a bit overprotective, or if I don’t let you near her sometimes…I just wanted you to know that it’s not all you. It’s not just you that I don’t trust, it’s me.”

Sam gave Dean a melancholy smile.

“Ok then. I get it.”

Dean nodded.

“Ok. So…I’ll try to give you a little more room with her, but you gotta let me be protective sometimes.”

Sam’s smile turned real.

“Deal. Hey, I understand protecting her. I’m her big brother too.”

Dean returned the smile, “I suppose you are.”

The door to the motel room opened, and you entered with an armload of snacks.

“Sorry it took so long, the close one was busted to I had to walk all the way around.”

Dean ruffled your hair and snatched up a bag of pretzels.

“Thanks, squirt.”

You looked between the two brothers, and they knew that you were sensing the difference in atmosphere already.

“You guys good?”

Sam smiled at you and placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, reaching over you to grab his own snack. He was happy to see that Dean didn’t tense in the slightest.

“Yeah. Yeah, we’re just fine.”

[hungermakesmonsters]

Catch Me If You Can

Chapter Fifteen

Plot summary : When your friend interviews for a position at Anvil, you have a chance encounter with Billy Russo. He takes you for coffee and, by the time you’re done, Billy decides he’s anything but done with you.

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : R 

Chapter Rating : R - some smut

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Nothing major, just some smuttiness happening in a public place. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story. 

Word Count : ~4.8k

A/N : This is set on new years eve (coming to the surprise of no one, I'm late af with this again)! Thanks as always for all the lovely comments and feedback, and thanks for reading!

CHAPTER ONE | CHAPTER TWO | CHAPTER THREE | CHAPTER FOUR | CHAPTER FIVE | CHAPTER SIX | CHAPTER SEVEN | CHAPTER EIGHT | CHAPTER NINE | CHAPTER TEN | CHAPTER ELEVEN | CHAPTER TWELVE | CHAPTER THIRTEEN | CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Chapter Fifteen

You felt Billy’s eyes on you the moment you entered the party, finding him sitting off to the side with Frank, Karen, with a few of their other friends you remembered from the gala sitting at a neighbouring table. He let you clear about half of the distance between the door and their table before he got to his feet. There was something almost animalistic in the way he stalked towards you, the way he took in the sight of you, and it had you desperately trying to bite back a smile. But Billy wasn’t smiling.

You didn’t even get the chance to say anything before he was on you, his arm wrapping around your waist and pulling you into an eager and demanding kiss, his tongue slipping between your lips. It caught you off guard, left you weak in the knees - until you realised what he was doing.

He was making a spectacle, he was claiming you for everyone to see.

It was something he’d been doing more and more since his birthday. It had been subtle at first, little things that you hardly noticed; Billy holding your hand wherever you went, always finding a way to touch you or be close to you, putting his hand on your lower back and guiding you through stores and restaurants. Then it became more obvious; the way his gaze would darken when he caught other men so much as glancing your way, the way he’d kiss you like he was marking his territory, and the way he’d fuck you the second he got you home just to remind you that you were his.

And you were his, even though you hadn’t said the words yet, you both knew it.

“Billy -” you managed to pull back from the kiss, a hand on his chest gently pushing, creating space between you.

He looked at you, eyes seeming all the darker and filled with that want that you were coming to know all too well. Your hand stayed on his chest with just enough pressure to keep him from leaning to kiss you again. It took him a moment, but he finally got the hint. A second later, your hand was in his and he was leading you towards the table he’d been sitting at with Karen and Frank.

“Hey, sorry I’m late,” you smiled at Karen, taking a seat next to Billy. “My last job was a nightmare, then I got stuck on the phone with my brother...”

“It’s okay, you didn’t miss much.” Karen told you.

“Nothing except Billy-boy moping,” Grinned Frank, earning him a kick under the table from Billy.

“Fuck off, Frankie.” Though Billy didn’t glare at Frank for long. His gaze soon moved back to you, drinking in the sight of you, taking in your outfit; a tight, long-sleeved off-the-shoulder dress with a low-cut neckline that showed just enough cleavage to make you feel sexy, and cut high enough above your knees that you knew Billy wouldn’t be able to take his eyes off your legs all night.

He stared at you, and you stared right back. You’d dressed up just for him, just so he’d look at you like that, but you had just as hard a time tearing your eyes from him. Billy had decided to wear the same dark grey suit he’d been wearing the day you’d met and a powder blue shirt and, already, you were thinking about tearing his clothes off.

“Frank, come dance with me.” Suddenly you remembered that Karen and Frank were still there while you were practically eye-fucking Billy, and obviously Karen wanted to give you both some space.

“Right, yeah, we’ll, uh, give you lovebirds some privacy.” Frank joked, getting to his feet and offering Karen his hand.

“Less talking, more fucking off, Frankie.” Billy answered back, barely tearing his eyes from you.

You held back a laugh, but only because of the way Billy was looking at you. Neither of you spoke for a few seconds, allowing Frank and Karen time to move away from you. You just held Billy’s gaze, trying to ignore the anxious pounding of your heart, hating that you couldn’t read his expression, hating that you had no idea what was going through his mind.

“So,” you swallowed the lump in your throat, “what do you think?” Nervousness slipping into your voice. Was your outfit too much? Did he hate it?

“I think every guy in the room is thinking about fucking you.”

“Not every guy,” you tried to lighten the mood, smiling at him. “Frank’s only got eyes for Karen.”

“Not funny.” Was he angry with you? Had you done something to upset him?

“Billy...” your voice so soft that it was almost lost to the noise around you.

“Don’t.”

Fuck. He was angry.

For a moment you looked down at yourself and, before you knew it, you were angry too. Before him you’d never have dared dress like this, you’d never have wanted anyone to look at you the way you wanted him to look at you. You’d spent years hiding yourself, staying in the background, never wanting to be noticed, until he made you want to be seen. He’d made you want to live your life, and now he was pissed that you were. 

You glanced towards the door, thinking about leaving, and Billy must have noticed because the next thing you knew, his fingers were wrapped around your wrist.

“Thinking about going somewhere?”

“Home, if this is how you’re going to be all night.” You sighed, not at all surprised when his hold on you tightened. “Why do you even care how anyone looks at me?”

“Because you’re mine.” He answered without hesitation.

There it was again, that declaration that you wouldn’t deny anymore, but still couldn’t quite bring yourself to openly agree with.

“Then why does it matter how anyone else looks at me?” You asked.

“Because they shouldn’t be looking at you.” 

You knew what this was, you knew him well enough to realise that this was nothing more than petty, senseless jealousy that he couldn’t quite control. But that didn’t mean you had to like it.

“Am I looking at them?” You asked, trying not to get angry, trying to talk it out with him, so you could settle whatever this was once and for all. Billy didn’t answer, so you asked again; “have you ever caught me looking at another man?” He shook his head, no. “Then why does it matter if they look at me?”

Billy remained silent for a moment, seeming like he was finally taking a second to think about why he was actually bothered instead of just acting on emotion.

“Because -” he let out an irritated huff, his usually composed facade cracking even further, “- because maybe one day you will look, and you’ll see guys who can give you all the things that I can’t, guys who won’t piss you off like I do, and you’ll realise that you’d be better off with anyone but me...”

There was an awkwardness to the confession, something angry but at the same time vulnerable, something that made you wonder just how long he’d been feeling that way - knowing Billy, probably right from the start. You sat with the thought for a moment, absentmindedly turning your hand so your fingers could wrap around his wrist and you could hold him like he was holding you.

“There is no ‘better’ than this for me. This is what I want - you’re what I want.” Your eyes found his and your heart broke at the confusion you found there, like he couldn’t quite understand what you were trying to tell him. “The only person who could make me want to leave you is you, Billy. I don’t want anyone else.”

There was a moment of silence while Billy took a breath and considered everything you’d said, then he offered the slightest of nods.You’d come to learn that this usually meant that he’d said all he wanted to on a matter and he was willing to let an issue drop.

“You look really pretty tonight - you’re beautiful, more than you realise.” He told you, quietly. Then it was your turn to fall silent and let your gaze drop. You’d wanted to look nice for him, but you weren’t sure you’d ever consider yourself beautiful. “Hey,” his hand found your chin, gently urging you to look up as if reading your mind, “I mean it.”

“Thank you, Billy,” you told him softly, leaning towards him and kissing him gently.

His fingers slipped from your wrist finally, and moved to hold your hand, pulling it onto his lap. For a moment his gaze wandered to the crowded dance floor, like he needed some time to regain his composure, and you let him, hoping that at least some of what you’d said had gotten through to him. You knew it was going to take time to convince him that you weren’t going to abandon him at the first sign of struggle, but what you had with him was more than worth awkward little moments like this one.

“I wish you’d let me pick you up tonight,” he finally sighed, turning his attention back to you.

“We never would have made it here if you had,” you smirked, leaning yourself against him, pressing into his side.

“Maybe not, but at least we’d be starting the new year with a bang,” grinning ear to ear at his terrible joke while you rolled your eyes and tried not to laugh. Then, again, he fell silent, his smile turning to something more serious before asking; “you were talking to Sam?”

“Yeah,” you sighed, “he’s pissed at me.”

“How come?”

“He thinks I should go stay with him in Connecticut for a while.”

His grip on your hand tightened a fraction.

“Why?” The word seemed to come out sharper than he’d intended but he didn’t do anything to soften it or take it back.

“The other week, I - I told him that things were rough and he suggested that I stay with him for the holidays, but then we sorted things out, and I told Sam I couldn’t go.” You let slip another sigh, resting your head on Billy’s shoulder. “He’s just worried about me.”

“He doesn’t need to worry about you, that’s my job now.” You might have laughed if it wasn’t for the possessive tone in his voice and the way his hand was holding yours.

“Even if I do go, it’ll only be for a week or two, and it’s not like Connecticut is a long way away. It’s only like three hours,” you shrugged. While you’d hoped to put Billy’s mind at ease, you quickly realised that your words had had the opposite effect when he pulled away from you.

“You’re still thinking about going?” His gaze searched your face, though you weren’t sure what he expected to see.

“He’s my brother, I have to see him sometime.” 

“He could come to New York.”

“He has a family, Billy. Kids. It’s not like I could ask them all to sleep on the sofa,” you tried to explain with an awkward sort of laugh, hoping that he’d understand, but the discomfort seemed to remain, bubbling just below the surface. “Maybe you could come with me?”

“You want your brother to meet me?”

“I mean, yeah? You’ll have to meet him eventually. I can’t just keep you hidden forever.”

Billy didn’t say anything in response, but you saw that little flicker of hope in his eyes when you dared to utter the word forever. And, with that, he fell silent again.

For a time, you were content to sit there with him, drinking champagne, and letting Billy keep you all to himself, but it wasn’t how you wanted to spend the whole party. You wanted to have fun. You wanted Billy to have some fun. So, you asked him to dance.

Billy didn’t utter a word, he just took hold of your hand and led you over to the dancefloor. You caught a look from Karen that seemed a little concerned, but you simply smiled at her and turned your full attention to Billy, your hands finding his shoulders while his arms looped around your waist. The music turned slow and you quickly fell into rhythm with each other, no space between your bodies, your eyes fixed on his.

“You’ve got no idea how much I want you right now.” He whispered in your ear.

“I think I’ve got some idea,” you smirked, pressing closer to him, feeling his semi-hard cock against your hip. But you decided to play nice, pulling back a little, giving him some space - though he decided to use that space to look at your cleavage.

“You’re not wearing a bra.”

“Less for you to have to take off me later.” 

“I can see your nipples.”

He was right, your hard nipples were pressed against the taut fabric of your dress. Normally you’d feel self-conscious, you’d pull your arms across your chest or find a jacket to cover yourself, but you loved the way he was looking at you; like you were the most perfect thing he’d ever seen.

“Must just be cold in here,” it wasn’t, if anything it was too hot but his ego was bad enough that you didn’t want him knowing it was in reaction to him. Your hand slowly moved up his neck, pulling him down so you could kiss him, and Billy eagerly obliged.

“I know what you’re doing,” he smirked when the kiss finally broke.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you played innocent, dramatically fluttering your eyelashes at him.

“I oughta punish you for this, sweetheart. Trying to get me hard in a room full of all my friends.”

“Trying? I think you’ll find I’m succeeding.” You joked, your fingers curling against his neck, letting your nails press against his skin. And, because you felt bold after a few drinks, you decided to ask; “how would you do it? How would you punish me?” 

The way he looked at you had you thinking he was about to give a live demonstration, right there, in front of everyone. There was something dangerous about him in that moment, something raw and carnal, something that had your thighs clenching awkwardly as you swayed to the music. An eternity seemed to pass with Billy barely keeping himself in control as he considered all of the things he wanted to do to you until, finally, he leaned forward to whisper in your ear.

“I’d put you over my knee and spank you until you were crying out my name, then I’d fuck that clever little mouth of yours until you learned to stop teasing me.”

“Fuck, Billy…” you practically moaned. It sounded so good to you, though you didn’t understand why. The thought of being spanked or punished had never even crossed your mind before, but the thought of Billy doing it, the idea of giving him that much control, trusting him that much, was such a turn-on.

“Am I making you wet, sweetheart?” His tongue ran along the shell of your ear and your legs trembled beneath you.

“You know you are,” you admitted. 

“How bad do you need me right now?” 

“So bad, Billy,” you pressed yourself closer again, sighing at the feel of his erection against your hip. But as much as you wanted him to take you home, you wanted this one normal night out with him. You let out a slow breath to steady yourself. “We’re going to stay a few more hours, have some drinks and celebrate the new year with your friends, then I’m going to keep you up all night, making you moan my name.”

“Or,” Billy countered with a wicked grin, “we could leave now and I could fuck you in the parking lot before taking you back to mine and spending the rest of the night inside you?”

You gave him a playful shove and took a step back.

“Go talk to your friends and have fun, I’m gonna get a drink and see Karen.” He looked ready to disagree, but you silenced him before he could start. “You’re gonna have me all night after this, Billy. I promise.”

“Fine, but if I catch anyone so much as looking at you -”

“You’ll remember it doesn’t matter who else looks because you’re the only one I want.”

He took a breath and bit back whatever comment he wanted to make and nodded. You smiled at him before turning away and heading towards Karen at the bar, every step you could feel Billy’s eyes on you and it made you feel sexy, powerful.

Karen grinned as she saw you approaching, glancing over at Billy making his way to join Frank at your table again. You’d barely reached her side before she started talking.

“Okay, what the fuck have you done to Billy?” She asked, looking at you with amused disbelief.

“What? Nothing. I -”

“Bullshit. I’ve never seen Billy Russo look so smitten. He can’t take his eyes off you and Frank says he’s had his head up his own ass since the two of you got together.”

You didn’t know what to say to any of it. Billy was - well, smitten wasn’t the word you’d use for it. Intense, maybe, possessive, definitely, but not smitten. But, then, it wasn’t like you spent that much time around his friends, and you had no idea what Billy told them about you or your relationship.

“It’s complicated. He’s complicated,” you sighed, leaning against the bar. “He’s amazing but he still kinda pisses me off sometimes.”

“That sounds like Billy,” she laughed. “Are you two alright? He seemed a little... upset earlier.”

You shook your head. “It’s fine, he’s just - I don’t know, things are getting more serious and I think he’s struggling with some of it. It’s complicated.”

“How complicated could it be?” 

“How long have you got?” You laughed. “He’s just - I don’t know, I think he’s a lot more vulnerable than he lets on, and I think being with me and being exclusive has been a big adjustment.” 

“That tracks,” Karen nodded, “aside from the-bitch-we-will-not-name, I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone else last more than a month with him. But it’s good - I think you’ve been good for him.”

“I’m not so sure about that; he keeps getting possessive and trying to pick fights over weird little things. But - but he’s working on it, and I -” you shrugged, not really sure what else you could tell her. “I don’t know, when it’s just the two of us, he can be so sweet and gentle.”

“Sorry,” Karen tried to force down a laugh, “are we talking about the same Billy Russo here?”

You couldn’t help but let out a laugh of your own, knowing how ridiculous it probably sounded. “He is though, he’s kind of amazing when he’s not trying to act like - well, Billy.”

“Oh wow, you really like him, don’t you?”

While she said like you had a feeling she meant more than that. And the way you fell silent seemed to say more than words ever could.

“Oh my god, you’re in love with him.” Her voice louder than you would have liked, causing you to glance around the room, hoping that no one had overheard, and that Billy was still sitting with Frank on the other side of the room. Thankfully he was, and he looked like he was too busy listening to whatever Frank was saying to pay you any mind. “You haven’t told him?”

“No. Like I said, it’s complicated,” you turned towards the bar, flagging down the bartender and ordering yourself a drink. Karen fell silent, but only for the amount of time it took for you to get another glass of champagne.

“How complicated could it be? You love him and he obviously -”

“He doesn’t,” because he didn’t, did he? Billy was a lot of things, but you couldn’t imagine him loving you. “Billy doesn’t do love. Whatever he feels for me, it’s not that.”

“How do you know if you haven’t even told him how you feel?”

“He told me,” you shrugged, “right from the start, he told me that he’s not interested in love.”

“Bullshit. I’ve only known Billy a couple of years, but I’ve seen the other women he’s had around, and I’ve never seen him look at someone the way he looks at you.”

“Who’s been looking at you?” Billy’s voice sounded over your shoulder so suddenly that you damn near jumped out of your skin.

“Speak of the devil,” Karen rolled her eyes and tried her damnedest to force back a smile.

“Oh, you’ve got no idea how right you are,” Billy grinned. “I think Frank’s looking for you.”

You both knew that Frank wasn’t looking for Karen, but you were at least glad that he was trying to be subtle about getting rid of her. Karen gave you a knowing sort of look before shifting to something more sympathetic, but she didn’t say another word before walking away. 

“You lasted all of five minutes without me,” you sighed, reaching for your drink. “You’re supposed to be having fun tonight.”

“Yeah, well, talking to Frankie wasn’t exactly fun.”

“You looked pretty serious…”

“‘cause we were talking about you.”

“What about me?”

“Just about how I shouldn’t fuck things up with you and how he thinks I should think about settling down.” Billy shrugged.

“And what do you think?” You dared to ask even though you weren’t sure you wanted the answer after everything you’d just told Karen. If he couldn’t love you, he couldn’t settle down with you, and you weren’t ready to confront that fact with him yet.

“I don’t know,” he sighed, “and maybe that’s not fair on you…”

“What do you mean?” Though you already had an inkling where the conversation was going if your earlier conversation was anything to go by.

“It’s not fair on you that I can’t promise you a future, that I still don’t know what the fuck I’m doing.”

He was right, you supposed, maybe it wasn’t fair - but when had life ever been fair for either of you? You didn’t even know what sort of future you wanted, what sort of future you were capable of having. Billy wasn’t the only one who was fucked up, and you didn’t know what you were doing either.

In the silence he’d looked away from you, leaning on the bar and fixing his eyes on the row of bottles on the other side. He looked defeated, he looked like he’d already decided what your answer would be, and you couldn’t stand it.

“Billy, I don’t need you to promise me a future, I don’t need some picture perfect life planned out with you.” You reached for his hand, squeezing it tight. “All I want - all I need - is what we have now. I don’t know what I’m doing either and what we have terrifies me, but I know I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want to give you up just because I might not get some fairytale ending.”

“It’s what you deserve though,” his eyes found yours and your heart ached at the way he was looking at you. “You deserve the whole fucking world.”

“What I deserve is someone who holds me tight and makes me feel safe, and that’s you, Billy. You’re the only one who’s ever made me feel safe.”

All he could do was stare at you, brow creased with a frown, trying to read between the lines and figure out all the things you still hadn’t told him.

“Who hurt you?” He asked softly, his hand moving to cup your cheek. You leaned into his touch, covering his hand with your own.

“It doesn’t matter -”

“It does. I want to kill him. Just say the word and I’ll -”

“Billy, it doesn’t matter, because I know no one will ever hurt me again while I’m with you.” You told him, squeezing the hand against your cheek, practically pleading with him to just drop it.

“But I hurt you.”

“Never in a way you can’t take back, and never in a way that scares me.” You smiled at him softly. “You piss me off sometimes - you piss me off so much - but when you hurt me, I know you’re only doing it because you’re hurting too.” You pressed a hand to his chest, right above his pounding heart.

“I don’t want to hurt you at all...”

“I know you don’t and, in time, we can figure it out. But, right now, I just want you to hold me and dance with me. Everything else can wait.”

He nodded and let you lead him back onto the dancefloor, wrapping his arms tight around you like he never wanted to let go. You rested your head against his chest, listening to the steady thrum of his heartbeat over the music, and lost track of time. Until, eventually you made your way back to the table, wanting to rest your feet while you waited for the new year’s countdown to begin.

“It’s almost midnight,” you told him, leaning in and pressing your lips to his without thinking about it. You didn’t expect Billy to tense, and you quickly pulled back. “What’s wrong?”

“Sorry,” he was quick to utter, “I just...” he took a slow breath that seemed to say more than words could. “Poor impulse control,” Billy shrugged, even though he knew how much you hated him using those words, “if I start kissing you, I’m going to want to touch you and, if I touch you -”

Your eyes were on his, so you didn’t notice his hand moving until it was on your bare thigh, just beneath your dress.

“Maybe I want you to touch me,” you muttered, turning slightly and parting your legs a little. 

Billy took a slow breath, trying to smother the fire that you’d stoked in him, but you decided that you weren’t going to let him. You wanted to kiss him, you wanted him to kiss you and to stop acting like you couldn’t handle his desires. (And, yes, you supposed the alcohol was playing a part too.) Leaning forward again, you kissed him, fingers tangling in his hair, holding him in place. It wasn’t long before he was hungrily returning the kiss, his hand slipping further up your dress.

You kept kissing him, not wanting him to stop, and when his fingers finally reached your panties, you moaned against his lips. Fingertips ghosted the wet fabric before slipping beneath and you tried to part your legs further for him, hoping that the darkness of the room and the table were hiding what you were doing from everyone else at the party.

“Is this what you want, sweetheart?” he asked against your lips, his fingers starting to strum against your clit. You took his lip between your own, sucking and nibbling, letting out another gentle moan for him.

“More,” you finally begged, “I wanna start the new year by coming on your fingers.”

You weren’t sure if it was the alcohol, some desire to prove to Billy that you only wanted him, or just because you felt safe enough with him to do it, but you wanted him to keep touching you. You wanted him to know that when you were with him, you felt safe, you felt alive.

Billy swore under his breath but wasted no time in sliding two of his fingers into the wet heat of your body. The moan that left you was swallowed by the music and Billy looked like a man possessed, knowing he only had a couple of minutes left to make you come, but he seemed to like the challenge.

“Billy -” you moaned as his fingers curled. You loved that he knew just how to touch you, that he’d learned you inside and out. There was a roughness to the way his fingers moved, to the way he fucked you with them. You’d never thought about doing something like this in public before, but with Billy you wanted it, you wanted him to know that you weren’t afraid of his desires.

“Fuck, sweetheart, you look so perfect right now, so desperate to come for me.” He smiled, looking at you like he wanted so much more.

The countdown soon started and more moans spilled from you, but it was too loud for anyone but Billy to hear the noises you were making. When the countdown hit one, he pulled you into a fierce kiss and you came on his fingers, softly crying out against his lips. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders, holding him tight as his fingers finally slowed and withdrew from your body.

“Happy new year, sweetheart. I can’t wait to get you home,” he all but growled in your ear and, already, you knew that it was going to be a very long night...

Chapter Sixteen

END NOTES : I don't have much to say on this one, I was just enjoying playing around with how the dynamic of their relationship has started to evolved now that they're getting serious about each other. And, yes, next chapter will follow directly on from this one (sorry, it's probably going to be smut heavy again lmao)

Also I've now hit 96 followers and, I know I say this a lot, but I'm so shocked and amazed. Thank you all so much for reading and commenting, it really does make my day!

If you want adding/removing from the tag list let me know (I know it’s not working for everyone - if it’s not working and you don’t want to miss a chapter, I post every Friday around 7:30pm gmt)

TAG LIST

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[brighttears]

hi! back again with another request, i hope that’s ok! if not then totally ignore this. For the request: could we get a jealous reader? Im always seeing Fics where Joel is jealous and would like to see that changed up! Maybe she sees Joel hanging around another woman more his age and she gets insecure, idk it’s totally up to you how it happens. if you do take this request then thank you so much, if it’s not something you’re interested in writing then that’s ok too and thank you for your fics!! <3

Joel Miller x reader

No physical description except for having hair, leaning fem but no pronouns or explicit mentions, no use of y/n 

Warnings: age-gap, mentions of sex, drinking, Angst (happy ending), pet names (honey), you have a big fight :,(

Word Count: 1.6k

A/n: omg love this idea. Thank you for the request you’re so sweet and I’m happy to do them !! helps so much with writer's block plus I get to do cool stuff like this lol. This was challenging so I hope it doesn't disappoint :P

P.s. if any of yall’s name is Emily i apologize just replace it with the name of someone you hate lol

—

Even from all the way across the bar, you’re burning up, watching the way the woman in front of Joel twirls her hair and flashes her teeth when she laughs over enthusiastically at his jokes. Thankfully his back is to you so you can’t be tortured by whatever his expression—or wherever he’s looking—may be. 

Ever since you got to Jackson women have been crowding Joel like he’s the only man on the commune and it’s been driving you up the wall. You want to go over and give Joel a big wet kiss and tell her to fuck off, but you and him have never had a discussion about ‘us’, so you have no real right to claim him. Still, it burns, and that woman, Emily, as you’ve come to learn her name, as Joel’s number one fan, has such a punchable face. A matching burn of the whisky from your glass is welcomed down to your stomach.

When she leans forward, showing off the goods, you can’t stand it anymore, down the dregs of your drink and storm out of the Tipsy Bison. The icy breeze cools you down some but you’re in no way calm once you’re back at the house. Stomping up to your room—you and Joel’s room, you strip your jacket and immediately grab your gun to deep clean. Icey pain drips from your heart down into the crater of lava in your chest and it hisses in your ears.

Sitting at the head of the bed, you’re almost done with the fourth cleaning when Joel’s recognizable stomps sound with the creaking and slam of the front door. You continue to clean, not looking up when he comes in. 

“Hey,” he says breathily, innocently. 

“Hm. I’m surprised you even came home.” you reply, still not looking up. Still aflame, you keep a mostly even tone but Joel easily catches the pointy edges. 

He pauses, then finishes kicking off his boots to straighten up and turn to you, “An’ why’s that?”

“I mean I thought I wouldn't see you until tomorrow morning on your walk of shame from Emily’s house.” you keep your focus on the final wipe down of your gun.

“What?” 

“What? Can’t blame me, I saw her eyefucking you. Basically shaking her tits in your face, too. Didn’t stay long though, it was actually kind of fucking gross.” 

“Beg your fuckin’ pardon?”

“Oh, don’t act stupid.” you finally meet his gaze, “Don’t worry, you’re not in trouble. Go fuck whoever you want. I guess it’s none of my business. Would have been nice to know that that was the deal here before we started sharing an actual bed, though.” you go back to overpolishing the metal, trying to act nonchalant, but your chest is full of mud. 

“What makes you think I’m goin’ around fuckin’ other women?” 

“Well, now that you’ve got the pick of the litter, why settle for me?” you finally place your gun down loudly on the nightstand. 

Joel raises his voice in sternness, “What the fuck r’you talkin’ about?”  

You take a deep breath through your nose, refusing to let your anger go, but the icey, tight pain is tearing at your heart and you can’t stop it from piercing through your voice when you say, “I just—I just thought it was me, I thought it was me you wanted.”

“What—’course you’re—where’s all this comin’ from?” 

You stand to face him and scoff, “Please, you think I don’t see the way the women here have been looking at you? They drool all over you, and you just let them, you throw ‘em a smile.” you voice is teeming with attitude, “Never saying a word to me about it. What is it, are you ashamed of me? I have to be your little secret? I’m just some young—some young…” you stop yourself before you finish a sentence you know you’ll regret, no matter how much you want to stick him with it, but it’s too late.

Joel steps one foot towards you and shoves his finger out, glowering, “Good call not finishin’ that sentence.” he growls, “I don’t know who the fuck you’re talkin’ to though cause it sure as hell ain’t me.”

You pick your fire right back up, “I thought maybe I’d be good enough but there's things I don’t have, huh? Need a woman more your speed? Well, you’re free to let Emily fuck you better, just please don’t bring her back here, okay?” you end it with your voice drenched in sarcasm.

It’s Joel’s turn to scoff now, “What the fuck are you talkin’ about? I don’t give a shit about Emily! I’m not fuckin’ her! Wh—” Joel narrows his eyes, “You tryin’ to say I’m a cheater? Is that it? That's what you think a me?” 

“N–no,” you stutter, suddenly realizing that that is what you’re accusing him of. 

Near shouting, he continues, “You don’t trust me. That's what this is about.” 

“No, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that,” you move towards him but he steps back.

“How the hell else am I supposed’t take that?”

“I’m just scared.” the confession jumps out of you.

“Scared of what?” he shouts.

“Of you leaving me!” your voice breaks and you choke back the onset of a sob, but Joel loses no venom.

“You’re scared of me leaving? After all this time—after everything, you think I’m—I’d—I don’t want to leave you! Talkin’ to Emily, I was just tryin’ t’be fuckin’ polite, be,” he takes another step towards you, “social, that’s all! You think I can’t talk to women without tryna get in their pants? Is that really the kinda man you think I am? Should I stop talkin’ to Maria, too? Cause I’m such a piece a shit cheater I’m probably tryna get at her, too, huh? My own brother's wife? That’s what you think a me?” 

“No,” you nearly scream, hitting your hands to your head to grab at your hair, “that’s not what I mean, that’s not what I’m trying to say!”

“Then what are you trying to say?” He yells back.

Your chest is starting to heave, beginning to be overwhelmed with emotion, but you try to keep it under control, not wanting to break down in the middle of an argument. “I just hate seeing it! I hate seeing the women here fucking crawling all over you like cats in heat and you just fucking take it, like you want it, you want them, not me, now that I’m not the only option, you’ve got all these pretty women just waiting for you to knock on their fucking door, and I was just—just—”

“What, just some young pussy?” Joel snarls.

“No one that mattered! No one special! And all of it was empty, all the words, the sex, the time we shared, I was just a placeholder for a proper woman, cause I’m not good enough, was never good enough for you…” your voice shatters as the whirling in your head and heart overcomes you and you step back until the back of your knees hit the bed, then flump down and put your head in your hands, trying not to sob.

Instinctually, Joel comes to kneel before you, his anger beginning to melt away when his attention shifts to you in pain. He takes your wrists to uncover your face, saying nothing, only focusing your eyes and his, now gentle, as you continue to try to control your jumping breaths. After a few moments of you unsuccessfully calming yourself, Joel moves his hand to stroke your cheek, over the side of your face, into your hair. When your breathing has calmed some, he looks over your face and wipes away the few escaped tears. “I hate it when you cry but you look so pretty when you do.” he tells you, soft and quiet, pulling a small laugh out of you. Once your inhales and exhales are at an even pace, he speaks up again, with a soothing tone, “Okay. Now I’ve calmed down, n’ you’ve calmed down.” he takes a deep breath and you do with him, like you’ve learned to, before he continues, “I know all a that was just outta anger. N’ we’re just not at an understandin’ here… Honey I’m in love with you.” 

His words make you take a deep, post-cry shuddering breath. Remembering you have to say something back, you whisper, “I’m in love with you, too.”

After a few silent but full moments with Joel stealing glances at your lips, he asks, “Can I kiss you?”

You nod your head as you’re already leaning in as a response. Your lips essentially smash together, want igniting in both of you. You lean forward until he’s on the floor and you’re sitting on top of him, both hands holding his face while one of his clutches your hip and the other slides over your jaw and into your hair. Then Joel pushes you up and onto the bed, nosing into your neck from above you, sticking wet kisses all up and down it while your hands tangle in his hair. He slows and drags kisses back up to your mouth. Sounding drunk, Joel finds time between your mouths to say “Don’ want no one else.”

Between kisses you continue to converse, “So can I punch Emily in the face?”

“Mmm, I don't think Maria would like that very much. Why don’tcha just give me a big sloppy kiss next time she won't leave me th' fuck alone?”

“I can do that. Can we hold hands?”

“Yeah we can do that. Can I squeeze yer ass?”

“Only when someone’s looking. You can do it when they're not either but I would prefer if you did it while you know one of those alley cat’s watchin’.”

“Mhm. Every time. Let em’ all know.”

“You know, you’re gonna have a lot less friends once I scare all of them away.”

“Fuckin’ fine by me. I got everyone I need already.”

[eatommo]

Like Real People Do [d.d]

Summary: You and Mando have a history of broken hearts and are both looking for a place to land in the galaxy you live in, but you'll always have each other.

A/n: Not beta'd! mistakes are my own! and look a Hozier song to a Pedro fic what's new! I love this. I hope you do too! 6.2k

Cw: Canon typical violence, mentions of human trafficking, use of weapons, mutual pining, discussions of loss, discussions of war, brief mentions of grief, Reader is from Alderaan (trauma that comes from that), the reader has some of my tattoos because we love a self-insert, broken glass, pubic hair?, unprotected p in v, mentions of marking, hickeys, mentions of oral sex m/f receiving, fingering, the helmet stays on, breeding kink if you squint, as always touched starved Din, themes involving depression and loss, takes place post season 3 but has a flash back to season 1, I probably missed something but let me know!

It had been ages since you’d seen him. You’re not sure how many rotations, but not a day has passed that you didn’t think about him.  But there, just passing the entrance to the trading post, his shiny beskar helmet flashes over the crowd.  

You put your head down, looking at the spare parts you were hoping to auction off for some measly credits at a holiday festival for some caf and to help you hopefully buy some piece of junk craft to get you off this dusty and dry planet.  

Maybe you’ll be lucky and you can slink away, and evade an awkward reunion all altogether.  You found an outcropping and a small table covered in different smoked meats and small roasted animals.  

You try to sell the fact that you look busy while you think about the last time you spoke to him.  Your conversation about the rebel symbol marred into your skin with black ink, Cara had done it herself, and you’d helped her put the very same symbol on her cheek. The pain felt good, it mirrored the grief that felt immeasurable and it almost felt like a release of all of the terrible thoughts of your family’s final moments.  Had your family suffered? Did they even know what was coming for them?  

You were young and had just gotten off the planet in search of something greater, a higher purpose. Something to believe in, and the empire stole everything you’d ever known in one simple explosion. 

It had handed you a purpose, for a time. Working with the rebellion, standing with your Princess, and fighting and punishing the Empire for the loss of Alderaan.  Cara and you were hiding out on Sorgan after leaving your post as shock troopers. You were in the fresher when they started to tousle outside, you expected some gruff Klatoonian who she sharked in a bet, as it often was.  Instead, she lies on her belly, a blaster pointed at a chrome-covered Mandalorian, who is lying on his back with a weapon drawn.

The only thing that holds your attention is a little green baby holding a cup of soup, mirroring your amusement waddling up next to you.  

He coos, looking between you and his companion like he expects you to save him.  “Sorry bud, I’m with her.” 

An aggravated harsh pant cuts you off, “Stay away from him.” The blaster shifts to you, but you raise your hands and keep an even temper.  He looks between the two of you, who clearly have no intention or idea what he is in possession of, and offers to buy the two of your dinner.  

He didn’t speak much at first, but as you and Cara drank away a flagon of spotchka and you shared your interest in his ship, having to grow up around the rebel's fleet and wanting to see such an old military craft, he offered to show you.  

“It’s a short walk, the kid is falling asleep in your lap anyway.”  You look down at the little wrinkled green monster, blinking slowly with his massive eyes as you stroke his ears, you can’t help but fawn over him.  

“I can’t believe they’re hunting a baby.”  Whispering, as you feel the warmth of his tiny body, heartbroken at the idea of an imperial remnant looking for children.  

“He is older than I am.” His surprisingly playful voice almost startled you, he’d been quietly walking by your side as you carried the little guy nestled into your chest.

“He’s” you struggle to find words, but you can feel an energy emanating from the little creature in your arms “magnificent.” 

The Mandalorian hums lowly, agreeing with you.   There’s a pause for a few moments while you look over at him, “Did you find a lot of purpose? With the rebellion?” 

It's your turn to be broody, “For a time.” Suddenly feeling subconscious you speak a little bit more quietly, “Just waiting for the next thing to believe in I guess.” You sigh, gazing down into the dark black ink just above your rebel stripes, “It feels like I could keep fighting forever, but hearing all this, seeing such a small child threatened by the same evil as I was, it feels like I already have.” You’re not sure if he understands you,  or even what side of the war he stood on.  

“You feel like there’s reasons to fight.” He looks down into the baby drifting to sleep in your clutches.  “But afraid that you have no fight left.”  You half expect him to be criticizing you.  Mandalorians have lost almost as much as you have, but are warriors by nature and have fought and continue to be feared across the galaxy as mercenaries and bounty hunters.  His voice is soft, and understanding, as if processing his words himself. 

 You spot the ship ahead, falling silent in your admiration you trudge through the leaves and sticks that have fallen from the ship clearing its landing.  The ramp hisses as it falls open to welcome its pilot, but you stop outside to admire the twin engines and their decades-long wear and tear.  

Walking around the ship to admire her heavy laser cannons and her yellow markings.  He watches you with a quiet but proud silence, as you eventually shuffle up the ramp to set the little one into a floating pram.  Your eye catches a glimpse of a carbonite freezing chamber, and a little anxious butterfly seems to stir in your belly, how much do you trust him?  

“I always thought I’d die looking for a bounty when I got too old, too slow, or just in plain luck.”  You turn heel to face him, heartbeat clipping unsteadily in your chest, but you raise an eyebrow, encouraging him to continue.  He hesitates and sets himself on top of one of the shipping containers. “But protecting this child has made me dream of a life I never thought I could fight for.” 

You can feel your body soften at his confession, cursing yourself for thinking lowly of a man whose been nothing but kind and trusting of you.  “I’m sure it's lonely.” You take a small but calculated breath, “He is lucky to have you.” The smile is soft, and you try to reassure him despite yourself. 

He looks at you standing but a few steps away from him, and nods, “I’m just as lucky.” 

The bustle of the holiday market slows to accommodate him, traversing through the stalls as all shapes and sizes scurry out of his way.  You swear to yourself, turning away and buying some meat you can’t afford.  When you hear your modulated name fall out of his mouth like a prayer, soft and delicate.  He steers around the crowd, veering right into your path as a child walks in front of you blowing bubbles from the straw of a festive drink.  

The Mandalorian approaches you with purpose, his walk deliberate and commanding as if everyone in the vicinity answers to him.  “Mando.” you smile briefly, warmth heating your cheeks, and the never-fading crush you have on this man skipping around your belly.  “Hi.” 

His gaze stays fixed as he reaches for your arm, touching a patch of ink that not only is new to him but you completely forgot about.  His glove runs over it and when it doesn’t smear it might’ve made his knees buckle. “The Crest.” 

You peer into the helmet, glad to have him near you again, and realizing how much you missed hearing his voice, a rush of blood washes over your cheeks again.  “Yeah,” you fumble around doubting your reasons for getting that tattoo in the first place, “I’ve been adding a couple of ships that are important to me.” 

You hear a small noise but are unable to determine the emotion behind it, “I was hoping to see you on Nevarro,”  your heart rate picks up in your chest, and of course, his helmet picks it up, “the last few times.” 

“I’ve been moving around, looking for something new.” There’s a sleepy squeal coming from his satchel, “is that?” He swings it around to the front and opens the top of the bag to reveal your favorite green forehead. “Handsome man! I’ve missed you little mudscuffer.” 

Mando chuckles under his breath as you pull the baby from his confines and offer him a piece of the meat you just bought. He swallows it down greedily.  “I swear he eats. He just woke up.” 

You smile and give him a playful look, “Is daddy feeding you enough munchkin?” You hand the baby another strip, Mando is glad you don’t see him adjusting his pants as the word daddy slips between your lips innocently, “Don't worry I’ll get you something sweet too.” 

Mando rests his hands on his hips, and shakes his head in mock defeat, “He’s not gonna want to leave.” He follows at your back as you carry the child through the marketplace, sometimes letting his palm rest on your back to keep close to you.  

He would not be one to admit but seeing you carry the child around reminds him of the times on Sorgan, of the weeks you spent together and his floundering inability to court you.  Even now the way you look at him has him hiding behind his beskar helm like a foolish schoolgirl.  

“He doesn’t have to, are you here for business?” You cast a look over your shoulder, “He can stay with me while you take care of whatever you need.” You find a stall selling some fruity overpriced drink for the planetary holiday. 

You look into your bag, coming up just a few credits short, and cursing at yourself.  Starting to walk away, “I’ve got it.” He cuts in front of you while gripping your shoulder and standing over the top of you, handing more than enough credits to the man in exchange for two drinks.  

Yet another blush creeps into your cheeks, “No need to spoil me.”  You offer the child his drink and he snatches it away from you eagerly with a screech.

“I want to.” That causes your brows to knit together and a deep ache below your belt to settle and warm. 

You sip away at the luxuriously sweet drink, wishing you could at least share it with him. “I have a room at an inn,” you offer, “or we could go back to the Crest, and catch up.” 

You lean against one of the walls so that you don’t accidentally traverse even further from his bounty.  “I don’t have the crest.” 

Your drink turns to ash in your mouth, “What? Is she in disrepair? I’m sure Karga-“ 

“It’s rubble on the planet Tython.” He’s sad, of course he is, but his hand finds the mark on your skin again, and you can’t help but mull over the memories, the connection you shared on that ship eviscerated. 

“I’m so sorry.” You let your head hang low, remembering how many conversations you shared hoping he’d invite you aboard as crew.  “I loved that ship. I mean not as much as you I’m sure.” 

He chuckles, thumb brushing over the silhouette as he speaks, “You don’t happen to know how to rewire an N-1 starfighter engine?”  

“I’m sure I could look at it, but I don’t think I’d be much help. Where the hell did you find one?” You’re a bumbling mess, wanting so eagerly for him to scoop you off this planet like he had before, but also knowing your heart couldn’t bear to watch him leave a third time.  

“I didn’t think so but I have no idea what you’ve been up to and-“ he pauses, stopping himself to watch you take a sip of the drink after licking some whipped cream off of the straw.  

“And?” You prompt him to continue, but he stares between you and the child who have matching bright red tongues and are both sporting some whipped cream out of the corners of your mouths.  

You catch a hint of strain in his voice, “We can rest at your place for a while. He’s due for a nap.” You squint at him a little, easily reading his stiff body language and the change of subject.  

At the word nap, the baby babbles away while chewing on the straw of his drink, “There’s a lot of sugar in this, so we might have to wait it out.”  

Mando lets out an exasperated sigh, “What have you gotten us into.” You’re both sitting on the floor of a modest single room with the little one taking turns climbing up and over the two of you.  

“You bought it,” raising your hands in defense, smile splitting ear to ear,  “I was going to split one with him.”  You reach out to try to grab his surprisingly quick body but he darts away with a giggle.  

“He’ll crash, eventually.” You could hear him talk about the baby for hours,  to sit with him and watch the two of them play together always felt like a treat on its own. “Get down from there.” 

“He’s fine, this place is a dump anyway.” You smirk over your shoulder as he climbs up onto your bed, rolling around and giggling half to himself while chewing on the mythosaur skull pendant around his neck. 

“How did you end up here?” Your face falls a little, but he’s kind, and soft, and you can tell he doesn’t want to pry but his curiosity is getting the best of him.  

“I was tracking a bunch of smugglers, the republic got word that they were hauling children to Canto Bight, and exporting them maker knows where.” You continue, trying to keep your breath even, “Cara had asked me as a favor, but I had a run-in with a group of pirates who saw my stripes and stole my ship.” 

“Does she know?” He shuffles closer to you, folding his knees in so that he can run a hand soothingly across the skin of your leg.  

“I don’t know,” You clear the tightness in your throat, “At least I don’t think so.” You find the words pouring out of you as if he is comforting you into realizing something you’ve been fighting for a long time.  “I don’t think I can fight like this anymore, and I don’t know how to tell her that.” 

He is quiet, giving a simple solemn nod, before pulling the rising phoenix from his back, and laying it on the floor.  He scoots closer to you, settling next to you as you both lean against the foot of your bed.  His beskar shoulder plate is cold on your cheek, as you lean against him, seeking reassurance you haven’t felt in so long.  

Silently a tear falls down your face, and as if prompted by his little superpowers the baby, climbs into your lap nuzzling your cheek and touching your face gently with a warm hand.  There are a lot of things this child is capable of, things you can’t begin to understand, over a lifetime that is marred with more violence and confusion than you will likely ever know existed. When he touches you, you can feel his pain and loss, but he also shares with you a joy and unfathomable curiosity over the smallest things he remembers.  

“I can’t take you on the N-1,” his voice startles you out of your stupor with the baby, “but if you’ll give me a few days, I’ll be back to pick you up, and you can stay with us on Nevarro until you find somewhere else, something else to do.” 

Your breath is shaking, and you’re not even sure the last time you felt safe enough to cry.  A small piece of you wants to run because that's what you've been doing for these last 10 or so years of your life.  Running from the Empire, running after them, and then running from yourself.  “I don’t think I could.” 

“Why not?” he reaches for your shaking hand, setting his gloved hand on top of yours, driving the energy in the room with the ease of piloting a speeder bike.  

“You’re a family, he has a routine, you’ve settled into this beautiful life that you’ve worked tirelessly for.  I couldn’t impose.” You try your best to sound strong like you’ve got a plan ahead of you, and the idea of not being around the two of them doesn't make your heart ache. 

He hums, and for a moment your cry is less of confusion and more out of pain.  His hand is gone from yours, and the lack of his warmth feels like a slap into reality, as you pinch your eyes shut to stop yourself from being embarrassed even further. 

You jump.  There's a much larger warm hand caressing your cheek, and turning your head into the dark stare of his visor.  You can see the tanned skin of his wrist as he turns your face slightly, wiping away a stray tear with his thumb. “It is the greatest mistake of my life leaving you on Sorgan.” 

You sniffle, the words sorting through the emotional fog of your brain, searching the blank emotionless canvas of metal for a hint of human connection, a flutter of an eyelash, anything.  You can’t find anything, until you hear the faint sound of his breath from beneath his mask, stuttering and insecure, his chest rising and falling like he’s fighting a battle with his own emotions.  

You feel it again, a swell in your chest of love and admiration and then you feel the tiny claws digging into the skin of your bicep. You look down at the tiny man as he steps between where your chests are separated by mere inches, “Could I have her come and get us?” You’re quiet as a loth cat, voice heady and rough. “I don’t think I could watch you go.” 

He lets the little one settle into his lap after a moment, this time you can hear relief and a half-broken smile in his tone, “Let’s just wait until he falls asleep, I’ll go to the ship and send a transmission.  I’ll come back with his pram, and then where we go. You go.” 

You clear your throat again, wanting so desperately for this to be real and aching to touch him.  “Okay.” your voice barely makes a squeak, he pressed the cold beskar helm to your temple.  

Wondering if he feels as raw as you, you place your hand on top of his suppressing the need to comment on how large it is, and tangle your fingers with his.  You stare at his hand, tanned and massive and warm. Human. You fold your legs in on themselves and shift your body so that you may properly look at him. 

The glove sits in his lap, and he looks so imposing in this tiny half-furnished room, polished and chrome in the dingy and ill-lit space you've called ‘home’ for these last few cycles.  You take his other hand, and look up to see if he’s going to stop you, but he is still and silent, so you slip the glove off his hand.  You trace from the tip of his middle finger, down his palm and up towards the pulse point of his wrist. 

He shudders beneath your touch, thankful for the mask to hide the crimson flush of his cheeks. He’s never had the opportunity to enjoy a tenderness like this, to feel his pulse quicken and the nervous butterflies he’s heard described during love stories on a holodrama.  It’s terrifying, he feels like he could vomit, but the way your delicate fingers trace circles over the palm of his hand makes him want to run his hands over every last inch of your body until he knows it inside and out like his blaster. 

The child settles into his lap, leaning his head against your arm as his head and eyes grow heavier with sleep.  “Why don’t we walk to your ship together?”  

Your eyes are bright, and he can tell by your posture that you feel better, but he can’t stop the audible grumble, not ready to let you or even your hand slip from his.  He nods and swallows harshly to clear his throat, “Alright.”

You walk across the market again, and the crowd parts before the two of you except this time you are holding onto his hand, and rather than trying to avoid his gaze like every other soul walking the market, you cling to his him trying to suppress the smirk curling the corners of your mouth.  

Nevarro has changed so much, you spend the first few days just getting accustomed to the new layout of the town.  Dropping the child, ‘Grogu’ (it took a while but it grew on you) at school, and then going to spend time in the market picking up some rations and some of the seasonal veg you’ve been coaxing into the little one’s belly.  

The domestic bliss that comes with living with Mando is both welcome and intoxicating.  You’re awake at odd hours of the night, talking and sharing stories about Jawas and your run-ins with Ewoks,  and sharing your dreams and hopes for the galaxy.  

He shares stories about Mandalore, about visiting there for the first time and bathing in the healing waters, about Bo Katan seeing a Mythasaur alive. All things you heard about as a young child, and symbols that brought hope and purpose to the entire creed were real and were aiding to heal the planet and its inhabitants. 

Then there were times when you both laid on the floor, watching the little one interact with a metal sphere, using his magic to hover it just out of your grasp and giggling himself to a peaceful sleep.  You’d lay together, wrapped in the comfort and protection of his house, and stare at the little man as he sleeps occasionally peaking into the reflection of yourself in his helmet, and blushing when you catch your own heart racing.

You want to tell him how you crave to be with him, how addicting his presence and his mind are to you, but you’re afraid.  Afraid to move too fast, to step over his barriers, but also knowing that each second without knowing the softness of his mouth is torture. 

The first time you see him in his sleep clothes, a plain dark green shirt with three buttons on the top and loose-fitting black canvas pants, no metal aside from his helmet, you choke on your cup of Jawa juice.   He’s large even without the metal beefing up his silhouette, his back broad and the fabric thin enough for you to see his muscles move as he opens a drawer for silverware. Even treating yourself to a glimpse of his waist and the way it tapers to his ass and hips.  

It’s become more common, in fact when he gets home, he almost immediately strips out of the armor in favor of something more casual and comfortable.  

Tonight the energy is different. The kid passes out early and you’re soaking a pot you used for dinner in the sink when he emerges out of his room.  You hear his footsteps, but they’re muted and soft, he’s barefoot. As you glance over your shoulder as he offers you a glass from his bedroom you see he’s in briefs, (the house is admittedly warmer as the seasons change) but the shock is plain as day as you turn so quickly away the glass slips from your hand and shatters on the floor. But the image of his chest spattered with hair that trailed down his soft belly and into the top of his black undergarments. 

You both are silent for  a moment, hoping the noise isn’t loud enough to wake the baby, in his silence you swear, “Kriff, don’t move I’ll get a broom.” You shy away, looking to the ground for a safe path.  

He cuts you off arm darting in front of you to halt your movement,  “I’ll get it.” His hand comes to rest on your hip stalling your movements with his warm palm. 

His other hand reaches out and before you can grumble in discontent he's lifting you onto the counter. You sit there, flustered with your hands tucked between your thighs as he fiddles with the control of his helmet flicking through to see which would help him find the scattered pieces of glass the best.  

It's moments, but it feels like an eternity as he searches for a broom, sweeping the glass into a neat pile before discarding it into the bin silently.  He settles between your legs, silent as a mouse.  

“I'm sorry.” You smile sheepishly, struggling to maintain eye contact as he hovers in front of you, inches separating your face, and if it were any cooler you would’ve fogged the front of his mask with your breath. 

He chuckles dryly, “Don’t be, I’ll take it as a compliment.”  His posture is full of confidence, but also comfortable and relaxed.  You long to touch him, to run your hand over his chest and abdomen, to feel the muscles shift in his back as he- “Mesh’la?” 

You blink yourself out of a daze, “You should, you’re so handsome.”  He braces his hands on the counter next to your hips and leans ever closer.

“Yeah?” His voice is hot like a pant, stroking a fire in the room that neither of you are able to ignore any longer. 

“Yeah.” You smirk at him, emboldened and smoothing your hands up the strong plains of his arms, squeezing lightly around the muscles of his biceps.  You let your foot run across his calf, urging him closer to your body, his hands find your waist, firm but careful as his thumbs stroke the skin just below your breasts.  You curse yourself for even bothering with a bra band.  

“I like having you here.” His head tilts, you can almost see the gears turning in his brain as he continues, “Do you know how many times I’ve thought about this?” He uses his strength to pull you a little closer to him, so with each breath your chests touch and your core is flush to his abdomen.  “Having you in my kitchen, sitting on my counter looking so pretty, so-” He swipes the hair off your shoulder exposing your neck and throat, “edible.” 

Any chance you had of playing it cool is gone, you want nothing more than to bend to his will.  His hand disappears from your side, and he tangles it in your hair, using it to fix your eyes to his through the helm, as he strokes your cheek with his thumb.  You feel completely safe, but there’s something about him thats dangerous, hungry even, and it makes your skin damp with sweat.

He sounds like he’s in agony, like each passing moment without consuming you is torture, and you ache for him in a way that astonishes you, embarrasses you, not even sure that you could stand on your own two feet.  

“I need you.” He whispers, breath uneven almost a growl, “Tonight. Now.” He reaches between your legs, letting his fingers ghost over you ever so gently, as if asking, no begging, for permission.

You swallow hard, his helmet tilts, admiring you, and you hardly manage to stutter a yes.  Part of you expects him to be quick, tearing at your clothes and taking you right here in the kitchen. 

 He doesn’t.

 He goes slow, letting the crest of his helmet fall to rest on your forehead, taking his time to caress your hips, tracing up your sides and taking your shirt with it.  His hands are warm, but bring goosebumps to your skin as he touches you, hands squeezing your breasts and rubbing your nipple.  You keen, pressing desperately against his hands.  You lean in, placing a kiss to his collarbone, gentle and moving slow so he may stop you if he wants, but he drops his shoulder and tilts his head to expose his neck.  

You kiss his collarbone again, letting your tongue dart out to taste his skin, he’s vibrating beneath you. Trembling as you kiss the hollow of his throat and nibble at the skin of his neck.  You run your hands down his chest, basking in the intimacy and living for the scent of his skin.

He lifts you in a fluid motion, whisking you out of the kitchen and into his modest bedroom.  Laying you on the bed, he runs his hands down your legs and removes your pants.  You blush, unable to hide your arousal but noticing the prominent tent in his briefs, your mouth waters and you get to consider getting on your knees for him briefly.  

He’s faster than you, and not thinking about himself.  Ripping your underwear from your body and running the tip of his index fingers through your folds. “All this for me?” He circles your entrance, gathering your slick before brushing across your clit with leg-shaking precision.  

You chase his touch, the pleasure coating your tongue and fogging your brain even more than you can put into words. You beg for him to get closer, to press your bodies together until you weren't sure you'd ever part.

You're expecting to feel shorted by the absence of his mouth on yours.  No taste of him, and not getting to hear his words directly from his mouth, but his touch is consuming.  Like he's worshiping and waking each cell with caresses and adoration that's as palpable in the air as his sheets were soft on your back.  

There are noises, words you think, that he is muttering between each supple squeeze and tease, words you've heard him say before but their meaning is only now defined by his actions.  

Love.  He loves you.  You can feel it in the heat of his hands as he spreads your legs apart and admires the way you part for him, and he sinks two fingers into your fluttering pussy, pushing up and stroking something dangerous. 

His erection is nestled against your leg, and he shifts his hips with every twist of his fingers for a few moments, pressed between your bodies he feels a glimmer of relief with a groan, as much as he wants to bathe you in attention, he thinks that if he waits any longer his heart might give out before the best part.  “Mesh’la,” he twists his fingers as if to be sure you're listening, “Please.” 

“Yes,” you nod, swallowing harshly as he slips free of his underwear, cock springing free of its confines.  You gawk, unabashedly, as he did to you just moments ago. He's large, intact, leaning slightly to his left, and the skin is tanned brown, slightly darker than the rest of his body, thick and weeping out of the brilliantly flushed pink tip, the base adorned with sparse but dark hair that trails up to his navel deliciously.   When he steps between your legs and lets it rest on your abdomen to press your forehead together again, you feel its heady weight against you and stoop so low as to beg, “Please.”

You're echoing each other's moans as he grinds against your folds, coating himself in your slick before sinking into you in a single brutally slow thrust. When he bottoms out, you do your best not to squeak as the girth of his member breaks you open, it doesn't hurt, rather it feels like you've both waited an eternity to come to this very moment, euphoric and fulfilling the needs of your body and soul.  

He grinds his pelvis against yours letting his hand shift to cup your cheek, staring at you, he hopes somehow you can sense it. How he is barely able to stop passing between the pout of your lips and the deep pleading look in your eyes, begging him for the same thing his heart is calling for.   He could weep, having finally shorn the armor to dedicate himself to you, because the truth is, all you needed was to ask. He would've dropped his creed, everything he had achieved, and the meek life he'd planned for himself to grovel at your feet for the rest of his human life.  

Devotion, that's what it was called.  He had felt at many moments of his life that he was in the right place, blessing along his journeys that started out as miracles, friends, familial bonds he didn't think he deserved.  It felt misplaced, the little blessings that had entered his life so quickly that he swore they had to have been accidents. It had taken losing the child and abandoning you on that god-forsaken planet, for him to reflect, and to realize that the life he deserved was not determined by some blasters and an army, nor his home planet.  He had the life he wanted in his palms once, and watched it slip through his fingers with the charred remains of his ship.  His grip tightened instinctively, twisting the sheet in his fist. 

It was you.  You were the representation of all of the things he wanted but never thought he deserved.  A family, a place to call home, and you even had committed something as passing as his ship to your skin with a permanence that scared him.  

Here your skin was warm, surrounding him, nurturing him, squeezing him, and his mind was trying so hard to be a person, not a machine, loving someone else for the first time.  

He found the words, he said it to you, over and over with his pelvis angled just right as he ground his hips into you.

He was throbbing inside of you, you could feel the slick slide and pulse of him with each thrust. The pleasure was so intense you were whimpering and mewling beneath him, wetness smearing onto your thighs and running on the sheets below.

You've had sex before of course, and now you seriously doubt you've been doing it right. You kiss at the hollow of his throat, and in response he hunches over you, arms on either side of your head, animalistic yet praising affirmations go straight to the building heat in your core.  

You let your hands, come up to his back digging your nails into his skin.  He moans in shock as his thrusts grow more frenzied, spurred on by the bite of pain at his back.  He reaches between you and circles your clit with his thumb, pulling you headfirst into your orgasm.  You're body goes taught and relaxes all at once, the pleasure blinding you as your vision goes white and each tilt of his hips makes you stutter out an overstimulated moan. 

The fluttering of your sex around him would be enough to send over the edge but as you catch your breath you begin to beg for him to finish inside you.  He does, still feeling you shivering through the after waves of your own, as he groans and revels through the most intense orgasm he’s ever had, complete with curled toes and a knuckle-popping grip on the sheets.  He’s still looking at you, the rise of fall of your chests bumping into each other and your breath fogging the front of his helmet so much that when you kissed right over his eye, he could see the imprint of your lips for just a passing moment. 

“I can’t believe we waited so long.”  You chuckle, all smiles but looking as dazed and spent as he felt. A shiver coming over him as the small sounds cause you to tighten slightly around him as he softens, his body incredible sensitive. 

“I’ll spend the rest of our life making up for it.”  You note the sound of him speaking through the grit of his teeth, and do your best to lie still, not wishing to be parted just yet.

Months later, you’re married in a private ceremony in front of friends and his brothers and sisters of the clan.  It's quick, and everything you had expected of a warrior’s wedding.  You get the mudhorn symbol tattooed into the skin nestled behind your ear, wearing it proudly and with your vows you are made a family, a clan of three in front of all the important people you care about. 

You’d be remiss if what had you most excited isn’t the filthy promises he’s made to you about that night, taking his helmet off and kissing you everywhere he can for as long as he wishes.  Promising to leave a mark over your new clan sigil as he marks the rest of your body for him, as you’ve done to him many times over. You get to admire his face and the most handsome man in the galaxy who kneels before you with reverence and vows to take care of you with more than just his words. 

[bambiiboop]

Pre Game ( DBF / BFD Joel Miller x Reader )

Summary: Joel is your dad’s best friend, and your friend’s dad to boot. Wanting him is a bad idea, but it’s not like he feels the same… right?

CWs: age gap / references to cheating / semi protected sex / threats of spanking / language / dirty talk

Tag List: @joelsgirl @pr0ximamidnight @dreamingofdaddydin @funnygirlthatgab @schizoel @bearsbeetsbeskar @loquaciousferret @pedritosdarling @chaotic-mystery

(I’m sure I’ve missed someone I’m sorry 😂)

Notes: finally, that DBF fic.

Buy Me A Coffee?

You’re really starting to feel bad about how much you’re paying attention to him. Maybe it wouldn’t be so guilt inducing if it was a new thing, something you could brush off as fleeting interest, but the fact of the matter is you’ve had your eye on him for literally the better part of two years now.

You’ve always noticed him; how can you not? He’s your dad’s best friend. They work together, then every other week he’s at your house to watch the game. Before, you were aware of him.

But ever since you moved back home after your college relationship went bust? You can’t take your eyes off him. What’s worse is you’re relatively close friends with his own daughter, Sarah.

You’re a couple years older than her, but close enough in age that you get along well. Well enough that you’d hang out together, text each other over the years, trust each other with secrets and girls nights and the bullshit that comes with being a young woman in this day and age. Wanting her dad just feels like a betrayal, but you can’t help it.

Besides, it’s not like he wants you back. Right?

Your dad won’t be home for several hours yet; he got called out to an urgent maintenance job, something about a blown circuit board causing a whole block to have spotty power. Considering there’s some important game on today, it’s not ideal.

You guess he must be too busy to have had time to message Joel to let him know, or more likely, forgot. Not that it matters - there have been a couple times when he’s shown up early.

It’s almost embarrassing that you know the sound of Joel’s truck as it pulls up outside the house. Even more embarrassing the way your heart starts racing as you get up off the couch to let him in. You open the door just as he goes to knock on it, leaving him standing there with his hand half raised, lazy half smile on his face.

“Chief not in?” His nickname for your dad has always amused you, the sarcastic banter born from the year your dad was his boss. It was weird for them to go from equals, two blue collar single dads, to your dad bossing him round.

That worksite didn’t last too long, and they were back to their regular buddy shenanigans before long.

“Nah, some emergency power restoration. He should be back before the game starts.”

You step to the side to let him in; no point leaving him outside, or him driving across town to get home only to come back.

Joel smirks.

“Should’ve done what I did.” He pulls his phone from the pocket of his jeans, where the do not disturb sign is showing on his lock screen.

“He works too hard.” You agree, heading back through the living room, trusting Joel to close the front door behind him.

You’ve been alone with him before, just a few times, but not since you moved back home. He looks a little different. Older. He’s got silver streaks mingled in with dark curls, a little softer round the middle. But it doesn’t take away from his looks. If anything, it enhances them.

“Always has. Now what about you, huh? Last I heard you were finishing your fancy degree, had shit all planned out.”

You shrug. Your dad had never gone to college; had busted his ass your entire life so that you could. You’d enjoyed your studies, had had some good friendships and relationships there.

Then your college boyfriend with his stupid law degree had cheated on you with the secretary his new firm had hired. You hadn’t been remotely interested in trying to ‘fix things’, instead throwing your mostly unpacked shit into boxes and hauling ass back home.

You had your degrees, you could find work at home. Never mind your wounded pride and inability to trust men your age ever again.

“Sometimes stuff doesn’t go according to plan.” You say finally. “I’m getting a drink. Want anything?”

Joel doesn’t answer you, just follows you into the kitchen. You’re barely aware he’s there until you feel the heat of his body behind yours as he leans over you into the open refrigerator, snags a beer while you’re still deciding.

A jolt of electricity runs through your body at the slight contact, immediately followed by guilt. Never mind that he’s your dad’s best friend, he’s your own friend’s dad.

How could you ever face Sarah if you acted on your want for him?

You grab a premixed vodka drink, pop the cap off and toss it into the bowl on the bench, taking a sip.

The drinks aren’t your choice; your dad buys them on occasion, because as he likes to remind you, there’s no such thing as a ‘girly drink’. It’s funny, but being raised that way gave you the confidence not to give a shit about ordering a beer in a bar, the same way you’ll never be apologetic about drinking a pastel pink vodka premix that tastes like guava and sugar.

Turning, you find Joel leaning against the other bench. Watching you.

“Make yourself at home.”

It comes out far more sarcastic than you intended; immediately, you feel bad. It’s not his fault you’re trying to cope with a raging crush on him. Not his fault that he’s stupidly handsome even in jeans and a button down shirt.

Honestly you doubt he even knows how attractive he is. Somehow that makes it worse.

“Got a mouth on you today, don’t you?” Joel says almost breezily, clearly unbothered by your attitude. “You always this bratty, or is that something you learned at college?”

You can feel your cheeks heating at the implication.

“No college boy could teach me that.”

The words are out before you can stop them. Your slight blush becomes full fledged heat when you realise what you’ve said, how easily you flirt with him.

“Guess not.” Joel takes a long sip of his beer, watches you for a second, as though trying to assess something in his head.

“Guarantee no boy is gonna give you what you deserve, anyway.”

Even though you’ve just taken a drink, your mouth becomes impossibly dry.

“What I deserve?” You put the bottle down before you drop the damn thing.

Joel’s expression doesn’t change as he drains his beer, sets the empty bottle on the bench behind him.

“See, if you were mine, I’d put you over my knee and slap your ass raw for being such a brat.” He says it so damn casually, like he’s talking about the weather.

You open your mouth to speak, then close it again. Then open it.

“What’s stopping you?”

Now, his expression does change. A smirk crossing his features. You half expect him to say something about his age, about your dad being his buddy, or about you being his daughter’s friend.

It’s none of the above.

“You’d enjoy it too much.” He crosses the small space between you, thumb tracing the outline of your mouth. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed you looking.”

Your lips part, sucking the tip of his thumb into your mouth, eyes wide and staring into his own dark gaze. Something flickers there, maybe what remains of his willpower being snuffed out.

He lets you suck on his thumb for a moment before he pulls it out of your mouth, fingers closing on your chin and forcing you to look at him.

Your tongue darts out and licks your lower lip, unable to take your eyes off him, off the blatant lust in his gaze. You’re almost afraid that if you look away, it’ll break the spell, that he’ll come to his senses, or that you will.

You don’t want to.

“Eager little thing, aren’t you?” He sounds so amused, but not in an unkind way.

“I bet the thought of me bending you over and spanking you has you soaked.”

For a moment, you consider denying it. The small part of you that’s still sensible says you should. But you can’t. You just can’t.

“Why don’t you find out?” You suggest, wishing you were wearing something a bit more attractive than shorts and a shirt. At least your underwear matches.

For a moment you think he might refuse; are afraid he will refuse. That fear passes the moment his free hand slides down into your shorts, thumb brushing against your clit almost lazily.

You have to fight not to lean into his touch. Fight and fail miserably as that big, rough hand cups you, fingers caressing across sensitive skin.

“Knew it.”

Joel has no right to be this damn smug, and yet he is anyway, beyond amused at how wet you are, just from his words.

You half glare at him, mostly because you’re irritated by how right he is, but also because it frustrates you just how much you need him.

“Don’t start being a brat again…” he warns you. “Keep being good for me and I’ll reward you…”

You can’t help but melt just a little at those words, wondering what he could possibly mean. Well. You have a few ideas, but still, you think his ideas are probably going to be better.

“How?”

He just stares at you, makes eye contact as he slides two thick fingers inside you, silently answering your question and challenge.

Your knees almost buckle, but you force yourself to keep standing, reaching behind you to hold onto the bench top to steady yourself.

You’ve spent a considerable amount of time thinking about this; about his fingers inside you. About more than just his fingers. But hell if this isn’t a good start. If this is all you get, you’ll be satisfied. Needy and wishing for more, yes, but you wouldn’t push it.

Luckily for you, he’s just as needy, pushing those fingers deep into you, curling them, watching the way your eyes drop closed. Like he hasn’t thought about this a great deal, when in reality it’s all he thinks about.

“See? Told you if you were good for me, it’d pay off…”

You smirk at him, wanting to be a smartass and tell him he never said that, but you need him too much to risk it. He’s trained you well, without even trying.

“If I’m even better, will you give me more?”

Your eyes drop to the visible bulge in his jeans, leaving absolutely no room to question what you mean. The sound he makes is somewhere between a growl and a groan, understanding what you want and more than willing to give it to you.

“‘M not gonna fuck you in the kitchen, baby.”

The amount of restraint it takes for him to say that is clear in his expression. Honestly, he’d love nothing more than to yank those tiny shorts down, hoist you up onto the bench and fuck you senseless, but the kitchen isn’t the right place.

He has enough restraint to want to do this properly, enough respect for you to be hesitant, even though it’s difficult.

Quite frankly you wouldn’t have cared if he’d bent you over the closest surface, but it’s the little want to be a gentleman that gets you. Even if he does still have his fingers buried knuckle deep inside you.

“What about if I ask nicely?” You look at him through half closed eyes, expression innocent.

“Still not gonna happen in the kitchen.”

You smirk; that’s fair enough. Luckily there are far more available rooms you can utilise, and you both know it. Still, it’s with a definite sense of reluctance that he removes his fingers from you, brings them to his mouth and sucks them clean, leaving you once again weak in the knees.

“Joel…”

He loves the way his name sounds in your mouth, knows it’ll sound even better when you’re screaming it.

“Cmon, baby, gonna show me somewhere we can go that’s a bit more private?”

You try not to look too eager as you grab his hand, drag him out of the kitchen down the hallway to the guest room that’s now yours. Your old room upstairs was boxed up years ago, and your dad has since turned it into a gaming room for his war game miniatures and old books.

Easier for you to take the guest room, make it your own space. That and it would have felt weird, taking Joel into your childhood room.

Kicking the door shut behind you, you turn, expecting… you’re not sure what, but Joel pushes you up against the door almost right away, leaning down to you, his body hot against yours.

You have plenty of time before you have to worry about being interrupted, but still, there’s a sense of urgency in the way you pull him down to you, crush your mouth to his.

In the moment you don’t care that it’s wrong, that he’s so much older than you. All that matters is him, and getting him as close to you as possible, because god knows you’ve waited long enough for this.

He moves his arms away from you just long enough to yank your shorts down, pull your shirt over your head, toss them both aside carelessly. You let him before you push him back, until the back of his legs hit your bed.

Joel lets you, lets you push him back and straddle his lap, leaning down to kiss him as you shed your lace bra, leaving you bare to his gaze as you grind yourself against the significant bulge in his jeans.

“Fuck, baby, you gonna take charge all the time?”

It’s clear from his tone that he doesn’t care, not in the damn slightest, as your hands find his belt, work the zip of his jeans down.

You don’t answer him, just kiss him again, hard and desperate as your hand wraps around his cock, frees him from his pants and strokes him eagerly.

The sound he makes is goddamn sinful as you drag your soaked core along his length, coating him with your wetness. You want to take your time, but you know your dad could be back any minute, and you’re too needy and desperate to take your time.

Luckily, he seems to feel the same way.

“You gonna ride this cock, baby? Gonna take it like a good girl?”

That’s absolutely your intention; you lift yourself up, position yourself over the tip of him, then slide down onto his length, every inch of him sinking into you slowly.

His hands settle on your hips, guiding you down, keeping you there for a moment, fingers tightening on your waist.

“Fuck, you feel so good…” he breathes it out slowly, watches you toss your hair over your shoulder, smirk down at him as you start to move, drawing another delicious groan from his lips.

You don’t answer, focus entirely on riding him, lifting yourself up and dropping back down, one hand rubbing at your clit as you move.

“Such a pretty girl, so fuckin’ good for me…”

You whimper, and maybe that’s what finally snaps him, because his hands tighten on your waist and he starts to move, no longer letting you do all the work, hips snapping up against yours, hard and fast, precisely how you’ve always imagined he would fuck you.

“Dirty little thing aren’t you? All this time you’ve been wanting me…” he almost growls it, breath hitched as he ruts up into you, pupils blown wide with lust as he watches you.

“Joel…”

You’re so close you can feel it, every nerve in your body alight as you tighten around him.

“Go on, sweetheart. Cum on my cock, I know you want to. Can feel this tight little pussy, so needy for me…”

It’s his filthy words, the feeling of him inside you, your hand on your clit, the combination of all of it, that sends you over, has you shaking on top of him, held up by his big strong hands as you find your release.

He can see the scar on your arm where your implant was put in, sees you looking and the way you bite your lip, and that’s enough for him, bucking up into you until he can’t hold out any longer, cursing and moaning as he fills you, you grinding down against him the entire damn time.

“Fuck…” he groans it as you lean down to kiss his cheek.

“Worth the wait.” You tease as you climb off of him with shaking legs, pick up your clothes and start re dressing yourself.

“Absolutely.” He zips up his jeans, sits up lazily, watches you pull those ridiculously tiny shorts back on.

You grin, feeling his eyes on you.

“Come on. Let’s go have another drink and pretend to be completely innocent before my dad gets back.”

Joel groans. You’re going to be the absolute death of him.