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macfrog · 7 months ago

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sweet child o' mine | pt. iv

to @mrsmando - without whom this insane story would never have happened in the first place. i love you i love you i love you thank you all so much for coming on this journey with me - it has been a blast. i hope you like where we turn out! love you guys always n forever x

pairing: neighbor!joel x fem!reader

summary: you're a mom. it's time to get your shit together.

warnings: bon jovi mention straight out the gate, labor/delivery [i have never given birth. those of you who have are nothing short of remarkable. please forgive if some of this is a little inaccurate or vague], use of pain medication during birth, description of pain and post-birth recovery, super emotional reader, unprotected piv, oral, alcohol consumption. DISCLAIMER: this series covers some issues which i know may be sensitive and possibly triggering to some. warnings will always be as thorough as possible, but if there’s ever anything you feel i’ve missed, please let me know. feel free to drop by my inbox anytime.

word count: 12k

pt. i / series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist | follow @macfroglets w notifs on to be the first to hear when i post 🩵

It’s September twenty-third.

Well, by now, it’s probably the twenty-fourth. You’ve been a little distracted, rolling between the sheets with your next-door neighbor for the last couple hours.

The wedding’s still going strong downstairs. The same Bon Jovi song has played three times over. Tommy has called Joel to ask where he is so much that Joel’s phone is now switched off and shoved to the bottom of his bag.

You’re slouched on the toilet in a sliver of moonlight. A fistful of tissue, panties loose around your ankles. Rolling your forehead side to side along the cool tile, heartbeat hammering between your temples.

Joel Miller – Joel fucking Miller – is in your bed. Naked, sweating, cock probably still half-hard.

This morning, the very idea of the man was an eyeroll. Stood in your mirror, promising yourself that this time tomorrow, it’ll all be over with.

This time in a month, it’ll be a foggy memory.

This time in a year, it –

His voice is muffled through the bathroom door. “Did you fall in, or somethin’?”

You snort. The milky moon blurs across your vision when you pull yourself upright. You swipe between your legs and stand, flushing the toilet.

“I needed a fucking breather,” you tease, tiptoeing back across the room.

Joel’s stretched out; a worked arm draped along the headboard. Sun-kissed to the middle of his bicep, paler across his shoulder. One leg bare on the mattress, the other under the sheets. They only just cover his modesty – dark hair trailing beneath light silk just in time.

He’s so big. It’s like you never really noticed until now. He takes up half the bed, laying like this. And sure, you’re halfway to fucked, but – has he always been so handsome?

You flop down beside him with a sigh, curling up in the burrow of sheets at his side. Your eyes trail up his body – the sheen of sweat up his side, the dark, damp hair under his arm. All the parts of him you’ve never seen before, will never see again.

You gulp. Quit fucking staring.

He doesn’t notice, anyway. He’s rubbing circles into his temples, grumbling. “How many goddamn times are they gonna play It’s My Life?”

“…for Tommy and Gina…” you nudge him, “…who never backed down…”

Joel chuckles, pulling his hand down his beard. “Twenty bucks says he’s changing that to Maria.”

“Oh, for sure. I ain’t going back down to listen to it, though.”

He hums in agreement, reaching over for his beer. His Adam’s apple bobs as he drinks.

“You owe me, by the way. This is my room, remember? My fucking minibar.”

He pauses, the bottle against his bottom lip. His eyes linger south of your chin before he answers, “I’m paying for the damn room.”

“Then I want a drink from yours. Make it even.”

He clicks his teeth and drinks again. “It’s one beer. Call it an early birthday gift.”

You frown. “When the hell’s your birthday?”

“Tuesday.”

“Bullshit.”

“Serious. The twenty-sixth.”

You push yourself up onto your elbows; chest bare and on display. And it’s a strange feeling, how little you care. Twelve hours ago, you didn’t know how close to sit next to him at the ceremony. How many times you could accidentally bump knees or brush elbows and it not be weird.

But in the last two hours, he’s made you come more times than you can count. More times than anyone you’ve ever been with before – that’s for sure. And you’ve repaid the favor: the proof is still dribbling out of you. Still dripping between your legs, all pearlescent and warm. You’re soaked, swollen, still sore from the size of him.

It’s a fucking strange feeling, that you don’t mind at all.

“How old are you turning?” you ask.

Joel swallows. He settles the beer on his sternum, thumbing the corner of the label. Sucks in a deep breath and says, “Forty-eight.”

“Jesus,” you mutter, eyes wide.

He turns slowly, glaring at you. “Hilarious,” he drawls, bumping the bottle against your tummy.

You hiss at the sudden chill. Wiping cold droplets from your skin, you swipe it from his grasp.

Joel pushes himself from the bed with a quiet groan and pads across the room. His cock sways with each step, an arrowhead of thick hair at its base.

He doesn’t seem to mind, either.

You tip your chin back, taking a hefty swig.

The pulsing bass is heavier, guitar squeal sharper, when he cracks open the window. Cool air sweeps past the scent of sex and settles softly on your skin.

The mattress dips again as Joel settles back into bed. He pulls the sheet over himself, silk falling over the stubborn shape against his thigh.

“Well,” you pass him the bottle, “happy birthday, old man. Here’s to forty-eight.”

“Here’s to forty-eight,” Joel echoes, staring off into space, “and whatever the hell it has in store.”

1:29. 1:29. 1:30.

It’s blurring across your vision. The pain and the panic and the blinking of your fucking alarm clock.

Your stomach is still tensed in the aftermath of the contraction; an ache like the slow sway of the ocean, a wave rolling off into the distance. You’re hunched over the edge of the bed – knee bouncing, palms kneading your round belly.

“We’re okay,” you whisper, blowing into the still night. “We’re fine. Maybe it isn’t labor, right? Maybe it’s just those…Braxton…shit…Hicks.”

The cicadas laugh as your uterus swings again.

Another kick of pain; a bolt that winds you, piercing from your stomach down between your legs. So slow it feels fucking personal.

Your back curls, nails digging into the mattress. You grit your teeth until it passes, then push yourself to your feet, reaching for your phone.

You think of Joel: the flecks of gold in his eyes, the rough surface of his palms. The fresh, woodsy scent woven into every thread on his shirt, seeping from every pore on his skin.

The way he’d pull you under his arm and walk you to his truck. Play more Eagles or whatever shit he has to take your mind off the pain – tell you he knows, he knows as you whimper in agony. The way he’d hold your thigh the entire ride, loosening it only to weave his fingers through yours.

He’s in Houston, though. He’s something like three hours away. There’s nothing he could do, even if you did call – even if he did pick up. Even if he got in his truck right this second.

Shit. Shit fuck shit. How are you in labor right now, on this fucking night? All your teasing, all your taunting the universe. You really think that’s gonna happen? You think your kid’s that much of an asshole?

Yeah. They’re half you.

You’re on your own. It’s nothing new; you’ve been on your own for most of your life. You drove yourself to college, worked your ass off, and sold your graduation guest tickets to your roommate. You found a job by yourself, moved back to Austin and turned it into home by yourself.

You haven’t needed anyone or anything, since you were eighteen.

But – oh, Jesus, fuck it. This was a two-man job from the start. Some things you figure you can let slide – and having a kid seems like a pretty decent excuse.

Fuck it.

You move, hunched and hobbling, to the bathroom door. Slumped against the wooden frame, you cup a hand between your legs.

Sure enough, your underwear is soaked. The fluid trickles down the seam of your thigh, warm and thin. It glistens in the moonlight when you lift your fingers.

“Shit,” you whisper. “Goddamn it, Duck.”

Body tingling and almost numb with pain, you scroll through your contacts to J. You stumble into the bathroom, wet fingers slipping around the sink. A weight begins to pull low between your hips.

Two rings and the tone cuts, his voice instantly spilling a cool comfort down your spine.

There’s no hello, no double checking that you haven’t accidentally dialed him in your sleep. Only that trademark drawl, that flat tone you’d swear sounded bored, if it weren’t for the haste with which Joel asks, “You okay?” the second he answers.

As if he were awake anyway, just waiting for your call.

“Yeah,” you choke, rubbing the nape of your neck. “I just called at one in the morning to…to say hi.”

He sighs, the crackle of breath echoed by the tinkle of wind chimes. The creak of wood as he settles into a chair on Vanessa’s parents’ porch. “Alright, smartass. What is it?”

“I’m…I’m in labor.”

“Mhm. That sure is funny, baby. Good one.”

You groan. “No, Joel, I swear – I swear, I just went into labor.”

He pauses. The chimes titter in the background. “You’re…You ain’t kidding me?”

The sharp peak of pain swipes the air clean from your lungs. The phone hits the sink with a clatter, drowning out your cry.

This kid is beating the ever-loving shit out of you. You’d be embarrassed if you had the energy to think about it.

“Baby?” Joel yells, loud enough that the sound loops around the bowl. His voice lifts to an octave you didn’t know it could reach. “Talk to me. Please, talk to me.”

Your fingers clamp around the phone. “I’m f-fine. It’s fine. I just gotta…gotta change my fuckin’ sheets, Joel, my waters broke while I was sleeping –”

“Oh, Christ,” he growls. The door squeals as he storms back into Vanessa’s family home. “The sh…Change the goddamn sheets? You gotta get to a hospital, darlin’!”

You laugh, head tipping back. “It’s fine,” you tell him. “Feels like the kid’s trying to kill me, but I can – shit, I can take ‘em.”

There’s the jangle of keys, the ruffle of a shirt being thrown over his head. “Yeah?” Joel says.“You can take childbirth, all on your own? Do me a favor and call a damn ambulance, baby.”

“An ambulance,” you repeat, laughing again.

“Yes, an ambulance. Call 9-1-1 right now. You want me to call ‘em? Let me go grab the landline –”

“Joel, do not call an ambulance –”

And if you thought you’d heard him at breaking point before – plucking your underwear from his lawn, dragging you around Home Depot, paling in your room with a pregnancy test in his hands – you know you have, now.

“You gotta get to a goddamn hospital now, baby!”

His voice trembles at its end, quivers like the pluck of a guitar string. A high-pitched echo, a nervous vibration.

Joel’s panicking.

It’s the second thing in less than five minutes that you never knew he could do.

“I can’t afford a f-fucking ambulance, Joel,” you yelp, sitting back on the edge of the bathtub.

“I will pay for it,” he pleads, “I’ll pay. Just – you gotta call them. You gotta…” He sighs again, breath wavering. “You’re in labor, and you’re alone. If anything happened to you, I –”

A hushed voice interrupts him. Follows him through the house, knotting her nightgown around her waist and twisting her dark tresses into a ponytail.

“She’s in labor,” Joel tells her. “I can’t stay. I’m going back for her.”

The porch door slams shut before Vanessa can reply, and Joel’s back outside again. Gravel crunching beneath his boots, crickets screaming in the background. “Still with me?” he asks.

“Still here,” you breathe, tracing your nails along your leg. “Duckie says hi, I guess.”

He hums. “Hi, Duckie. You little shit.”

You rock back and forth, eyes closed. Breathing between contractions, your head low between your shoulders. “How long will you be?”

The truck door creaks open. “I’m leaving right now. I’ll be…Fuck, I’ll be a couple hours, at least. I’m on my way, alright?”

Tears drip onto your bare thighs, the salt spilling into your mouth. “Joel,” you shake your head, “I don’t think I can do this.”

“Yes, you can,” he says. “Are you kidding? Got us this far ‘n now you want to bail? That ain’t you, baby. Come on, now.”

“I wanna bail,” you insist. You slump to the floor, head lolling over the rim of the bathtub. Weeping like a little kid. “I’m scared, Joel. I’m so scared.”

“I know you are. Lord knows I’m scared, too – scared as hell. But –” the engine roars to life, “– I can’t wait to finally meet this kid. Our kid. Can’t wait to hold ‘em. Can’t wait to see you become a mom, and me become a dad.”

“Mom and Dad,” you whisper, sniffling.

“Mom and Dad, right? Yeah. You can do this. I know you can.”

The bathroom blurs behind your tears. You close your eyes, replacing the pale night with warmer dawn. Replacing it with images of tiny hands and feet; missing front teeth and a love-worn teddy tucked safely into bed.

Joel’s voice is softer, kinder. Calmer, now that he’s closing the hundred and fifty miles between the two of you.

“Just – don’t let the kid give you any shit, alright?”

The fear boils into determination. Something more irritating than it is terrifying. You inhale, blowing a heavy, shuddered breath to the ceiling. “Whatever, Miller.”

“Attagirl,” he says. “That’s the spirit. Now, call a damn ambulance.”

With a scoff, you push yourself to your feet, waddling towards the foot of your bed. You sway back and forth, holding your bump and listening to the hum of Joel’s truck.

And then you hear it.

Three sharp raps, from downstairs.

You wander to the hallway, squinting in the dark. “Joel?”

“Hm?”

“Are you…?”

The sound grows louder the nearer you draw. Quick knuckles against your front door.

“Am I what, darlin’?”

You lower yourself down the stairs, fist tight around the rail.

It’s August again. Sun’s encore blazing through your kitchen windows, bleeding golden through your living room. Everything shining, everything new and untouched.

Knock knock knock.

Light satin, duck egg blue; string lights and a diamond-encrusted necklace. The bones of your wardrobe propped against your porch. A rattling toolbox hanging from his fist, a positive pregnancy test in yours.

The knocking halts when you flick the porch light on. She calls your name once, old voice quivering.

Your phone is still glued to your ear as you pull the door open. “Al…?”

She squints at you and lifts a hand to shield from the light. She’s still in her pajamas – green dressing gown loose and lifting in the breeze.

Her eyes drop to the tee draped over your bump, the silver stream of fluid down the inside of your thigh. As she opens her mouth to speak, your hand slams into the doorpost.

“Oh, fuck,” you groan, and Alice Brown steps straight over the threshold.

“Are you in labor? Oh, sweetie. Sit down, sit.”

She backs you towards the stairs. One bony, trembling hand around yours – squeezing as tight as you are. She rubs up and down your spine, shushing until the pain subsides.

You blink up at her glowing figure, haloed by the porch light outside. “How did you…?”

She hushes you with a finger in the air. “I’m up most nights. I heard you from the window. Have you called 9-1-1?”

You shake your head, beginning to cry again.

Alice just nods, dismissing your bullshit. “Where’s your overnight bag, sweetheart?”

You toss a thumb over your shoulder. “It’s up in the nursery. I can go grab it –”

She holds you still with a hand on your shoulder. “Stay.” Another curt nod, then, “Get your shoes, get yourself over to my car. Do you need pants? You need pants. My car, right now.”

“Alice, you really don’t have to –”

“Get in the car,” she insists, climbing past you. “I’m right behind you!”

You watch her figure dissolve into the dim upstairs, and lift the phone back to your ear. “Did you…hear all that?”

“Alice Brown,” Joel replies, and you can hear the smirk in his voice. “What’d I tell ya? That woman doesn’t miss a goddamn thing in this neighborhood.”

“Three centimeters,” the obstetrician says, covering your legs with the sheet. “Still a little ways to go.”

The suite is hushed and still. Walls an unoffending shade of oatmeal; decorated only with oak paneling and a framed painting of some lilies.

A nurse tilts the shades, averting the twinkling city lights in the distance. She turns and smiles – the same fucking smile everyone’s been giving you since you set foot in the place. Head tilted, brows arched.

Sympathy that you want to chew up and spit back out at their feet.

You force yourself to smile in return, and she floats back out to the bustling reception.

“Will he make it?” Alice asks. She’s still in her pajamas; the floral print goes well with the interior of the room. “The father, I mean. Joel.”

The obstetrician peels the gloves from her hands. She shrugs as she drops them into a wastebin. “I don’t see why not,” she says. “Things are moving a little quickly, but I don’t see you having your baby in the next couple hours.”

“You don’t know this kid like I do,” you groan, shifting in the bed.

She lifts the cardiotocograph reading, scanning the jagged lines. “You’re doing great,” she says. “I’ll be back in a little while. Just holler if you need anything.” She strolls off, letting the door sweep shut behind her.

Alice adjusts your pillow and squeezes your shoulder. She holds out a cup of water, guiding the straw to your lips. “He’ll be here,” she whispers.

You take a sip and settle back. “I don’t think I’m that lucky. I told him I hoped he’d get a flat on the ride there. This feels like karma.”

“Well, if it’s anyone’s karma –” she wiggles her fingers, “– it’s his. Going to Houston was ridiculous in the first place. Hell, you two not being together is ridiculous.”

You scoff, shaking your head. “Just because we’re having a kid doesn’t mean we should be together. You shouldn’t be with someone for the sake of a baby who won’t even know any different.”

“Right, right,” Alice agrees, turning away. “You should only be with someone if you love them.”

“Exactly. And me and Joel – we’re not in love.”

She murmurs to herself. She lowers into a chair by the window, crossing her arms. “I’m seventy-three,” she says. “I’m not a damn fool.”

Something twists awkwardly between your hips. You wince, clutching your bump.

Duckie’s heartbeat pulses through the room. Muffled little bubbles of noise, popping one after the other. Strong and steady as hell – a determined little thing, the doctor said.

Don’t I fucking know it, you thought.

You reach for the silicone mask and cup it over your mouth. The gas is cold and funny when you inhale, feeling it shoot straight for the back of your skull. It does little more than dull the spiking pain, but still – you tip your head back, eyes rolling closed.

You let yourself fade from the suite – its yellow lamplight and hushed chatter outside – to somewhere warmer. Somewhere brighter.

Birdsong high overhead, and the whispering leaves on the oak trees in your yard. The sweet breeze on your skin, soothing the sting of the sun. Prickling wood on your fingertips, the gentle strum of a guitar somewhere beyond the fence.

Peering between the slats, catching glimpses of him like watching a film reel. His head nodding, his foot tapping. The concentration tight on his face; the perfect pick and pluck of his fingers on each string.

Half-hoping that he’ll spot you, scold you for spying and storm back into his house. That he might bring it up later – And another thing, while he whips his newspaper from your grasp, ignoring your cackling.

Half-hoping that he won’t. That he’ll sit there at his back door, bottle of beer at his feet, playing to his audience of sparrows.

And you’ll stand here, wishing you could ask the name of each song he hums.

The contraction splits your daydream in two.

In two hours, you dilate almost three centimeters.

You pace back and forth across the suite, pausing only when your womb clenches like a fist. The contractions are lasting longer, swinging lower, and punching harder. They’re giving you less recovery time; less of a chance to get back on your feet.

It’s a fucking nightmare.

Joel’s still not here. Last you heard, he’d just hit Travis County. Twenty minutes, baby, I promise. That was half an hour ago.

It might be for the better that he hasn’t gotten here. You’ve warned Alice three times already that you might just beat the shit out of him, whenever he walks through that door.

And you know what, sweetheart? She chuckled. I bet you could beat the shit out of him, sore as you are.

“Fuck,” you cry out, collapsing onto the bed. You stretch out forward, head hanging between your shoulders, and gulp back more of the laughing gas. The ache barrels from your stomach to your hips, peaking in the very center.

Alice rubs circles into the small of your back. It’s not helping, but you let her do it anyways. Gives her something to tell the neighbors that isn’t damaging to your reputation.

“That’s it,” she coos. “A little longer, just a little…”

The door clicks open just as the tense band begins to loosen.

Your head is spinning. The mask slips from your fingers.

Alice’s hand pauses. “…a little longer…” she repeats, voice drifting. Her weight leaves your back, replaced by something heavier, stronger.

Safer.

Someone grounding, someone smelling of pine and sweet spice.

He sits on the bed at your back and curves around your body. Lips to your shoulder like the sun in your backyard. His beard scratches against your hot skin.

You blink your eyes open.

Joel’s watch face winks back at you. His hands are over yours – bigger, wider. His fists swallow yours whole. They turn, slipping beneath your palms, and your fingers lace together.

“Joel…” you breathe, face turning in to his neck.

“Hi, sweet girl,” he says, wiping sweat from your brow.

You fall limp against his chest. “Holy shit.”

He looks exhausted. Gray, almost translucent. Looks like he’s just driven a couple hundred miles, half asleep and wholly panicked.

But – he’s here. He made it.

The sight of him, the feel of him holding you upright, melts away any anger or resolve to fight back. For now, at least. Picking an argument can wait until there isn’t a human splitting you in two.

He’s here. You’re not doing this alone.

“Holy shit,” Joel repeats. “You okay?”

“How did you get here so –?”

“Ninety-five the entire way.”

You frown. “Only ninety-five?”

“Trunk’s a hunk a’ shit,” he admits. “Couldn’t break a hundred.”

Alice scoffs, somewhere across the room.

He cradles you, his lips to your forehead. “Where we at?” he asks, staring at the paper churning from the cardiotocograph.

“Five, almost s–shit – six centimeters.” You clamp down on his hands, your uterus winding again.

Joel holds the mask back to your lips and you suck another chemical breath in. “Six? Jesus,” he gapes at Alice, “ain’t that…ain’t that real fast? For – for your first?”

Your fingers are weak and shaky, resting on his knuckles. “Your kid has a sick sense of humor,” you mutter into the silicone.

“That ain’t from me,” he says. “That’s all you, maestro.”

You turn closer into his shirt with a groan. He’s solid as a rock, swaying you through it. He’s here.

Alice swipes her coat from a hook by the door. She shakes her head, pulling it over her shoulders. “Ninety-five, Joel? Sweet Lord.”

He rolls his eyes. His hand curves around your bump. “Had a little bit of an emergency, Alice,” he says, watching your face twist with pain.

“And what if you’d had an accident?”

“I didn’t, Alice.”

“You could’ve, goin’ that damn fast. You’re lucky you’re even here.”

Joel finally looks up. “It’s four in the mornin’,” he protests, like a teenager. “Lucky if I passed five cars.”

You give him a weak smile, lowering the mask. You won’t win, you mouth.

He presses his lips to your head. “’s too much fun,” he murmurs, and you snort.

“Oh!” Alice throws a hand up. “I’m glad you find it funny!” She buttons her coat and glares back at both of you, hands on her hips.

She’s a busybody – has been since before you even moved in. She showed up on your doorstep on your first night with a casserole in hand, and made sure to get a good look at your living room before she shuffled back to her own place.

Always watching, always listening.

You never thought you’d see the day when you’d actually be thankful for her snoopiness.

“Thank you, Alice,” you say, head tilting. “For getting me here, for holding my hand…Thank you.”

Her expression thaws, eyes gleaming. With a sniff, she composes herself – and then points to Joel. “You call me as soon as that baby arrives. I won’t sleep, Joel, until you call.”

“I’ll call,” he assures.

She looks back at you. Balls her crepe paper fists, gives them a hearty shake. “Good luck, Mom,” she says, and with one last glance, slips out of the room.

Joel turns back to you, an eyebrow raised. “Take it she was out tendin’ to her tulips again?”

“Yeah,” you snicker, “one in the morning, those fuckers had to be watered.”

He chuckles. “You feelin’ okay?”

“Better now,” you tell him.

“I’m so sorry, darlin’,” he says, shaking his head. “I should’ve been here. A goddamn idiot, headin’ off like that. So damn stupid.”

“Shh, you’re here now.” You wipe the tears from the corners of his eyes. “I just needed you to be here.”

He nods. “I’m here, whatever you need. Tell me what I can do.”

You take a deep breath. “I need…”

Joel straightens – bracing, ready to jump at your first request.

“…I need a fucking break, Joel. I’m so tired, and this fucking kid –”

“Alright,” he sighs, shifting from behind you. “You and your goddamn jokes.”

You smirk, looking over your shoulder. “You missed me.”

“Hm,” he fixes the neckline of your gown, “I missed you. I really did.”

Born at 07:43. It’s a girl.

It’s like being broken open. Like splitting at the seams; your old self falling from you like shards of fruit. Separating, rolling apart; making way for someone older, wiser. Someone with all of the answers in the palm of her hand.

Mom.

You finally get it. She turns to you, finally glances over her shoulder. And she’s no stranger – no one you haven’t known your entire life. I know you, you whisper, nail trailing her smile lines and the pimples along her jaw.

I see you every time I look in the mirror.

Duckie is pulled from your body with a scream like bloody murder – a scream which matches the whimper you let out in shock, if not in volume.

The kid can scream. Jesus Christ, she can scream. It pierces the dull room; deafens you for a couple seconds the first time you hear it.

You’ve never heard a sound so fucking beautiful.

She wails as they lift her from your body. All curled-up, wriggling in the midwife’s arms. She wails as they slot her beneath your chin, as they wipe the blood and amniotic fluid from her.

She wails until the moment her skin meets yours, and as though it’s all you’ve ever known, you begin shushing her cries. Your arms close around her body, rocking her until she settles.

Her tiny hand grabs for something, for someone, for –

You.

Her mom.

“Joel,” you gasp, watching her tiny, pruned fingers clasp tight around just one of yours. “She’s…she’s so small…”

He sniffs in reply, lifting his hand from your shoulder to wipe his face.

You turn to look up at him.

He looks as broken open as you feel. Eyes bloodshot and soaking, tears streaming into his thick beard. A sob in his throat which chokes and silences him, until he catches your eye and he can’t help but laugh with elation.

“Look at her,” he weeps, all torn up by the little girl in your arms. He presses his lips to your forehead in a crash of a kiss: wet, soaking wet on your skin.

You beam up at him when he pulls away. “We did it,” you whisper.

Joel shakes his head. He runs a thumb across the damp print left on your head. “You did it, honey,” he mutters. “I was nothin’ but a spectator.”

“You almost missed the game,” you quip, and he laughs again.

Your body throbs; nearly numb with pain, heavy with fatigue and emotion. But as long as she’s here, this tiny tornado of a girl, you don’t feel a thing.

Clenching and then unclenching her fist around your finger – so delicate compared to the punches she was throwing at your ribs just six hours ago. She’s worth every fucking second of it.

You finally fucking get it.

She fits so perfectly in the crook of your arm. It feels as though your body was made just to hold her – the very shape of you, designed especially for the very shape of her.

You wonder whether it was the same for your mom. Whether you came along and made her feel whole, for the first time in her life.

Duckie’s eyes open – all glossy and brand new, blinking up at the both of you like she needed no introduction. She already knows you, from the inside out. Her dad’s graying beard, the threads of silver around his temples. Her mom’s tear-stained cheeks, eyes red and bleary with sleeplessness and pure love.

You’re Mom, you’re Dad.

It’s all she’s ever known.

The pillow sighs as you lean back into it. The doctor begins repairing the damage done between your legs; threading and knitting your body back together.

You’re caught between a state of bliss and shock. Your brain is doing much the same work to itself as the woman between your knees is. Patching over all the bloody parts: the screams which tore your skin, the pain which cracked your teeth.

None of it holds a candle to the weight of her in your arms. No matter how tired you are, you can’t take your eyes off her. Her puffy cheeks, the little creases between her brows. No matter how sore, you never want to let go of her.

Joel runs a finger down Duckie’s cheek. “Ain’t she the most beautiful thing in the world?”

“I love her,” you say, bubbling again. “I love her more than anything.”

An hour old, and she’s already a daddy’s girl.

Joel ambles back and forth at the foot of your bed in the recovery suite, bouncing Duck in his arms. He’s never looked so relaxed, so natural at something. He’s never seemed so content, so peaceful.

Everything he’s ever made with his hands – structures and framework and your goddamn closet – and yet this, this tiny accident, this baby girl you were so sure you’d dreamt up right up until an hour ago –

This is the thing he’s proudest of.

Morning lifts through the windows, all soft and vanilla. It floats around him, sunlight spilling across his skin and breathing life and color into him.

Sunlight – or his daughter. They’re the same thing, anyway.

You pull apart a slice of toast, watching. Just watching. Sweet strawberry jam on your tongue, the flavor of everything sharper, fresher. The colors brighter, more vivid.

The world makes more sense like this, you think. Painted in shades of honey and ochre; a room in a corner of the world where time slows to a halt. A soft lullaby from his lips, and the little coos from hers.

The ache of love and labor lingers deep inside you, and nothing has ever made more sense.

You suck the sticky sweet from your fingertips.

Joel looks up, toying with Duckie’s hand. “You want her back?” he asks, a dumb grin on his face.

You shake your head. “I like watching you.”

He scrunches his nose, nuzzling it against his daughter’s, and whispers, “I wasn’t gonna give you back, anyways.” He sways in the early light, staring down at her. “Jesus,” he mutters, swiping at his eyes again, “I didn’t…I didn’t know I could love somethin’ this much.”

“Me, either.”

He drifts over, lowering himself slowly onto the edge of the bed. He extends his elbow, still cradling the baby, and helps you pull yourself upright.

You hiss, a not-so-subtle sting between your legs.

“You, uh…you think of a name yet?” Joel asks.

“Not yet,” you reply, hooked onto his shoulder. Duck blows a bubble and you wipe it with your knuckle. “I thought we were sticking with Duckie?”

His cheeks swell. The sun kisses the edges of his beard. “I thought of one,” he says softly. “Maybe. It’s your call.”

You yawn into his shirt, the warmth of him calm and soothing. “Alright, Miller. Hit me.”

He looks down at the baby nestled in his safe hands. The smallest thing either of you have ever seen.

The name must roll around his head a few times, the way he tilts to-and-fro – looking at her from one angle, then the next. Deciding, when he pulls back, that she suits it from every direction. Like it was her name long before he or even you knew it.

You watch his lips shape the name before you hear it.

Sarah.

And for what feels like forever, you just stare at him. The syllables lingering in the air like glistening specks of dust in a sunbeam. Your eyes follow them down to your daughter, now sleeping peacefully with two hands around one of her dad’s thumbs.

“Sarah,” you repeat, remembering whose name it was, whose name it is – whose name it has always been. “Sarah Miller.”

Joel’s shoulders lift. “What do you think? She look worthy of bein’ a Sarah?”

The rustle of tissue paper. Blue and green and purple tearing between your fingers. The funny fuzz of pom poms as your hands rummaged through the bag. Her hand swimming towards you, an orange foam fish riding the waves between her fingers. Bubbly sounds erupting from her lips.

Your girlish giggle. Her silly grin. Hopscotch along the sidewalk; stopping to look for cars before she’d walk you across the street. How much do I love you, baby girl?

More than the whole world, Mama.

“I love it,” you breathe, tears running to the corners of your mouth. “Sarah fucking Miller.”

“Sarah fuckin’ Miller,” Joel echoes; two wet lines the same as yours, curving down his cheeks. He shifts her into the crook of his arm.

You’re impossibly close. Your chin rests on his shoulder, foreheads brushing when you lean in to each other. His breath is hot on your lips, closer and closer and closer until –

He tastes like salt, rich with emotion. Salt, and then sweet when your tongue meets his. He lifts his free hand to cup your cheek, and your fingers link around his wrist.

And you know you shouldn’t be doing it – know this isn’t your man to be kissing. But in this room, where no one else can see – where it’s just you, him, and all the best parts of yourselves shaped into someone better – he feels like yours.

Just for a moment.

Joel takes the first week of Sarah’s life off work.

He spends a good twenty minutes on the phone to the contractor, talking more about the kid than he does the job. Her eyelashes, her fingernails, the way her legs scrunch anytime he lifts her up.

He’s besotted with the entire thing. And he tells everybody so.

He moves in with you both, stays in your guestroom. It’s a week of no sleep, no peace, and a total of three showers between you. Wearing the same clothes covered in spit-up and drool until one of you has the time or energy to do laundry.

It’s hard. It’s the hardest thing you’ve ever done. By your count, you’ve already cried three times to Joel – terrified you’re getting it all wrong.

But you’re doing it. Jesus God, you’re doing it.

You order takeout most nights. You can’t stand long enough to cook just yet, and you don’t trust Joel not to burn your fucking kitchen down – despite his protests. And it feels like, after everything your body’s given you, it deserves a greasy pizza and some chicken wings.

You rot on the couch together, watching shitty TV and arguing over reruns of Jeopardy! – until Sarah wakes and the whole thing begins again.

Joel loses the game of rock, paper, scissors tonight.

“Shh, baby girl. ‘s alright now, I gotcha,” he lulls, tucking her back in to her bassinet.

She fusses and stretches out; arms over her head, legs curled up. Her onesie is still a little too big – the socked feet all baggy, the sleeves rolled up her wrists.

He lingers for a moment as she drifts off, a hand stroking her tummy. Watching, always watching her. The rise and fall of her stomach, the puffs of breath from her nostrils, her lips still suckling away in her sleep.

“I swear I have a baby photo that looks just like her,” you say. “Same nose and everything.”

Joel clicks his teeth. “Got her looks from her mom. Lucky thing.”

“Low-hanging fruit,” you snort.

He drifts back over, sinking into the couch at your side. “Doin’ okay?” he asks, and you nod.

Every muscle in your body still feels like a ton weight. Your stomach is still swollen; there are still stitches between your legs. There are moments you can’t tell if you’re crying because of hormones, exhaustion, or joy.

Every time, it’s a combination of all three.

Life before feels so long ago – and it hasn’t even been a fortnight. But then you held her for the first time, and now – your arm misses the weight of her when she’s not in it. Your house feels eerily quiet when she’s not laughing, or whimpering, or screaming the fucking roof down.

You can feel your daughter growing up already, and she’s only ten days old.

On the mantelpiece, safe in a stippled gold frame, your mom beams down over her. The photo at least twenty years old, the memory even older. Laughing, the way she always was; nothing quite so funny as a joke frozen in time.

Joel prods you with his elbow. “She’d be proud of you, you know. Your mom.”

“Oh,” you scoff, “no, she’d be like, Holy shit. This kid totally kicked your ass.”

He chuckles. “Sure she did,” he shrugs, “she’s your kid.”

The TV babbles to itself across the room. In its glow, Joel meets your eye. A tiny, pearly fleck swimming in deep honey.

It’s familiar – each shade of bronze in his eyes, each thread of silver through his hair. Like you’ve mapped each and every line on his skin, collecting them like the sleepless hours between you.

Everything about him feels so normal. Burnt toast in the morning, a spoon clinking around a mug of coffee. The rustle of the newspaper, the sizzle of eggs in the pan, the baby snoring on your chest.

Everything – and yet nothing you’ve ever known.

“I miss her,” you whisper. “I miss my mom.”

His hand finds yours instantly. “I know, baby. I know you do.”

You slouch down, leaning on his shoulder, and close your eyes. Joel presses his lips to the crown of your head, his thumb looping around your knuckles.

Sarah gurgles in her sleep. She sighs – a satisfied little sound. Nothing has ever made more sense.

His voice rumbles against your skull. “Who sent the lilies?”

Your eyes flutter open. “Hm?”

Joel flicks his finger towards the window, towards a sprawl of speckled, cream flowers. “The lilies? They weren’t there this morning.”

“Oh…” You turn to look up at him, cringing.

He sees the flicker of her behind your eyes. Her lustrous curtain of hair, her perfect almond nails.

“Really?” Joel asks, mirroring your expression.

You nod, trying not to laugh. “From her and Kate. You were upstairs with Sarah when she came by. I offered to call you down, but – she just wanted to drop ‘em and go.”

“What did she…? Did she say anything?”

Your head shakes. “She just…she said congratulations, said she hoped we were okay. Then she got in her car and she left. I kinda figured things weren’t sunshine and roses, anyway. You haven’t fuckin’ seen her since Houston.”

He snorts, fingers massaging his eyes. “I was goin’ to tell you,” he mumbles into his palms, “I just…Honey, I don’t even know what day of the week it is right now. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to tell me anything,” you mutter.

“Yes, I do,” he insists. His eyes flit over to Sarah, then back to you. “We haven’t really talked it through yet, me ‘n her. I called her a few days ago, we agreed it’s time. It – it’s past time. I shoulda called it months ago.”

“I guess,” you sigh. “Are you okay?”

Joel’s brow furrows. “’course I am. I got the most beautiful baby girl in the world,” and then, rolling his eyes, “you’re here.”

“Oh, fuck you,” you clip, batting his arm. “Vanessa could do way better, anyways.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

You squeeze his fingers, softly adding, “I’m sorry it didn’t work out, Joel.”

He stares down at your clasped hands. He looks tired, worn out. You figure it’s not just from the newborn. But he takes a deep breath, something the color of relief dawning on his skin, and looks you dead in the eye.

“I’m not.”

“Hey, Duckie – can you say, Happy birthday, Daddy?”

A vinyl wobbles on the turntable – some acoustic record from when Joel was a teenager. There’s wrapping paper still crumpled beneath the coffee table; four plates with more crumbs than cake left, dotted around the room.

Tommy leans in, a lopsided party hat on his head, and tickles Sarah’s chin.

She blinks at him, unamused, then scrunches her little nose and turns back into your chest.

He sighs, straightening. “She don’t like her uncle Tommy all that much,” he grumbles, sulking back over to the couch. Maria puts a consoling arm around his shoulder.

You rest your lips on Sarah’s head, breathing in her sweet scent. Swaying back and forth, you tease, “She don’t like anyone all that much, not unless they’re her daddy.”

Joel’s head lifts and he smiles, eyes glistening. He watches you and Sarah dance; laughs when you twirl her around and she tips her head back, flashing a gummy grin.

“She’ll come around to ya,” he tells Tommy, wandering over to your side. “We all learned to, eventually.”

Tommy scoffs. “Very funny, old man. Jesus.”

Joel stoops down to let Sarah run her small hands through his beard. He catches her fingertips between his lips and pretends to nibble on them.

She giggles, squirming in your arms. Her fingers find the sweeps of hair on his forehead and, taking a fistful, she tugs.

“Christ,” Joel hisses, pulling back.

“That was on you this time,” you chuckle, pointing a finger. “You know she does that, and you still fall for it.”

Maria glances down at her watch. “Is that the time?” she asks, turning to Tommy. “We should really turn in.”

“Oh – right, right.” Tommy tips the last of his beer into his mouth. “We’re takin’ Mom to brunch tomorrow. Better get some goddamn rest.”

Joel hums, still massaging his hairline. “Hey,” he whispers, elbowing you. “Maybe I should take her over. She’s getting sleepy – ain’t you, little Duck?”

“Oh, yeah.”

Tommy stands and holds a hand out. “Why don’t you let Maria and I take her? We’ll tuck her in, keep an eye on her. We weren’t half bad the other day, while y’all were at work. And if she’s stayin’ at Joel’s tonight anyway…”

You glance to Joel, who shrugs. Something shaped like Sure.

“As long as you don’t mind,” you reply, bouncing the baby slowly. “Let me go grab her things.”

Joel’s hand slips across the small of your back as you pass, making for the stairs. He lingers at the bottom, watching until you turn into the nursery with Sarah in the crook of your arm.

You set her down in her crib and gather some of her favorites: a yellow blanket, a duck comforter, a rattle shaped like an elephant. She watches contentedly as you shuffle back and forth, staring when you lean over the wooden rail.

“You know how much I love you?” you whisper, curling a finger inside her fist. She squeezes, and you say, “More than the whole world.”

She grabs at the chain dangling from your neck, the letter S catching the light. Instead, she lifts your finger to her mouth. Her nails scratch light as a feather across your skin. Her gums are tiny and soft around your knuckle.

Everything about her is tiny and soft. Her sweeping eyelashes, her plushy cheeks. Her round tummy, and the squeals she lets free as you dot kisses and blow raspberries all over it. No matter how much she’s grown in three months, she’s still so tiny.

She’ll always be the smallest, sweetest thing you’ve ever known. And she’s all yours.

“Jesus, kid,” you sniff, swiping at your tears. You slip your hands around her back and prop her on your hip. “Alright, let’s go. Quit making your mom cry.”

The bag over your shoulder, you carry her out of the room and into the dark hallway. It’s quiet downstairs; nothing but the crackle of the record player, the distant chink of dishes in the kitchen.

That – and hushed voices in the living room.

“Joel,” Tommy says, over and over again. He’s trying to cut in between his brother’s rambling. Joel – listen to me. Just listen, for one second –”

You linger on the bottom step, trying to split Joel’s voice from Tommy’s. Trying to pluck the words out, over Maria’s humming from the next room.

“…and it ain’t that simple, Tommy it’s –”

“What ain’t simple about it? You have a –” Tommy says it through his teeth, “– you have a kid together, Joel. You really think she’s gonna –”

Sarah grabs the charm around your neck and shakes suddenly, rattling the chain.

You close your hand around hers, losing your balance. “Shhhhit, Duckie, you –”

Joel’s eyes snap to your figure as you step down. He clears his throat, leaning away from Tommy. “Hey – hey, darlin’.”

“Hey,” you reply. Bright. Chipper. Unclenching your fist to let your daughter shake your necklace some more.

She squeals with delight when she spots Joel across the room.

“She ready to go?” he asks, slinging a quick – telling – look at Tommy.

You look between the brothers, browns quirking. They look as guilty as each other: scratching their beards, staring at the furniture instead of you. “Uhuh,” you reply, tongue against your teeth. “Everything…everything okay?”

Tommy slaps his thighs as he stands. “Everything’s great, sweetheart. Sure as shit. Joel – you, uh…you got a key on ya?”

“Oh, yep.” Joel reaches into his pocket. He unhooks a silver key from the chain and drops it into his brother’s open palm.

Tommy calls for Maria. He sidesteps around you, face flushed and smiling.

She floats through from the kitchen, drying her palms on her jeans. “Where’s my baby duck?” she sings, reaching for Sarah.

You pass her over and she melts into her aunt’s arms, curling up into a little pink lump on her chest. “She just had a feed, like, twenty minutes ago, so – she should go down pretty well. And there are more bottles in Joel’s fridge, if you need ‘em.”

Maria nods, wrapping Sarah’s blanket around her. She lifts the bag strap from your shoulder and hands it to Tommy. “I’ll text you as soon as she’s down. Come on, Duckie, let’s get you to bed.”

Tommy leans over and squeezes your arm, winking as he follows his wife. He calls goodnight to Joel, lifting a pointed finger over his head, and closes the door behind them.

Things could not have gone smoother.

It’s suspicious as shit.

You turn when you hear Joel shifting.

“C’mon,” he utters, a pile of plates in one hand. “I ain’t leavin’ you with this mess.” He heads through to the kitchen, broad figure swaying.

The plates spill into the sink, water trickling over them. Joel hums to himself as he gets to work with a sponge in hand.

You linger in the living room.

Things have been good lately – peaceful. You’re in as much of a routine as Sarah will allow: a steady pattern of dropping her off and picking her back up, patchwork family dinners, daytrips whenever both of you can make them.

Your body is healing, pulling itself back together. You don’t have to think about being Mom anymore – she walks in stride with you. The world is painted a new shade of normal – one where you can do anything with a baby on your hip, one where love becomes your first language.

One where you swallow back the ache in your heart, for better or for worse. The only piece of you still fractured. The only wound left open.

Joel’s birthday cards lie flat on the coffee table. You pluck them up one by one – his parents’, Tommy and Maria’s, yours – and Sarah’s.

A messy splotch of a handprint, bright yellow paint smeared across half the fucking card (she hasn’t quite mastered self-control yet). A googly eye plastered to the bird’s chest; orange crayon for the beak and legs.

Sure, you took charge for most of the project – but when he opened it and saw his daughter’s little masterpiece, you caught him swiping his knuckle at the corner of his eye. He snuggled into her, perched on his lap, and whispered, Thank you, little Duckie.

You prop them along your mantelpiece, dotted around your mom’s photo. When you step back, looking from son to brother to…a good friend, you could almost pretend.

Almost pretend that they belong here, on this mantelpiece. There is no yours and his. Just one of everything; nothing doubled nor halved.

Almost pretend that he won’t collect them as he leaves, break into another teary laugh at the sight of the duck painting, and then kiss your cheek goodnight. Promise to have your daughter back in time to go swimming tomorrow morning.

Almost.

“Hey,” Joel calls, “did you, uh – did you hear Tommy talkin’ about Jackson?”

You slip into the kitchen, side by side with him at the sink. “Uh, yeah,” you reply, lifting a towel. “Moose, pine trees. Yep.”

“It sounds beautiful. You think we should take a trip up there sometime? Could be Sarah’s first vacation.”

“You mean the three of us?”

He shrugs, scrubbing a bowl in the water. “Sure. I don’t think Duckie would let one of us stay behind, do you? She’d scream the damn airport down,” he chuckles, looking back to the twinkling bubbles.

You hum. “Maybe.”

“You don’t feel like it?”

“No, I do. I just – I don’t know. Maybe someday.”

“Okay,” Joel says, nodding. “Put a pin in it.”

He passes you a dripping plate and you drag the towel over it, circling the pattern until the suds are wiped clean. And another, and another.

It feels awkward. It feels stiff. There’s something hanging between you, heavy on both your shoulders. A weight you haven’t felt around Joel in over a year.

You turn to him as he stacks the last plate on the draining board. “Is that what you were talking to Tommy about?”

Joel pauses. “You heard that, huh?”

“Only the part about having a kid. It’s none of my business, I know, I just –”

“Actually,” he clears his throat, “it’s plenty your business.”

He leans back against the counter and crosses his arms. A deep breath, cheeks puffing as he exhales. His grip on the dish towel whitens his knuckles.

He’s…nervous. The same shade of gray he wore the night you went into labor.

He takes another unsteady breath.

“Joel?” you ask, head tilting. “Whatever it is, you can say it. I got whiskey, if that’ll make it easier. Probably tastes like shit, but…”

His expression cracks. His eyes twinkle, and he smiles. Only a little, but enough. Enough to let the words slip through.

“You know, that night at Tommy’s wedding was one of the best nights of my life.”

Your heartbeat thuds a bassline in your ears; the rush of your blood the squealing guitar. Skin tacky, moans caught between teeth. Laughter and lust tangling together in the air.

“Yeah?” you ask.

Joel nods. “Yeah. Lying there – talking, laughing, messin’ around. I don’t think I’ve ever laughed that hard in all my life. I could’ve stayed in that room with you forever.”

Your eyes start to sting. You look away.

“I thought I would regret it. I thought I should regret it. And I never did. But then,” he takes a deep breath, “the next day, I look out front, and my newspaper’s sittin’ on my lawn. And for two weeks straight, I kept checking – and there it was. I thought, Sure as shit, she regrets the whole thing. I thought you never wanted to see me again.”

You shake your head. “I wanted to see you again. I missed – I missed you. Missed pissin’ you off.”

He laughs. “I missed you pissin’ me off. Missed that annoying as hell thud on my porch.”

“I didn’t know if you wanted me to – you know,” you admit, and Joel nods.

“We got pretty good at avoidin’ each other,” he grumbles. “And then – with Vanessa, I thought I’d be doin’ you a favor. Letting you off light.”

“You…you took her number to do me a favor?”

“Naw,” Joel says. “I took her number ‘cause her brother in-law has a lumber company, and I had a closet to build. I was drunk, I was an idiot, and I brought it up to her at the wedding. By the time I thought it through, you ‘n I weren’t speakin’.”

You stare at him, jaw slack. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

He shakes his head. He edges closer to you. Voice low, he says, “I shouldn’t’ve gone out on that first date with her. I shouldn’t’ve done any of it. I should’ve talked to you about what I was feeling.”

“Well, maybe we both should’ve,” you mutter, wringing your hands. “I wasn’t exactly the best at it, either.”

His head tips, considering. “Can I tell you now?”

You glance over to him. “Tell me what, Miller?”

“Tell you…tell you that I love you,” he whispers.

It steals the breath from your lungs. One clean swipe.

He nods to himself, then – certain of it – and says it again. “I do, darlin’. I love you.”

Your heart begins to hammer. Tears spill over onto your cheeks, dripping from your jaw.

“And, look –” Joel takes your wrists, “– I got no right to say any of that, I know. I put you through a hell of a lot, these last few months – and that kills me. But if you’ll let me, I swear to you – I’ll make it up to you. I’ll take care of you for the rest of my life.”

You look up. His cheeks are dappled, too – glistening with tears. “Joel…” you weep.

He cups your jaw. “Listen to me. What we’ve had, the last three months – I want it all the time. I want you, and I want Duck. I want the three of us under one roof. I want to sleep in the same bed as you.”

You breathe a shuddered laugh. Your hands fall over his wrists. Keep talking, you mouth, bottom lip trembling.

“I want to get married, or not,” Joel says. “I want to show up to Tommy and Maria’s anniversary party late, ‘cause Duck couldn’t pick which shoes she wanted to wear. I want to have more kids, take ‘em on vacation.”

“Wyoming?” you sniff.

“Wyoming,” he repeats. “I want…I want all of it, baby. You ‘n me. I want you ‘n me, more than anything in the world. And if I’m too late, then you can tell me. Tell me, and I swear on my life I will never mention it again.”

Your hands curve over his. His strong knuckles, worked and weathered and worn by his years. Down to his wrists – the tatty strap on his ages-old watch, the dark hair peppered along his arms.

“I love you so much, baby. So much that it drives me insane. You drive me…fuckin’ insane.”

“Oh, fuck you,” you whisper, balling your fists against his chest.

Joel laughs, nose brushing against yours. “Yeah,” he sniffs, “I figured you’d say som’ like that.”

“I love you, too,” you mumble, linking your arms around his neck. “Shit, I love you.”

“Ain’t that a thing?” he says, and his lips are on yours.

It’s been a year. A year since the first time you felt him – lips soft as velvet, sweet with alcohol and something stronger. His tongue and yours, his teeth and yours. Every part of you clashing with every part of him.

And goddamn, you’ve missed it.

Joel follows you upstairs, pinning you to the wall by your bedroom door. White heat flooding through your veins, he kneels before you and pulls you onto his tongue.

He’s hungry.

He laps at you as though you’ll be gone in the morning. As though he won’t wake up tangled in you, breathing in your scent, lips on your skin.

Dusk seeps in at the edges of your vision; daylight draining from the sky. It’s dark, too dark to see him clearly, but you feel him fucking everywhere.

His beard grazes the inside of your thigh. He kisses where he scratches your skin. He holds your hips steady, tongue dipping in and out.

“You know how fuckin’ sweet you taste?” he growls, slipping inside again.

He looks so good between your legs. Like he was made for it – made for you. All yours, in ways you never really understood until now.

He brings you to the edge with his tongue flat against your clit. Holding your hips firm against his mouth, groaning with you as you fall.

You come with a broken moan. Hips stutter to a halt, legs fall wide open. The warmth in your belly spills over and rushes to every corner of your body.

Joel moans, tongue still lapping as your cunt pulses all over him. “Good fuckin’ girl,” he slurs, watching you come undone.

He stands, a chaste kiss to your lips, and then parts them with his tongue. “Taste good?” he mumbles, kissing you gently.

Yeah, you think, moaning against him, it tastes fucking good.

He spreads you out on your mattress and kisses what feels like every square inch of your body. You giggle at the feeling of his lips behind your ear; moan when they close around your nipple.

Your back arches; little lightning bolts as he pulls the buds to a peak. Your fingers knot through his hair; hissing at the meeting of pain and pleasure between Joel’s lips.

“I love you,” you whisper, when he settles between your legs. You don’t know that you’ve felt something so true in all your life.

He smiles. Your fingers trace the lines at his eyes.

“Come here,” he says, and pulls your hips to meet his.

You curve a hand around his neck, glancing down at your open legs. “Looks a little different to the last time you saw her.”

Joel shakes his head, licking his lips. “Beautiful, baby. She looks so goddamn beautiful.”

Each movement is careful, deliberate. He notches his tip at your hole and pauses until you’re looking at him again.

And then he pushes in.

He slips an arm under your head; the other holding your thigh on his waist. He kisses you as you stretch around him. He still tastes like salt and slick.

You gasp, teeth gritting around a hiss. “Fuck,” you whimper, turning in to his chest.

“Easy, easy,” Joel coos, voice rumbling against your temple. “Catch your breath. Doin’ so good.”

“It’s not sore,” you tell him, nodding for him to move again. “It’s…it’s just…different.”

“Tighter,” he groans, eyes on your cunt as it draws his cock in.

You agree, “Tighter.”

He catches you in another kiss, his tongue slipping between your lips. “Feel so good, sweet girl. Breathe. ‘m right here.”

It’s never felt like this before. This gentle, this tender.

You have never felt like this before. Broken open, stitched back together. Your heart split into two – whole again each time his body meets yours.

Joel catches your moans on his tongue. He steadies his pace; rocking into you over and over. Laughing against your lips; your fingers intertwined with his.

“Feel good?” he pants.

Your head rolls back. “Mhm.”

“Take it, baby. Such a tight little thing.”

“Joel,” you cry, “I’m close.”

His teeth nip at your neck. “Shit,” his hips jump, “attagirl. Just like that.” He thrusts into you harder, bleeding the color from your vision.

You pull his lips to yours, foreheads tacky. Joel’s eyes gloss over.

I love you, he breathes.

And the world whitens.

He pulls you against his chest when you come back around. Shifts up the headboard, skin all sticky and warm. He kisses your temples, kisses your shoulders, kisses your knuckles.

You melt into his grasp, turning to look up at him. You run your fingers over his lips, through his damp hair. Just staring. Drinking him all in.

“You were right next door, the entire time,” you whisper.

He runs a thumb across your cheek. “Yep.”

“Do you think we wasted too much time?”

Joel’s lip turns. “Nah,” he says. “We found our way.”

“Needed a little help, though.”

He scoffs, tongue between his teeth. “I’m sure she’ll hold it against us forever.”

You think of that evening in August. The last bow of the sun before your world changed forever. Of deals struck and promises made. Of satin on your fingertips – newspaper ink and duck egg silk.

You think of that photograph on your mantelpiece. Bright eyes watching every second of it. A smile on her face the entire time.

You laugh to yourself. Joel looks down and kisses your swollen cheek.

“We should go,” he taps your thigh, “got a little duck who’ll be wonderin’ where her mama and daddy are.”

The church tower rings out twice as the truck purrs between graves.

Joel pulls up under the shade of a sycamore, tires rolling to a halt. Sarah kicks her feet, her heels thudding against her car seat.

“Mama,” she presses a sticky finger to the back window, “flowers.”

“Yeah, baby,” you call over your shoulder, hugging your own graveside gift a little tighter in your arms. “Lots of ‘em, huh?”

“Yeah,” your daughter quietly considers, then kicks her seat again.

Joel waits patiently for you to give him the go ahead. He slips a hand around your knee, looking ahead at the rows of headstones. So patient, so gentle.

Your chest swells, a deep breath filling your lungs, and you nod. “Alright.”

“Sure?” he asks. “Take as long as you want, darlin’.”

But if you wait any longer, you’ll never leave. The paper wrap crinkles in your arms. “You take Duck,” you reply, “I’ll take…”

Joel lifts your hand, placing a soft kiss between your knuckles. “You got it. We’ll walk on.”

He leaves you in the truck to collect yourself. He unbuckles Sarah and sets her loose, following her across the grass with his hands in his pockets.

Her light-up sneakers flash as she sprints; head tossed back, toothless smile pointed to the sun. She turns back to her dad, her little hand fitting perfectly into his.

Made for each other.

You hook your fingers around the handle and leave the truck.

Their grave is a short walk down a grassy slope, sheltered by another towering tree. Its leaves flutter down around you as you near the stone; stray petals which catch in the breeze and lead the way.

You kneel down, the grass dry and prickly through your jeans. “Hi, Mom,” you whisper, sweeping some dust from the base of the grave. “Hi, Dad.”

Your grandma picked this spot. She’s long gone – laid to rest elsewhere with a grandfather you never met – so you try to visit as often as you can. Freshen the flowers, brighten up the stone.

It fucking sucks, but someone’s gotta do it.

You peel the brown paper from the bouquet, exposing the soft colors Sarah picked back in the florist. They fit perfectly on the stone, right beneath the words Devoted parents.

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, a feeling that wraps itself around your throat and steals any other words – until a flash of pink catches your attention.

“Duckie,” Joel calls, following her between graves. “Hey. This is a cem…Hey, Duck, listen – this is a cemetery, we gotta be – Sarah!”

You stifle a laugh, watching him jog after the hoodie tied around her waist. He swipes for her hand and she dodges him, ducking between graves faster than his mid-fifties joints can turn him.

There’s no one else here – it’s only you. And it’s a quiet enough place as it is, so – you let her laugh. Let him chase her, and let her sneakers light the place in pink. What else is there to do?

“Sorry it’s been a little while,” you tell your parents, eyes still on your man.

He’s kneeling now, Sarah on his thigh, in front of a tall, cross-shaped stone. They’re pointing at the words on the stone, her inquisitive eyes studying each one.

“I know I said I’d come visit for Dad’s birthday, but I guess things got busy – what with the move and all. We’re still living out of boxes. But the girls’ rooms are almost done – we just gotta paint ‘em.”

You look back down to the stone. Your mom’s name carved deep into spotted marble, your dad’s underneath. One awful date to tie them both together.

Dad probably heard Duck’s first squeal and turned away; gone back to whatever boring activity he might get up to in the afterlife. But your mom, you know for certain, is sat with her chin on the heel of her palm. Watching her mini-me trace the shapes of words, squirming when Joel presses his lips to her temple and whispers hints to her.

She’s probably smiling, making some comment about how big Sarah’s getting. How smart she is, how funny. How she must keep you and Joel on your toes – and goddamn, she’s right.

“Joel’s been working on the kitchen,” you continue. “I left my phone in the truck, but you should see it, Mom. He got these marble countertops, these little brushed-gold handles. He wrote our names on the wall before he tiled it, so whoever remodels after we’re gone will find that. The four of us.”

“M-meh-mem-orr-mem-or-ree?” Sarah tilts her head.

Joel nods. “Memory, yeah. Good job, Duck.”

“Duckie’s good,” you tell your mom. “She’s top of her class in – well, everything. Really wiping the floor with all the other first-graders. She’d have been your favorite – I know that much. And you’d have been hers.

“She’s gonna be some kind of lawyer, we think. Social justice and all that. She likes to be a woman of the people. Always talkin’ back to Joel – she hardly cuts him any slack, these days,” you laugh.

“He’s good, too – Joel. Working hard, as usual. Tommy and Maria visited last week – they brought Buckley, and now Duck won’t stop goin’ on about us getting a dog.”

You chance a glance over the stone, making sure the pair are out of earshot when you add, “Don’t tell her, but we called the pound last night. We’re heading there tomorrow while she’s at school to pick one out for her birthday. Joel’s giddier than I think Sarah’s gonna be.”

Joel’s carrying Duck now, wandering down a wobbly row of graves.

She halts him by pointing to one. “N-eh-v-eh-never…fff-or-g-for–”

He stares at her, a grin breaking across his lips. “Sound it out, that’s it. ‘s a big word, baby girl. You got it.”

The world seems to blur around them. The birds sing, a light melody from overhead. The green trees sway across the blue of the sky; the straight soar of cars on the highway. It all fades into the background, behind the two of them – wandering from shade into brilliant sun.

Your family. Your man, your blood – and everything in between. The little girl who brought it all together in the end – leading her dad by hand over knolls and broken stone, chasing butterflies, and asking what eh-teh-err-nal means.

“Means forever,” Joel says, kneeling beside her. “’s how long I’m gonna love you for.”

“And Nel?”

“And Nel.”

“And Mama?”

“And Mama.”

Sarah runs her hands through his beard, swaying side to side. “But me the most,” she concludes, nodding.

Joel hms, biting back a laugh. He lifts his chin, asks the little girl whether or not he’s going gray.

She has the same ridiculous laugh you do. The same snort you used to find so embarrassing, until you heard it come from her.

Just watching them stokes the already burning fire in your ribcage – the warmth flooding around your heart. He’s so good at it – being a dad.

Was he ever anything else, before he was a father? You can’t remember a time you didn’t wake up next to him, wrapped up in his arms, or with one of his kids burrowed between your bodies. It all feels so long ago, now.

He wanted to do everything. He’d lie with you between his legs, holding your half-sleeping form upright while you fed her. He’d race home after work specially to bathe her. He picked up any and every single duck-themed thing that he came across.

And what were you? Mom felt like such a fucking longshot. So out of your reach that you couldn’t understand the meaning of the word.

But there are days when she says it – Sarah, looking up at you with Joel’s twinkling eyes and a smirk which matches yours – and it’s like you’ve been waiting your whole life to hear it. Like you’ve been waiting your whole life for her.

Well. Her, and her little sister.

“And, uh – another thing,” you say, reaching for the plastic handle of a car seat. “I brought somebody for you to meet.”

A clumsy fist shoots up to shake a speckled dinosaur toy – the brown spheres of its eyes catching the sunlight. She squeals with delight when you unbuckle her, kicks her legs the same way her sister always did.

“She’s a little nervous, ain’t you, Nel?” you whisper, laughing at her gummy smile and tiny, socked feet. “She spit up on herself on the way here, but – I think you’re gonna love her.”

You perch the baby on your thigh, same as Joel did with Sarah, and she wraps her fingers around one of yours. You wiggle it – waving to your mom’s name, to the petals gently fluttering in the breeze.

“Mom,” you sniff, “this is Ellie.”

#joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #the last of us #tlou #macfrog #neighbor!joel miller #babydaddy!joel miller #tw pregnancy

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churipu · 9 months ago

Text

PERIOD COMFORT 𓆝 ⋆｡𖦹°‧

ִ ࣪𖤐 featuring. gojo satoru, itadori yuuji, nanami kento

ִ ࣪𖤐 warnings. period stuff, cramps, fluff.

note. new layout :> anyways, just reminding everyone that has sent in requests that my ask is only open to talk as of now and it will take a little long to have them out, but i assure you that everything in my inbox will be written! thank you

𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔

gojo didn't know how periods felt. so he looks up for things he could do to make you feel better — one time he actually considered buying one of the period cramps simulation machines because he didn't like seeing you in pain alone.

keyword: considered.

you had to drop the machine out of his trolley, and the male was definitely not happy about it. he tried arguing about it with you, saying how he's your 4lifer and he doesn't like seeing you in pain alone because of period cramps.

"satoru, 'm okay. i go through this every month, 'm not gonna die because of this." you tell him, handing his phone back.

gojo whines out, "but baby, i don't like seeing you in pain. i wanna be in pain with you," he shakes you back and forth gently.

but when you were content with your choice — he accepted begrudgingly. pouting out, refusing to speak to you for at least the next fifteen minutes because he couldn't stand being apart from you that long. so instead, he searched for what he could do to help.

"look, i got three chocolates, and i got you extra pads and tampons because tiktok told me to. and i got salonpas because i heard they can actually help with cramps," gojo presented proudly, "and then lastly, me. your amazing boyfriend."

you, previously, laying down on the couch, sat up slowly with a small smile at his attempt to help you with your period.

"thank you 'toru. this means a lot to me."

"i still think i should buy that machine though, baby."

𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐈 𝐘𝐔𝐔𝐉𝐈

he's confused. he knows about periods, but he didn't know it pained you. the young male was in a training session one morning when you called him, expecting a cheery greeting from you.

oh, he didn't. instead here you were, moaning out in pain, "yuuji, you busy?" he could vaguely make out a sharp hiss from the other line.

yuuji was indeed busy. but he told you, "no, no. are you okay? what happened?" he was in the middle of a hand-to-hand with megumi, instinctively raising his hand to stop — and megumi stopped immediately, knowing it was important for yuuji.

"period cramps . . . can you come over, please?" he was confused, tired, and sweaty. but he didn't care about that — the male was worried because were periods even supposed to hurt you?

"of course, baby. i'll be there in a sec." he ended the call and shot a look to kugisaki, "what the hell does period cramps mean, does your . . . you know, hurt or something?"

kugisaki had to give him a one minute lecture on what he should do, step by step. yuuji listened thoroughly, running to the nearest convenience store to get what kugisaki told him to: sweets, chocolates, pads and tampons, and your favorite snacks.

and it took him no longer than eight minutes to appear at your doorstep, knocking a couple of times. still sweaty and stinky, "y/n? it's me."

"door's unlocked."

he opened the door hastily, making sure not to drop any of the things he just bought. lightly sending a kick to the door to shut it, "hi baby, how are you feeling?"

"not good. i feel like 'm gonna die." you writhe out, curling into a ball on your bed. the male approached you, putting down the things, "you stink."

he chuckled, stroking your head, "'m gonna borrow your shower, and then cuddles?"

you nod, "please."

𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎

nanami is always ready. he just knows when your period is coming, hell, he's even more accurate than your period tracker application.

"i brought you chocolates and ice cream, and a heat pad for your cramps." nanami mumbles out, kicking his shoes off as he enters your house carrying a plastic bag.

"how did you know it was my period?"

"i remember it," that was better than any "i love you" or "i miss you".

the male's always ready to bring snacks, sweets, and heat pads for you. nanami will do what it takes to cease your period cramps since he knew he couldn't feel it like you did. he feels really awful: giving you back massages, head massages, kisses to your stomach.

he said he'd "kiss the pain better".

which actually works.

i think he knows your period schedule better than you do. he'd always remind you that your period's coming soon as a heads up, and you listen to him all the time. to the point you had to delete your application since it was pretty useless at this point.

"darling, your period's coming up soon."

"really? didn't i just finish last month's . . ?" you mumbled, a little annoyed that your schedule's coming up so fast.

"in a few days, if i'm guessing — three maybe?" he replies, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head.

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javiscigarette · 1 year ago

Text

For You, I Would

Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: Joel catches you doing something you definitely shouldn't be doing and teaches you you lesson (or a prequel to Push and Pull aka the first time he sends you to subspace)

Warnings: no use of y/n, let's see, PWP, established relationship, dom Joel (daddy Joel near the end) fingering, crying, subspace, degradation, cum play, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, oral (f receiving), spitting, spanking, ass play, creampies, wet, messy, filthy smut

w/c: 9k of pwp oops

a/n: Sooo there are multiple requests that have been sitting in my inbox collecting dust for months so this is long overdue. And ummm I think I was possessed or something while writing this bc Whoa!!! it's a lot. Anyway, it was fun revisiting push and pull, hope this lives up to those standards lmao

my masterlist

"Yours" you pant, hands clawing at the blankets beneath you. "Always yours" "Mhm" he hums against your neck, the vibrations sending shivers down your spine. "And that's why you like when it's too much. When I'm in charge and you have to do what I tell you, when you have to take what I give you and not complain about it. Because you like being mine"

It happens on a late, rainy Saturday morning.

The bedroom is dark when you wake up, the rain pounding against the windowpane with a soft rumble of thunder in the distance. The spot next to you is empty but the smell of food cooking wafting upstairs and through the slightly cracked bedroom door lets you know where he is.

You roll over to the empty side of the bed, the soft sheets still slightly warm. You bury your face into his pillow, the smell of his cologne and shampoo overriding your senses. And that's when you feel it, wetness seeping out of you down your inner thigh. You glance over to the alarm clock, which read 10:12am, 3 hours after Joel woke up with his raging hardon pressed firmly into the back of your thigh. 3 hours after he fucked you into the bed and how he made you cum around his cock twice before he unloaded inside of you, then slowly fucked his cum in as deep as he could get it.

He got a wet rag to clean you up, but you were too sleepy and tried to actually get up and do something about the liquid slowly seeping out of you. But you kind of liked it, falling back asleep to the feeling of being full of his hot release, drops of it dribbling out of you even though you tried your best to keep it in.

And now, your cunt is already aching at the thought of his cum still deep inside of you so much of it right where it should be. You inhale a deep breath with your face squished against the pillow, the scent of him going straight to your core and adding to the building pressure. You wish he was here; wish he would just fuck another load into you right now. But if he's making breakfast, then you can't complain.

So, you take matters into your own hand. With a deep breath, you slip a hand between your bare thighs and press the heel of your palm to your clit, the friction immediately making you moan quietly into the pillow. You rock your hips slowly, lighting grinding against your hand before dipping your fingers into the mess leaking from your hole. You don't even think, you just do. You smear his cum on your cunt, coating it thickly and slipping two fingers into yourself with ease. It's almost embarrassing how easy you open up for them, how slick and wet you are, both from a couple hours ago and now. Your chest feels warm and tight as you slowly pump your fingers in and out of your swollen hole, letting soft moans tumble past your lips as you do so. You're so consumed in what you're doing that you don't hear the bedroom door creak open.

"What are you doing, baby?"

You gasp and yank your hand away like you've been burnt, rolling over onto your back and staring wide-eyed at him.

He's standing in the doorway, red and plaid pj pants hanging low on his hips. His arms are crossed over his bare chest, his face set in a deep frown.

He caught you red fucking handed.

"N-nothing, I swear. I was just..." You're not sure how to finish that sentence. Your heart was already kicking in your chest from both arousal and the expectancy of Joel's next course of action. You knew you were in for it. You know you broke his rules.

You cower under his icy glare, wishing you could just disappear into the mattress. But you can still feel a gush of slick seeping out of you, adding to the mess in between your legs. Your heart beats even faster as he silently crosses the room to the side of the bed where you're lying. He sits on the edge, one leg tucked under him so he can face you.

"Do you remember our rule?” His tone is sickeningly sweet and gentle.

"I-I'm not allowed to touch myself unless you say."

"Mhm" he nods, his hand falling to your thigh. You can feel his grip through the comforter. "Was comin' up here to tell you breakfast is ready, and this is what I find. A bad little girl breaking the rules"

"I-I'm sorry, sir."

He's rubbing your thigh now, the soft fabric of the blanket separating his hand from your skin. "That's alright. It's okay to make mistakes."

The heaviness in your chest lightens at that, a soft smile curling on your lips. You thought you were really in for it.

"But you know what I have to do now, right?"

Your heart leaps back into your throat, a wave of nerves hitting you again, undercut with the wave of arousal causing more slick to leak out of your sore hole. You whine and squirm under the blankets, giving him the most remorseful look you can.

"I'm sorry, sir" you whisper again, pleading with wide wet eyes. "Just wanted to feel you. Wanted more." Your voice wavers and trails off to a quiet whisper as you cast your eyes down in shame.

Joel hums, his hand traveling further up your leg, pushing the blanket off your thigh in the process. His hand is warm and big, almost completely engulfing the flesh of your upper thigh.

"I know, baby" he murmurs, his eyes glued to where your thighs are pressed together. "Poor little thing is always so desperate to be filled, huh?"

You bite your lip and nod your head but keep your body perfectly still. You know better than to move right now after the stunt you just pulled. He moves his hand between your legs, his thumb swiping against the slick leaking out of you.

"My little slut is still all wet" he mumbles. The words make you shiver.

He wipes the pad of his thumb over your clit, causing you to gasp and jolt. He shushes you, his other hand coming to grip the underside of your thigh, slowly spreading your legs apart. A low groan, almost a growl, comes from deep in his chest at the sight of your swollen, sopping wet cunt on full display for him, his cum mixed with your sticky arousal leaking steady from your fluttering hole, dripping down, and sliding over your asshole onto the sheets below you.

"Such a sloppy little cunt" he murmurs, dragging his fingers through the mess and then pulling them away. Your eyes are glued to his movements, watching with rapt attention as he raises his hand and slips his fingers into his mouth, licking the wetness off them with a pleased hum.

"Gonna teach you a lesson, baby.” He announces after pulling his fingers from his mouth. “Gonna teach you to follow our rules.”

"Please, sir” you plead. “I'll be good, I promise. Just...just wanna feel you."

"Oh, I know you’ll be good. And you're gonna feel me" he purrs, his fingers back on your cunt, spreading the slick around and rubbing against your clit. "Gonna fill you up, sweet girl.”

You whimper at his words, a new wave of arousal hitting you and coating his fingers. He groans and slips his middle finger into you with no resistance.

"But first, m'gonna make you cum"

You're shocked at his promise. He rarely lets you get off the hook this easy. He wastes no time, pumping his thick finger in and out of your cunt. You moan softly, the pleasure rippling through your stomach, your muscles tightening as he works. He wastes no time adding another finger and curls them up, rubbing at the spot that makes you see stars. Your walls flutter around him as electricity crackles down your spine and settles as white heat between your legs. You whimper as he massages your front walls, more slick and cum running down his fingers into his palm.

"Gettin' my hand all messy, baby" he mumbles.

You try to stifle a moan as you watch his fingers slide in and out of your drenched hole, the lewd wet sounds of it all fills the room and causes your cheeks to burn. It doesn't take long for him to bring you to the edge. It never does. He's had too much practice, knows your body and what buttons to press that get you there in no time.

"Close, sir. Please, I'm so close" you breathe, your hands fisted tightly in the sheets beneath you.

"Go on" Joel murmurs, his voice low and gravelly. "Cum all over my fingers, baby"

And then you're coming undone, a cry leaving your lips as your muscles clench and contract, the waves of pleasure hitting you like a ton of bricks. Joel groans, his fingers never slowing, and leans down to kiss and nip at your neck, his tongue running over the damp hallow of your throat while his other hand squeezes the flesh of your thigh.

"That's it, baby. So good for me, so good."

You're a whimpering mess, your hips rocking and chasing the high as he works you through your orgasm. You eventually start to come down, but his fingers are unrelenting. He continues to massage your front wall, his mouth attached to the base of your throat. You feel like jelly, your limbs heavy and boneless, the only thing grounding you being Joel's hot mouth sucking a dark hickey onto the side of your neck and his thick fingers buried in your cunt.

"That's one" he mutters against your skin.

You gasp and whine. You know exactly what he means.

"Joel, fuck I can't-"

"Don't fuckin' lie" he growls, his teeth nipping at your collar bone. "Needed to cum so badly that you had to break the rules and touch yourself and now you're sayin' you can't handle it?"

"Joel, please. I-"

"You'll cum as many times as I tell you to. Greedy girl, should be grateful that I'm lettin' you cum at all"

You bite down hard on your bottom lip, the familiar tension beginning to build back up in the pit of your stomach. You try to squirm out from his grasp, even though you're well aware it's against your best interest to do so, but you can't help it. It's all so overwhelming and you know it's only going to get worse, that this is just the beginning of what he has planned for you. But his free hand quickly finds your hip, pinning you to the bed. You keep squirming, but the only movement you can manage is a slight roll of your hips against his hand.

"Stay still and take what I'm givin' you" he grunts, his hand squeezing the flesh of your hip.

"Can't" you whimper. "Can't, 's too much"

Much to your surprise, Joel immediately retracts his hand and sits up straight again. The pressure of his fingers is gone, which you thought would be a relief, but all you feel is cold and empty. He glares down at you, one eyebrow raised expectantly as the muscles flex in his jaw.

"You want me to stop?"

"No! No, I didn't mean it like that"

"What did you mean, baby? Because I'm not a mind reader. If you need me to stop, then you know what to say, don’t you?"

"I know, I just, I mean-"

"You just what? Just want to be bad still?"

His tone makes you feel small and little, and your cheeks burn. You'd probably cry if it were any other situation, but your cunt just clenches pathetically around absolutely nothing.

"I meant, um, I meant it's too much and I can't handle it and-and"

"And you're being punished," Joel interjects "And you need to fucking deal with it" his gaze icy and dark.

You bite your lip and nod, tears pricking behind your eyes, but you blink them away. "Yes, Sir."

He hums approving, his wet hand sliding further up your thigh, back towards your center.

"What's the safe word?" he asks, his tone slightly gentler. Just slightly.

"Red" you squeak out.

"Do you wanna use it?"

you shake your head vehemently. "No, sir."

He chuckles darkly, his wet fingers tracing over your cunt and teasing your entrance. "Didn't think so. Such a greedy little cockslut."

He's back inside you before you can even respond, pumping his two fingers in and out. You cry out, the sudden fullness and stretch making you writhe under him as his calloused finger pads rubbing against your velvety walls in just the right way. He doesn't bother letting you adjust, just immediately curls his fingertips and pummels against your g-spot. The familiar tension is already building again, but you're so sensitive, and it feels like too much, like a burning ache deep inside of you.

"Oh, god. Oh, fuck" you choke out, voice already watery and wrecked.

"Takin' my fingers so good, baby" Joel groans, his eyes fixed on where he's working in and out of your swollen cunt. "Look so pretty stuffed full of my fingers."

Your thighs shake and your breath gets caught in your throat, and that's how Joel knows.

"That's it. Cum, baby. I wanna feel you squeeze around me again"

You open your mouth, ready to tell him again how it's too much but all that comes out is a loud moan as the tightly wound cord finally snaps. Your walls clamp down around his fingers as your incessantly roll your hips, inadvertently grinding your clit against the heel of his palm. Your hand shoots up to grab his bicep, your fingernails digging into the skin so hard that you're positive you're drawing blood.

"There you go, baby, that’s it. That’s two."

He's not stopping, doesn't even slow down, and the intensity is so great that a few tears slip from your eyes. He finally takes his hand off your hip, allowing you to move your lower body, and instead uses his now free hand to push the thin straps of your camisole off your shoulders, tugging it down and exposing your chest.

"Play with your tits, baby" he growls, his fingers still moving inside of you. His voice is starting to sound a little further away as the blood pumping through your veins roars in your ear. Your hands immediately find your chest, squeezing your soft mounds before tweaking your nipples.

"Oh, god" you choke out, back arching off the mattress and into your own touch. Your legs are shaking uncontrollably, and it feels like your heart is going to beat right out of your chest. The fire in your belly is burning bright again, creeping in before you can even recover from the last one. It's all too much. You feel like you're being lit on fire, the feeling in your core almost too intense. You're so overwhelmed and overstimulated yet so desperate for more all at the same time.

"Gonna cum for me again, baby?" Joel taunts, his lips curved in a devilish smirk.

You can't even respond, you can't do anything but lay there and let him work, a pathetic whining noise leaving your lips. Your hands are still on your breasts, playing with them as best you can, pinching and tugging at your nipples, your back arching off the mattress as pleasure and pain surge through you. You don't register what he's doing with his other hand until it’s pushing down on your stomach, right on top of where he’s stroking your spot with his fingers. And the tension snaps once again.

And that's when the tears fall.

Hot, wet drops stream freely down your cheeks as the dam breaks open. Your entire body tenses as you cum for the third time in less than 10 minutes, the overwhelming pleasure coursing through every cell in your body while you positively writhe underneath him.

Joel notices and his fingers immediately still inside of you. Anxiety and concern replace the hunger in his eyes, his heart now pounding his chest for a completely different reason.

"Color, baby" he says, his voice soft and gentle, doing a good job to mask the worry that's quickly consuming him.

You blink rapidly, trying to clear your vision enough to look at him. You can't make out his features, your eyes bleary with unshed tears, and your body is so wracked with tremors that you're unable to speak, your breath catching in your throat.

You don't answer, and it terrifies him. His hand slips from your core and you whine, feeling empty and cold and sore, more slick dripping down between your cheeks. He moves to lie next you, wrapping his arms around your waist and holding you tight against his chest.

"M'sorry, baby" Joel whispers, his voice trembling slightly as you continue to sob into his chest. His heart pounds and his hands trembling where he's holding you. It takes another minute or two for you to calm down and finally take a deep breath.

"M'okay" you manage to mumble, your lips brushing against his skin. He pulls back at the sound of your voice so he can look at your face. His stomach twists a little at the sight of your raw, tear-stained cheeks.

"Fuck, baby. Are you sure? I shouldn't have pushed, should've listened to you, should've--"

"It's okay" you breathe, cutting him off. "Wasn't too much just.... just felt really good"

Joel frowns and wipes away some of your tears with the pad of his thumb "But you were cryin' honey."

You let out a faint chuckle. "Yeah. But...but it's good. Like, so fucking good"

His face relaxes a bit, relief washing over him as he sighs. "Had me worried, baby. Thought I went too far."

"No, no, you were perfect" you murmur. "Just...didn't expect it, I guess"

Joel hums and places a sweet kiss on your forehead.

"How do you feel now?" he asks, his thumb brushing lightly over your cheek.

"Shaky, sore. Tired."

He nods his head, his gaze dropping from yours for a moment.

"Think we should talk about this" he says after a few moments.

"We are talkin’" you giggle weakly.

"M'bein' serious" he huffs, his gaze returning to yours.

"I know" you sigh. "Talk about what?”

"What happened. That was a lot, baby. Never seen you come undone like that before"

"I told you it felt good” you remind him, snuggling a bit closer. “Better than good, actually"

"Well, I know that. But I need to know if you're okay, right?"

"Of course. You took care of me. Made sure I was alright"

"I mean, yeah, I did. But...but you’ve never cried like that, sweetheart. Scared me a little"

You stare up at him, his brown eyes full of concern but still so much of that familiar warmth.

"I liked it" you say quietly, suddenly very aware of how close his bare chest is to your face. "Like a lot. Liked how...how in control you were. Like being used by you, liked the way it felt to be..."

"To be what, baby?"

"Overstimulated. I...I like it when it's too much."

"Jesus Christ" Joel groans, the sound vibrating in his chest and tickling your cheek. "Didn't know I had such a filthy girl in my bed."

"It's not filthy, it's...it's fun."

"Hmm, and that's the only reason?"

"Why else would I like it?"

"C'mon baby, don't play dumb. We both know why you like it"

"W-what are you talking about?"

He laughs, his chest bouncing, and rolls on top of you, his hands bracketing your face and his lips finding yours. He kisses you deeply, his tongue sliding into your mouth and tasting you, his beard scraping against the smooth skin of your cheeks.

"I think you like it because it makes you feel small." He whispers when he pulls away. "And you like being taken care of and held down and bossed around and fucked."

"Joel" you whimper, his words sending a pulse straight to your already throbbing core.

"You like being a good girl for me" he continues, ghosting his lips along your jaw and down the side of your neck, sucking and nipping as he goes. "But you love being punished, don't you? Like when I use you and take whatever I want, however I want. Ain’t that right, sweetheart?"

"Yes" you moan, your legs falling open wider as he settles his body in between them. "God, yes. Love it when you fuck me and call me names and-- and hold me down and tell me what to do."

"I know, baby. Know you're a filthy little slut who needs to be taken apart. My dirty little girl. Aren't ya?"

"Yours" you pant, hands clawing at the blankets beneath you. "Always yours"

"Mhm" he hums against your neck, the vibrations sending shivers down your spine.

"And that's why you like when it's too much. When I'm in charge and you have to do what I tell you, when you have to take what I give you and not complain about it. Because you like being mine"

His words bring back that floaty feeling, your heart starting to race in your chest again. He's right, he knows as much as you do.

"I love it, Joel” you admit breathlessly. “Love being yours"

“I know, baby” Joel hums, his teeth nipping at the base of your throat. "And you want to keep going, don't you?"

"Please" you beg almost immediately, rolling your hips against his, your clit brushing up against the bulge in his sweatpants.

"Good girl" he growls, his hot tongue lapping at the sweat glistening on the skin of your neck. He trails wet, open-mouthed kisses from the hollow of your throat to your collarbone and down your sternum until he reaches your chest. He takes a nipple in his mouth, his teeth grazing the sensitive nub and making you gasp. He sucks and licks, the tip of his tongue swirling around stiff peak before switching to the other, the flat of his tongue laving over it.

"Love when I tease you like this too, huh honey?" he says, his hot breath fanning over your chest. "Love when I get you all worked up and touch you everywhere except the one place you want it."

"Yes, sir." you whine, threading your fingers through his hair, fingernails scratching lightly at his scalp. He hums as he rolls his tongue around your nipple one last time before pulling back and sitting up.

"Hands and knees" he says firmly, and your stomach flutters at the command as you scramble to sit up and position yourself just like he wants.

"Such a good girl" he croons, his large hand caressing the small of your back. "So eager and ready to please"

You let out a breathy whimper, his praise making you giddy.

"You gonna do what I tell you? Be my good little girl and let me play with that tight cunt until you can't think anymore?"

"Yes, sir" you nod.

"What's the safe word?"

"Red"

"And what are you going to do if you want me to stop?"

"Say red"

"Good girl."

The hand on your back slides lower, his palm cupping your ass.

"Spread your legs wider for me" he instructs, his other hand sliding up your spine and pushing your shoulder forward, encouraging you to lean down and put your face against the mattress. You do as he says, moving your knees apart and bowing your back, giving him a nice view of your ass.

"There ya go. Now, stay."

You wait in anticipation, wondering what's coming next. A few seconds later, he swats your ass cheek, not enough to necessarily hurt, but enough for it to sting a little. He rubs the reddened flesh, squeezing the cheek in his palm.

"So fuckin' pretty" he rasps. "My pretty girl."

He delivers a sharp slap to your opposite cheek, his palm connecting with the plump skin. Your cunt clenches and you moan at the delicious pain. He growls, delivering a couple more smacks, a bit harder this time, before soothing the tender flesh.

He then leans forward, pressing a soft kiss to the small of your back, his beard tickling your skin before moving lower. You feel his hot breath against your slit as his palms slide down and grab handfuls of your ass, his thumbs spreading your cheeks and exposing your cunt and asshole.

"Jesus Christ" he hisses, his warm breath fanning over your pussy. "You're fucking soaked, baby."

Without warning, he drags his tongue through your folds, lapping at your swollen and dripping core. You let out a wet gasp, the sensation immediately rekindling the fire in your belly.

"So goddamn sweet" Joel groans, He buries his face between your legs, his tongue and beard driving you crazy, the scratch of his stubble burning on your inner thigh. He sucks on your clit, his lips closing around the swollen nub and pulling it into his mouth, his tongue flicking expertly at the little bud. You're so oversensitive and can already feel the coil tightening again.

He flattens his tongue and licks from your clit to your aching hole over and over again. He gets higher and higher with each one until his tongue is lapping at your other hole.

"Oh, fuck" you cry out, the unexpected sensation of his tongue probing at your ass throwing you off guard. Your cunt clenches, and Joel feels it, the vibration making him hum, his beard still scraping the sensitive flesh of your inner thighs. He presses his face harder between your cheeks, his tongue swirling around your entrance before pushing in.

The sounds of your strained moan echo through the room as he fucks his tongue in and out of your tight hole. You squirm, desperate for some friction on your aching cunt, but you're unable to move, his large hands holding your hips firmly against his face. He doesn't let up, his tongue pumping in and out, fucking you and driving you absolutely crazy. He groans as you clench around him, the sound vibrating against you and making you shake. The heat is building rapidly, and your vision starts to blur.

"Gonna make you cum again, angel. Wanna see you fall apart with my tongue in this sweet little hole and my fingers in your tight little cunt"

"Please" you whine, not knowing how much more you can take.

He pulls back, but you only have a second of missing the feeling before he spits on your cunt and uses his fingers to spread it around, mixing it with the slick that's still dripping out of you. He slides a finger inside, hissing when he feels the tight heat of your pussy once again. He adds another, and quickly builds up to that devastating pace, thick fingers pumping in and out of your needy cunt.

"So fuckin' tight" he murmurs, curling his fingers and stroking your walls. "Still so fuckin' tight and wet." You squeeze your eyes closed and breathlessly pant as he scissors his fingers, stretching and opening you up. He adds a third this time, the slide slick and easy as your hole graciously takes what he gives you. His thumb presses on your clit, rubbing circles on the sensitive nub while he uses the other t=hand to grab your ass and spread you open again. He spits again this time on your asshole, just adding even more to the mess.

"Joel" you cry, his name falling from your lips in a whisper. He's fucking your pussy with his fingers, his thumb working your clit. He doesn't respond, just leans back in and starts lapping at your asshole again. You feel the tension build again, the heat coiling deep inside your gut, the pleasure so intense and overwhelming. Your legs shake and your hips rock back and forth, your body desperate for relief.

"That's it, honey. Want to feel you cum again. Feel how tight and wet you get when I fuck this ass with my tongue and play with your messy little cunt."

Your toes curl, and your back arches, the pressure becoming unbearable. Your pussy squeezes around his thick fingers, and the coil snaps, the tension releasing and the dam breaking. Your mind goes blank, and you scream and sob, your vision turning white. You cry, convulse, and tremble, your whole body shaking as your 4th orgasm rocks through you. He fucks you through it, his fingers continuing to pump in and out of you and his tongue lapping at the slickness between your cheeks.

"Holy shit, baby" he breathes, pulling away when you finally start to come down. You feel him shift behind you, his fingers sliding out of your pulsing pussy and his body moving away from yours. You're still trembling, and your body is numb. Your head feels heavy, and your eyelids are starting to droop. You feel him moving behind you, but you're too exhausted to turn and look at him.

But that doesn't fly with him.

"Look at me" he commands, and it takes nearly all of your remaining energy to turn your head and look at him over your shoulder. His pupils are blown, his eyes darkening and his jaw clenching. He growls low and deep in his chest, his cock lurching in his pants, and he can't wait any longer. He sits up and fumbles with his drawstring, yanking the knot loose and shoving his plaid pajama pants down his hips. You whimper when his cock springs free, finally relieved of its confines. He hisses as the cold air hits him, but quickly kicks the pants off the rest of the way.

"Can you talk to me, sweetheart?" he asks, his voice strained as he wraps a hand around his stiff length.

"Yes, Sir" you sniffle, blinking tears out of your eyes.

"Tell me how you're feeling, baby"

"Sore, Sir. But I like it. feel...floaty"

"That's alright, baby. Just relax. Daddy's going to take care of you, okay? I'm going to use this sweet little pussy, and you're gonna lay there and take it like a good girl for me, alright?"

The name he uses causes another strong wave arousal to course through your veins before settling between thighs. The two of you rarely use it - it's usually sir for you, and he rarely calls himself that. But it’s perfect for the moment and you can't help the way your heart speeds up at the sound of it.

"Yes, daddy." you moan, loving the way your lips form around the word, the way it effortlessly slides off your tongue. "Whatever you want. Anything."

"God, you're such a sweet girl" he moans. "Such a good girl, baby. Gonna be daddy's good little slut?"

"Yes, please" you nod, desperate for him to touch you. "Wanna be a good girl."

"I know, angel. Daddy knows." He moves, hovering over you as he digs the lube out of the nightstand. "Gotta make sure you're nice and wet first"

There’s absolutely no need for it. You’re drenched with cum and slick and spit, wetter than you’ve probably ever been. But he knows how you like it. How he likes it. Wet, hot, and so, so messy.

He sits back, and you watch him squirt some of the liquid into his palm and rub it up and down his length. It's mesmerizing, watching him stroke his cock, the thick, head disappearing and reappearing through the circle of his fingers, his shaft growing even more flushed and the veins protruding and twitching, precum beading at his slit, some of it dripping over his knuckles. You're not sure how much more teasing you can take.

"Always so fucking wet and ready for me" he murmurs, rubbing his cock up and down your dripping folds, getting himself even wetter with your juices. "Such a sweet little whore for me, hm? Sweet messy little slut, always begging to be fucked and filled up"

You're about to say something, about to beg and tell him yes, you're ready, please, please fuck me, please, sir, when you feel his fingers dip into your pussy again. You moan as he gathers more of your slick and brings his hand to his cock, slathering himself in your juices.

"Messy little thing" he muses. He can't wait any longer. With the tip of his cock against your entrance, he grabs your hip with one hand and your shoulder with the other.

"Tell me you're mine, darlin'" he orders.

"Yours" you immediately whine through tears, arching your back and pushing your hips back. "I'm yours. All yours. Please, Joel, I can't—".

You're cut off by the pressure of his thick cock sliding into your heat. It's a tight fit, a snug squeeze, despite him opening you up on his fingers and tongue. You don’t think you’ll ever be used to his size, his sheer length and girth stretching you out until it burns, no matter how wet and ready you are.

But he goes slow, sinking in inch by inch, allowing your walls to stretch and accommodate his size. His jaw clenches and his teeth grind together, his eyes falling shut. "That's it, sweet girl" he murmurs, slowly pushing further. "Just relax and let daddy in."

"Daddy" you whimper weakly, your cunt clenching and pulsing around him.

"Take my cock, baby. Just like that."

You're shaking and sweating, your is head spinning. The feeling of him pushing inside is like nothing you've ever felt before, even though you’ve taken him countless times. He's hot and hard, filling and stretching you to the point where you can barely breathe.

"So big" you choke out. "So full 'n sore, daddy" you cry, tears starting to stream down your face again.

"I know, honey. I know"

He bottoms out, his hips pressing flush against the cheeks of your ass. You gasp and sob, the feeling of him being fully seated inside of you and the stretch and burn overwhelming you. He gives you a minute to adjust, waiting until your breathing returns to normal and the shaking in your limbs subsides. When he feels you relax a bit, he pulls out, slowly dragging his length out until only the tip is left, before pushing back in.

"You're bein’ so sweet, baby. Lettin’ daddy use your tight little pussy."

You don’t say anything in response, just bury face into the sheets, grabbing handfuls of the fabrics as you sob.

He takes a deep breath and starts to move. Slowly, gently, he pulls out halfway and slides back in, his movements measured and precise. He wants to take his time, doesn't want to hurt you, but the tight squeeze of your cunt, the wetness and the heat and the slick, velvety walls clenching around him are making it difficult.

"More" you gasp. "Please, daddy, more. Need it. Need you."

And how could he deny you that? How could he not give you everything you want, everything you need? So, he sits up and slides his hands back to your hips, gripping them tightly and pulling you back onto him as he rolls his hips forward, the force and the angle making his cock slide over your g-spot. Your vision goes fuzzy, and the air leaves your lungs, and when you finally manage to gasp, his name falls from your lips.

"Fuck" he groans, the sound of his deep, raspy voice sending a rush of fresh wetness around his cock. He can't help but start thrusting into you, snapping his hips against yours, the obscene slapping noise of skin on skin filling the room. “Look at you, poor little baby cryin’ for my cock”

He doesn’t give you a chance to respond, just reaches up and tangles his hand in your hair, his other hand holding on tight to your waist, gripping the soft skin. He yanks, his fingers threaded through your hair and pulling you up, forcing your back to arch. The new angle makes your head spin, his cock dragging against your sensitive spot and his hips grinding against your ass.

"Daddy!" you gasp. You want to tell him how good it feels, how his cock is filling you up, his size stretching you and hitting places that have never been touched. You want to tell him that you're not sure you're ever going to be able to cum again without his thick cock splitting you open. But your mind is clouded, your body overwhelmed and your tongue heavy. The most you can manage is his name, over and over, a breathless, broken, raspy mantra.

"Yeah, baby" he grunts. "Take it just like that. My good girl takes everything I give her"

And you do.

You take and take and take and when you're not taking, you're begging. Begging for him to keep going, begging for more, begging him not to stop. And the more you beg, the faster his pace becomes, his hips stuttering against yours. And the faster he goes, the lighter you feel.

The fog that has settled in your brain is becoming thicker and heavier, and when you start to feel weightless, like you're floating, you realize you can't move. Your limbs are heavy, and all you can do is lay there, limp, useless, and completely at his mercy. Your ears start ringing faintly, and your body feels warm and tingly and the only thing keeping you tethered to reality is Joel.

"My good girl" he grunts "So fuckin' pretty. So beautiful like this. Just lettin' me use you like a goddamn little fuck toy, huh? Lettin' me fuckin' ruin you? You love it, don't you?"

You can't even respond. Can't form a sentence, can't form a single word. You're not even sure if you could make a noise. Your eyelids are fluttering, and your eyes roll back into your head, and the only thing keeping you from floating away is the pressure of Joel's hand around your waist. But soon that's not even enough to keep you grounded. Your entire body starts tingling and the ringing in your ears grows louder, and when Joel's thrusts become harder, his cock drilling into you with abandon, his balls slapping against you, and the obscene, wet noises of his cock pumping in and out of you filling the air, the tingling gets stronger, and your body begins to feel numb.

You start to slip, and with your face still turned to the side, Joel watches in awe as it happens.

The feeling is so intense, and when Joel's other hand grips your other side, holding you in place as he fucks you, it's enough to make you spiral. Your vision goes dark, and you stop hearing the sounds of skin slapping and the dirty things coming out of his mouth and the creaking of the bed and the squeak of the mattress springs. All you can feel is his thick cock filling you, the tip brushing against your cervix with each thrust, his balls hitting your clit, the heat of his body on top of yours, the heat of his skin searing into your back. You can feel the wetness leaking out of you and the tightening coil of desire low in your belly, pleasure so intense, all consuming. You float out of your body, time and space ceasing to exist. Your mind is completely wiped, your vision black with stars dancing across your field of view. You feel weightless, free.

And then there's nothing left. No more thoughts, no more feelings. Just bliss. Peace.

Just Joel.

There is nothing except the weight of Joel's body on top of yours and the pressure of his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your waist, holding you in place while he fucks you. There's nothing else. Nothing. You can't even think anymore. Your mind is blank, empty, and the only thing that remains is the feeling of his body on top of yours, and the heat. God the heat.

He's hot.

You're hot.

So fucking hot.

Everything is white hot and it's too much. It's too much and not enough, and it's not long before your body starts tensing, and your toes curl and the muscles in your legs clench and spasm and the pressure builds, and builds, and builds. And you don't even know what's happening, can't even process it.

It's not until his fingers find your clit again when the orgasm hits, the first wave of pleasure crashing over you, riptides dragging you underneath. It's the strongest orgasm of your life, the strongest you've ever had, and it doesn't even end. It just keeps building and building, the waves continuing, and every time you think it's over, another wave comes crashing down on top of you, stronger than the last, the pleasure ripping through your body and leaving you trembling and twitching and writhing, tears rolling steadily down your cheeks.

"There you go, baby" Joel rasps. " Just let go. Let it take over. Cum all over daddy’s cock."

It's like his words are an instruction manual, and you have no choice but to follow his command. The second he says it, you feel the tight coil inside your belly snap, the pressure releasing and flooding your veins, a tsunami of euphoria washing over you and dragging you deeper and deeper into the ocean.

"I'm gonna fill this greedy little pussy up again, sweetheart" he growls, his thrusts becoming erratic and his rhythm faltering. "Know how much you love it when it's drippin' out of you. Know how much you love the mess, my filthy, desperate, little cockslut"

You can't hear him, the sound of his voice too fuzzy and distant. You can't speak, your body and mind still floating, the world spinning and the darkness threatening to take over, to consume you, and the only thing that grounds you is the feeling of his skin on yours.

"Gonna cum inside you. Gonna pump that pussy full, gonna fuckin’ breed you, sweetheart”

And just like that, he does. He slams his cock into you one last time, bottoming out and burying himself inside you, the tip of his cock pressed right up against your cervix, his thick cockhead kissing the opening of your womb.

"Please, daddy" It's all you can manage to get out, and even though it's quiet, and barely a whisper, it's enough to send him over the edge.

"Fuck" he rasps, his cock throbbing and pulsing, his hips twitching as his cum floods your cunt. "That's it, take it, baby. Take all of it. Let it fill you up nice and good."

He collapses on top of you, his body flush with yours, his face buried in your hair, his breathing shallow and labored. He's panting, the rise and fall of his chest and the beating of his heart the only things that keep you from falling into the darkness. You can feel his warm breath on the back of your neck, the heat of his skin against yours. He's warm and solid and he smells good, and it's comforting and safe and secure.

"Fuck" he breathes, the warmth of his exhale tickling the skin behind your ear. "Are you okay?"

His voice is quiet, concerned, and you can't even nod, let alone answer him, but when his lips find the pulse point in your neck, the light press of his soft lips sending a wave of relief through your body, the darkness receding and the fog clearing, the only thing that passes your lips is a shaky sigh.

"I got you, darlin'" he whispers, nuzzling the side of your face. "I'm here."

"Joel" you mumble, voice weak and watery. It's all you're able to get out, but it's enough.

"I know" he murmurs, his mouth finding the skin just below your ear, pressing a gentle kiss to the sensitive spot. "I know. I'm here, baby. I'm not going anywhere. Not ever. I promise."

He sits up and pulls his softened cock out, watching as his cum leaks from your stretched out pussy. He groans, sliding his hands up and down your thighs, his eyes drinking in the sight.

"Messy girl" he murmurs, swiping his fingers through the pool of wetness dripping from your cunt. "Look at all this. My cum leakin' outta your sloppy little cunt”

You can only whimper softly, your thighs closing around his hand. He takes the hint and removes it, wet fingers smoothing over your hipbone.

He moves to lie next you again, his hand wraps around your waist and pulls you against his body, the feeling of his bare chest pressed to yours and the soft brush of his lips on your hairline is enough to keep you tethered to reality. The two of you stay there for a while and your breathing synchs to the rhythm of his before he talks again.

"You went somewhere, didn't you?" he murmurs. His voice is a little husky, a little raspy, and his accent is a little thicker than usual. "Somewhere far away."

"Yeah" is all you can manage to say. You're not quite sure if it's a question or a statement, and either way, you're not even sure how to explain it.

"Was it a good place?"

"Mhm" you nod, the memories of the feeling coming back to you, the way your body felt like it was floating and the way everything just disappeared and the way everything went black and how you could barely breathe. "So good, Joel"

"Yeah? You liked that?"

Another nod.

"You want that again, honey?"

"Yeah" you say quietly. "Want you to push me. Make me cry, make me feel it."

"Mmm, think I can do that again, sweetheart” Joel assures, squeezing you a bit tighter.

"And tell me I'm yours” you add softly.

"You’re mine, sweet girl. You belong to me, and only me."

"And no one else's."

"No one else's" he repeats.

"Say it."

"You're mine. And no one else's."

"Thank you."

"Anything for you, darlin’. Now let’s get you cleaned up”

You whine in protest, not wanting to move a muscle as he rolls off the bed. But then he scoops you up into his arms, his strong arms under your knees and your back.

"What are you doing?" you giggle, wrapping your arms around his neck.

"Can't have you walkin'" he replies. "You can barely open your eyes, I ain't about to let you fall on your ass."

He's right, of course. Your legs feel weak and shaky, and the second he lets go of you, you're not sure you'd be able to stay standing. But he doesn't let go, not even when you're both in the shower and he sets you down on the bench under the warm stream. His strong hands rub soap into your skin, lathering and washing away the sweat and the stickiness, and by the time the suds have rinsed away, the water is turning cold.

"We're gonna have to fix that" he mutters.

"Fix what?"

"This shit water heater."

You hum, the vibrations buzzing against his chest. He turns the water off and reaches for a big, fluffy towel, wrapping it around you and rubbing the fabric over your skin, drying you off. You brush your teeth together, smiling at each other in the mirror, Joel wrapping an arm around you and pulling you into his side.

"Joel?" you start after setting your toothbrush back in the cup.

"Hm?"

"I love you."

The smile on his face is soft and sweet and his eyes crinkle in the corners.

"I love you too, angel. Now, you stay right here, I'm gonna go strip the bed and I'll be right back, okay?"

You sit on the closed toilet seat lid, wrapped in your fluffy towel. Your eyes are heavy and droopy as you watch him out in your shared bedroom, pulling the soaked sheets off the bed and switching them for fresh ones as fast as he can. He picks out the white ones with the little blue flowers. The ones he knows are your favorite. You're exhausted and spent and satisfied, and the sight of him doing the most domestic task is almost enough to bring more tears to your eyes. You're not sure why, but the emotions are overwhelming, and you have to take a deep breath, steadying yourself.

He carries you back to bed, pulling the comforter over you and propping the pillows up behind you so you can lean back comfortably.

"Gonna go get some food, kay?" he finds the TV remote on the nightstand and hands it to you. "Here. Find something for us to watch. I'll be right back, don't you go anywhere, y'hear?"

"Yes, sir" you mumble, taking the remote and giving him a mock salute.

He shakes his head and laughs, then presses a kiss to your forehead before heading downstairs. The room is quiet when he leaves, the only sound left being the rain still steadily pounding against the window. You take it in, the quiet moment all to yourself. The smell of sex and sweat and his cologne and your body wash still lingers in the air, and you can still feel the tingling of your skin where his mouth and his hands had been, where his fingers and his teeth and his tongue had marked and claimed and branded you. You can still feel him everywhere. His breath on your skin, the ghost of his lips and his tongue. His hands gripping your hips, his fingers digging into the soft flesh, the memory of the pain making your cunt ache.

He returns before your thoughts can wander too far, a plate filled with food in his hands, and a grin taking up over half of his face.

"Reheated your breakfast that you should've been eatin' damn near two hours ago" he teases, handing the plate over. "My special omelet. And toast."

He crawls onto the bed next to you, leaning back against the pillows and stretching his long legs out, then takes the plate back from you. He picks up a piece of the toast and holds it to your lips.

"Open" he orders.

You roll your eyes. "I can feed myself, Joel." But the second you see the look on his face, you open your mouth, letting him place the bread on your tongue.

"I know" he smirks. "But I can feed you, too."

"Thank you" you mumble around the bread, the corner of your mouth turned up.

"Anything for you, darlin'"

You eat the omelet in bites off the fork that he holds and the toast from his hand. He makes sure to place the plate carefully to catch all the crumbs too. And when the plate is empty, he sets it down on the nightstand, trading it for the tall glass of ice water with one of your favorite straws.

"Drink" he instructs. You obey and he watches you the whole time, only taking back the cup when he's satisfied with how much you take.

"That's my good girl" he purrs, reaching over to the nightstand for the bottle of your favorite lotion. "My good, good girl."

He squeezes some of the lotion into his palm, the smell of strawberries filling the air, and he starts rubbing it into your skin. He starts with your hands, massaging each finger, gently pressing down on your knuckles until they pop. He knows you hate it but he loves the noises, and the way your nose scrunches up is adorable. Then he moves to your arms, squeezing your bicep before rubbing his hands over your shoulders, down the slope of your back, and then up the front, working the cream into your neck, your collarbone, the tops of your shoulders, and then over the swell of your breasts. He massages them, kneading the tender flesh, rolling your nipples between his fingers, and when the lotion is rubbed in and your skin is soft and dewy, he leans down and wraps his lips around a nipple, sucking gently and pulling a soft gasp from your lips.

"Joel" you whimper, the feeling of his warm mouth on your sensitive skin and his rough beard scratching at your chest making your sore, aching pussy throb.

"Mmhmm, darlin'?"

"Kiss me"

He does as he’s told, his lips soft and gentle when they meet yours. It's nothing like the rough, frantic kisses from earlier, the bruising press of his lips against yours, the desperate clash of teeth. This time, it's a tender kiss, a brush of lips and a gentle caress. His lips are featherlight on yours, his breath sweet on your tongue, the taste of the peach tea he loves so much flooding your mouth, the flavor reminding you of the fading summer.

He pulls away and looks at you with the dopiest grin

"What?" you laugh.

"Nothin'" he replies, the smile still not fading.

"No, not nothing. What is it? Why are you smiling like that?"

"Just happy, darlin. Now pick somethin’ to watch.'"

Your cheeks heat and turn red, and you can't help the small smile that stretches across your lips or the giggle that escapes when he wraps his arm around your shoulders and pulls you closer. You're nestled into his side, his arm wrapped around you and his chin resting on top of your head. You grab the remote and click through all options. Joel groans from above you when you settle on your final choice.

"Moana? Again? That's like the third time this week."

You just giggle and snuggle up closer to him, your cheek smushed against his warm, bare chest as the opening scene starts to play.

"I love you" you whisper, your warm breath diffusing across his skin.

"Love you, too, baby."

You close your eyes, the warmth of his body and the steady beating of his heart, the rise and fall of his chest, the comforting feeling of being cradled against him lulling you to sleep. This is heaven, and you're sure of it.

sometimes I wonder if there's something seriously wrong with me. Then I realize that I'm just ovulating. Thank you for reading, lemme know if you enjoyed it hehehe I love you all soo much!!

#joel miller smut #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller one shot #joel miller fic #the last of us #tlou fic #joel miller #pedro pascal characters

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imaginesmai · 1 year ago

Text

Right around the corner - Azriel (5)

AHHHHH this is the final part and let me tell you I'm SAD. It was so hard to write the ending you all deserve after all this love, so I tried my best. Let me know what you think! Also, you deserve A LOT, so I made it long hehehe. Don't worry, a request about the RATH universe is coming soon! If you want one too, drop it in my inbox!

(1), (2), (3), (4)

Plot: The story of how Azriel fixed what was broken, and how you forgave him.

Warnings: this is sad, but has a happy ending! Also, mental health issues.

No one expected the sidra to froze that year, and against everyone expectation, one day Velaris had woken up to see the riven covered by a silver layer. Children had missed school to skate in the solid surface, parents watching carefully from the edge. Some couples were skating too, holding hands and giggling endlessly.

You had been watching the new scene unfold all morning. And while you usually loved snow and ice as much as any child in town, you were starting to get a little sick of all the noise.

It wasn’t your new employee situation, who had been staring at the river all morning. She had already finished her duties, but always the polite and nice girl, Elain Archeron was keeping you company.

When you spotted for the third time the familiar red-head through the glass and she didn’t say anything, just sighed, you decided you had enough.

“You should tell him to get in before he freezes to death” you commented, still busy with measuring the ingredients.

“Oh, no” Elain blushed and looked away from the window. “No. He’s just… He can wait”

“He can, but doesn’t have to. You and Lucien should head out, rent ice skates and have a fun day. You already finished here” you smiled kindly at her, and before she could reply, you added. “I’m fine, I don’t even like cold weather. And I still need to finish this, which you can’t help me with. So, go”

Elain stared at you with uncertainty, and you tried to look as convinced as possible. Would you have liked her to stay? After all, she was one of the few people you socialized with these days. She had turned in when you opened the bakery again, right after you posted the sign about looking for a new partner.

And even if you had had your doubts when you discovered she was Feyre’s sister and Azriel’s friend, you considered her your own friend.

So, yeah, you would have liked her to stay. Because you were still awfully sad all the time, and her company was one of the few things that made your day better. But you being sad didn’t excuse her missing a wonderful day with her mate.

“It’s not closing time yet” her eyes danced between the glass and you. “He was supposed to wait for me at the house”

“Guess he’s too eager to see you. He’s been dancing around the bakery for a good hour” you chuckled. “Elain, I mean it. Go. Have fun. I’ll see you on Monday”

“Y/N, I promise I don’t mind waiting. It’s not like it will unfreeze”

“And I promise I don’t mind at all. So, go, have fun and tell me about it on Monday” you gripped her hand softly over the counter, nodding to the waiting mal outside. “Come on, go”

Lucien was once more outside the bakery, the only visible part of him his red hair. He was covered in thick layers, but still managed to smile when Elain kissed your cheek and took her coat on the way out.

You didn’t have it in you to watch them be affectionate with each other, so you looked down at your task and decided it would be the last of the day.

It was hard watching all those couples walking hand in hand and remembering the feel of his warm, scarred hand in yours. To hear a man laughing and remember the unexpected laughs you dragged out of him sometimes. Even looking at the river was painful, because you could almost see the ghost of Azriel and you learning how to skate in a frozen lake in the Illyrian mountains a few years ago.

You had seen Azriel around a few times now, walking through your bakery and waving at you through the glass. Two times he had been waiting at the door when it was late at night, silently walking you home from afar without talking. Almost two months had passed by and your feelings were still as messed up as before.

Though you didn’t cry as much as before, and you were starting to get better, you still wondered.

If Azriel getting help would mean your relationship would be fixed, or if it was broken permanently. Deep in your thoughts, and used as you were to Azriel’s shadows, you didn’t notice how they tugged on your apron until the door sounded again.

Elain’s name didn’t leave your lips, because as soon as the door opened, you lost your breath. As if you had summoned him, Azriel walked through the door, beautiful as ever. He wasn’t in his usual training leather, but winter clothes that fit him as a glove. Instantly, you noticed he had lost weight. His shoulders were slumped and his body didn’t carry the usual grace of an Illyrian warrior.

“Hi”

His scarred hands, that had held you so many times and slaughtered so many enemies, were tucked in his coat’s pockets. You could feel the nervousness through the bond, the hesitance. Too stunned to answer, you only stared at him.

You had known that, eventually, he would talk to you. That you would have to do more than just wave at each other through the glass and stay silent when he sent you details through Elain. But still, you hadn’t expected it.

Unable to move, you only blinked.

“I saw Elain and Lucien heading out” he added, not looking away from you. “It’s a nice day outside”

Azriel hadn’t finished before one of his new shadows scaped his control, sneaking around the counter. The familiar ones, that had been by your side since he left, danced around the new intrusion. It lifted your apron, and crawled up your neck.

The cool feeling was the last of your worries, because no matter how much you willed yourself to say something, you couldn’t even tear your eyes from him.

The bond flickered between the two of you, once more. Knowing that it was one-sided, that he didn’t wear it like you did, made break your trance.

“She’s finished for the day” you explained, sounding way more confident that what you felt.

“It’s a nice day, yeah” he repeated, not giving you time to feel awkward before he continued “I thought that maybe you wanted to take a walk with me. It’s cold, but we could… get coffee. Or chocolate, if you want”

Azriel gave you a half, broken smile. Hearing his voice again made you take ten steps backward.

“I have things to do”

You looked down to your current task, which could be easily discarded. You had left much important things half-done because of him, and you would have done it normally without a second thoughts. But no matter how heartful the conversation at your door had been, you just knew you weren’t ready to have a conversation without getting angry.

You knew you weren’t ready to forgive him.

His new shadow gripped your wrist tightly before disappearing, and you heard Azriel’s doubt. He wanted to say something else, and you wanted too. Still, you fell back to your measuring and ignored the way your vision blurred, how your knees became weak again.

Maybe going back to your duties was the only way not to break down again.

The silence continued for a long minute. You couldn’t not feel his presence, the way his scent filled the bakery and made your stomach turn. Your heart recognized what you needed, what you wanted, and threatened to jump out of your chest.

Before you could regret your words, Azriel opened the door again.

“You’re forgetting the yeast” he said, his voice thick with emotion.

When you looked up again, he only smiled. You opened your mouth to tell him to wait, maybe to fuck off and never come again. You didn’t have time, because Azriel closed the door behind him and he was gone.

The first tear fell against the unformed dough, followed by many more. You wouldn’t be finishing the blueberry cake that afternoon, you realized, as you crunched behind the counter and cried.

There was a storm coming, and everyone in Velaris had had the same idea – run to the market, buy everything they needed for a few days, and crowd themselves at home with their loved ones. You were trying to follow the first part of the plan, not having anyone to go home anymore. And if that wasn’t enough reason to drag you down, the crowd was getting intense.

Velaris’ market was a beautiful place, full of shops and nice vendors. But that day, the space felt too small.

You already had a few bags with you, yet there were a few more to go. Wanting to finish as soon as possible, you had ignored the rational part of your brain and had gotten in the middle of the crowd. You had only managed to buy milk and pasta, and still had a long way to go.

After Azriel’s brief appearance, your life had been messier than before. He had come by the bakery at least five times more, always offering you some kind of plan you rejected. Going to the park, for a flight or to a coffee shop. Taking walks, watching the sunset or training together.

You lived now half-prepared to see him walking through your door again, and not having the heart to tell him no. You weren’t sure if that thought frightened or comforted you.

In your haste, you had almost forgotten to buy provisions for the storm, and had found yourself on the worst day to do them. Crowded, loud and suffocating, that was how you would describe the market at that moment.

The fact that most people ran with their children and family wasn’t helpful at all.

Most of the times, it was Azriel who did the last-minute shopping for you. He knew you didn’t like crowds, loud places, that you did best in your bakery where only five people were allowed at a time.

Another shove broke you down from your daydreaming, and you looked back to see a pregnant woman staring with her eyebrows furrowed.

“The line is moving” she spatted, pointing to the small space ahead of you. “If you don’t move with it, you should step out”

“Oh, no” you chuckled softly. You picked up the bags on the ground and took the two small steps that you were supposed to. “Sorry, I just thought I could take a little bit more space. It’s crowded here”

“I don’t mind crowds, so if you want to step back, let me get first. I’m in a hurry”

“Me too” you gave her a polite smile, mindful of her state.

The short distance that separated you from the customer on the front was certainly not enough, and she knew it. Still, she looked at you with disapproval. There were only five more people to go until it was your turn, you could buy your snacks and run to the next stall.

You thought you could ignore the glare at the back of your neck, and you did for a few minutes. Without meaning to, you thought how everything with Azriel was easier. Not only people wouldn’t dare to talk to him like that, but also, he assured you a good meter of distance between you two and the rest of the world with his wings.

The snacks on your hands almost fell when, not even two seconds after the man took three steps forward, you were shoved again.

That time, when you looked back, the woman was accompanied by her mate. His wings covered her from the people behind them.

“You should really step out of the line” she repeated. “You might have all the time in the word, but we are in a hurry”

“Me too. You can’t expect me to be glued to that man” you tried to explain, anxiety coiling in your stomach. “He just moved”

“And you didn’t, which proves my point. Besides, it’s obvious you only have a few things. We have more”

“Which should be enough reason to let me go first, not only because I was here before you” you shrugged, feeling even more uncomfortable when the male huffed a laugh. “Maybe it’s you who shouldn’t have come here today if you can’t wait in a line”

You weren’t a threat for the woman, and you were trying really hard to be polite and prove your point. Besides, being pregnant wasn’t an easy task, and you could tell she was far along. Maybe you should have let her pass, or maybe told her to fuck off.

But before you could argue further, something clicked in the male’s eyes, wide with recognition.

And you would have preferred for him to go full berserk mode on you. Because you recognized that look, you had been receiving them for a while now.

The male elbowed the woman’s side softly, pointing with his chin towards you. You didn’t have time to turn back and avoid the conversation, because he spoke.

“You’re the shadowsinger’s mate” he announced, loud enough to make a few heads turn.

“Oh” the woman finally connected the dots and lunged forward to grab your arm so tight you couldn’t shake her off. “I’m so sorry. I’m sorry, I didn’t recognize you”

“It’s fine. Don’t worry” you pushed your arm back, trying to let go.

While the woman apologized, you couldn’t help but listen to the whispers. The same ones you had heard in your bakery and through the streets. Some of them thrown in your face by rude or nosy customers that didn’t understand the concept of privacy, others by bystanders.

At the end, it was the woman who said it out loud, confirming what everyone in the small circle that had formed at the cue was wondering about. She finally let go of your arm and crossed hers in front of her body.

The look of pity wasn’t as bad as the confirmation.

“He rejected you, right?” it wasn’t a question, not when you didn’t answer and she continued. “We heard you’ve been mated for almost a century and he doesn’t want the bond. Is that true?”

It wasn’t true, but you didn’t have the heart to correct her. Instead, you turned around and used your wing-less privileges to sneak through the crowd. You kept your head down, as if that could stop you from hearing the comments or feeling the stares.

People had come up with an alternative version where Azriel and you had been mated for decades, for centuries. Where you had cheated on him or he had changed you for someone else. You had even heard that he had bonded with another person and had kicked you out of the house, and that you had been the one rejecting the bond.

Each version was farthest from the truth than the last one, but they all hurt the same. The crowd didn’t seem to get thinner no matter how deep you got in the market. Once the people who had heard the conversation were left behind, new people crowded you, worried about the girl panicking and running through the middle of the market.

There were a few occasions where you thought you would fall, where you tripped and almost embarrassed yourself farther. You had almost made it to the back entrance of the market when you finally realized you were tripping no more. There was no longer a crowd around you, nor whispers or hands reaching your way.

It took you another few steps to fully stop and assess the situation. When you looked back to see where the crowd was, you were met with a broad chest inches away from you. Through tearful eyes, you recognized Azriel’s wings tucking you away from people, his mere presence pushing them away.

You met his hazel eyes, full of worry and regret. His hair was longer, covering his brow, but you found comfort in his crooked nose, in his freckles, that you knew so well.

You noticed in his hands your bags that had been left in the stall, a new one with the snacks you were about to buy.

“What – what are you doing here?” you choked out, too grateful for the sudden moment of peace to wonder about anything else.

“I felt you through the bond, a few hours ago. Anxious and…” he stopped himself, his eyes scanning every tear that marked your cheeks. “I was just getting here when it got worse. I heard most of it. I’m –”

“Don’t say you’re sorry” you interrupted him. “It’s not your fault”

Out of the many things that were indeed his fault, people not minding their own business wasn’t his. You were used to him blaming himself for everything, from wars in other courts to people fighting in the street. The response came naturally.

Your nose was cold and runny, your hands frozen in your pockets, and your feet hurt. Besides all of that, you felt all wrong. Because you enjoyed his presence, because what they said, and because you couldn’t help but calm down when he was close.

Azriel didn’t say anything when you took the bags from his hands, thanking him quietly. He didn’t say anything as more people walked away from him, either because of his wings or because they recognized him.

“You don’t like last minute shopping”

It was a pointless observation, but it was better than to comment on how afraid he had been when, just outside the market, he felt the bond snap with urgence. His shadows knew where you were, and that you needed him, but even he had trouble running through crowds. Azriel also couldn’t talk about how mad he had been at everyone in that stall, how his new shadows had turned off every light and almost chocked them to death.

Azriel wanted to say that you were probably cold because you didn’t like your own coats, and most of the times wore one of his. He wanted to hug you, too, to feel you between his arms after what felt like an eternity and promise you that it would end well.

But he couldn’t say anything more than the obvious.

“I had to” you answered.

With a furious fist, frustrated at life, at him and at you, you brushed the tears off your cheeks. You could tell that he wanted to keep talking, and you did too. Since your last encounter, you had come up with more conversations you should have.

You stared at each other for what seemed forever. There were details that you had almost forgotten in your sorrow – like his long lashes, that you teased him about. Or the freckle that snuck up to the corner of his left eye. The way his mouth rose higher from the right, and the small scar on his ear from where Cassian dared him to wear an earring.

Only his face was enchanting enough to help you forget about the day, about the weight of your chest. It was the first closing call from the market, that sounded through the public speakers, that broke you away.

“I should go”

You talked at the same time, and you smiled softly when you pointed to different directions. You didn’t miss how his eyes fell to your mouth, how his own lifted up too.

“I could walk you back” he offered, not tearing his eyes away from your mouth. “If you let me”

You didn’t answer immediately. Those last words, that he had repeated so often lately, almost had you saying yes. You could almost imagine how it would go – him walking by your side, one of his wings behind your back. His elbow brushing yours, and his gaze fixed on you.

Your smile dropped when you remembered the times you had walked just like that, tucked together. The times you had waked by yourself through Velaris with his imprint on you, and the times he had left without a trace of your presence.

Azriel knew the answer before you said it, and his shoulders dropped slightly.

“Sorry”

That time, you decided to turn away before he could. Taking the back exit was a poor choice, knowing it was farther from your house than the main one, but you couldn’t picture yourself walking through the market without Azriel keeping the crowds a step away.

So you turned around, gripped your bags tight and didn’t tear your eyes from the ground during the whole way back.

It wasn’t Azriel who found you the time everything changed, but you.

The cold and winter were over, the streets were clean and the sun was out. It was a perfect day to spend outside, and Elain seemed fixed in throwing you out of your own shop. She claimed that the bags under your eyes were as dark as the night, and that your skin was so pale that she couldn’t tell the flour stains apart from it.

“Just for the record, you’re kicking the owner of the bakery out of the bakery” you stated, looking at her once more from the door. “You do realize that shouldn’t happen, right?”

“I’m helping a friend come out of her ghost-like season” she replied, still decorating muffins. “And you do realize that most shops close on Sunday’s, right?”

“Certainly not a bakery” you looked to the empty fountain at her right. “If we do it together, we will – “

“If you touch one single item of this bakery, I’m banning you from the kitchen for a month”

You doubted she meant it, she could. But still, you sighed and turned around to open the door. You weren’t an extrovert, certainly not an outsider. Since you were a child, you liked your kitchen, your house, and your space. And none of those things were outside the door.

But you actually feared what the fae you left behind would do if you turned back. Elain had already hidden your apron so you couldn’t put it on, and had threatened to mismatch the soy milk with normal one.

Giving her a last, tight smile through the glass, you walked towards the center of Velaris.

Not many people were outside that soon on a Sunday morning, but you were glad for her insistence the moment the sun kissed your face. The cold weather was disappearing and you could feel warmth across your cheeks. It was still cold, and it would be for at least another week, but the change in the weather promised a happy spring.

You walked aimlessly around Velaris, stopping to watch the Sidra move every now and then. Your feet carried you through unfamiliar streets, all of them filled with colors and smells. The longer you walked, the healthier you felt. Each step felt like a weight lifted from your chest, and you even smiled to a few usuals you found in the streets.

The main square peeked through the streets. It wasn’t your usual destination, too crowded and not as pretty as other parts of the town. But you still walked through it, feeling at ease and happy.

It had happened before, usually the days before you started your cycle, and you should have known the feeling of ease had nothing to do with the weather or the walk. It had happened and it happened again, just as you rounded a corner to walk in the square.

If, by any chance, Azriel hadn’t noticed you coming, the shadows that tugged him away from where he was standing would have made it obvious.

His eyes widened when he saw you, and you felt that peaceful feeling making its home for the day. There was no sorrow, no sadness, and none of the usual feelings that lately you felt when it came to him.

You cursed yourself stupid when you realized that you cycle was coming, and that every year you were in a mood until Azriel showed up, your hormones demanding your mate.

“Y/N”

Your name fell from your mouth and just by hearing it you noticed something different. It was new, and at the same time, you thought you recognized it somehow. You looked to his empty hands, to the syphons on his shoulders and chest and truth-teller on his side.

It looked like you had interrupted something important to him. But instead of running away from him like the last two times, you took a step closer.

“Are you going on a mission?” you pointed with your chin to his leather, eyes stopping at his chest. There was that thing, that you couldn’t name.

“Just came back. I was…”

Azriel looked to the building he just exited and for a moment, in silence. You had met a bunch of times since the incident in the market, and you had started having longer conversations. About the weather, about your bakery, and even about his family, who you finally knew officially.

Certainly, your relationship had improved, although it wasn’t just fixed yet. When he didn’t answer, you were reminded of all the times he had kept things to himself, either out of fear or doubt.

He seemed to doubt between telling you and keeping it to himself. Any other time, you knew, he would have kept it to himself. He had done it, in the past – when you asked him about his job, or tried to understand his past. Many times where he had evaded the truth or his emotions.

Your mood, that had been in a rush since you left the bakery, fell a little at his silence. He looked torn and you were ready to leave, before he answered.

“This is Madja’s house. I meet her here so we can talk, usually during the week” he looked back at you, watching the surprise of his statement. “But something happened and I needed to talk to her”

“What happened?”

Azriel’s lips were pressed tight, debating on whether he should tell you or not. He wouldn’t have doubted about it a year ago – he wouldn’t tell you, because in his eyes, it would only hurt you more than he already had. But he had learnt new things, and had realized that a relationship was built on trust. And that his fears, his perception of the reality, had broken yours.

He had cut the mission short when he had noticed, though he wasn’t sure he had ever done something like that. Azriel didn’t know what had triggered it, why it happened in the Winter court and not anytime sooner.

Madja, of course, had had an answer ready – an answer that had left him staring at her door for long twenty minutes before you appeared.

“Kallias should have sent something to Rhysand, but he didn’t” he started, not sure why he was traveling so far from the event. “So I went to check. Turns out someone must have taken it and, well, I tried to…”

He trailed off before he could finish, aware of your confusion. You never talked about what he did for Rhysand, in any court. No matter how big or small was the assignment, he didn’t tell you about it.

But that wasn’t what your confusion was about, at least not all of it. You couldn’t possibly notice because you had given it for granted since the beginning, but Azriel did notice. He noticed the change as soon as it happened, and babbled when he explained to Rhysand what he should have been feeling for years.

Had explained to Madja moments ago, who had given him a knowing smile and a proud nod.

“I accepted the bond” he confessed, continuing before you could say anything else. “I don’t know how, or why, but I was there and suddenly I was hit with – with this in my chest, and I don’t know why it wouldn’t happen sooner”

“You accepted the bond” you repeated, looking between his chest and face.

“I don’t know how, or why now. I was, thinking… And it hit me” Azriel smiled sadly, not saying what his thoughts were about – what they had been about since that night. “I didn’t want to tell you, because, this is, you don’t have to do anything now. Me accepting the bond doesn’t change what I did”

Azriel hadn’t meant to tell you, neither to be so vague and ridiculously nervous about it.

It had been a surprise when, in the middle of a conversation, he felt it. He had been thinking about you, because there were flowers and they were pretty against the cold weather, and to him, you were the prettiest thing the Cauldron had made. One moment Kallias had been going through the last movements of the package and the next the high lord was looking at him with raised brows.

Congratulating him for something that should have happened six years ago.

“It’s not that I didn’t want the bond before, Y/N” he continued when you didn’t say anything. “I promise you, I didn’t know how to accept it. I didn’t know that I deserved it”

Azriel had thought, and he still wanted to, that you so pretty that you were meant for someone else. That it was borrowed time, that he didn’t deserve the bond just as he didn’t deserve you. With Madja and Rhys, they had had deep conversations about his mental health, about his version of life where he lived through a glass of pain and rejection.

As he stared at your surprised form, he tried not to let hope leak into his heart. He knew it didn’t fix what was broken, but he hoped it was the first step of a long recovery to win you back.

Only if you could confirm or deny, instead of stare at him.

“Say something” Azriel finally broke, almost begged. “Whatever you want. Just say something”

And you wanted to, because wasn’t that what you had wanted? You had fooled yourself lately thinking about may what ifs. What if he had accepted the bond in the bagging, what if he had told you that he wasn’t fine, that he was broken and needed help.

What if you had helped him and not rushed things when he wasn’t ready. Now, it felt like the Cauldron was giving you that opportunity, only that you didn’t know how to react.

You finally looked away from him and decided to give an experimental tug on the bond, to see if anything had changed.

It had.

“Az”

It was a chuckle, maybe the beginning of a cry. It was anger but also relief because what came back from that tug wasn’t what you usually felt. It was stronger, solid, as if there was a physical string between your bodies that kept you linked.

Usually, it was just an intense feeling that was enough for you. But now that you felt him tugging back, felt him loving you, you couldn’t hold back another laugh. He shoved down through it everything he felt – adoration, love, joy. Many fears that had you stumbling towards him, and pain.

So much pain that your smile dropped. His dropped too, and you felt the bond getting fainter.

“That’s another reason. I didn’t want you to feel… that” Azriel retreated the bond farther. “I have so many fears and pains here that I couldn’t even imagine sharing them with you. And that – “

“You don’t have to feel ashamed” you cut him off, your voice hoarse. “I love you the same”

Words were unnecessary when you hugged his middle and buried yourself in his chest. He curled around you, like he had done so many times.

The channel snapped open again, and you just closed your eyes tightly. It was an endless source of emotions, and it broke you that most of them were bad. There was rejection, from so many people that it felt like an angry, black bull coming your way. Sadness that felt overwhelming and never ending, always coming in waves when Azriel didn’t expect it.

You also felt disgust, and you only held him tighter when you discovered it was self-disgust. Not only at the things that he had done, but also at what had been done to him. The scars on his hands, the shadows around him. He had hated himself for so long he had forgotten how to love.

But then, at the bottom, there was something bright, and that part you realized it was only dedicated to you. There was his family too, but it wasn’t as intense as his love for you. Everything that he lacked during his life, that he yearned for, was tucked where it mattered the most.

“I love you” he whispered against your head, softly. “I love you”

You didn’t answer, just raised your head until you could brush your lips against him. Later, you would have time to blame the cycle, which you wouldn’t get for another two months, or the emotions of the moment. But you knew it was just what you needed, what you both deserved, when you felt him kissing back.

At the beginning, it was just his lips against yours, and it was enough. Your noses brushed each other, you got on your tiptoes and his wing cocooned both of you. His hands only pressed you tighter against his body when you moved your lips against his, brushing the edge of your tongue against his bottom one.

Azriel could barely keep himself straight when you silently asked for permission to open his mouth, which he happily obliged.

From that moment, it was crashing. The kiss was only a physical proof of your feelings traveling through the mated bond, so wild and intense you couldn’t tell which one was his or yours.

“I’m sorry, darling” he whispered against your lips, giving you no time to reply. “I’m sorry for hurting you, for being a coward. I’m sorry”

“I forgive you. We don’t keep secrets anymore” you managed to say between kisses.

“Never” Azriel answered while leaving kisses on your cheeks and nose.”

“And we’ll talk about our emotions, and feelings. You’ll tell me about your life when I ask”

“Always”

“You won’t close off to me” you pulled his head away and made him look at you.

While you held his face between your hands, Azriel smiled. It was a different smile from the previous ones, from the ones you had seen so far. It was carefree, loving, and yours.

Your thumb brushed the corner of his eye, his upper cheek, the border of his nose.

“I’m here, Azriel. Always. So you don’t have to hide anything from me, or to be ashamed or afraid. I’m here” you closed the distance once more, controlling the kiss by holding onto his face. “Right around the corner”

“Right around the corner” he repeated, dipping his head and sealing all his promises with another kiss.

Want to read more? Check out my side blog @imaginesmaimasterlists, where I keep all the masterlists! Feedback is always appreciated

Right around the corner taglist:

@lesliemurillo @impossibelle @polli05927 @florencemtrash @going-through-shit @minakay @setayeshmohseni @torchbearerkyle @esposadomd @amysangel @kennedy-brooke @originalcrusadetrash @luvmoo @historygeekqueen @marriedtolike18fictionalmen @wallacewillow0773638 @tothestarsandwhateverend @kristalhi @knmendiola @nikt-wazny-y @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @wallacewillow0773638 @clara-geekhime @kalulakunundrum @saltedcoffeescotch @originalcrusadetrash @mel-wcst @ailyr92 @bubybubsters @chickensrock3 @tothestarsandwhateverend @topaz125 @wallacewillow0773638 @just-m-2 @theravenphoenix26 @glitterypirateduck @a-frog-with-a-laptop @justdreamstars

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fsugirl1 · 2 months ago

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Some days are so big…so PACKED with content…so unexpectedly swoon-worthy that they demand an edition of

⭐️ FSU’s Occasional Newsletter ⭐️

Is That An Earthquake Or Are You Just Happy To See Me?

The day began with a vague disturbance. Was it seismic activity? Inbox tomfoolery? A very happy birthday wake up for @lila-rae?

That last one is between her and Mr LR but

Bottom line: we could sense something coming.

It’s Not The Size Of The Entourage, It’s What You Do With It

We knew Tom was in Scotland and we figured it might be for golf but we did not know until this morning that he brought every single one of his brothers and best mates. So many of his closest dudes in one place made us 🤔

Lord knows he’s a generous friend and his circle is tight, but we wondered what they might be celebrating?

The delulu? It was percolating.

Our Italian Romance: Starring Tomdaya 🎥

We were already abuzz and the delulu was bountiful on the dash when suddenly the most cinematic and romantic photos of our favorite couple dropped. We learned they were canoodling at the gorgeous Castillo di Reschio, with such romantic activities as pasta-making (watch those fingers, Z!) and horseback riding.

And if that wasn’t enough, A POOL DATE. Both of them sunkissed and beautiful, reading books and looking like the movie stars they are.

No, your eyes don’t deceive you. They did switch books. 🫠

Every single one of us immediately wondered why our partners weren’t offering to read aloud to us in the pool at an Italian castle. But then, who hasn’t wondered that at least once?

Dad Said His Tea Was Cold But We Say It Was Piping Hot

As if we weren’t all twitterpated enough from the Italian romcom baecation pics, Zendaya’s Father In Law Dom felt like we needed a glimpse into their everyday life at home. He shared that the newest member of the Coleman-Holland family, Daphne the dog, is a “beautiful” addition to the clan and that her youthful energy has found a fast friend in her aunt Rosie, who is just a year older. Big brother and recent outcast (banished to live with Uncle Darnell, what did he do?) was said to be too old to enjoy the young pups.

Dom was feeling chatty I guess because he didn’t stop there. He went on to share that Zendaya had recently joined Nikki and Dom for dinner at the local pub.

He further said that Granny Tess, siblings, cousins, all the boys and “the dogs” would soon be accompanying him and Nikki on an anniversary celebration trip to Portugal. Dare we hope for more family photos?

Even if we don’t, that’s another bingo square, baby.

Aunt May Has Shipped It For Years

To top off the content-crazy, your favorite aunt and mine, Marisa Tomei, said at an event in Canada that one of her favorite parts of her Spider Man experience was watching Tom and Zendaya grow up and “fall in love.” 🥰

That face she’s making? The I can’t take it they’re so cute face? We were all wearing it. Even the strongest soldiers among us were grinning and kicking their feet. (We saw you, don’t try to deny it!)

While we await word from the pixel analysts on what people starring in their own epic love story read to each other on vacation, and while we bask in all the little details that make the story more real and more beautiful every day, let’s take a moment as I close to appreciate just how hot Zendaya’s back is in this dinner photo.

Until next time, remember my friends: be kind to each other. I love you. I’m wishing that each of you will find the one who thinks reading to you in the pool (Italian or otherwise) is the most perfect day.

And I hope your birthday is as filled with happy surprises as @lila-rae found hers for the third year in a row!

#FSU’s occasional newsletter #tom holland #zendaya #tomdaya in Italy #tomdaya

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snixkers · 4 months ago

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Femininomenon

Pairing: Emily Prentiss × Fem!Reader

For: Anonymous Request, meant to fill the bed-sharing square for @cmkinkbingo2024

EXPLICIT CONTENT, SMUT

Content Warning: One bed, wet dream, reader is kinda a perv but not creepy, afab anatomy, scissoring

Summary: A shared bed with Emily leads to a good night's sleep.

Author's Note: I literally love Emily. My inbox is full of stuff for her. Trying desperately to reach my bingo, so check out the squares!!!

Feedback is always welcome!

Requests are OPEN!

Stupid Louisiana. Stupid budget cuts. And stupid one-bed motels that the team was forced to use.

The whole state was hot, but it seemed like you'd somehow landed yourselves in the center of the fire. The air itself was muggy and damp, causing sweat to drench everyone just from walking around.

The team had bickered and fought over who had to take the room with one bed, and although you were secretly not disappointed in the slightest, it was forced upon you and Emily.

The two of you settled into your room, tossing your things onto the ground and setting out what you'd need. Emily got to take the first shower since she carried your things, and you could only hope that it was a decent temperature.

After she finished up, you swapped out, turning on the faucet and letting the cool water run over your skin. When you came out, Emily was sitting on her side of the bed, reading a book. You couldn't help but stare at the sight of her in her pajamas. It wasn't like she had shown up in lingerie, but it was just so... domestic.

You crawled into bed with her, and she turned off the light, setting her book down so the two of you could actually get to sleep on time for your early meeting the next morning. A few minutes of tossing and turning later, you found yourself drifting off to sleep. But not for long.

Emily rolled on top of you, tracing her fingers down the side of your neck. You leaned into her touch as she tugged at the collar of your shirt, exposing more skin. The delicious sensation of her nails on you quickly coupled with her lips, making you shiver. You leaned forward, kissing her and pulling her closer.

She looked down, tugging off her shirt and freeing her breasts for you to shamelessly oogle. You mirrored her actions, tearing off your own shirt with unfiltered enthusiasm. Emily palmed your breasts, tweaking a nipple gently while licking around the other one.

Her touch was electric, and the heat between your thighs was intense. You lifted up your hips, kicking off your shorts. Good thing she wasn't in a teasing mood. She reciprocated, shimmying out of her own shorts and dropping them at the foot of the bed. Strangely enough, you didn't feel too exposed. Emily's gaze traveled over your body, heating you from the inside.

She leans down, her forearms boxing your face in as she kisses you, this time with more passion. At the same time, her thug slipped between your legs, creating delicious friction. You lifted your thigh, bringing it to her waiting heat as she had with you.

The two of you leaned into each other, enjoying the sensations it provided. The stimulation was enough to have you both moaning and kissing each other as you moved leisurely. In fact, you were just about to tell her to go faster when she opened her mouth and said, "Beep. Beep. Beep."

You startled awake quickly at that, reaching over and slamming your alarm clock off. You barely had time to mourn your dream before you realized that the subject was in the room with you. She waved as she headed into the bathroom, leaving you to recover in peace. Your clothes were quickly changed and plans were made to ignore what just happened, but you missed the knowing smirk on her face.

#criminal minds #writers on tumblr #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #fanfic #reqs open #emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss smut #cmkinkbingo2024

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lostdreamr-blog1 · 1 year ago

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Beautiful Stranger

Summary: Jake was talked into picking up the coffee order for the group, but little did he know he would be leaving with more than that.

Word count: 2k

A/N: Wow friends…it has been a hot minute since I have posted. Life got crazy and my motivation to write had lessened. But I am back and slowly going through my inbox requests! Thank you all for the constant love and support. Excited to put out more writing for you!

Jake had no idea how he was the one picking up coffee for the group, but here he was standing in line at an overly crowded coffee shop, twenty minutes out of the way of base.

It was obvious that he didn’t fit in with this crowd. Hipster was the word that came to mind seeing the strange outfits and unruly haircuts. Someone wearing a crisp uniform and hair with every strand in perfect place screamed odd man out. He was uncomfortable to say the least and swore up and down he would never be doing this again.

Bradley told him they ordered ahead so he wouldn’t have to worry about going through the order of nearly ten coffees, but scanning the pick-up counter told him he would have to wait some.

He found a small corner out of the way of traffic and took in his surroundings. One of the benefits of a place like this meant people watching would entertain him until the order was ready.

There was a couple splitting a bagel not too far from him. It looked like something out of a cheesy movie, with the whispering and lovey smiles. He had to bite his tongue to keep from snorting out loud.

The next group he saw looked to be college students strung out on entirely way too much caffeine with the way they were frantically typing. He didn’t miss those days of cramming for exams and writing pointless papers at the last minute. But he did think he at least looked a bit more put together when he was their age. Or that’s what he told himself.

Jakes eyes nearly passed over the young woman in the opposite corner from him, quietly writing in a notebook. She was locked into whatever she was working on, despite all the noise around her. Between the music playing throughout the store, expresso machines going off, and countless conversations being had, Jake had no idea how the woman could get any work done. But here she was, chewing on the end of her pen lost in thought, not giving anything around her an ounce of attention.

He found himself starting to really look at her. She was dressed casually but somehow managed to make it look almost professional. Her hair was pulled back into one of those giant clips that he never understood how it stayed in place all day. The makeup was minimal, but she didn’t need it in his opinion.

“Hangman?” Jake nearly jumped when he heard his order called out, breaking him away from the thoughts of the random stranger across the way. He politely nodded thanks to the barista and took the two drink carriers from her. But before he walked out, he threw a quick glance over his shoulder nearly tripping over himself when he saw the woman looking up at him. He recovered as quickly as possible, making it through the door without dropping anything.

It was on the way to base that the thoughts starting spiraling out of control. Was it a coincidence that she looked up as he was leaving? Was it his call sign that pulled her attention? And if so, why? Jake shook his head, stopping himself from continuing down the rabbit hole. He had zero interaction with this woman and yet his mind wouldn’t get off her. It was early in the morning, and he wasn’t fully awake to be making rational decisions. Or at least that’s what he told himself.

Bradley and Natasha met him outside the locker room, thanking him for grabbing the coffee. He grumbled a response and went to his locker to put his things up. Bradley didn’t give much thought to the minimal interaction with the pilot, but Natasha did. “Everything go okay with the order?”

Jake nodded his head and shut his locker. “Just don’t see why you need something that expensive and out of the way when we have a perfectly good coffee machine here.” Natasha shook her head with a smirk, realizing just how out of his element he must have been.

“It’s good coffee. Can’t help that I have expensive taste.” Jake huffed out a breath, “Lord help your future husband.”

It was a week later when he got a text from Natasha begging him to grab her a coffee from the same damn place. He went to reply no, when another text popped up saying she was running late and would buy lunch to make up for it. Rolling his eyes, he replied back saying he was feeling something expensive for lunch to match his taste. An emoji with a lovely hand gesture was sent back with the word “fine”, making him chuckle. At least it was one coffee this time.

Jake took a deep breath as he walked into the coffee shop, mentally preparing himself for what seemed like unorganized chaos. The place was packed with nearly ten people in line waiting to order. He looked down at his watch and saw that he was here around the same time as last week, but for some reason today was busier than before.

The counter was filled with drink orders, taking him a minute to read through all the names. His friends’ wasn’t there yet and he turned to find refuge in his corner while he waited. He looked around at the people and while they weren’t the same as before, the types of groups remained the same.

“For someone who looked like he’d rather gouge his eyes out than be here last week, you came back.” A soft voice pulled his attention down to a woman sitting at a table close to him, revealing the beautiful stranger he had just managed to stop thinking about.

Jake opened his mouth to respond, but for some reason words wouldn’t form. He could slap himself for looking like an idiot in front of her. He had never once been at a loss for words with a woman, but something about her made himself conscious of everything he did.

“I didn’t mean to call you out like that. I just didn’t expect to see you back so soon.” She was smiling up at him, making the tops of his ears burn.

“A friend was running late and asked if I could pick up her order.” It was a short statement, but the smile on the woman’s face dimmed a bit. “Must be some girl for you to put yourself through this first thing in the morning.”

Jake quickly shook his head trying to back track, “She’s my teammate and promised me lunch if I did this. Nothing more.” The woman hummed and looked back down at her notebook.

“Well, if you make this a regular thing, I am good friends with the staff and might be able to get your order out a bit quicker. Wouldn’t want you to go into crisis mode over a coffee shop.” She was biting back a smile as she poked fun at his clear discomfort of the place, but Jake couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Darlin’, you have no idea how much that would mean to me.” Why he just committed to this being a regular thing, he had no idea. But he did know he wanted to see the beautiful stranger again.

“Hangman, right?” His eyebrows shot up at the remembrance of his call sign. “Hangman is my call sign. You can call me Jake.” Her eyes sparkled in what he thought was amusement.

“Well Jake, my name is Y/N, and I would be happy to help you out. I am here most days working on things. Why don’t you give me your number so you can text me when you plan on stopping by. That way I can let my friends know to look out for your order.” This girl was nothing but confident. Jake didn’t think he had ever had a woman ask for his number before and he couldn’t get enough of it.

“Hangman?” His name was called out like last time, but instead of feeling relieved to get out of the overcrowded shop, he wanted to stay as long as possible. “Better get going, pilot. Wouldn’t want to get you in trouble.” She gave him a wink, something that he normally did with women, and knew he was already in trouble.

He chuckled and shook his head, grabbing the coffee and headed out to work. He hadn’t made it out of the parking lot before his phone vibrated with a text. “Make sure it’s not another week before you come back in. I might forget all about you.” Jake smiled and drove to base, texting her back when he pulled in.

“Wouldn’t want to keep a beautiful woman waiting.” The smile never once left his face as he walked in. Natasha thanked him over and over again for the coffee but stopped when he saw the difference in his demeanor this time. “What’s gotten into you?” He shrugged his shoulders, “You were right. The coffee there is worth the drive.”

She gave him a skeptical look but didn’t push him any further. She would rather have a happy Jake than one who was ready to pick you apart at a moment’s notice.

And that’s how it was for the next month. Jake volunteered to get the coffee, finding any excuse to talk to his beautiful stranger. But the visits became longer, and the texting became more regular to the point where every free moment he had was spent getting to know her. It wasn’t long before Jake asked Y/N on a date, and he quickly found that this girl was the one for him.

Everyone knew something was up with their teammate. He had become less selfish and more of a team player. A feat no one thought was possible but didn’t want to push their luck. It wasn’t until Natasha said she would get her own coffee that the truth came out.

“Jake, you have been getting my order for me for nearly a month now. I can get it this once and give you a break from the drive. Just let me know your order.” Jake shook his head at her and said he had no issues getting it.

Natasha kept pushing until Jake blurted out, “I see someone every time I go there. It is one of the few times the two of us get to spend time with each other because of our schedules.” She stopped and thought about what he had said. Who there would he see every single time?

And then it clicked.

“Oh god. Tell me you aren’t seeing Y/N.” Jake tilted his head in confusion. “How the hell do you know her?”

Natasha looked at him in shock. “Because she owns the coffee shop. And her dad is our boss.”

Jake froze as he took in her words. Owning the coffee shop made sense. She was there all the time and said she knew the staff well, because it was her staff. That didn’t bother him. What did was not knowing who her dad was.

“I didn’t know Maverick had a daughter.” Natasha shook her head.

“Not Maverick you idiot. Admiral Simpson.”

And that was when certain things clicked into place. She looked up at him the first day because she knew the call sign. Her dad had to of talked about them a time or two, especially with this new assignment. The amusement she had when he told her his name was for the same reason. She knew who he was, but he didn’t have the slightest clue who he had been talking to. This girl was okay with the last-minute changes in plans or the late replies due to his schedule because she had grown up with it. The group insisted on getting coffee there because they were supporting someone in the TopGun family.

He was head over heels for the Admirals daughter and was royally screwed when he found out.

A/N: Thoughts? Likes or dislikes? I always love hearing back from you all! Thank you so much for reading!

Tag list: @rosiahills22 @sunlitsunflowers @dempy @mamaskillerqueen @luckyladycreator2 @atarmychick007 @bobfloydsgf @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @topguncultleader @alilstressyandlotdepressy @avengers-fixation @chaoticassidy

#hangman x reader #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman x reader #jake hangman seresin #topgun maverick #top gun maverick #topgun #hangman #chelsea writes

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fatesundress · 1 year ago

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⭑ made with love. draco malfoy x reader

summary. it's winter, you’re sick, and draco is extremely rational a terrible, doting mess about it.

tags. fluff! so much fluff! married couple, gn!reader, lots of banter, post-hogwarts with one fleeting mention of the war, draco's anxiety is whetted by a common cold, he basically treats the reader like they hung the moon in the sky and also have the power to yank it down at any given moment. he's very grumpy. but so so in love.

note. my sweet anons!! i tried on three separate occasions to write the requests in my inbox but sometimes i need to be in the depths of hell (ovulation week) to manage smut. i'm sorry. i've made some progress i swear! but the draco hyperfixation came out of NOWHERE and unfortunately i had to indulge in it. also thank you so much for 200! :’)

word count. 1.6k

You are deplorable.

With a fever temperature of 40° and explicit instructions to stay in bed, you’re discernibly not in bed when he makes it home from the apothecary, a jumbled mess of the blankets he’d swathed you in left in your place. Your slippers are absent. Your slippers — in two feet of snow. Your coat is gone too, at least; ridiculously thick and unnecessarily long, though now he’s thankful for it.

Draco paces. Then he sets the Pepperup Elixir over a flame at his desk to keep warm, pours two drops of Sleeping Draught into a mug for your tea, and paces again.

He should have insisted on binding rings for your wedding, he thinks. Something to trace you in emergencies. There’s little to do without them as you’ve evidently either taken the Floo or Apparated, and, in truth, he can’t remember the last time he’s been this nervous. In school, perhaps? During the war? You have him comparing his nerves over a bad cold to those he felt during war. The insanity of that is actually not lost on him, if that counts for anything.

But you are deplorable, and his. His almost as much as he is maddeningly, irremediably yours.

How he allowed an aliment like this to infect him goes against all evolutionary sense. It’s a fever of its own. Incurable despite knowing its cause, and probably festering worse than yours.

And then the fireplace hisses and out you stumble with soot on one cheek and frost on the other, the neck of your coat zipped up to swallow half of your face. In an arm shoved deep in your pocket, a bag swings from the puffy coat crease of your elbow, and Draco baulks. It’s a muggle grocery bag — translucent enough that he can see the square imprint of your favourite sleepy-time tea, a chocolate bar, cans of what he thinks are soup, and — a lemon? Yes. A big miserable lemon that you’ve deigned was worth almost killing yourself over.

Draco does not hear whatever excuses escape your chattering teeth as he plucks your hand from its pocket, puts the bag down, pulls off your coat while you slap at his hands and insist you can do it yourself, and only because he thinks you’d hex him to oblivion if he tried, leads you with a hand on your back to the bedroom rather than hauling you into his arms and carrying you.

“A lemon,” he says, and is aware by the severity of his tone he might as well be saying a gun, or a missile, or a milk crate of Living Death cartons. “You forayed into a snowstorm for a lemon. Do you think I’m incapable of reading a grocery list? I just Flooed —”

“I got more than a lemon,” you huff in a weak voice.

It is appalling that that’s what you take from his admonishment.

Your snow-soaked slippers are tossed aside as you tumble into bed. Draco bundles you in blankets and holds his wand out to take your vitals. You roll your eyes all the while, but once the cold wears off he’s sure you’ll be burning hotter than you were this morning.

He shakes his head. “Lemons are common stock in apothecaries, you know. The shavings are essential in Weedosoros antidotes.”

“Yes, but they’re always so dry.”

“And chocolate — they sell it at Téa’s across the street for the magizoologists. Did you know that?”

“Hmph. No Cadbury, though.”

“And I’ve already warmed the Pepperup and poured you Sleeping Draught, despite your urgency for this —” He pulls the box of tea from your grocery bag, impressed with an image of a little bear with a red nightcap, a steaming cuppa, and a plate of biscuits — “Inarguably superior muggle panacea —”

“I never claimed it was a panacea —”

“Of which we should have distributed to St. Mungo’s en masse. In fact, I should owl them now so they’re informed the Sleeping Draughts are ineffective by comparison —”

“You’re insufferable —”

“Imagine all the orphans without rest —”

“Actually ridiculous —”

“You’re ridiculous. And I hate this bear. Look at his hat. Bloody Gryffindor.”

“Do you know what the wizarding world is lacking? — If you’re concerned enough to make a donation, Mr Malfoy?”

You think it’s hilarious to call him that. He does well not to mention you are, by law, also a Malfoy, and his money is your money to donate as you please.

“What is that?”

“Soup,” you say. “Canned soup — canned with love.”

“We are lacking soup canned with love,” Draco repeats, just to be sure.

“Yes.”

“I’ll be sure to write the Minister.”

“Do.”

“Only if you stay in bed.”

“Hmmm… mmmm… well. Hm.”

“Incorrigible,” he mumbles, brushing the damp from your face before getting up to fix your tea. (He kisses your cheek for good measure, big sop that he is. You do well not to mention it.) “Don’t move or I’ll cast wards on the fireplace.”

“Oh! Cast wards on the doors, too. I might go for a walk.”

He glares at you from the archway. Your answering laugh is broken by a coughing fit, and you look reluctantly glum when he raises a told-you-so brow.

Draco mutters about how ridiculous you are through the kitchen and back, as he steeps your tea, heats your soup, unstoppers the Pepperup Elixir, pours it in an old shot glass from a trip to Italy (you have no graduated plastic cups lying around), squeezes the big stupid lemon in your tea, carries it all to your bed on a tray and realises, still muttering, that these are a lot of steps. But Draco balances the tray without an utterance of magic. It’s rather impressive. You should be sorely sorry.

You are, instead, asleep.

You’re splayed across the bed like something Baroque, limbs fascinatingly posed: half under the blankets and half stubbornly poking out despite his fervent tucking, head nuzzled into the pillow with a slight frown. If Draco were any better with a camera he’d take a picture. Instead he takes careful steps to your bedside, placing the tray on the nightstand and sitting as close as he can manage without disturbing the (once more, revolutionary) arrangement of your legs. It feels criminal to wake you. His fretful anger that you’d gone out in the cold is whittled to a humiliatingly thin and empty husk, and all that remains is mushy adoration. Damn you for that; you look ridiculous anyhow.

Draco kisses your cheek again. Your nose. Your forehead. He traces an invisible portrait of your face with his fingers, as if he’s ever drawn anything better than nasty stick figures on crumpled parchment in school. You, though, he thinks he knows well enough by memory to try.

You stir, not too far from consciousness that it’s a challenge to find it again, but far enough to be audibly vexed by his summons to the surface.

Draco means to berate you in that way he's so good at — chin pointed and scowl permanently etched — but you grumble with a sick, hoarse voice and he falters in a pathetic display. “You forgot your love-suffused muggle soup,” he whispers, one hand cupping your cheek.

“Ugh.”

“Heinous, I know. Sit up for me?”

“Magic word.”

There’s his scowl. “Alohomora.”

“Not that magic word.”

“Imperio.”

“Unforgivables, Draco Malfoy?”

“Hmm, Locomotor Wibbly?”

You sink further into the bed, pulling the uppermost blanket over your head inch by inch.

“Please,” he says, with profound displeasure.

You sit up and smile.

Draco sighs and lays the legs of the tray out over your lap. You regard his service with sleepy content, one of your hands travelling to his face in what his heart surges to appreciate is an honest thanks after his several near-heart attacks, and then your gaze finds the medically expert Pepperup in an Italian shot glass and it falls.

You groan. “Draco…”

His name says, quite plainly, please don’t make me.

Draco has enough self-respect to at least deny you this. “Wards.”

That says, quite plainly, I was not joking about the fireplace.

You look as though you’re contemplating the severity of two horrors, but it passes fleetingly, with one curse under your breath and a sour expression as you down the shot of Pepperup like… a shot. Burning Ogden’s that scrunches your face up until you shake it away with a blagh noise.

Come to think of it, Draco's choice of glass is much more appropriate than some medical cup.

“Better?”

You shudder. “I will be.”

“Good. Have your love soup and stupid lemons.”

And then, when he isn’t expecting it, your hot palm finds the place it left off; Draco’s healthily warm, sharp cheek, the soft fuzz of hair beside his ears before your fingers card through the longer strands and you hum like he’s your favourite thing to hold onto.

He melts, eyes fluttering shut. You’re sick, and wholeheartedly deplorable, but you’re safe, and it’ll be alright.

“Draco?”

“Mm.”

“The soup.”

He opens his eyes. “The soup?”

“You know it was canned with love.”

“I trust you wouldn’t have bought it otherwise.”

“And,” you say, thumb flush over his bottom lip as you smile a groggy, self-satisfied smile, “it was made with love, too, right?”

He rolls his eyes, and kisses you nonetheless. “You never cease to ask absurd questions.”

#draco malfoy #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy fluff #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy fic #draco malfoy fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction #wizarding world

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literaryavenger · 11 months ago

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Broken - bonus part

Summary: It's been a year since Bucky moved in and now it's his turn to help you, only problem is you won't let him.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: No use of Y/N. Language. A lot of fluff. Eating disorder. Angst.

Word Count: 7.8K

A/N: I made this bonus part to explore more about the eating disorder that was hinted in the first couple of chapters. I had plans to incorporated in the story when I was planning on making it longer, but with how it went it didn't feel like there was a place for it. I'd like to thank @ordelixx for giving me the idea for this additional part. Hope you enjoy it, I'm always open to more ideas so feel free to spam in my inbox or messages, know I always appreciate it! Also sorry it took me so long to finish this but I started it and then kind of lost inspiration :(

Masterlist

It’s been a year since Bucky arrived at the tower and about 11 months since his hearing.

As conditioned by his pardon he’s been going to therapy, he’s been training with the team and has been doing more and more missions, on probation, but still he’s been doing better than ever.

Even Tony had to admit that the more time he spent with Bucky the more the super soldier grew on him.

If a few months ago he begrudgingly spent time with the super soldier at your request, if anything to spend time with you too since you’re still inseparable, now Tony actively seeks him out; wanting to study his new vibranium arm, testing his gadgets since he got hurt less easily than the others. Or sometimes simply to talk about things like astronomy after Tony found out about Bucky’s interest in the subject.

They’ve even had a few conversations on Howard and his friendship with the sergeant back in the 40s.

You're proud of all the progress Bucky’s made, and you appreciate the fact that getting more comfortable in the 21st century and becoming more confident didn’t make him pull away from you.

It's a fear you had, that maybe Bucky stuck to you because you were the first person after Steve that made him feel safe, that the more people he got familiar with the more he was gonna pull away from you, not needing you as much anymore.

But, to your delight, Bucky’s still as touchy and clingy towards you as ever, if anything he's grown even more affectionate.

He never lets a day go by without telling you how much he loves you and appreciates you, kissing you any chance he gets and holding you tight every night in the room the two of you have been officially sharing the last few weeks since you’ve all moved to the new Avengers Compound upstate.

You love Bucky’s attention and you’re just as affectionate towards him as he is towards you. Everything was going great.

Until it wasn’t.

You’re on your way to your room, looking forward to seeing Bucky after a full morning of mission reports with Steve and then training with Natasha.

She obviously kicked your ass and you're exhausted, wanting nothing more than to be in his warm embrace for the rest of the day.

Thankfully, it’s friday afternoon and you have no new missions which means your weekend is wide open.

You stop on your tracks when you hear your name being mentioned in a conversation right around the corner.

You recognize one of the voices as Sharon Carter, one of the agents of Shield that lives and works at the compound the Avengers now reside in.

You don’t know why you stop to listen in on the conversation, you’re not really one to eavesdrop, but something about her tone makes your legs refuse to move towards her direction. Which just so happens to be the way towards the Avengers only part of the building.

Your stomach drops when you hear the other girl’s next sentence.

"And can you believe she got Sergeant Barnes to date her?" Sharon groans before answering.

"Of course she did, he was all broken and vulnerable and she was like the first person he met at the tower. He obviously got attached to the first person that was nice to him, otherwise how do you think a girl like her could ever have a chance with him?" she says matter-of-factly.

"You’re right, I mean he’s probably still with her just out of habit. He’s too nice to hurt her feelings." the other girl says, giggling.

"Exactly." Sharon agrees, laughing with her friend. "I mean, he’d never go for her if he met her today. He’d probably be flirting his way through the actually pretty girls that live around here, like you and me."

You can hear their laughter growing louder as they get closer to where you are frozen on your spot and feel yourself starting to panic.

You can’t face them right now, the only thing on your mind is finding a place to hide in.

You see a door behind you and you sprint to it, reaching it, running inside and closing the door softly in record time. You press your ear up against it and can hear the muffled laughter and some more comments on you and Bucky.

When they’re finally far enough that you can’t hear them, you let yourself relax, pressing your back against the door and looking into the dark closet you’re hiding in while you let their words really sink in, your brain working overtime to make sure you didn’t misheard or misinterpreted anything.

Once you’re sure you indeed heard everything correctly, tears start to form in your eyes.

Is that really what people think? That Bucky’s just with you because he pities you?

You’ve always known Bucky was beautiful, definitely the hottest guy you’ve ever seen in your life, and you’ve always known he was out of your league.

You know you’re by no means thin, but you also don’t consider yourself fat, especially not after all the work that it took you to get to a place where you have a healthy relationship with your body.

Yes, you still have your doubts and insecurities, but that’s just in your head.

Although here you are, hiding in a supply closet, tears streaming down your face, because there are actual people outside of your head that see your flaws too.

One thing is to wonder about this stuff in the middle of the night when you can’t sleep, the voices in your head taking over, but to hear those same thoughts coming out of someone else’s mouth hit you hard.

You don’t even know how long you stay hidden, but at some point you snap out of it and dry your tears, opening the door and making the way to your room.

It feels like only a second passes and then you’re opening the door of yours and Bucky’s room. You make a beeline for the bathroom, barely acknowledging your boyfriend when he greets you as you lock the bathroom door behind you.

Bucky’s eyebrows furrow at your cold shoulder, immediately getting worried. He gets up from the bed and knocks on the door of the bathroom calling out for you. "Everything okay?"

You can hear the concern in his voice and it only makes you feel worse as you find yourself wondering if he’s actually worried or just that good at pretending.

You look at your reflection in the mirror and all of a sudden you feel nauseous but you barely have time to realize it’s not just in your head when you’re suddenly throwing up in the toilet.

Bucky’s more worried than ever as he hears you be sick from the other side of the door. "Doll, I need you to talk to me or I will break down the door."

He knows it may not be the ideal thing to say, but his concern outweighs his rational thinking when you stop making sounds as he still hasn't heard your voice and is worried you might’ve passed out.

"I’m okay." your voice is quiet, but at least you’re conscious.

"Can you open the door for me, doll?" He can hear you sigh and shuffle a bit, probably getting up. Then he hears the faucet of the sink being turned on as you splash some water on your face.

He’s a little calmer now, patiently waiting for you and he lets out a little breath of relief when he hears the lock click.

You open it reluctantly, trying your best to look normal, but Bucky can see right through you.

"What’s wrong, baby?" he brings his hands to your cheeks and you can’t help but lean into them for a second before you grab his wrists and gently lower his hands, his face more worried than before.

"I’m fine, Bucky." you say, your voice almost emotionless.

"You were just throwing up. You’re not fine." it takes all of him not to reach for you again, not wanting to cross your boundaries.

"It’s nothing. Maybe I’m just sick. I’ll take a shower, it’ll make me feel better." You don’t give him time to respond as you close the door and lock it again, starting the shower.

Bucky feels like he can barely breathe, your behavior making him more worried than he’s been since the 40s and he had to take care of sickly little Steve.

Youìve never acted like this with him, when you were sick or even grumpy from your period you usually became clingy and wanted him around even more than you usually do. But he gives you the benefit of the doubt.

If you were sick this wasn’t the moment to think about himself. He has to take care of you first and he can ask more later you when you're feeling better.

With new resolve he heads towards the kitchen, determined to get everything you might need to make you feel better.

You stay in the shower for over an hour, trying to avoid Bucky as much as you can, but you know you had to get out and face him eventually.

When you come out of the bathroom you find him sitting in the desk chair, the desk full of things you’re pretty sure weren’t there when you entered the room.

Bucky's on his feet and coming towards you in a second, your favorite pair of pajamas in his hand.

"Are you feeling better?" he asks you softly, worry still present on his features.

You can’t bring yourself to look at him, taking the clothes and changing as fast as you can, a small ‘I’m fine’ leaving your lips.

"What's all of this?" you ask, stepping around him and walking towards the desk.

"Oh, I just brought you some things to make you feel better." He can't help himself as he wraps his arms around you from behind while you look through the things he brought you.

He got you all sorts of pain meds, your favorite snacks and drinks, your heating pad and your favorite comfort book.

You want to cry at the sight, but part of you can't help but doubt Bucky, even with how sweet he’s being.

You snap out of it when you feel Bucky give you a kiss on the shoulder and, suddenly, it all feels fake and it’s too much for you.

You place your hands on his and move his arms away from you, then start heading towards the bed.

"I’m not hungry. I just want to sleep for a bit." That's all you say as you lay down and turn your back on him, tears threatening to fall down again.

You hear him sigh behind you. Then he moves around and you feel him lay a kiss on your head before he walks out the room shutting the lights on his way, wanting to give you the space you clearly want.

You aren't sure if you're glad you can cry yourself to sleep freely or worried that him walking out solidifies the voices in your head that are telling you that maybe Bucky really doesn’t love you.

When you wake up the next morning Bucky’s arms were wrapped around you from behind.

Usually being in his hold makes you feel safe but right now all you can concentrate on is the feeling of his hands on your belly and how disgusted he would be if he woke up and realized the position you were in, no matter how many times you've been like this.

You slip away from his embrace and go to change into work out clothes. You went to sleep pretty early yesterday so it was still early in the morning when you woke up.

You aren’t expecting to meet anyone yet but, once again, you're proven wrong by the shuffling coming from the kitchen as you make your way to grab a bottle of water.

You approach carefully without making a sound and when you peak around the corner you see Steve, probably back from a morning run, in front of the counter with his back to you and a water bottle in his hand.

You try to move as quietly as possible, even with enhanced hearing your skills have gotten so good you're able to sneak around the super soldiers when needed.

You decide to use the stairs to get to the gym, the door leading to them squeaking lightly. Steve turns around at the sound but seems to decide it was nothing as he shrugs and makes his way to his room.

You’ve been at the gym for a couple of hours, stopping only to grab water from the mini fridge, when the door opens and you hear Bucky’s voice.

"Hey doll, I’ve been looking for you everywhere." His voice sounds genuinely concerned. You have to give him props on his acting skills.

"Yeah, couldn’t sleep." You say without looking at him, barely stopping your punching of the bag in front of you.

"I thought you were sick." he’s slowly getting closer, you’d almost think he was trying to corner a scared animal.

"Clearly I feel better." you shrug, trying to end this conversation as fast as possible.

You feel his hand on your shoulder and finally stop, taking a deep breath before turning to face him.

His face looks more worried than you’ve ever seen it and it almost makes you forget your own concerns about the reality of your relationship.

Almost.

"Maybe you should go visit Bruce, make sure everything’s okay." his eyes never leave your face and you try your best to hide any emotion but it’s always been too easy for him to read you so you shrug his hand from your shoulder, trying to put a little distance between you.

He looks genuinely hurt, but, again, what would you expect from a trained assassin? Pretending comes as naturally to him as breathing.

"I’m fine, Bucky." you turn back to the bag and resume your punching. You’re so lost in your own thoughts you don’t even notice him walking out of the gym.

You work out some more before deciding it’s enough and go back to your room, thankful for the first time that Bucky’s not there.

After you shower and change again you find yourself with nothing to do and, for once, you wish you had paperwork to keep you occupied and give you an excuse to avoid everybody.

You grab your purse and make your way out, mumbling something about having errands to run in the city when you come across some people in the living room, basically running out of there so fast you can’t even tell who’s actually there watching tv.

You spend the whole day running around the city, not really having a destination but when the sun starts coming down you decide to head back.

When you enter the living room you can see everyone sitting at the kitchen table.

"Finally, you’re here! We can eat now." Sam shouts happily and you know you can’t escape this.

"Sorry, didn’t realize you were waiting on me." You say quietly while sitting down in the only free chair that’s unfortunately next to Bucky.

"It’s okay, koala bear." Steve smiles from your other side. "Bucky said you weren’t feeling great, so Wanda made your favorite."

You try to look excited while smiling and thanking Wanda as she and Vision place the food on the table. If she notices something is off, she doesn't say anything, just giving you a smile of her own in return.

"Where were you all day?" Tony asks you.

"The city." you simply say, trying to sound as casual as possible while making no attempt to look at him, or make eye contact with anyone else for that matter.

But Tony seems satisfied with your answer, taking your lack of conversation for tiredness and going back to talking to Clint.

You manage to avoid all conversations with nods and hums and you can feel Bucky’s gaze on you almost as it burns but you can’t find it in yourself to look back at him.

When you feel his hand coming to rest on top of yours on the table you feel like something inside you snaps and you get up abruptly, making everybody stop as they give you confused looks.

"Excuse me, I still don’t feel well. I think I’m gonna go to my room and rest." and, without giving anyone the chance to say anything, you walk away.

There’s a second of silence before the team seems to dismiss your behavior as grumpiness from feeling sick, after all the rare times that you do get sick you get very irritable.

Bucky seems to be the only one to notice your untouched food.

After less than five minutes the door to your room opens and Bucky comes in, finding you sitting on the bed staring at nothing while being clearly lost in your head.

He makes his way to you and kneels down in front of you.

"What’s going on, doll?" He tries his luck again, putting a hand on your knee. He hopes that giving space all day allowed you to come around and now you’ll talk to him.

You prove him wrong by getting up, not even sparing him a glance, and making your way to the closet to try and busy yourself so you won’t have to look at him.

"Nothing." You offer nothing more and Bucky starts getting frustrated with you.

"What is wrong with you today?" He knows something’s wrong. He knows you better than anyone, and he’s trying to be patient with you but you’ve never acted this cold towards him and it scares him.

"Nothing is wrong." You know you’re pushing it. You know you’re doing nothing to alleviate his worries, but you can’t help the feeling that he’s the one in the wrong.

He’s the one out of line, he’s the one that betrayed your trust and hurt you and toyed with your feelings and lied to you about his own. You had every right to be short with him.

Right?

"Something is obviously wrong, why won’t you just talk to me?!" He almost whines and you roll your eyes, your own unjustified irritation coming out.

"Oh, for the love of God, just give it a rest!" you almost yell, and the surprise you find in yourself is nothing compared to the one on Bucky’s face.

"What?" he’s almost whispering and the hurt in his voice for some reason just infuriates you more.

"Stop treating me like I’m made of glass! Not everyone is as needy as you, you know. I’m a grown ass adult and I don’t need you!" You can’t stop shouting, knowing full well you don’t mean a word you’re saying. But you want to hurt him as much as you’re hurting, as wrong as that is.

"Don’t you think I know that you don’t need me?!" He’s yelling too now, and you know you pushed the right button "I know damn well how strong you are, but that doesn’t mean I can’t still worry about you!"

"I don’t need you to worry about me!"

"Well, that’s too damn bad for you, because I love you and I want you to be okay!" God, even shouting he’s still being nice to you.

"Well, that’s too damn bad for you, because it’s none of your business if I’m okay!" Not the best response, but at this point you honestly have no idea of even control of what’s coming out of your mouth anymore.

"God, why are you being such a child about this?!" Bucky barely understands what’s going on right.

The two of you have never fought before, not so much as an argument, and now here you are in a yelling match that started because he's concerned about you.

"Oh boo freaking hoo, poor Bucky having to deal with a child! If you don’t like me just say so!"

"What the hell are you talking about?!" He’s beyond confused now.

"If you don’t want this," you gesture between the two of you "just leave! Go and find someone you actually like! Don’t stay with me just because you feel like you have to!"

"When did I ever say that? Are you out of your mind?!"

"Yes, I’m crazy! Now just leave me the fuck alone!" you yell at the top of your lungs and Bucky seems to freeze in his spot.

Assuming this is over, you turn around and climb into bed, your back to Bucky once again.

When you hear him sigh and start moving you feel like you’re reliving yesterday, except this time you don’t expect him to kiss you but just leave.

He turns off the lights, but you frown when you don’t hear the door, instead you feel the bed dip behind you. You tense up when Bucky’s arms wrap around you from behind, bringing you closer to him with your back pressed against his chest.

"I will choose you over everyone. Even on the days where we don’t understand each other." He whispers in your ear after a moment of silence and you can’t do anything to stop the tears that start coming out as you feel Bucky holding you tighter without saying another word.

You want to believe him, you really do. But Sharon’s voice in your head is like a net, not allowing you to fall fully into Bucky, not being able to accept that someone like him truly loves you.

So you start spending your days by yourself, avoiding people as much as possible.

Everytime you're in a room with someone all you can think about is how they're probably judging you, making just want to run away and hide.

But isolating yourself does nothing to ease your worries as you now spend all your time overthinking and hating on yourself.

You start pulling away from Bucky too and it's killing him.

You still won't talk to him, everytime you're together you pretend that everything's fine.

You put on a smile he knows is fake, really doing the bare minimum to keep a conversation going and when he touches you he always gets the feeling that you wanted nothing more than to slap his hands away.

But you always try to be discreet as you inch away from him with any excuse that comes to mind.

It's the change in your relationship with Bucky that starts to clue the team in on your behavior.

As much as they have fun giving you shit for it, they all admire your closeness and were happy that you found each other.

So they start paying more attention to you. Everybody can see something's wrong, but if you wouldn’t talk to Bucky about it, really what chance do they have?

It doesn't stop them from worrying though, seeing how you seem to waste away.

You spend too much time in the gym, losing weight at an alarming rate and not getting enough sleep to function, sometimes resulting in you falling asleep during meetings or on the mat at the gym.

But you refuse to let Bruce look at you. You refuse any help really, your temper shorter than ever as you end up snapping at people more often than not.

You try to keep it together, but it's obviously not working. The only thing you manage to do is avoiding meals without anyone noticing.

After weeks on end of this, the team decides to do something to try and cheer you up, taking the opportunity of your birthday coming up.

Steve manages to convince Tony to have a small party, just the team and agents of Shield, instead of one of his big parties full of strangers.

They're careful when they approach you with the subject, having taken to walking on eggshells around you. You can’t help feeling bad for the way you’ve been treating them, so you decide to be cool about the party, even knowing deep down you’ll regret it.

Natasha and Wanda offer to go shopping with you for a new dress for the occasion, but you decline their invitation.

You know they're trying to be nice, but just the thought of going from store to store, seeing all those beautiful, skinny women trying on pretty dresses you’d never be able to fit into, together with the two gorgeous redheads, it sounds like hell to you.

Which is why you ask the team to have a more informal dress code than usual, allowing you to dress as comfortable as you can be at the moment with loose fitting pants and a large hoodie.

You arrive at the party in the ballroom of the compound that Tony just had to have and are thankful to see everyone dress casually, most of the girls not even wearing dresses.

But you still try not to linger too long on their looks, not wanting to feel worse than you already do about your own appearance.

Arms wrap around your body and you hear Bucky wish you a happy birthday.

You give him a few seconds before you wiggle away from the embrace and turn around. You give Bucky your best fake smile and thank him before kissing him quickly on the cheek and walking away towards the bar to get some water.

You don't need to be getting drunk and throwing up more than you already do every time your stomach forces you to eat anything.

You spend the whole night going from person to person, trying not to talk to anyone too long and making sure to always keep moving to avoid too many questions.

You know it's only a matter of time before they start coming. Even Fury is present, worried about you ever since he had to take you off missions for passing out on the field.

Soon came the moment you’d been dreading most: Wanda comes toward you with your favorite cake with candles lit and everybody starts singing.

You know that with being the center of attention you won't be able to get away with not eating and the team would piece things together if you try, having already gone through this years ago.

Honestly, you're a little disappointed nobody had figured it out yet, but not entirely surprised as you told yourself everyone just didn’t care enough.

And why should they when you look the way you do?

Everyone cheers as you blow on the candles, fake smile still going strong. The cake is cut and everyone is enjoying Wanda’s culinary talent. You even manage to eat yours and keep it down without looking disgusted with yourself.

Everything was going great.

You're behind the bar now taking another water bottle from the mini fridge when you accidentally knock over a glass full of straws that was thankfully made of plastic so it didn’t break.

While you're picking up straws you hear footsteps getting close to the bar that hid your kneeling figure and stop what you're doing when you hear Sharon talking about you. Again.

"And did you see how she’s dressed to her own party? No wonder Bucky’s been staying as far away as possible all night." she's basically whispering, but it's still loud enough for you to hear.

"I know, he’s probably ashamed of her. Wouldn’t surprise me if he dumped her tonight." the two girls giggle the sound seems to snap you out of your trance.

You get up so fast you scare Sharon and the other girl, their startled squeals drawing the attention of the rest of the party as everybody prepares for any danger.

But there is no danger, all everybody can see is two mortified looking agents and you with tears in your eyes that you don't even feel starting to fall.

The whole team is worried sick, everybody getting closer to the bar, but Bucky is the one that's at your side before you can even think about blinking the tears away.

"What’s wrong, baby?" he looks so worried, almost like he himself is about to cry at the mere thought of you being in pain.

But that can't be it, that's not what you're seeing.

He's probably just embarrassed you're being overly emotional for no apparent reason, and that look in his eyes is him getting ready to break up with you right here and now.

At that thought you can literally feel the cake you just ate coming back up and all you can do is run as fast as you could towards the nearest bathroom with a very concerned Bucky running after you after silently agreeing with Steve with a single look that he’ll be the one to check on you.

You make it to the toilet just in time to unload, barely registering two hands taking your hair and holding it away from your face.

You finish vomiting and clean your mouth with some toilet paper before throwing it in and flushing it, shuffling your body backwards until your back hits the tub and you close your eyes while resting your head back against it.

You feel your hair falling back down on your shoulders and can make out the sound of the faucet running for a few seconds before you feel a wet towel gently brushing your cheeks and mouth.

You open your eyes and are met with Bucky kneeling in front of you, seemingly examining every inch of your face to try and understand what’s going on.

Before he can ask you for what felt like the thousandth time though, you can't hold yourself back anymore.

"Please don’t leave me." your voice is weak enough already from all the vomiting and the sobs that start coming in certainly don't help.

Tears start to fall like waterfalls but you don't let any of that stop you from going on. "I know I said I didn’t need you, but I do. I need you so much more than you could ever know."

Bucky wraps his arms around you and he's more than relieved when you don't pull away for the first time in weeks.

Instead, you cling to him as you keep pleading with him not to leave you in between broken sobs while he moves you to sit curling on his lap.

Bucky’s heart breaks for you and he wonders if this was how you felt everytime you comforted him, feeling even more in awe of you now that he knows how hard it was to see the person you love like this.

All he wants is to make you feel better and take away all your pain, but he had no idea how.

When you show no signs of calming down after several minutes he decides to try to talk you down, hoping not to make things worse.

"Doll, I need you to calm down." he tries to pull away just enough to look you in the eyes, but you just hug him tighter, almost terrified that he's just gonna get up and leave forever if you let go and you start getting more agitated by the second.

!Baby, please try to take deep breaths." he's trying really hard not to panic himself now. "I’m not leaving, I promise. I’m staying right here with you, but you need to calm down, please."

Maybe it's because he's basically begging you, maybe it's because of the panic and concern you think you can hear in his voice or maybe it's his grip getting impossibly tight on you that grounds you, but your brain seems to clear just enough to give your body the command and you start trying to take deep breaths.

When you loosen your hold on Bucky he grabs one of your hands and puts it on his chest right over his heart, the steady beating giving you something to concentrate on as you try your best to copy his breathing.

It takes a few more minutes but you calm down, tears still falling silently down your cheeks while Bucky rubs your back with his metal hand, his other warm hand still over yours on his chest.

"I’m sorry I’m such a mess…" Your voice sounds foreign to your own ears, quiet, full of sadness and desperation.

This isn’t you.

This isn’t the confident, strong woman that kicked ass and defended Bucky even to your own family from day one.

What happened to you?

Unbeknownst to you, Bucky's asking himself the same question.

What happened to the sweet, bright girl that offered him a hug after five seconds of knowing him? The girl that calmed him down from a panic attack and kept him company through the night even after knowing about his past?

The girl that let him hang onto her like a koala and allowed him to let it all out? The girl that was patient with him, understanding and never once judged him, no matter how broken she’d seen him?

He really can't think of anything that could've happened to break you this much, to bring you to basically have a meltdown on a bathroom floor.

But whatever it was he needs to know now, and he's more determined than ever to find out.

"Doll, you’re not a mess. You’re hurting, I can see it. We all can. And I know you’re strong, but everybody needs help once in a while. Whatever’s been happening, you don’t have to go through it alone. Just like you didn’t let me go through anything alone. You were always there for me, you’re always there for everybody." he pauses and you take the moment to spiral further.

This is the only reason why he’s still with you. You were there for him, you cared and comforted him. So he feels the need to stay with you because Bucky’s loyal, no matter what his feelings actually are.

But he’s gonna fall in love one day with someone, and what is that gonna mean for you? He’s gonna leave you to be with the person he actually wants, loyalty or not. Your fall down the rabbit hole is stopped by Bucky’s voice.

"Please let me be there for you. This is killing me, watching you do this to yourself. Please tell me what’s going on, baby, because you’re scaring me so fucking much. Please." he finishes in a whisper.

Before you can even properly process his words, you feel a tear that's not yours fall on your cheek, making your eyes widen and you look up to see Bucky already looking down at you with tears rolling down his cheeks.

Your hand goes up to his face automatically and you feel him lean into it. You sit up straighter on his lap, leaning in to rest your forehead against his and closing your eyes while willing yourself to stop the tears long enough so you can talk.

Bucky doesn't push you, finding comfort in your touch after having missed it for what, in his opinion, is too damn long.

"I’m sorry… I just…" you don't even know how to start to explain it.

Bucky can see you're having a hard time finding the words, so he tries to help by saying "You don’t need to rush it, doll. I don’t want to push you to talk about something you clearly don’t want to... But I’ve just been so worried. You’ve been pushing everyone away, and you don’t sleep and stay at the gym until you almost pass out. You think that I don’t hear you throwing up, but I do. And, even with all your oversized clothes, I can see how much weight you’ve been losing. It’s killing me, baby, I hate to see you like this. I just want to know why." he kisses the side of your head and you're on the verge of tears again.

Trying hard to hold them back, you force yourself to speak. "I heard some people talking about me…" you start, your voice still quiet, and you go on to tell him everything.

The conversation you overheard, the insecurities that it brought to the surface, the issues you had in the past and the struggle you’ve been having the last few weeks.

By the end of it Bucky he doesn't know what to feel. He's enraged, worried sick, sad at how miserable you’ve been. Just to name a few.

But more than anything he's heartbroken at how much you’ve been questioning your relationship with him and his love for you. He's devastated to think that everytime he told you how much he loves you, you doubted him and convinced yourself he was lying.

And the worst part is he has no idea how to change your mind.

Is there anything he can say that you won’t doubt? Anything he can do to show you how much you mean to him? Probably not, but he has to try and make you understand.

Your eyes are still closed, not daring to see the disappointment in Bucky’s face.

"Baby, look at me." he says firmly but gently enough to not make you think he was in any way mad at you.

He waits patiently until you look at him which, after taking a deep breath, you do and only then he continues while taking your face in his hands "There are so many things I want to tell you right now... but I’ll start with I love you, doll. I love you so much it actually hurts. Maybe we got close because you were nice and patient with me, but that’s not why I love you. I love you because you’re kind and smart and strong and dedicated. You can kick ass like no one else and you’re still the sweetest person I’ve ever met. And I’m almost 100, I’ve met a lot of people." he smiles when he finally gets you to giggle, the first real laugh he’s heard from you in weeks.

"You’re compassionate and understanding and loyal and beautiful beyond compare. I fell in love with you because of who you are, not what you look like. But that doesn’t mean I don’t think you’re pretty, I think you’re gorgeous and I love your body. I love everything about you. Every. Single. Thing." he punctuates every word with a kiss to each of your cheeks and then your nose, making you giggle more. "You think I’d ever leave you? I could never even consider being with someone else. God, you were never even supposed to mean this much to me! I was never supposed to fall so hard... But you know what? I did and that’s the truth, and that’s what keeps me holding on because it hurts like hell to let you go."

You're obviously in tears, not being able to look away from Bucky’s eyes even if you wanted because of his hold on your face, not that you're trying that hard to get away.

You have no words to describe the way you feel, not even being sure if you fully believe him. The look on his face, though, makes you want to believe. Makes you want to tell all the voices in your head to fuck off until the only one left is Bucky’s saying all the things he just said, over and over again.

But can you really let go of them that easily?

"You don’t have to carry this by yourself, doll." Bucky can see your internal struggle. "Lean on me. Let me help you make this easier."

There's nothing but sincerity in his eyes, he can't possibly be that good of an actor to be faking it, right?

So you decide to trust him.

You trust him with your life, why can’t you believe that he really loves you?

You can. You do.

You will...

"Okay…" You’re basically whispering, still a little worried he’s just pretending and is gonna rip the rug from under you any second now. "I love you, so much. And I want to believe you love me… but it may take me a little while to accept that completely. I’m sorry…"

"You don’t need to apologize, baby. It doesn’t matter how much time it takes, I’m here for all of it. I want nothing more than to help you feel better, starting with helping you love yourself as much as I love you." he wipes your tears with his thumbs before he gives you a soft kiss on the lips. "And not worrying what jealous, unimportant, random people think of you. You’re beautiful inside AND out, don’t let anyone ever tell you otherwise. Not even this." He taps the side of your head.

You wrap your arms around his neck and hug him tightly, neither one of you needing to say more at the moment. After a few minutes like this, you’re both done crying and you let go just enough to look at each other.

"Can we go to our room?" you ask him and he nods, letting you get off his lap and then getting up with you.

He doesn’t let you get too far from him while you go to the sink to try and make yourself look decent as he follows you so closely you might think you’re glued to each other.

Your eyes meet in the mirror and he smiles at you, wrapping his arms around your waist, he gives you a kiss on the shoulder before resting his head on it.

You successfully wash off all the makeup you put on for the party, your efforts now ruined by all the crying.

"You’re so pretty." Bucky tells you, his eyes never leaving yours and you smile a real smile this time, turning your head to give him a kiss on the cheek that makes him smile even more.

You get out of the bathroom and you tense up seeing everybody still at the party, your breath hitching in your throat as embarrassment crawls up on you.

You can see the team’s worried looks and the last thing you want right now is to go through the last 40 minutes all over again, in front of everybody.

You just want to go to your room and cuddle up with Bucky, but the super soldier had other plans.

"Can I have everybody’s attention?" you look at him with a frown, but he simply smiled at you and keeps going once the whole room is looking at you two. "It’s been brought to my attention that some of you have some misconceptions about our relationship."

You didn’t tell Bucky who you heard the conversation from, only that it was two agents just in case he might think it was someone on the team, and it almost looks like he's scanning every agent’s face to try and figure out who it was, but he continues nonetheless.

"I’d just like to make it clear for everyone that not only I love this woman more than life itself, but I, and everyone who knows her for that matter, think she’s the best, most caring person I’ve ever met. Not to mention the most attractive, in my ever so humble opinion." he wraps his metal arm around your waist and brings you closer as your face gets redder, and you can see the team chuckling and grinning at Bucky’s possessiveness and your flustered form. "And it’s also absolutely none of your business what happens in our relationship. But, since you’re all here I might as well give you something real to gossip about."

To say you're confused is an understatement. You turn back to him when Bucky’s arm disappear from around you just in time to see him reach into his back pocket, pulling out a ring box and getting down on one knee.

You hear gasps around the room, your own being muffled by your hand in front of your mouth as your eyes grow wide.

"Bucky..." It's barely a whisper to begin with, your hand almost not letting it escape at all.

"Baby, I meant every single thing I’ve said today. I love you so much. I’ve been carrying this around for a couple of months, looking for the right time to do this. But when you started pushing me away I thought maybe you were changing your mind about me. I was terrified and decided to wait, but I realize now if I had done this when I first wanted to, the last few weeks probably wouldn’t have happened. I could’ve saved you so much pain... I don’t know if this is the right time, but I do know that I’ve been ready for a while and right now I honestly can’t think of a better way to show you just how much you really mean to me. So…" he opens the box to reveal a rose gold ring with one big diamond at the center and two smaller ones on each side of it, then he takes your free hand on his. "Doll, will you marry me?"

He can feel you trembling, tears forming in your eyes once more as the whole room seems to hold their breath.

"Yes!" you're finally able to get out and Bucky feels like he can breathe again, happiness spreading throughout his whole body.

You basically throw yourself on him and he catches you with ease, getting up on his feet while you wraps your legs around his waist like a koala.

There's a chorus of cheers, the team immediately gathering around you to congratulate you both.

It feels like too little time when you finally detach from Bucky as he gently put you on the ground before slipping the ring on your finger and kissing it, his eyes never leaving yours, silently telling you he belongs to you and only you.

You’re about to lean in for a kiss when two strong arms pick you up making you squeal, Steve’s laughter in your ear as he says something about finally having a sister-in-law and making everybody laugh.

After a good 15 minutes of hugs left and right, Bucky intervenes.

"Okay, okay, can you please not smother my future wife?" your heart skips a beat when he says that and you're sure you're smiling like an idiot as he makes his way through the team to get to you.

"You know, he actually asked me for my blessing. I told you he cares very much about you." Tony whispers to you while he passes, giving you one last squeeze and a wink before everybody gives you and Bucky a moment.

He wraps his arms around your waist and finally kisses you.

When you pull away you both have big, goofy grins, never wanting this moment to end.

There's no separating you, and now everybody knows it.

Requested taglist: @aesthetic0cherryblossom @buchi91 @sapphirebarnes

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes imagine #sebastian stan #marvel fanfiction #bucky x reader #bucky x you #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes x f!reader #avengers x reader #avengers x platonic reader #avengers x platonic!reader

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morgana-larkin · 7 months ago

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Hey! Are you still taking prompts? If yes, can you write about r, a librarian that's like a ray of sunshine to everyone at Abbott. But not too much ray of sunshine like Janine and Jacob (more like UV light jk). Then one day, r arrived at Abbott so quiet, not in her usual self,like her sun is heavily clouded. In the break room she's like spacing out, they noticed it and when they asks her if she's alright she would just look at them with a neutral reaction and not talk to anyone,as in anyone much to Melissa's dismay as she tries to make you talk. She misses you talk about your day when she visits you at the library before leaving. Mr. J notices, since r usually gives him a high five when she sees him in the hall way. Even Ava, as she made a joke and everyone laughed but you just gave her a blank stare and leave the break room. They thought r just needs space so they let her be. Then a day of being like that became a week, shutting people down and now the staff are worried, so Melissa decided to finally take the matter in her hands and helps R to finally snap out of the state she's in.

Thank you so much for this prompt! And yes my inbox is open for prompts. I thought this idea was cute and I hope you like it. Not edited in the slightest. I wrote this in more of Melissa’s POV but I don’t think any of you will mind.

Her Poco Sole (little sunshine)

Warnings: reader trapped in their head but that’s pretty much it.

Words: 2.6k

It’s Friday morning and you walk into Abbott with a smile on your face as always. You’re the librarian at Abbott Elementary and you love it. The kids are great, the staff is amazing, and you’ve never been happier. You see Mr Johnson and as always you raise your hand up for a high five and he happily gives you one.

You arrive in the break room and everyone is already there. You cross the break room to the fridge to put your lunch in there. “Good Morning everyone. Any weekend plans?” You ask everyone as you go to make a coffee.

At that, everyone shares any interesting plans that they have for the weekend. As you finish making your coffee you go to sit at Barb and Melissa’s table like always as Jacob finishes telling his plans and you smile at him as you listened.

“What about you Melissa? Got a hot date? Tv marathon? Seeing family and friends?” You ask her and she looks at you with a smile.

“What makes you think I have a hot date?” She asks.

“A little presumptuous of me then, alright got a normal date then?” You ask her and she snorts.

“You’re such a goof. No date this weekend. Unless you count my couch.” She jokes and you laugh.

“I would think that counts as a date.” You tell her. Then you engage in conversation with Melissa and Barb until the bell rings, and you all get up to start the day.

The day goes by and it’s spent organising and checking out books for kids. At lunch, you head to the breakroom and get your lunch and sit at your regular seat, beside Melissa, and start eating. The rest of the crew comes in a couple minutes later, as well as Ava.

“Hey y/n, I’m going to the club tomorrow tonight, wanna come?” Ava asks.

“Ava, the last time I went with you, you forced me to talk to a girl there and she was straight. So I think I’ll say no.” You tell her with a shake of your head. Ava looks at you and laughs.

“What if I promise that I won’t force you to talk to any girls?” She asks.

“I think I’ll sit this one out Ava, I got big plans to laze around and do nothing.” You tell her.

“You and I got similar plans, we should do it together.” Melissa says and you look at her with a smile.

“You got a date though.” You joke with her and she laughs.

“Hun, I can drop the date with my couch if I wanted, I’m sure it won’t be disappointed.” She says and you roll your eyes.

Lunch ends and you all get up to finish the second part of the day.

At the end of the day, you’re putting a book back in its rightful place when Melissa walks in.

“Hey you.” She says as she walks in.

“Hey yourself.” You reply back to her with a smile.

“How was your day?” She asks.

“It was good.” You then proceed to tell her all about your day. You tell her interesting things that the kids said or did, interesting gossip from teachers and everything else in between. Melissa looks at you the entire time with a smile as she listens. She always loves it when you tell her about your day, you always talk so passionately. “Anyway I’m rambling, how was your day?” You ask her.

Melissa proceeds to tell you all about her day as you both exit the library and you lock up. This is a little routine you both have at the end of the day. You both look forward to it, you tell each other every little thing about your day as you walk to you cars.

Melissa didn’t like you at first, she thought you were too cheerful and happy like Janine is. But she learned that while you are cheerful, it's not annoying like it is with Janine or even Jacob. She learned to love how happy and nice you are with her and everyone else, poco sole she likes to call you, which is little sunshine.

You end up just staying at your place that weekend instead of taking Melissa up on her offer, you sometimes do and you both always enjoy it.

Then Monday morning comes, and you drag your feet in through the doors of Abbott, the usual smile on your face is replaced with a frown. You pass right by Mr Johnson and you don’t offer a high five and he looks at you weirdly.

You enter the break room and you cross over to the fridge to put your lunch and get a coffee. Everyone sees that you don’t have a pep to your step and your usual smile. As you get your coffee ready, you're looking at your phone as Melissa speaks up.

“Hey poco sole, you alright there?” She asks and you look up at her then go back to your phone without answering her. She looks at you confused, as well as everyone else. Once your coffee is done, you pour it in your mug then you sit down at your usual spot. Melissa looks at you as she tried again.

“How was your weekend?” She asks you. You just look at her and shrug. Melissa looks at Barb worriedly. You’re never like this, this isn’t you. Before anyone could say anything else, Ava walks in and she pours some of the coffee in her mug.

“Y/n, there were a lot of cute girls at the club, you missed out, although I would have had you do karaoke.” She says and everyone laughs, they know you’re a bit shy singing in front of a crowd. Everyone laughs except you, you just look at Ava with a blank stare and then get up and leave. You pass by Mr Johnson on your way out and once again, you don’t offer a high five.

“What’s going on with y/n? She doesn’t seem like herself.” Mr Johnson says and everyone looks at Melissa who’s the closest to you.

Melissa doesn’t know, you were fine on Friday, and you two texted on Saturday and Sunday like always and everything seemed fine. “I- I don’t know.” Melissa says and she’s worried about you. She’ll try again at lunch, maybe you’re just not having the best morning, it happens to everyone she thinks.

At lunch your mood didn’t change, in fact it seemed it got worse. You seemed like you were in your own head the entire time, and if anyone talked to you or asked a question, you would just stare at them for a few seconds and go back to what you were doing or just ignore them. Everyone decided that maybe you just need some space as maybe you’re having a rough day but then you’ll be back to your usual smiling self tomorrow.

You were not back to your smiling self tomorrow. You came in again the same way, Mr Johnson sees you and you’re still not smiling and he sighs. Everyone else in the break room stopped what they were doing when you walked in. They all hoped you would be back to yourself again but no. Melissa was getting worried, she went to the library after school yesterday like always and you had already left. She didn’t like seeing you like this, the worst part is you didn’t seem sad, you seemed disconnected, like you aren’t even here. You were supposed to be her poca sole and right now you aren’t, and it broke her heart a little.

Melissa knew she had gotten feelings for you, I mean how can she not when you are how you are. Always smiling when you talk to someone, always listening to people talk with 100% of your attention, and she loves how passionate you are about even the smallest things. You always brought a smile to her face, no matter the mood she was in, and she wanted to do that for you.

At lunch she went to the library when you didn’t show up and when she tried talking to you, you just looked at her with a blank stare and went back to what you were doing. She gave up after several attempts and went to talk to Barb, “maybe she just needs some time Melissa. I’m sure she’ll be back to herself when whatever it is passes” Barb told her. So Melissa did just that. She didn’t talk to you when you sat down, she didn’t go to the library after school, she didn’t text you that she got home safely like always, that usually sparks an hour conversation over text.

And soon, the week goes by and it’s Friday and you’re still not back to yourself. Melissa misses you, she knows that you’re going through something and you’re not telling her, you and her tell each other everything. So she takes matters into her own hands. Friday after school, she goes home and grab’s leftovers from yesterday and then heads to your place.

She knocks on your door and you answer about 30 seconds later. And you have the same look on your face as you have had at school all week. Still she gives you a smile and offers food. And you just stare at her, not talking.

“Can I come in? I can heat this up and we can eat and watch tv.” You just step aside to let her in, Melissa thinks it’s a start, she will literally take anything.

Melissa heats up the leftovers and puts half on a plate for you and half on another plate for herself. She comes to the couch where you already are and she hands it to you with a smile. You take it from here with just a simple “thank you.” Even when you seem disconnected, you will always say thank you, it’s automatic. And again, Melissa will take it. She misses you so much that a simple ‘thank you’ from you makes her happy.

After you both finish eating and the episode of the show you're watching ends, Melissa has had enough. She sets the plates down on your coffee table, turns off the tv and looks over at you. You just stare at her with that blank expression you’ve had all week.

“What’s going on with you y/n? You seem so disconnected that it feels like you’re not even here even though you’re sitting right beside me. And not just today, you’ve been like that all week. You don’t talk to anyone anymore, you don’t come in with your bright smile and uplifting spirit. Mr Johnson says you don’t give him high fives anymore and you don’t laugh at Ava’s jokes like you usually do. And you know what? I miss you, I miss when you come in with that beautiful smile and ask me anything, our conversations at lunch , and especially our chats after school when I come and visit you in the library. And I also miss our little texting chats after school and on the weekend I miss hanging out with you or texting you.” She finishes and when she looks at you , you’re still just looking at her with that blank stare, the only difference is that you keep looking down at your hands.

And that makes Melissa break, she starts crying. You don’t know what to do, you’re not yourself right now but to your core you’re still her poco sole. You put one of your hands in hers and then you just continue to stare at nothing in front of you, still holding her hand.

Melissa is surprised when you hold her hand and it makes her stop mid sob and she sniffs. She realises that you’re still there but maybe trapped in your own mind. She’s heard about people that have done that , and they said that they just woke up unhappy about anything for no real reason and they detach themselves from reality. She remembers that a shock helped them, something that broke them out and snapped them back to reality, something real. So Melissa does the first thing she thinks of, she reaches over , pulls you to her and embraces you in a tight hug. “Please come back to me y/n, please.” Melissa begs while still hugging you.

And then she feels arms wrap around her, hugging her back. She pulls back to look at you and you have the smallest little smile she’s ever seen and your eyes aren’t blank. “Y/n?” Is all she says.

You look at her. “Hi Melissa.” You say. And she covers her mouth in shock and happy tears start rolling down her face. You’re coming back to her. She gets so excited that she leans over and kisses you on the lips and you freeze for a second, you pull her more to you when she goes to pull away and you kiss her back. And Melissa melts into the kiss, she’s been missing you all week and kept her feelings to herself about you for about 4 months. And while she’s happy this is happening, she wants to make sure she truly has you back. She pulls back and looks into your eyes, and she sees the familiar light behind them you always had and she smiles at you. “You came back to me.” She says and for the first time in a week, you smile at her, your usual genuine smile. “Are you ok?” She asks you suddenly.

“I think I am now. I didn't know what was going on, I woke up and suddenly felt nothing, I didn’t feel anything and it scared me but it didn’t stop so I guess I hid in my own mind, tried to find something, feel something. And then I saw you crying and a spark came, a spark of sadness and so I held your hand, and then you hugged me and my whole body

felt happiness again. The kiss was a nice add on. You tell her and she looks at you smiling, she’s glad to have her poco sole back.

Monday morning, you walk in the entrance with a smile and your usual pep to your step is back. You see Mr Johnson and he looks up and sees you smiling. You then raise your hand for a high five and he excitedly gives you one, happy that your back.

You walk into the break room and everyone is either on their phones or talking to each other, Melissa sees you though and she smiles at you, and you smile at her. You walk over to the fridge “hey everyone, did you have a nice weekend?” You ask and everyone looks up at you and sees you smile as you pour some coffee in your mug. And everyone smiles at you.

“Y/N! You’re back!” Jacob says and you nod as he runs over and gives you a hug. “We were worried about you!” He says

“Ik, I hope I didn’t freak you out too much.” You joke as you sit in your usual seat. You look a Barb who gives you a smile with a “welcome back sweetheart.”.

Melissa is still looking at you with a smile. She then tucks a lock of hair behind your ear and you smile at her. Everyone sees the interaction and smiles then goes back to what they were doing.

Melissa doesn’t care if they know, all that she cares about is that you came back to her, her poco sole.

Taglist: @esposadejoyhuerta ,@imaginesmultifandoms

If you wish to be added, then let me know!

#melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti x oc #melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti #x reader #fanfic

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lilithknoxville · 1 month ago

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Could u do a Johnny smut where her nipples are pierced and he gets turned on by it???

Barbells and Bitemarks (Johnny Knoxville x Fem! Reader) (18+!)

Summary: “What - Nipple piercings a turn on for you or somethin’?” You teased, chuckling awkwardly.

“Yes, actually.” His answer made you stop short. Your eyes raked over his face. His eyes were dark, pools of lust swimming in them. The sight alone was enough to make your knees weak, and you let out a breathy laugh.

“Wh-What?” You stammered, making him snicker. His hands, which had fallen down by his sides, came up to your shoulders.

“Do I gotta spell it out for you, doll?” Johnny’s voice dropped a couple of octaves, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he smirked, “I’m into girls with piercin’s, and I’m much more into them when they’re on your gorgeous ass.”

Content Warnings: Graphic Smut, 18+, Swearing, Dirty Talk, Johnny is a massive whore here, Oral (Fem Receiving), Mild Dacryphilia, Semi Public Sex, Daddy Kink

Word Count: 4,285

AN: MY FIRST EVER ASK EEEEEEEEE!!!!! I literally wanna kiss this anon on the mouth for giving me this idea /j. Thank you so much for requesting something from me, and my inbox is ABSOLUTELY still open for more requests. I may have forty documents open of smuts but I will absolutely drop them for a request. This is high key the most fun I’ve had writing a story in a while :3 again no beta reader we die like men. Also I’m posting this at 4:00 in the morning so MANNNNNNN I’m tired. Prolly gonna pass out after this LOL. Okay here we gooooooooo! ✨

You huffed out a sigh, resting your head back against the wall you were leaned up against. Jeff’s voice droned on and on, giving information and safety on a stunt that you weren’t thrilled about being a part of. So you had tried to tune Jeff out as much as possible, but his loud and booming voice wasn’t letting you zone out. You kicked a leg over your other one, shifting uncomfortably on your feet. You looked over, seeing Johnny leaned over on the opposite wall from you. You smiled slightly, and an easy smile graced his lips as well. He pushed himself off of the wall, coming over to where you were standing. He dipped his head down, his voice hushed in your ear.

“Well ain’t you the vision of bein’ enthused?” Johnny asked, his lips quirked up in a smile. You snorted out a laugh as you looked up at him.

“I’m not exactly thrilled about being up on your shoulders, Knox. I’m fuckin’ terrified of heights, and you’re not exactly short.” You smiled at him, and he shook his head, laughing.

“I promise I ain’t gonna drop you, doll.” He gave a smile that had your stomach doing somersaults, and you growled uneasily.

“I’m holding you to that.” You wrinkled your nose, a smile on your lips, and he clapped a hand on your shoulder. Jeff’s booming voice caught your attention and you cast your gaze back towards where Jeff was standing.

“Hey lovebirds, you two wanna join our conversation?” Jeff called, and the amount of hoots and hollers from the rest of the cast had you pulling your beanie down to cover your face, “Anyways - Johnny, Bam, Ryan, and (Y/N), you guys are gonna be next up for shooting. We’re going to go ahead with Steve-O, Dave, and Ehren’s stunt.” Jeff looked down at his clipboard, nodding to cement what he had just said, “But stay on deck, I’m thinking this one’ll take about an hour. Go ahead and get changed into different clothes, and be on standby. Your guys’ stunt involves mud, and we’ve still got a whole day of shooting.” Jeff clapped his hands and you were all sent on your separate ways. You headed to the trailer they had set up specifically for you, Johnny on your heels like a lost puppy. Your feelings for Johnny were… confusing, to say the least. On one hand, he was your absolute best friend in the whole wide world; You were nothing but comfortable around him. You both laughed until you cried, leaned on the other for support, and you loved each other fiercely. On the other, you were beyond in love with him. Any laugh he gave at your jokes, any smile cast your way, and anytime he touched you (albeit all of them were innocent) lit you up from the inside out.

You entered the trailer, propping the door open with your foot as you waited for Johnny. You rolled your eyes, chuckling as he stepped into your trailer.

“You gotta follow me everywhere I go like a lovesick puppy?” You teased, watching as Johnny flopped down on the small couch set up in the trailer.

“Hey, I’m makin’ sure no one fucks with you, doll. You know how these boys are.” Johnny shrugged, resting one of his arms on the back of the couch. You rolled your eyes, leaning against the doorframe with your hands behind your back. You kicked one leg over the other, rolling your eyes hard at Johnny’s comment.

“And you act like I’m not scared to beat anyone’s ass.” You snorted out a laugh, pushing off of the wall and going to the small wardrobe that was set up for you. You looked through the clothes, humming. Each outfit was marked with a name of a stunt, and you got to the one for this stunt. It was a sheer, white tank top with jean shorts. You held it up, looking at the outfit with scrutinizing eyes.

“Really?” Johnny barked out a laugh, shaking his head, “I mean - Sex sells, but if we’re sticking our only female cast member in somethin’ like this…” He chuckled again, letting out a puff of air from his nose. There was something unreadable in his eyes, and as you stared at him, trying to figure it out, he looked away, avoiding your eyes, “I dunno what they’re thinkin’.”

“Your guess is as good as mine.” You tore your eyes away from him, rolling them hard. You heaved out a sigh, giving the outfit one last scrutinous glare, “But I don’t think I really have that much of a choice.” You hung the hanger on the back of a chair, your hands coming to your hoodie’s hem. You pulled your hoodie off over your head, but you failed to realize you had grabbed the bottom of your shirt as well. Immediately, you were standing in a sheer, lace bralette in front of Johnny.

Time seemed to freeze as his eyes raked over you - how the bralette pushed your boobs together, the black lace against your skin, and the two barbells pushed through each of your nipples. You yelped and covered your chest with your arm, your face flushing a bright red.

“Shit! I’m fucking sorry!” You cried, moving your arm from over your chest to try and get your shirt out of the hoodie. Your hands trembled as frantic apologies tumbled from your lips, when suddenly Johnny’s hands were covering yours.

You looked up to see him standing in front of you, his face the same shade of red as yours. His face was calm, however, and a smile ghosted over his lips.

“Doll, you ain’t gotta freak out.” His voice was quiet, a murmur, as he helped you pull the shirt out of the hoodie, “But when were you gonna tell me you’ve got piercings?” He asked, a wolfish grin on his lips. You smacked his arm with a hand, your other hand covering your chest with your shirt.

“You’re an ass!” You chuckled, your face still feeling warm, “What - Nipple piercings a turn on for you or somethin’?” You teased, chuckling awkwardly.

“Yes, actually.” His answer made you stop short. Your eyes raked over his face, looking for any sign he was joking, but there was nothing more than a cool smirk on his face. His eyes were dark, pools of lust swimming in them. The sight alone was enough to make your knees weak, and you let out a breathy laugh.

“Wh-What?” You stammered, making him snicker. His hands, which had fallen down by his sides, came up to your shoulders.

Your head was absolutely swimming, the thoughts swirling through your head nothing that would be considered safe for work. But Johnny’s voice brought you back down to Earth;

“Now, you gonna let Daddy see my babygirl’s piercin’s?” He purred, his hands tracing circles on your shoulders. You shuddered under his hands, looking up at him through your eyelashes.

He leaned forward, dipping his head down, and captured your lips in a kiss. Immediately, all of the breath was stolen from your lungs, and your hands scrambled to his shoulders. The kiss started off as slow and soft at first, but it slowly progressed to bruising and passionate.

He growled against your lips, something primal flaring in his chest. This wasn't just some casual kiss; this was a decade of suppressed emotions and desires erupting to the surface for the both of you. His hands tightened on your waist, pulling you against him firmly, as if he was afraid of you slipping away.

He deepened the kiss, his tongue darting out to tease at the seam of your lips, begging for entrance. You opened your mouth, accepting his tongue to touch around. You were secretly very thankful that he didn’t try and jam his tongue so far down your throat that you gagged. His free hand moved up to cup the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair, holding you captive against him.

Finally, you broke the kiss, gasping for air. Your chest heaved with every breath you took, and your cheeks were flushed a brilliant red. You searched Johnny’s eyes for a moment, a small, breathless giggle leaving your lips. Johnny had the same breathlessness you did, his lips quirking up in a half smile.

“Well, if I didn’t know any better, doll, I’d say you’ve been waitin’ for me to do that for a while.” His voice was barely above a whisper, his hand cradling your face. You looked up at him with humor filled eyes, giggling.

“Good thing you know better, hmm?” You asked, giving him a teasing smile. His smile darkened and before you knew it, he had you up in the air, his arms locked around your waist. You squealed and giggled, as Johnny walked over to the small couch that was in your trailer.

He tossed you on the couch, your back pressed dully into the cushions. He crawled in between your legs, his face ghosting over yours. His breath was stolen from his lungs as he looked down at the goddess laid before him, your cheeks flushed the prettiest salmon. You looked up at him, pupils blown wide with lust and want. It intoxicated him in the best way possible, and it made him want more.

More he got, as your hands snaked around his neck and pulled him back down roughly. Your lips reconnected and Johnny grunted against your lips, his hands going to your hips to raise them up against him. In this new angle, you could feel the hard press of the growing bulge in Johnny’s jeans.

He pulled away from the bruising kiss, his breath fanning heavy over your face. A smile tugged at his lips, his head dipping down to your neck. Hot opened mouth kisses were pressed into your skin, the sharp edges of his teeth pressing gently into your neck. You writhed and whimpered under him, his hands tracing your sides with the softest of touches.

“This okay?” He murmured against your skin as his fingers danced at the hem of your bralette, “Wanna make you feel good.”

“Yeah, ‘m good.” You breathed out, helping him take off your bralette. He threw it into a random corner, his hands shaking as they ghosted over your breasts.

His eyes stayed stationary on the black barbells pushed through either of your nipples. Slowly, as if he was hesitant, his hands came to your breasts, kneading them. You let out a shaky breath, your heart hammering in your chest. His nimble fingers danced over the barbells, and you sucked in a breath through your teeth.

“Yeah? Sensitive, ain’tcha?” He breathed out, his eyes flicking back and forth between your face and your breasts, “My pretty girl.” He breathed out, pressing kisses to the tops of your breasts.

His head dipped lower, his lips attaching to one of your nipples. It was like an electric current was sent through your whole body, the warm feeling of his mouth on the cold barbell made you shoot up. Your back arched, as a shaky wail came from your mouth. Johnny pulled back immediately, his face flashing with concern.

“No, no, no!” You babbled, whining deep in your throat, “Pl-Please.” You begged, your breath coming out in pathetic sounding pants.

“Well, I gotta listen when you’re beggin’ so pretty for me.” Johnny chuckled, dipping his head back down. His mouth went back to your nipple, the warm feeling of his tongue swirling around your nipple making you wail again.

His hand dipped to your jeans, fumbling with the button as he tried to undo it with one hand. A huff of breath left his nose and he pulled off of your breast, focusing his attention on your jeans.

“Fuckin’ - goddamnit.” He cursed under his breath, making you giggle. You gently covered his hands with yours, helping him undo the button on your jeans, and you started to push them off of your hips. He caught the hem of your panties in his blunt nails, practically ripping both of them off of your legs. He threw both pieces of clothing to a random corner of your trailer, pushing your legs open. You tried to close your legs, a flare of embarrassment running hot through your veins, but he was much stronger than you were.

He growled, his lips kissing down your stomach, along your hip bone, tasting the cream of your skin mixed with the salt of sweat. He kissed down along your thigh, stopping just before where you needed it the most. You watched as his cheek pressed into your thigh, as he watched how you dripped and keened.

“Look at you, little one,” Johnny purred, causing you to whimper, your fingers tightening in his hair, “You got this wet just from Daddy playin’ with them sexy piercin’s?” The southern twang in his voice drove you crazy, but the fact that he bit into the soft of your thigh caused you to keen again.

“Jesus, don’t fucking tease me.” You whined, your voice coming out breathless and needy. Johnny nipped at the junction where your thigh met your pelvis, and the feeling made you shudder underneath his hands.

“You ain’t got a single idea how bad I’ve wanted you like this.” His breath fanned hot over your clammy skin, his lips kissing lower and lower until he was right above your clit, “Hearin’ you say my name like it’s the only prayer you’ve known.” He groaned, his tongue darting out and kitten licking across your clit.

His lips attached to your pussy, his tongue exploring every single part of you. You whined, throwing your head back against the couch, as his movements were slow, agonizing in the best way possible. He switched between his tongue thrusting in and out of your dripping pussy and sucking on your clit. You let out a strangled moan as he offered a hard suck of your clit.

“Goddamn, babygirl. You taste just like honey.” He grunted against you, pulling back slightly, and wetting his middle and ring finger with his own saliva, “Could spend the rest of my life right here, face pressed into this fuckin’ pussy.” He murmured, lowering his head again. His lips attached to your clit, his middle finger slowly dipping into your pussy.

You came lighting up off of the couch, wailing out his name as he curled his finger, finding the spongy tissue that had you seeing stars. He chuckled against you, the vibration of his laugh making your heart flip in your chest.

His ministrations were eager, and before you knew it, he was adding the second finger into you. He curled his fingers hard, the pleasure thrumming through your veins hitting an all time high. Your hands came to his hair, your hips rolling against his face.

The coil inside your core started to wind tighter and tighter, as you shamelessly grinded against his face, trying to pull yourself closer to an orgasm. He moaned eagerly against you, clearly enjoying the entire situation himself. Tighter and tighter the coil inside you wound, Johnny’s little grunts and moans against you doing nothing to help the situation.

The coil snapped, your orgasm rattling through your bones - your moans breathless and high pitched - as Johnny drank up all of your slick. Your breaths were heavy and ragged, Johnny’s face still firmly planted between your thighs. The feeling started to border on overstimulating, so you tapped his head three times shakily. Johnny finally pulled his head back, his chin and lips wet.

“Fuckin’ hell, you’re gonna kill me, doll.” He grunted against your hipbone, laughing shakily, “Usin’ my face like your own personal throne, I could get used to that.” He looked up at you with humor filled eyes, crawling back up towards your lips.

You kissed him breathlessly, tasting yourself on his lips and tongue. You moaned shamelessly into his mouth, your hands making quick work of ripping his shirt off of him and pushing his jeans down to his knees. He kicked off his shoes, awkwardly shoving his jeans off of his legs, the denim falling unceremoniously to the floor.

You adjusted on the couch, laying flat on your back horizontally, and Johnny slotted himself between your legs, the thick press of his cock against your weeping slit making you mewl. He fumbled around for a moment, trying to find his jeans.

“I’m on the-” You raised your arm, tapping your bicep, “-thing in arm. Good for three years.” You dropped your arm, your hand running down his chest. “You’re good. I’m clean.”

“You sure?” He asked, his eyes meeting yours, “Can’t promise I’m gonna last long feelin’ this pussy raw.” He admitted, laughing awkwardly.

“I’m sure. No babies.” You pulled his face down to yours, kissing him breathlessly, “Pump me full of cum, Daddy.” You purred.

“Jesus Ch-“ He let out a strangled grunt, resting his forehead against yours. His breath fanned hot against your face, his breath shaky, “You tryna give an old man a heart attack?” He asked, his voice shaking. He opened his eyes, silently asking if it was okay again. You nodded, and he slowly started to push into you.

The feeling of his thick cock stretching you out made you wail into his shoulder, your blunt nails digging into his shoulders. Slowly, agonizingly, he pushed in until he bottomed out. His breath was catching in his throat, his arm twitching as he gripped onto the back of the couch for dear life.

“Fuckin’ hell, babygirl.” He grunted out, letting out a trembling exhale of breath, “Pussy’s like a goddamned vice around me.” He spoke through gritted teeth, staying still to let you get used to the feeling of him inside you.

It was a silent couple of seconds before your muscles started to relax and he was able to start thrusting shallowly in and out of you. You whimpered and keened underneath him, and he hadn’t even gotten started yet.

“Harder…” You whispered, your voice begging helplessly, “Daddy, please.”

“Anything my babygirl wants.” Johnny whispered back to you, his hands moving to wrap around your neck, pulling himself impossibly closer to you. His hips slowly sped up, the pace rough but not brutal. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his breath heavy in your ear.

“Shit, Johnny.” You sucked in a breath through your teeth, whimpering in his ear as he set a steady pace. His hipbones smacked against your ass, causing a dull pain that only accentuated the pleasure.

It was a few moments of this steady pace before Johnny suddenly pulled back from where he was buried in your neck. You looked up at him with dazed eyes, confusion etching into your features. He shuddered out a breath as he met your eyes, a shaky smile crossing his face.

His hands shoved your thighs back, pushing your knees almost to your chest. In this angle, you could feel every inch of his cock as he pounded into you. You threw your head back, wailing out a mix of his name and a guttural scream. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you threw your head back against the small couch.

“Yeah, that’s it, my sweet girl.” He grunted through gritted teeth, his breath coming out in bursts, “You take Daddy’s cock so fucking well. This goddamned pussy was made for this cock - Fuck!” He snarled, his hips speeding up. All you could do was hold on for dear life, your mind swimming with nothing but him and how fucking good this felt.

His hands came to your breasts, his fingers tweaking one of the barbells. Between his nimble fingers on your nipples sending waves of heat to your core, and him making a complete mess of your pussy, you felt yourself coming undone at the seams. The familiar coil in your core was winding tighter and tighter by the second, and the tears that pricked at the corners of your eyes fell down your face. The pleasure was starting to border on the perfect blend of amazing and almost cruel. You met his eyes, your vision blurry from the tears, and you could see he had a wolfish grin on his lips.

“Yeah, that’s it. Cry over how fucking good this cock is.” He snarled, dipping his head down to your neck and leaving hot opened mouth kisses against your skin, “Could fucking live in this pussy, babygirl, Jesus Christ-!” His thrusts were getting sloppy, and you wailed out his name again, the coil suddenly snapping in your core. Your eyes rolled back in your head as your body trembled, your pussy fluttering around him. Your body felt taut, as your orgasm rippled through your bones.

“Oh fuck, babygirl-“ He grunted out, his thrusts brutal and rapid, “Just like that… Daddy’s gonna fucking cum all in this pussy.” He growled in your ear, and all you could do was hold on for dear life.

A couple seconds later, he stilled, letting out a moan that would make a pornstar blush. His cock twitched and pulsed inside of you as thick, hot ropes of cum filled you. You writhed, still trying to come down from your high.

It was a silent couple of seconds as the two of you remembered how to breathe, and you were the first to make any form of a sound. You chuckled breathlessly, meeting Johnny’s eyes.

“Well, remind me to accidentally strip in front of you more often.” You panted out, bringing your arms up and pulling Johnny into a kiss. His hands cradled the back of your head, holding your lips to his. He broke the kiss, laughing softly against your lips.

“Ain’t gotta be accidental no more, doll.” He pressed kiss after kiss to your lips, “You got me hooked around your lil’ finger.” He smiled down at you, before the sound of someone banging on the door made you both jump. You swore under your breath, your heart racing.

“Ye-Yeah?” You called, putting a finger to Johnny’s lip to shush him.

“Hey, are you two done fucking already? Your guys’ stunt is about to start.” Ehren’s voice, which had the edge of awkwardness to it, rang out through the door and it took everything in you to not want to melt into the floor from embarrassment.

“Why, you wanna join?” Johnny called and you smacked his arm, his loud cackle of a laugh making you roll your eyes.

“Gross! Fuck no!” Ehren’s voice was high pitched, and you could almost see him cringing, “Fucking hell, Knox. Just get dressed and get your guys’ asses out here. Jeff’s pissed.” Ehren walked away from the door, and you could hear his soft muttering as he walked away. You snorted out a laugh, cringing as Johnny pulled out of you. He grabbed a couple of tissues from a table nearby, getting you as cleaned up as possible.

“Well, I’m gonna have my own cum running down my neck.” He joked, and you groaned.

“Ew! Johnny!” You whined, and he barked out a laugh.

“What? I’m right!” He had a twinkle in his eye, helping you get up from the couch. Your hair was a mess, and your neck was covered with all sorts of love bites, “I ain’t the one who decided you were gonna wear shorts that barely cover your ass while you’re up on my damn shoulders!” He helped you get dressed, putting on his own clothes quickly afterwards.

“So…” You trailed off, letting him run a brush through your hair. You smiled at the odd intimacy of the action, and he hummed, a question of ‘Go on?’, “When’s round two?” You asked, the question hanging thickly in the air.

“Let’s win this stupid chicken fight ‘tween Bam and Ryan, and maybe then we’ll talk.” He chuckled darkly in your ear, pressing a kiss to your cheek, “Don’t worry, babygirl. I’ll have you walkin’ funny sooner rather than later.” He growled in your ear, sending a rush through you. He patted your butt, shaking his head, “But come on. Before the Almighty Tremaine slits our damn throats for fuckin’ up his perfect lil’ schedule.”

You exited your trailer, and if it wasn’t for the love bites on your neck and the flush that covered your cheeks, you were sure no one would have pegged you for having just had sex with Johnny. You, of course, would have been wrong.

“How big’s his cock, (Y/N)?” Bam all but screamed at you when you and Johnny made it to the set, and you bristled for a moment, “Come on, everyone heard you screamin’ his name!”

“Jealous, are we?” Johnny asked, wrapping his arm around your shoulder, “Too bad she ain’t gonna ever scream your name, Bambi.”

You chuckled, trying to pull your beanie down to hide your face in embarrassment. But as you looked up at Johnny, who was harassing Bam about being jealous still, that weird love you had for Johnny settled in your stomach again. But those were feelings for another day. You had more pressing matters, namely throwing Bam and Ryan off of a wooden beam so you could get round two.

You had a pretty good feeling you’d be getting what you wanted, regardless of what Johnny had said.

#jackass #johnny knoxville #mtv jackass #pj clapp #lilith’s writing #johnny knoxville smut #johnny knoxville x reader #jackass fics #jackass fic #jackass x reader #pj clapp x reader #jackass headcanons #jackass hcs #jeff tremaine #bam margera #danger ehren #literally so fucking happy I’ve finally gotten a request.#I’m like a kid in a candy store rn #lilith’s requests

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