#i should write the actual thing but she distracted me with this

[thievinghippo]

First line/page WIP meme

Tagged by @aldisobey and figured why not? This fic is called 'a tangled funeral pyre' and will focus on the consequences of Rook attempting the lichdom rites forty years after the events of the game. This first section is a flashback

Tagging anyone else who wants to join in! I would love to see the cool stuff you're all writing! :D

#

“She’s keeping something from me.”

“Emmrich…”

Emmrich can only drop his head at the disappointment he hears in Myrna’s voice. Which is the last thing he wants to hear during their monthly tea. For almost twenty years now, since the defeat of the elven gods, they’ve met for tea in Myrna’s apartments in the upper levels of the Necropolis.

“Rook is allowed secrets, of course,” Emmrich says, staring at his hands. It’s not as if he doesn’t have any secrets himself. They are not his, though, but those of the Necropolis. Things that only the liches are allowed to know. “But in almost twenty years, she’s never deliberately hid something from me.”

The last few days… Her aura is different, somehow. There’s a nervousness he hasn’t seen from her before, not even before Teardrop Island. Something is clearly worrying her and the fact that she hasn’t confided in him breaks the heart he no longer has. All he wants is to be a source of comfort to her for the mortal years she has left.

“Have you considered inquiring about the change?” Myrna asks. She takes a sip of tea then places it down carefully on the saucer. “I will admit, I did sense some sort of distraction within Rook when we went to the theatre the other night.”

“And it was such a good production of The Tyrant of Minrathous,” Emmrich muses, thinking about the one of the many plays, songs, and novels that have been created about their adventures defeating the elven gods all those years ago.

“Speaking of that night, did I notice correctly that you’ve aged your glamour slightly?”

Emmrich tightens his grip on his cup of tea. While he hasn’t drank anything since lichdom, if the cup is hot enough, he can actually feel the warmth in his bones. Somehow, that warmth is a small comfort that he’s treasured, considering he’s lost so many others.

“Only five or so years. Rook believes that I should just let her catch up to my glamour. Maybe someday.” A day he refuses to let himself think about. He never allows himself to dwell on the fact that each day is one less he has with her.

“Why not have your glamour match her age? Truly, I was surprised you did not when you first crafted one.”

“Oh I very much considered doing just that,” Emmrich says, thinking back to those nights when he debated on his glamour, even when so many other pressing duties awaited. “If I recall, I believe I decided on changing my age would be cheating.”

Myrna simply tilts her head and takes another sip of team. “Cheating?”

If Emmrich still had an eyebrow to raise, he would raise one now. “My dear Myrna, I know Vorgoth would have mentioned the conversations we had about my insecurity regarding my age and my relationship with Rook.”

To her credit, she nods instead of trying to deny it. Vorgoth really is the worst gossip in all of the Necropolis. “I might remember hearing a thing or two.”

It’s that moment Emmrich senses something deep within the Necropolis. A sudden tremor that only a lich would have the ability to sense. He places his teacup onto the table and focuses. He looks to the beating pulse of the Necropolis itself and feels a pull.

“Myrna, please accept my apologies, but I am being called to a pressing matter.” 

Emmrich stands and focuses his energy, trying to see exactly where he is meant to go. The uncreatively named Lich Hall, down in the deepest recesses of the Necropolis. Where only the four unliving lich lords have access.

Four lich lords and any member of the Mourn Watch who has discovered the first step of the journey to lichdom.

Suddenly he can look back at Rook’s aura with perfect clarity.

[siena-sevenwits]

(Written yesterday) Well, it’s Epiphany, and the end of Christmas proper. I know many continue to celebrate Christmastide all the way until Candlemas, but our tree came down today and I don’t really do much to observe the extended season. So it seems to me that if I’m going to finally revisit Elystan’s point of view in the Christmas chapters, now that I know a little more of his history, I’d best do it before Epiphany is out. Here we go!

[Turns on “Denn es is tuns ein Kind geboren” from “Der Messias.” Since this is Elystan’s pov I really ought to listen in English (tangent: aren’t we Anglophones blessed Handel was in Ireland when he wrote it?) but I thought I’d listen in German as a nod to the Liennese in the room.]

I love the fact that although Elystan’s good with classics when it comes to languages, German is not his forte. This isn’t something you see so often in fiction – that an aptitude for a language, or even languages, doesn’t necessarily apply across the board. (And of course it has the story layer that he and Josiah don’t understand each other, even though they technically speak each others’ languages. Boys, there is so much you’re hiding from others – and so much you don’t see in yourselves.)

Ha. Even here in Corege, Tamett’s Noriberreanness (sp?) is still a point against him in the eyes of the masters.

“[H]e needs to invest in a copy of Bellwell’s Guide for the Traveller in Corege. All good bookstores have it. Changed my life.” Heaven help me, Elystan thinks his jokes are so funny – and I’m smirking despite myself.

“And that distracted Josiah’s attention from the depths of the literary gem he was composing…” Oh that you knew the systematic and painful stuffing down of grief you’re witnessing from outside, Elystan. [I should really be listening to Satie’s Gnossiennes or something equally sombre for Josiah’s composition, but we are not in his head.]

“I’ll leave a box of chocolates in the empty chair in the King’s box, in your memory.” OOF –  the joke’s aimed at disgusting Josiah, but yeah, let’s make a joke about an empty chair in the King’s Box right now, Elystan. That’s certainly a good joke for you to make. (I doubt he’s actually thinking along the lines I am, but still.)

Oh, Elystan, your mother would love to take you to the movies if you would let her… And she writes to him faithfully even though she never gets any back. I understand why there’s such an enormous rift between them, and she’s certainly not blameless – but this must be a hard time for her, having realized at least some of the damage she’s caused, how broad the gulf is, spent the summer trying to mend their relationship among many other things, then had to send him away for his own sake. And she never hears from him. That would be hard. These stories have such huge themes of attachment and how hurt to that attachment ripples into so many seemingly unrelated areas of life. My heart goes out to both Elystan and Bethira.

Oh gosh, he almost asked Josiah was he was going to do with his Mother for Christmas. The anniversary of his mother’s December death is almost here, and right this moment he’s writing a paper about how above grief a real man needs to be. Josiah heard that pause loud and clear.

The way schoolboy culture won’t let them just say “family.” (It’s the heart of all this, it’s all about family, and they can’t say it, they can’t say it. They’re not even consciously thinking about it – they’re all just copying each other – but they haven’t got families anymore. They’ve got [airy wave of the hand] people.”

Josiah wrinkled his nose. “How about the rest of the year?” If he had not been such an overgrown lump, Elystan would have knocked him out of his seat. – Oh boy. Knowing what Elystan’s rest of the year has been like this past year, that one smarts even more.

I am eternally amused by Elystan’s ongoing crocodilianess.

He misspelled “grievous.” No undertones there.

Love these boys so much. Since this is a revisit in light of what I know of their previous lives, these comments are likely to all tend to the “oh no” direction, but also I am smiling so lovingly at all of them.

A Christmas Chapter: Elystan’s POV

Last year I wrote two versions of this story, from Tamett’s and Josiah’s POVs. I had intended to leave it there, but a friend wanted Elystan’s POV, so after a long struggle of trying to find a story I’d never really planned between the lines of the existing pieces, here is the third and final version.

This one runs very long, nearly 17000 words. It’s not perfect, probably has wording issues right and left, and it feels a bit more like a series of random events than a cohesive whole, but I’m sick of fussing with it for now, and you’re very welcome to tell me (politely) what could be improved.

In case you’re unfamiliar with these characters, Elystan is the thirteen-year-old son of a disgraced former king of Corege (one of several nations in this  Edwardianesque world). After circumstances that have resulted in his having a massive grudge against his mother and his half-brother Delclis (the current King), he has been sent to Hollingham, an elite boarding school, where he rooms with Josiah, Crown Prince of Lienne, and has befriended Josiah’s paid companion Tamett. They’re about to reach the end of their first term, and Elystan is faced with the daunting prospect of having to spend the Christmas holidays with his dearly beloathed family.

Keep reading

[ciderjacks]

argh. This comic writing is taking me way longer than usual. I keep editing things and it doesn’t feel right.

[rearranging-deck-chairs]

cw rape but im listening to sic transit gloria by brand new and like,,,,fic idea

[joonie-beanie]

A Dragon's Constitution | [Neuvillette x Reader]

Summary: Iudex Neuvillette has been acting a little...strange, as of late. Worried about him, Sigewinne and Wriothesley come up with a plan to help lessen his load. “I’m lending you to Neuvillette for the week.” Well, being Neuvillette's assistant for a week shouldn't be that bad. Unless, of course, the reason Neuvillette has been acting strange is due to the fact that he's actually a dragon that has regained his full power, and now, with the return of said power, his body is experiencing things he's never known before now. Because that would be totally crazy...right? Content: Smut, Consensual Sex, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Double Penetration, Rut, fem!reader Word Count: 10.8k Note: this occurs after "Doctor's Orders"

Sigewinne is the first to hear the rumors about Iudex Neuvillette—although Wriothesley isn’t far behind.

The first indication that something might be wrong with the Iudex is brought up in a letter—one penned by Sedene that is delivered to Sigewinne. In the letter, Sedene writes that since Fontaine has overcome its disaster, everything has been going well…except, Neuvillette has been behaving a little…strange.

Sedene does not elaborate on what exactly is wrong, and Sigewinne assumes that’s because she doesn’t know. Melusine have the ability to sense things, but the things they sense aren’t always accompanied with an answer.

And so, Sigewinne writes back telling Sedene to make sure Neuvillette is staying hydrated (since she knows he has been particularly busy as of late), and that she’ll try and make a trip to see him soon, when she has the time.

The following day, a new batch of wrongdoers arrive in the prison, and along with them—some speculations about Fontaine’s supreme judge.

“I think I deserve a retrial,” one of the men says, clearly frustrated. “I stated my case, but then Iudex Neuvillette actually blanked, and had to ask me to repeat myself! After I said everything so eloquently! That’s why I’m down here, man. I was so surprised by it that when I said my argument again, I sounded lame…this sucks.”

Listening from behind a nearby pillar, Wriothesley frowns to himself. 

Neuvillette getting distracted in court? Well, that’s certainly a first—and a worrying first, at that.

Before the day’s end, Wriothesley and Sigewinne seek each other out. Equally concerned about what they’ve been hearing, they spend the evening coming up with a plan. Something they might be able to do to help Neuvillette.

The next morning, you wake up and get ready—prepared to go and spend a few days below ground in the Fortress…only to find Wriothesley on your doorstep.

“Hi,” he says with a smile when you pull your front door open.

Your eyes go wide, and you glance either way down the street, wondering if you’re being pranked. 

When nothing seems suspicious, you reach out and touch Wriothesley’s chest to make sure he’s real.

He immediately rolls his eyes and snatches your hand, bringing it to his lips.

“Yes, I’m real. Yes, I’m here.”

“Good—but, why are you here?” you ask. 

Not that he isn’t welcome at your apartment, but…you just didn’t expect to see him here. On the surface. At your place of residence.

“Am I late or something? I thought we scheduled for me to come back to the Fortress today.”

“No, you are not late,” he reassures you. He gives your hand a little squeeze before allowing you to have it back.

“There’s been…a little change in your schedule.”

You cock an eyebrow at him.

“What kind of change?”

Does he want you to stay on the surface a few more days before coming back down? Considering he’s here, maybe he’s got some business on the surface, which would mean there’s no point in you going to the Fortress right now.

Wriothesley’s smile grows—little crow's feet appearing at the corner of his eyes.

“I’m lending you to Neuvillette for the week.”

…

Huh?

“Here.”

Wriothesley grabs your bag—the one slung over your arm and packed with items that should have tied you over while you stayed in the Fortress—and tosses it back into your apartment.

Then, he gently grabs your waist, pulls you out onto the street, and closes the door to your apartment behind you. He checks the door to make sure it’s locked, and when he finds that it is, he nods in satisfaction.

“C’mon, keep up,” he says, starting up the street. His boots are heavy against the pavement.

Blinking, you finally snap out of it and jog to catch up with him.

“Hold on, you—you’re lending me to Iudex Neuvillette?”

You’ve never known the man to have an assistant, and from what you’ve heard from Wriothesley and others, he tends to prefer working alone. Aside from that, he’s very skilled at his job, and typically doesn’t need help—even with the never ending case load.

“...did he consent to this?”

Wriothesley smiles, loving how smart you are.

“Not yet, but he will.”

The two of you turn a corner, heading towards an elevator that will take you up towards the Palais Mermonia. You narrow your eyes at Wriothesley. He waves you off.

“Sigewinne and I both heard that he seems a little…stressed lately. And we decided the best thing we could do right now, aside from giving him our support, would be lending him you. So, assuming he is in need of help, I don’t see why he would turn our offer down, considering how proficient you are.”

“While I appreciate the praise, I think you’re underestimating the pride of men,” you tell him, standing at his side as the two of you arrive at the elevator. Wriothesley hits the button to summon it to your floor.

“Hey, when I got busier than usual, I hired you,” he points out. You cock an eyebrow at him.

“I’m 99% sure the only reason you hired me was due to Sigewinne's influence. I bet she saw your stress growing and bugged you to get an assistant until you finally gave in.”

Wriothesley sighs.

“Sometimes I wish you weren’t so smart.”

You grin, holding your head high.

Finally, the elevator arrives on your floor. When the door opens, Wriothesley motions for you to board first. Then, he follows you on.

“So, let’s say Sigewinne did insist I hire an assistant. The result of doing so was positive. My work got easier, and my life improved. If we present that logic to Neuvillette, there’s no reason he should decline our help. Plus, he tends to listen to Sigewinne.”

You sigh, watching the city outside the glass doors of the elevator. You’re nearly to the floor the Palais Mermonia is on.

“If Neuvillette agrees that he wants the help, I have no issue being his assistant for the week.”

Wriothesley catches your silent drift of “you get the pleasure of trying to convince him to accept help, though”. 

Which is fine. He loves a good challenge.

“Sigewinne and I appreciate your cooperation,” he tells you sincerely.

Arriving on your floor, the elevator doors open, and you step out first—standing aside to allow Wriothesley to walk past you and lead the way. A few gazes are thrown your way as you go—people surprised to see the Duke of the Fortress above ground for once—but Wriothesley doesn’t react, so neither do you.

Sticking by his side, you follow him up the steps and through the front door of the building. 

“Duke Wriothesley,” Sedene greets as you near the doors of Neuvillette’s office. She runs up to the two of you, her eyes somewhat nervously shifting towards the office doors.

“Iudex Neuvillette, he…”

She wants to say that he’s not accepting visitors at the moment, but she can’t get the words out—obviously worried about him. Wriothesley flashes her a kind smile.

“Sigewinne sent us,” he tells her, relief immediately appearing on her face at his words. “Is Neuvillette in?”

“Yes, he is in,” she confirms, and then scuttles back over to her desk, only to return a moment later with a tray of tea (or, teacups and water?) in her hands. 

“Take this when you go in, that should help.”

“I appreciate that,” Wriothesley responds. You reach down to take the tray from her hands, quietly thanking her as well. She flashes you a smile, gives you a thumbs up, and then goes back to work.

You and Wriothesley glance at each other. Seeing you’re ready, he raps his knuckles on the door thrice, and enters the room when Neuvillette’s muffled and somewhat reluctant “come in” is heard from beyond the door.

Gripping the handle, Wriothesley pushes his way inside. You dutifully follow after him.

Once in the office—the door shutting softly behind you—you quickly realize that perhaps something is wrong with the Iudex. Because for a man known for his neatness, and professionalism, his office is quite…untidy, at the moment. 

Papers are scattered along his desk—piles uneven, and threatening to fall. And on the coffee table nearby, there are multiple cups, along with empty bottles of imported water. Not to mention books that are strewed around—some even on the floor.

Wriothesley takes quick stock of the state of the office before his gaze settles on Neuvillette, who is sitting at his desk. He's wearing his normal robes, and yet he looks…strangely disheveled. Perhaps it's the faint dark circles under his eyes, or the way his hair looks less kept than usual?

“I thought I instructed that there were to be no—oh, Wriothesley.”

Neuvillette's tone of measured annoyance softens the second he looks up and sees who it actually is that has entered his office. Then, he sighs, feeling ashamed of his initial attitude.

“I apologize. Did you request a meeting? I don't recall getting any correspondence about it, unless it was accidentally left off my calendar.”

“No need for apologies, Monsieur Neuvillette. I am the one who should be apologizing, as I did not reach out beforehand to let anyone know that I was coming.”

Wriothesley bows in slight apology, and you mirror him, figuring it's the right thing to do since you're technically also intruding.

“I know you're very busy, so I'll cut right to the chase to save us both time. Sigewinne and I are concerned about you, since we've both heard from multiple sources that you seem a little out of sorts as of late. So, in an attempt to help lessen your load, I'd like to offer you my assistant, Y/N, for the week.”

For the first time since you'd entered with Wriothesley, Neuvillette’s sharp eyes slide to you. You force a polite smile to your lips and—remembering the tray in your hands—move to set it on the nearby table.

Quickly filling one of the glasses with the water, you stride over to Neuvillette’s desk and offer it to him.

“Pleased to meet you,” you simply say. 

“And you as well,” he responds, keeping up formalities.

Taking the glass from your hand, Neuvillette takes a long sip of water, and you scoot back to Wriothesley’s side. Once Neuvillette has finished his drink, he places the glass down on his desk and sighs.

“I assure you that I am alright, and there is no need for concern.”

“I hate to disagree, but based on the state of your office, I can't believe that's true.”

Neuvillette’s gaze slides around his office, as if truly seeing it for the first time in days. His brows pinch together as he realizes Wriothesley is right. He hadn't noticed it'd become so messy…

“I will admit I have been a little…scattered, lately. But it's nothing I cannot handle. Lending me your assistant would only increase the burden of your own workload, which I cannot accept.”

“Actually,” Wriothesley is quick to counter. “I hired Y/N before the disaster, because much of my time was occupied watching the primordial sea gate, and preparing the Wingalet. Now that the disaster has passed, and things have relatively calmed down, my workload has greatly lessened. Meaning, I have no issue temporarily lending her to you.”

Knowing Wriothesley is only willing to give you up temporarily—meaning he'll want you back to himself at some point—makes you happy.

“Be that as it may, I will still have to decline your offer.”

Alright then, time to break out the big guns.

“I know since Furina stepped down as the Archon, you've only gotten busier,” Wriothesley tells him, fixing him with a concerned stare. “And because of that, Sigewinne is worried. If you could just accept Y/N's help for the week, I'm sure that would help put her mind at ease.”

The mention of Sigewinne causes Neuvillette to frown, so Wriothesley quickly lays it on thicker.

“I assure you that Y/N has been a great aide to me,” he says, his gaze meeting yours. “Sigewinne recommends her as well. If you allow her to help you for a few days, I have no doubt she’ll be of use to you. So please, Neuvillette.”

Neuvillette places his elbows on his desk and folds his hands together. It takes a few seconds, but eventually, he sighs.

“Fine. If Y/N is okay with this arrangement, I shall accept her help.”

Both men look your way. You smile.

“I’d be more than happy to help with whatever I can.”

Honestly, you hadn’t expected to find yourself here, and aren’t even sure what there is you can do to support him, but considering how tired he looks, you’ll surely try your best.

“Good! Glad that’s settled.”

With a happy grin—pleased that he has won the battle—Wriothesley turns to you. He cups the back of your head and drags you in—his lips pressing into your hair.

“I’ll come visit on Saturday to take her back into my care. Best of luck to you both,” he says, heading for the door. He waves his hand at you and Neuvillette over his shoulder, and without saying anything else, exits the office.

You stare at the closed door for a second, before you take a deep breath, plaster on a smile, and turn back to Neuvillette.

…only to find that he’s fixing you with a peculiar stare.

“Are you and Wriothesley seeing each other…?” he asks.

Ah, right, the way Wriothesley had kissed your head before leaving…

“We are not,” you assure him, taking a few steps towards his desk. “Since entering his employment the two of us have just become…fond of each other.”

Which isn’t a lie. You and Wriothesley are quite fond of each other—fond enough that every time you go to stay in the Fortress, you find yourself in his bed at least once (and not just because Sigewinne has instructed Wriothesley to continue having sex to keep his stress levels down). And no, you’re not dating, but that’s fine. You enjoy what you have with him right now, and honestly, it’d be a bad look if anyone found out Wriothesley was dating his assistant anyway.

“I see,” Neuvillette nods, brushing a strand of hair out of his face. “I apologize for presuming.”

“No need to apologize, Monsieur,” you respond, stepping up beside his desk. You smile at him—softer, and more genuine this time.

“Now, what can I assist you with?”

While it takes a short while for Neuvillette to adjust to the idea of having an assistant to help with things, soon enough, the two of you come to an understanding.

He admits that he has been struggling to juggle court cases and new paperwork that needs to be signed off on now that the judicial system is changing (thanks to recent developments). So, you put forth the idea to allocate time to signing documents, and while you run things where they need to go afterwards, Neuvillette can address any cases on his docket. 

Not having any better idea, he goes with your plan.

While Neuvillette busies himself with signing paperwork, you flit around his office—cleaning up empty bottles and used cups, and putting abandoned books back on the shelves.

By the time you’ve finished organizing (taking your time to make sure everything is put back in its proper place), Neuvillette has finished reviewing his first stack of papers.

“These have all been signed off on,” he says, summoning you to his side. He points at the top right hand corner of the paper. “This area on each document will show you where it needs to be returned.”

“Understood,” you respond, taking the stack from him. You cradle the papers in your arms and leaf through the first few sheets while heading for the door. However, you quickly realize the documents aren’t grouped by which location they need to be dropped at.

So, you make a detour at the coffee table—gently sitting yourself on the sofa as you begin sorting the papers into smaller stacks, grouped by department. Once you’ve done that, you pile them all together again, and continue towards the door—unaware of the way Neuvillette’s lips tug into a smile at your actions.

Delivering documents where they need to go takes up the remainder of your morning, and by the time you’ve finished, your stomach is growling. So—figuring that Neuvillette won’t have stepped away from his desk yet—you decide to pick up something for the both of you.

“You've returned,” he says without looking up from the document in his hand as you step into his office. “I assume everything has been delivered?”

“Yes,” you respond with a nod, his gaze finally rising to look at you as he hears the sound of the bag in your hand, and smells the contents within. “And I grabbed us lunch. I assume you haven’t eaten?”

“I have not,” he confirms. His eyes watch you as you b-line for the coffee table and begin unpacking the take-out food. “I’m not sure what you like, but I figured I’d play it safe and go with soup, since you seem to enjoy…liquids.”

How else are you supposed to describe his taste when all you've seen him consume today is cup after cup of water?

Surprised, Neuvillette puts down the paper in his hand.

Standing from his chair, he makes his way over, staring at the clear broth of the consomme.

“...I think I'm beginning to see why Wriothesley enjoys having you as an assistant.”

“Oh? Sounds like Iudex Neuvillette is becoming fond of me too,” you say—very jokingly. “You may have to fight Wriothesley for me later. Assuming I stay as helpful during the remainder of the week.”

You half expect Neuvillette to say say something about how a fight won’t be necessary, as you're only a temporary loan, and he shouldn't need help beyond this week anyway—but instead, he cracks a smile, grabs his portion of the consomme, and says—

“I'll have to keep that in mind.”

—before he returns to his desk and continues working through his lunch.

In the afternoon, Neuvillette remains immersed in paperwork and other documents. You mostly spend your time making sure he has enough water available to drink, and fetching him any books or materials he asks for, so he doesn’t have to step away from his desk and break his concentration.

It’s a dynamic that works, and already, you can tell his stress has lessened—now that he’s caught up on many tasks. However, there’s still the slightest pinch to his brow, and a tiny flush on the skin of his neck despite the fact that it’s not overly hot in his office (at least, in your opinion. But maybe all that hair of his is warm?).

However, you don’t bother overthinking it. It’s still your first day assisting him. It would be crazy to think he’d suddenly be stress-free after a few hours in your care.

When the clock strikes 5, Neuvillette doesn’t miss a beat.

“You may go home for the day.”

You blink, looking around for the time.

“...will you continue working?”

“Yes, but that isn’t out of the ordinary,” Neuvillette responds, taking a sip from the glass of water on his desk. “However, your station doesn’t warrant you working overtime. You should go home now and enjoy your evening.”

You suppose he’s right…there are some things you can’t really assist him with anyway. Plus, you still have four more days working under him.

“Alright then, I won’t argue with you,” you respond. You gather up what little things you had brought with you, and then head for the door. But, before you go, you turn back to him.

“When should I come tomorrow? 8am?”

“9am will be fine.”

“Understood,” you nod, flashing him a smile. “Then, I’ll see you tomorrow. Good night, Monsieur.”

“Good night, Y/N,” he responds in kind, watching you as you open the door and slip out of his office.

His gaze only lingers on the spot where you stood for a brief moment before he returns to his work.

The next day, you arrive at Neuvillette’s office at the agreed upon time, only to find that he’s getting ready to leave.

“I have some trials at the Opera Epiclese today,” he says. “You are welcome to join me.”

And really, who would pass up that offer?

So, without even setting your things down, you follow Neuvillette out of the building and to the Navia line—boarding an aquabus that will take you to the opera house.

Neuvillette garners a lot of attention as the two of you make your way to the building, but you do your best to tune out any stares or whispers. You think Neuvillette’s popularity among the people will never die.

“I have a guest today,” Neuvillette tells one of the staff members once you’ve entered the main hall. “Please make sure she is given a seat.”

“Of course,” they assure him, to which he nods. His eyes catch yours. 

“I will find you once the trials are over,” he says.

“Alright,” you respond. “Good luck.”

He cocks an eyebrow at your sentiment.

“Luck is typically not required,” he tells you. You feel a little heat of embarrassment rise on your skin, but the smile that appears at the corner of Neuvillette’s lips assures you he’s only joking with you. 

“Nonetheless, thank you.”

With that, he turns and heads up a staircase that will lead him upstairs to the judge’s seat.

You follow the staff member into the theater, still feeling a little warm.

As it turns out, Neuvillette has a full docket today. 

From morning to afternoon, you spend your day settled into your seat in the theater—watching prosecutors and defendants present evidence and argue back and forth.The cases draw most of your attention, but your gaze still strays to Neuvillette every so often, just to make sure he’s alright.

And he seems to be…for the most part.

Once or twice, you notice that his eyes are unfocused—staring off into the distance, and not at the person who is speaking. And when a recess is taken for lunch, and Neuvillette finds you to invite you to partake in lunch with him, you notice that the flush on his neck has returned.

Silently, you wonder if he’s getting sick…although you’ve never heard of Iudex Neuvillette being sick before now.

You make sure to send him back up to his stand with an extra bottle of water (which he downs quite quickly. Then, he even motions for one of the nearby employees to bring him more, which…also must be a little strange, considering you see some people in the audience watching Neuvillette, instead of the “show”).

By the time his docket has been cleared, and the two of you take the aquabus back to the city, the work day is over. You and Neuvillette bid each other farewell, and you return home.

Your third day is spent helping Neuvillette finish up paperwork related to the cases from the previous day. 

He remains flushed the entire time—the blush on his neck creeping up to his ears. He also begins sighing heavily every so often, and his requests for water become more frequent—to the point where Sedene, who guards Neuvillette’s stash of imported waters, even gets surprised by how quickly he’s going through them.

However, it’s not until the fourth day—when you see Neuvillette behind his desk, face flushed, sweat beading on his brow, and his official robes discarded due to how hot he is—that you finally have the guts to speak up.

“Monsieur,” you say hesitantly, remaining gentle despite the way his head nearly snaps up to look at you. 

“Is it possible that you’re sick?”

Neuvillette frowns at the suggestion, as if that’s impossible, but…after a few seconds, he seems contemplative.

“Would you be able to go to the library and fetch me a book?” he responds without answering your original question. He writes the title down on a piece of paper for you, and you take it—unable to say no.

After a short trip to the library, you recruit the help of the librarian, who points you in the right direction, and—soon enough—you find what Neuvillette has asked for.

A book on the history of the Dragon Authorities.

…huh.

Dutifully, you take the book back to Neuvillette after checking it out, and he thanks you—setting it off to the side until he has finished what he’s working on. It takes another hour or so, but finally, out of the corner of your eye, you see him reach for the book.

He flips through the pages until he finds the section he’s most interested in, and then he just…reads. For a while.

You keep yourself busy organizing paperwork in the meantime, and don’t pay him much mind. At least, until you hear a crunching sound.

Startled, you glance over at Neuvillette, only to find that his desk is cracked—his hand gripping it so hard that the wood has actually splintered.

You jump to your feet.

���Neuvillette—?!”

“Leave.”

There’s an edge to his typically calm voice.

“What—”

You’re unable to get more than a word out before his sharp eyes find you—his pupils like daggers.

“Leave,” he repeats, slightly more calm. Although, you swear you can almost hear a rumble in his chest.

Your heart sinks, worry blooming in your chest. Did you do something to upset him?

Seeing how your face twists, Neuvillette takes a deep breath.

“I apologize,” he says, his tone measured. His eyes meet yours for a long beat before he glances away, unable to look at you.

“You’ve done nothing wrong, and I appreciate your help until now, but I will no longer be needing your assistance. Please go home.”

Not understanding why he’s had a sudden change in demeanor, you want to prod him for answers about what’s going on, but…seeing the tenseness of his body, and the way his chest heaves, you decide to listen to his request.

Without further argument, you gather your things and quickly head for the door—only pausing to say one last thing before leaving.

“It was nice working with you, Monsieur Neuvillette,” you tell him, a smile tugging at your lips even though he refuses to look your way. “If you ever need my assistance again, please don’t hesitate to let me know.”

The sound of the door shutting behind you is loud in Neuvillette’s ears, and once you’re gone, he finally lets go of his desk—chips of wood sprinkling the floor at his feet.

He attempts to take a deep breath to calm himself—but it has the opposite effect—his jaw clenching as his senses are flooded with the scents in his office, all of which seem more pungent than usual.

Leather book covers, fresh ink, Springvale water, his freshly washed robe, and a fleeting, sweet scent…

A scent that he wants to chase after.

He closes his eyes, stopping his train of thought.

Then, with shaking fingers, he picks up his pen and grabs a piece of paper.

As he drafts the notice of closure he intends to pass along to Sedene, a thunderstorm begins brewing outside his window.

On the morning of what should have been your fifth and final day in Neuvillette’s care, you wake up and find that you can’t simply let things be. 

You do your best to distract yourself with whatever chores in your apartment need doing, but it doesn’t work. You can’t stop thinking about Neuvillette—the flush on his skin, and the way his eyes had looked when he’d commanded you to leave.

It had all just felt so…out of character. You can’t help but worry about him.

So, despite the thunderstorm that’s been raging outside since you’d returned home the evening before, you decide to go and check on him.

You bundle yourself up in a coat and shoes that won’t be ruined by the rain, and then grab your umbrella—heading out into the storm.

As expected, not many people are out, which makes traversing the streets quite easy. You ride the elevator up to the Palais Mermonia alone, running up the steps and into the building to escape the rain.

In your hurry, you miss the notice that’s been posted on the doors to the building.

Once inside, you close your umbrella and prepare an apology to Sedene for dripping all over the floor, but to your surprise, she’s not at her desk. In fact, there’s not a soul in sight—the lights off, and the hall empty.

You’ve never heard of the Palais Mermonia shutting down before…

You take a step back towards the entrance as lightning illuminates the room—figuring it’s best if you leave. But…

Your gaze strays towards the doors to Neuvillette’s office, and after a beat, your feet begin moving on their own.

Assuming Neuvillette is here (because it’s not hard to imagine him working, even if everyone else is gone), you want to make sure he’s alright. 

So, you grip the handle to his office door, and quietly push your way inside.

A clap of thunder drowns out the sound of the office door clicking closed, and you take a step deeper inside, your eyes peering around the room.

In the darkness, you don't immediately spot anyone.

“Neuvillette?” you call out, just to be sure.

Before his name has finished leaving your lips, a shadow moves. Something rounding Neuvillette’s desk and heading towards you—snake-like eyes shining through the darkness.

Your heart jumps into your throat, and you trip over your feet in a panic as you rush to grab the handle of the office door—hoping to throw it open and dart outside before whatever monster you’ve just walked in on is able to get to you.

And really—it has to be a monster. It’s quicker than you—quicker than a normal human—crossing Neuvillette’s office in less than a second.

A scaled hand slams against the door beside your head, and little sound of fear is ripped from your throat. 

You're being prevented from leaving—the door not budging even when you try and discreetly tug at the handle.

Your chest shudders as you take a breath, and you squeeze your eyes shut, fearing the worst.

Even with your back turned, you know there's some sort of beast behind you. One that’s stronger than you. One that will probably end your life before you can beg for mercy— 

“I told you not to return here.”

The sound of Neuvillette’s voice beside your ear causes you to jolt.

He’s so close to you that you can feel his breath on your skin, and while realizing that it’s Neuvillette who is behind you should be a comfort, it’s also…frightening. 

You’re aware—like most Fontainians—that Iudex Neuvillette is not totally human, considering he has been presiding as the chief judge for more than a few centuries now, but…you’ve never seen him act like this.

“I…was worried about you. After yesterday,” you respond, finally finding your voice. 

“I sent you away for a reason.”

His voice is deeper than normal—a rumble vibrating in his chest as he speaks. 

His lips brush the shell of your ear, causing you to shiver. Goosebumps rise on your skin and your heart races faster despite your best efforts to stay calm. 

However, staying calm isn’t easy to do in this situation—especially when Neuvillette literally starts to glow.

The scales on his hand which you’d spotted early begin to softly shine blue in the dim light of the room—his nails curling and carving uneven lines into the wood of the door in front of you.

“I-I’m sorry,” you whisper, your breath hitching when his free arm suddenly curls around you. His forearm rests between your breasts, his palm splaying over your sternum, and you feel him take a deep breath—almost like he’s inhaling your scent.

“I was trying to protect you,” he says, his nose brushing against the skin of your throat. He can feel your pulse raising—your heart thundering in your chest.

You unconsciously grip the door knob tighter.

“Protect me from what, exactly, Monsieur…?”

“Me,” he responds.

His words send electricity up your spine.

“The way I’ve been acting—the way I’ve been feeling recently—it’s very unusual, and something I’ve never experienced before,” he admits—his warmth bleeding into your back as his body curls around you.

“That’s why I had you retrieve that book for me when you questioned if I was ill. There was a small change in my…constitution, lately. One that only early generations of my kind have experienced. So I wanted to brush up on history, and see if I could find any clues. And I did.”

He takes another long breath, and you hear the wood of the door crunch as his grip tightens.

“Experiencing a lack of focus, increased appetite, increased body temperature, and increased sensitivity to certain scents are all signs of one thing. An impending rut.”

A rut.

The word hits you like a train.

“While having an assistant was a nice change, being around you only exacerbated the issue.”

He doubts you’d taken notice with how immersed you’d been in your own tasks this week, but Neuvillette has been watching you. The way you tuck your hair back when you’re reading, the way your ass looks when you bend down to gather papers, the scent of your perfume whenever you approach his desk…

At first, he’d been distraught by his own actions—not understanding why he was being so…improper towards you. But now he gets it.

His instincts have been itching for something to mate. And now that something is you.

Diligent, kind, and pretty…those traits, combined with being around you 8 hours a day, have made you an easy pick.

“That’s why I told you to leave. Why I closed down Palais Mermonia today—to spare anyone any trouble, and to try and deal with this on my own. But you just had to come back…”

The hand on your chest inches closer to your breast—fingers hovering above the soft mound of flesh—before Neuvillette catches himself, and backs off.

“I think I have enough willpower remaining to grant you one last chance,” he tells you, although his throat tightens as he speaks—as if saying such a thing pains him.

“I’ll release you, and when I do, run.”

Run.

Run.

Your instincts scream at you to do just that—the world moving in slow motion as Neuvillette takes a deep breath and takes a step back. 

His hands retract, momentarily relinquishing their hold on you and the door.

All you need to do now is twist the handle and dart outside. To leave him here, and not look back.

You turn the handle, and the door inches open. Behind you, you swear you hear something akin to a whine becoming trapped in Neuvillette’s throat. 

Despite his words, he doesn’t want you to leave. He’s only doing this out of consideration for you.

But…based on the way he’d spoken about his rut—the way he’d needed to read up on his symptoms to determine what exactly was going on—he’s obviously never had to deal with this before. And from what you know of ruts and heat cycles and the like, you doubt dealing with this alone will be enjoyable for him. 

In fact, it will probably be painful.

Your grip on the door handle tightens painfully.

You’re scared, but—

Slowly, you close the door—until it clicks, and you’re once again trapped inside the room with Neuvillette. 

You can’t leave him here to suffer on his own.

Neuvillette’s arms wrap around you. His nails dig into your skin through your shirt.

“Why didn’t you leave, you—”

His frustrated voice cuts off, and you can only assume he wants to call you some silly name, but can’t bring himself to. Ever polite, even in this state of his.

He rests his forehead on your shoulder, his long hair tickling your cheek. You reach up one of your hands and gently pet his hair.

“It didn’t feel right to leave you here. Alone,” you respond, and despite the way your heart is racing nervously, you still don’t regret your decision.

Neuvillette huffs. His breath is hot on your skin.

“I won’t be able to stop myself any longer,” he tells you. The truth in his words become apparent a moment later, when you feel his canines scrape your neck, and his pelvis grind against your ass. 

The almighty Iudex—helpless to fight his instincts.

“I know,” you say quietly. Your other hand gives his arm a little squeeze—a reassurance that you’ll be okay. 

“This is wrong of me…”

The frustration in his tone is quickly melting into desperation, his lips incessant at your neck.

A quiet laugh leaves you.

“Wriothesley and I…we already do this kind of thing together. So…if it helps, consider it a part of my job.”

Truthfully, you don’t consider it to be a part of your job. What you and Wriothesley have is not born out of obligation (although, neither is this). But you’re sure hearing such a thing from you will help put Neuvillette at ease, considering his penchant for propriety.

And, of course, it does.

He takes a deep breath—

“Thank you—”

—and then immediately grabs your chin, and turns your head so he can kiss you.

The noise of surprise you make is quickly drowned out by his tongue. A tongue that is longer than a humans, considering it pushes into the back of your mouth—nearly forcing past your uvula and down your throat.

The intense kiss has you fisting your hands in his shirt, your eyes squeezing shut as you attempt to reciprocate, but with every passing second, you realize that will be impossible.

He is absolutely going to swallow you whole.

His barrage of sloppy, passionate kisses go on for what seems like forever—your head actually beginning to swim as your body fights for oxygen.

Only when the first, pathetic whine leaves your throat does Neuvillette remember he needs to allow you to breathe. 

Retracting his tongue, a line of spit connects the two of you as you begin gasping for air.

However, Neuvillette is unable to wait for you to regain your bearings.

He grabs you by the backs of your thighs and hefts you into the air—your knees straddling either side of his torso as he carries you across his office, and over to the sofa.

He lays you down on the soft cushions, and you stare up at him, your skin flushed, eyes wide, and chest heaving.

He needs to see more of you. Needs to hear more cute sounds. Needs you all fucked out and stuffed with his—

Swooping down, Neuvillette captures your lips again. But this time, it’s more of a proper make-out—his lips melding against yours and your tongues rolling together as his hands trace your waist and settle near your hips.

You gasp into his mouth when you feel his fingers slip beneath the waistband of your pants. Then, a beat later, the hem of your panties.

Both items of clothing are in the way of what he wants.

In one swift move, he discards them both—stripping your lower half bare. He deposits your clothing on the floor beside the couch, and as he does so, he sits back—his gaze heavy with hunger as he admires you.

The intensity with which he regards you has you quickly feeling self-conscious, but before you can even think of trying to shield yourself from him, his hands are on your knees.

He pries your legs apart. 

You can't help the little gasp that leaves you—your pussy throbbing with nervous anticipation as his fingertips trace up your thighs.

His palms settle on your hips, and again, a noise is ripped out of you as he forces your lower half off the couch.

As if you weigh nothing more than a feather, Neuvillette drags you down the couch to meet him—your spine curving as he continues to manhandle you—lifting your pelvis farther and farther off the cushions, until your ass is resting on his chest, and your legs are thrown over his shoulders.

His gaze angles sharply downwards, to your cunt. And for a second, the pressure he exudes is truly that of a dragon—one that could unhinge its jaw and swallow you in one bite.

But while Neuvillette does open his mouth, he doesn’t bare any teeth.

No, the Hydro Dragon Sovereign actually wets his lips before he leans down to meet you.

The first taste of his meal.

You can’t help but hold your breath—your fingers curling into the couch cushions beneath you as Neuvillette’s tongue nudges between your folds.

He traces his tongue up—circling your clit, and making you jolt—before dragging it back down to the spot where your arousal has started to pool. You can feel the pressure of his tongue as he presses it at your entrance.

And for a few seconds, he doesn’t move. He just sits there, silently allowing your taste—your essence—to wash over his tongue. But once he's sure that he's memorized the taste of you—committed it to his memory as a sinful pleasure he’ll surely relish in during the millennia yet to come—he gets down to business.

His tongue nudges between your walls, his nose brushing up against the soft skin of your pussy as he makes his mouth flush with you. And as he does so, you (foolishly) assume he's as deep as he can go. That the stretch of your cunt around his tongue will be good preparation for what's likely to come, and he'll simply lap at you until he's satisfied.

…of course, if he was a normal man, that might be the case.

You keep forgetting that he's a dragon.

“Oh, fuck,” you pant, hips jumping in his hold as his tongue suddenly thickens and elongates. It twists deeper inside of you, filling up your cunt wholly.

You've never felt anything akin to this before.

“Monsieur—,” you say, breathless. You can't even think of what you want to say to him.

His sharp eyes slide open, meeting yours. 

He says nothing, doesn't dare to take his mouth off of you to speak—not willing to let a drop of you go to waste. But, he does give your leg a little squeeze—a small reassurance, you think.

Then, his tongue starts to move.

He fucks it inside of you with precise control—rolling it up against different areas inside of you until he locates that one special spot that makes you gasp. Your thighs tighten around his head, and your pussy clamps down on his tongue, causing a happy little rumble to resound inside Neuvillette’s chest.

He becomes relentless immediately, his nose brushing up against your clit as he continues grinding his tongue inside of you. Your body writhes, and he holds you tightly—his fingers pressing bruises into your skin where he touches you.

He can't stop. 

He bullies your g-spot incessantly.

You feel like you’re on fire—pleasure scorching away at the nerves that connect your brain to your body. 

You can't control yourself.

The moans and whines that escape you—the arousal that gushes over Neuvillette’s tongue as he continues fucking you…

“Monsieur…Neuvillette, I—”

Oh god, you can't even get a full sentence out. You want to warn him that you're going to cum—that you won't be able to hold back if his tongue continues moving inside of you like that—but he already knows. He can sense what's coming in the way your muscles tense, and your breath catches.

Cum, he wants to say, but doesn't—not daring to remove his mouth from you when you're on the precipice of an orgasm. 

Within seconds, you come undone—the walls of your pussy fluttering around him, and helpless whimpers falling from your lips.

And yet, even with you being mid-orgasm, a dragon that's drunk on the taste of you pushes for more. He folds you over—trying to reach deeper inside of you. 

The slick from your pussy overflows and drips down between the cheeks of your ass, and immediately, Neuvillette’s fingers are there—gathering it up and smearing it against your hole.

The sensation has you sharply intaking a breath.

“Neuvillette, you're—”

“Shh,” he says, for the first time retracting his tongue from inside of you. He kisses at your clit, his free hand trailing up your torso and beneath your shirt. 

“Lift your arms,” he says, his voice deep, and yet soft. The hunger in his gaze hasn't waned one bit, but knowing he has a mate to help him through his rut has put him somewhat at ease, and he doesn't want you to fear him.

Without arguing, you do as he says, and he manages to wrestle your shirt over your head. 

Finally, you're bare beneath him. 

He takes a second to admire you, his hand moving to rest against one of your breasts. He cups it with his palm, his thumb brushing against your hardened nipple, and when you immediately jolt in response—he almost smiles.

Almost, because he still has more work to do if he wants to fully indulge in you, and satisfy his own needs.

“I'll take care of you,” he promises. “Trust me.”

And before you can even think of how to respond, he slips one of his fingers into your ass. 

The gasp that leaves you quickly deteriorates into a lewd moan as his tongue once again returns to your cunt, and you swear it’s somehow even bigger than it was before. 

Not having forgotten his new discoveries, Neuvillette effortlessly locates that special little spot inside of you and begins assaulting it once more—reveling in the way your body shakes, and your ass flutters around his finger. 

He needs you pliant and ready for him, and it takes all of his willpower to not rush. To work at the pace your body needs.

Luckily, his mouth on your pussy and his hand on your breast helps loosen you up. The tension you'd first held—nervous about stepping into the dragon's clutches—begins melting away. 

You trust that he won't hurt you.

“Ah—!” 

He slips a second finger inside of you.

Compared to the incessant rub of his tongue inside you, the motion of his fingers is calmer—a purposeful, moderate pace—and the dueling sensations make your head spin.

It's all so much. 

“Neuvillette—”

You reach one of your hands up, needing to ground yourself with something—and you end up taking a fistful of his hair. 

Neuvillette very nearly growls at the sensation.

He needs to hear you say his name like that again. Actually, more than that, he needs to feel you clenching down on his—

Neuvillette groans into your pussy as you tug at his hair once more. In response, he retracts his tongue from inside you and drags it upwards—grinding it against your clit.

Instantly, you lose it.

A mix of curses, blabbers, and his name are drawn from you—your body squirming against the couch cushions as he laps at your neglected and sensitive clit. At the same time, he scissors his fingers inside your ass, testing to see if you’re stretched enough for one more—

“Neuvillette—I’m gonna—”

“Cum.” 

He says it this time—a low command partnered with the sensation of a third finger pressing inside of you. But before your brain can even digest the increased girth of his fingers, his mouth suctions back on your clit, and your toes curl.

“Fuck—!” you choke, your head pressing into the cushion as the tension inside of you snaps—pleasure rushing forth.

You unconsciously tug at Neuvillette’s hair and he takes a deep, long breath in through his nose. He’s careful to not stop the motion of his tongue or the grinding of his fingers inside of you until you begin to whine—your hand moving from his hair to his shoulder as you attempt to push him away.

Then, he finally relents.

Sitting back, Neuvillette takes a moment to survey you. 

Your chest heaving as you attempt to catch your breath, a few stray hairs sticking to the skin of your face, the slick arousal that’s smeared against your pussy, and the way you’re asshole flutters around nothing after he slowly removes his fingers…

You’re ready.

Still in the middle of catching your breath, you’re drawn back into reality by the sound of the rustling of clothes.

You peek your eyes open to find Neuvillette above you, shedding himself of his clothing. You hadn't noticed earlier, but he isn’t wearing his formal robes today. Maybe because he hadn't been expecting to see anyone, and therefore hadn’t bothered dressing up to the nines.

Neuvillette starts by loosening his tie, and then unbuttons his shirt—tossing both items down onto the floor, where they lay in a heap along with your own clothing. You expect his pants to be the next to go, but you both realize at the same moment that with his boots on, it will take more time than he wants to completely strip his bottom half.

Luckily, he doesn’t need to be completely naked to fuck you.

Popping the button and tugging down the zipper of his pants, you watch with bated breath as finally shoves his pants and underwear down. The fabric drags across his bulge as he does so, and you note for the first time how…substantial it is. 

He may actually be bigger than Wriothesley, which is something you were not expect—

Neuvillette finishes shoving his clothing down to his thighs, and you watch in pure shock as not one, but two heavy, ribbed, lightly glowing dicks spring out of his trousers.

…oh.

You hold your breath, unable to peel your eyes away from the sight of him. You’d never even considered that as a dragon, his sexual organs may be a bit different from that of a humans. You can understand now why he’d made a point to work your ass open…

Speaking of—

“Neuv—!” you gasp in surprise as he rubs his dicks between the folds of your pussy. You feel the head of one of his members catch at your entrance, but he doesn’t linger there—instead using his hand to guide it down to your ass.

“You’ll be okay,” he says, sensing your apprehension. 

He doesn’t look at you, though, as he says those words—his voice tight with desperation. He can’t wait anymore, so he has to believe them. Has to believe that he’s done enough to prepare you for what’s to come.

Gripping his length tightly, Neuvillette nudges his dick inside your asshole. 

It’s a tight fit—one that has you choking on a whine and grasping at his wrist—your nails digging into his skin. It’s not painful, but it’s still a lot—your chest shuddering as he continues to inch himself deeper inside of you.

As he does so, his other cock grinds against your pussy—helplessly waiting for its own turn to be inside of you, precum leaking from his slit and smearing against your skin.

“Gods,” he pants, a waver in his voice. His eyes are aglow as he watches himself slowly sink into your ass—the friction positively heavenly—and soon enough, he’s fully inside of you, his hips flush with your bottom. 

Your breaths coming quick, and your hand still holding tight around his wrist, the two of you meet eyes.

Then, the last little thread of Neuvillette’s sanity finally crumbles in the face of his overwhelming need to rut.

Claws digging into the flesh of one of your thighs, he forces it wider open, and grabs his second cock with his other hand.

“Neuvillette, wait—,” you try to say, but it’s no use. Even with your ass still adjusting to his intrusion, Neuvillette shoves the head of his cock into your pussy. 

“Oh, fuck—!” you cry, your fingernails digging crescents into his skin. 

Already drenched from Neuvillette’s previous actions, he expects your pussy to take him easier, but with your ass full, and your body struggling to relax, it proves challenging. He can only get his length half way inside of you before you’re gripping him so tightly that he can’t move another inch.

Drunk with desire, he actually growls.

“I—”

I’m sorry, you want to say, but can’t get the words out. You just need a minute to adjust. You can do this for him—want to do this for him—but—

“Hush,” he mumbles, close, and then his lips are on yours. 

His body cages you in as he kisses you—one of his hands resting beside your head, while the other finds the small of your back, rubbing circles into your flesh.

“You’ve been doing so well for me,” he tells you, breathless. “Taking everything I give, responding so perfectly to everything.”

His words of praise go straight to your pussy, and you whine as he pushes deeper inside of you—your walls relaxing enough to allow him farther in.

Neuvillette makes a happy, yet somewhat inhuman noise.

“That's it, good girl…just a bit more.”

Hearing such words from the esteemed Iudex—his hand warm on your back, and his lips soft on your skin…you want nothing more than to please him.

Taking a shaky little breath, you dispel the tension in your body. 

Immediately, Neuvillette takes advantage. With one last nudge, he stuffs the rest of his cock inside of you.

You’ve never felt so full.

Overcome with joy—a satisfaction deep within him that he’s never felt before—Neuvillette kisses you once more. 

…then, he begins to move his hips.

You cry out, your body shaking in his hold, but he doesn’t let you go. 

The slow, full rock of his hips very quickly deteriorates into quick, desperate thrusts—his cocks stretching out your holes.

The sensation is like nothing you’ve experienced before, and you find yourself helpless to do anything at all. You can hear your own voice, but don’t know what you’re saying, or if the sounds you’re making are words at all. Because while it’s your pussy and ass that are being made a mess of, your brain feels equally as scrambled—unable to conjure even one intelligent thought.

Right now, you’re just a dragon's mindless breeding hole.

The sloppy sound of sex fills Neuvillette’s office, and while it is nearly drowned out by the downpour happening outside—thick droplets of rain pelting against the windows—the plap of Neuvillette’s balls against your ass is impossible to miss. 

Ah…you’re going insane.

A tiny sob slips past your lips, tears beading at the corners of your eyes. 

Your whole body feels like it’s on fire—each stroke of Neuvillette’s cocks pushing you closer and closer to the edge of another orgasm. 

“Ahh…”

The heady sound from Neuvillette catches your attention, and you peak your eyes open, staring up at the dragon above you.

Never before have you seen him look so debauched—his hair falling out from his braid, and his face and chest flushed. His eyes remain focused on the space where his body meets yours, mesmerized by the way your body accepts him in full—nearly sucking him in, now that you’ve adjusted and any discomfort has turned to pleasure.

Only when he hears you sob again—a pathetic, desirous little sound—does his gaze stray upwards.

And what he sees makes his heart skip a beat.

He’s not sure he’s ever witnessed a sight so sinful. The plush of your lips, the unshed tears that wet your eyes, and the bounce of your breasts with each of his thrusts. 

Before he knows it, he’s leaning down to kiss you. 

You whine into his mouth, your arms lifting to hug around his shoulders as he closes the distance between your bodies. He groans as your nails leave tracks against his porcelain skin, but he doesn’t relent. 

He’s getting close.

And, judging by the way you whimper—your pussy and ass clenching down on him—you must be close too.

Spurred on, Neuvillette kisses you again and again—his kisses open-mouthed and sloppy as his tongue dances around your own. Drool and tears quickly paint your cheeks, but you’re helpless to do anything about it.

Right now, all you know is that you’re going to cum. The stretch of his cocks—the way they rub against your walls as he continues fucking into you with abandon—it’s too much. Your muscles tense, and Neuvillette’s brows pinch together as your holes suddenly tighten on him.

“Neuvillette,” you sob, the sound of his name broken as you speak it against his lips. 

“Y/N,” he pants in turn. His rhythm becomes careless as he begins to lose it as well, but he continues to fuck you the best he can despite the constricting of your walls.

It’s only a few seconds longer before you come undone—your body shaking and nails digging into his back as you orgasm. Broken little sounds escape from your mouth as waves of pleasure tear through you, and the sensation of you cumming is ultimately what does Neuvillette in as well.

With one last buck of his hips, the Iudex buries himself inside of you and cums.

His chest shudders as you milk him dry, and you struggle to keep your eyes open—feeling utterly boneless now that the tension inside of you has gone.

For a minute, the two of you stay as you are—basking in the afterglow of your orgasms. Then, Neuvillette sits back and slowly pulls out of you. 

You make a quiet noise, feeling yourself clench around nothing once you’re no longer stuffed with his cocks, and he smiles at the sound, sensing a hint of disappointment.

“You did so well,” he tells you. 

Placing his hands on your waist, he gently maneuvers you to allow himself room to lay down on his side beside you. 

The feel of his arm wrapping around you and pulling you snuggly back against his body causes a contented sigh to leave your lips, and after a few seconds, you muster up the energy to speak.

“I take it you feel a bit better now?”

“Much,” he responds, and you can feel the smile on his lips as he presses them to your cheek. 

“However…”

He peppers another kiss against your cheek, and then your jaw, and neck. At the same time, his fingers ghost down your abdomen, until his palm is resting on your lower tummy. 

With gentle pressure, he urges your ass back against him—his hips inching forward at the same time—and shockingly, you realize that he’s still hard.

“...it seems that I’m not satisfied quite yet.”

When Wriothesley emerges from the Fortress the next day, the downpour he’d caught word of from some of the prison guards has stopped—only a few clouds littering the blue sky.

Hopefully this is a good sign, he thinks to himself, starting on his way to the aquabus station. 

He takes the line into the city, intending first to visit Neuvillette at the Palais—to hear about how his week fared with the help of an assistant. Then, once that’s done, he’ll go and visit you at your apartment to…catch up.

Smiling to himself, Wriothesley departs the aquabus and takes the path towards Nevuillette’s office. (Because somehow, he doubts the Iudex is at home relaxing like most people do on their days off.)

As he trudges up the steps to the Palais Mermonia, he steps on a wet piece of paper in front of the door. It’s the handmade notice that had been posted on the door two evenings prior, and had subsequently blown off in the storms that followed—but Wriothesley doesn’t think anything of it.

Pushing the door open, he heads inside.

“Neuvillette?” he calls gently, his knuckles rapping against the door to the Iudex’s office. 

The sound of a throat being cleared comes from inside.

“Come in.”

“I figured I’d find you here,” Wriothesley jokes as he steps inside, spotting Neuvillette as his normal place behind his desk. However, what isn’t normal is the fact that there’s a person sleeping on his couch—their body shrouded with a blanket, and an assortment of untouched food and a glass of water on the coffee table beside them.

Immediately Wriothesley freezes, confused about what’s going on, but…when he looks a bit closerr, he realizes the hair popping out from the top of the blanket, and the scent of the person on his couch are all too familiar.

“Y/N?”

Wriothesley walks up to the sofa, blinking in surprise when he sees that it is indeed you who is passed out—your face just barely peeking from beneath the blankets that have been snuggly wrapped around you.

“You know, Neuvillette, when I lent her to you for the week, I didn’t expect you to work her until the point of exhaustion,” he jokes, looking over towards Neuvillette with a playful hint of a grin. He expects Neuvillette to sigh and apologize, but the abashed look he is instead faced with causes Wriothesley to pause once more. 

It’s then that the Duke notices a small pile of clothes neatly folded on the floor next to the sofa, along with your shoes. 

Hesitantly, Wriothesley grips the edge of the blanket and slowly tugs it away from your body. 

He’s met with the sight of naked shoulders, and a neck peppered with small bites and bruises.

Just as slowly as he’d moved the blanket down, he tugs it back up.

The office sits in silence for a moment. 

“She is…unharmed,” Neuvillette finally speaks, moving a strand of hair away from his face. “Her current state is my fault.”

Wriothesley’s eyes scan over him.

“Compared to when I last saw you, you seem to be faring much better.”

His words cause the blush on Neuvillette’s face to deepen, and Wriothesley cracks a small smile, letting loose a sigh.

“Ahh, to think even the almighty Iudex would fare poorly due to unfulfilled needs.”

“It’s a bit more complex than that,” Neuvillette says with a sigh of his own, prompting Wriothesley to raise an eyebrow. However, when Neuvillette doesn’t speak right away—unsure about divulging the specifics that lead to this outcome—Wriothesley decides to not push it.

“Well, whatever the reason, I trust that you haven’t hurt her, and that she consented to whatever took place here.”

“Of course,” Neuvillette responds immediately.

Standing up from his chair, he walks over and stands beside Wriothesley—reaching down to brush a gloved finger against your cheek. You stir only slightly—nuzzling your face into the pillow your head rests upon.

Both men smile.

“She’s a good assistant, isn’t she?”

“She is; one that works with care and compassion for the one she is helping. She performed well beyond her duties.”

“You can see now why I like her,” Wriothesley says softly, and Neuvillette can see the fondness in his gaze as he regards you.

“She did tell me that she and you are not necessarily in a committed relationship, but…I apologize regardless if I crossed any sort of line.”

Wriothesley hums.

“While the thought of sharing her with anyone else like that does make me feel a bit…possessive…she did consent to what occurred, based on your words. And, honestly speaking, I’m glad it was you over anyone else.”

Neuvillette cocks an eyebrow.

“Really?”

“I trust you,” Wriothesley tells him. “Although, you having sex is not a thought that had crossed my mind before now. It makes me curious as to what exactly you did to her while the two of you were alone.”

“I assure you a majority of her time in my care was spent with her performing her standard duties as an assistant, and nothing else. As to what happened beyond that, well…I’m not sure I possess the courage to recall such details aloud.”

Wriothesley opens his mouth to assure Neuvillette he was just teasing, but the dragon continues before the Duke can interrupt.

“I suppose if you’d like to know, next time—should there be one—you’ll simply have to be present.”

Catching the meaning of his words, Wriothesley meets his gaze. 

Understanding passes between them.

“Hmm…I’ll have to keep that in mind.”

“Once Y/N has recovered, and when you next return to the surface, I’ll have to invite you both for a meal,” Neuvillette says, turning back towards his desk. “In the end, the support from you both did alleviate the issue that plagued me. It’s only right to repay such kindness when I’m next given the opportunity.”

Kneeling down beside you, Wriothesley pets your hair.

“Well, it would be a shame to pass up on such an offer. I certainly hope that fate grants the opportunity for our schedules to align.”

Taking a seat behind his desk, a small smile appears on Neuvillette’s lips.

“I shall hope for the same.”

[writers-potion]

Could I ask for tips on how to write kisses?

Writing The Perfect Kiss Scene

#1 Find the RIGHT moment

We all know what I mean! The "zing" when the character's faces are get close enough must come unexpected (but) when both of them are looking for romance/comfort.

For example:

Tripping over each other in the hallway

Person A covering their face with their hands and Person B prying them off, their eyes meeting...

Sitting next to each other in the library, elbows touching, and they happen to turn around to face each other...

Find a natural way to bring your characters the romantic atmosphere!

#2 Noticing the Other Person

It's natural to to see someone in a different way when there's romantic vibe pulsating in the air. Maybe your character notices that their crush has a speck of green in their eyes they didn't notice before.

#3 Build Ups

Describe how the characters feel moments before their lips touch. This includes things like racing hearts, sweaty palms, unsteady breathing. etc.

#4 Feeling all Self-Conscious

If you're writing a first-person POV or want to portray the nervous excitement of kissing a love interest for the first time, you can afford to have your character be distracted by how they feel inside, or worrying about how they smell/look, etc.

Maybe they feel like it's too early in the relationship to kiss

They're still thinking about that annoying math problem

Did I apply my new cherry-flavored chapstick? etc.

This should come in the same beat as the "notice the other person", heightening the romance tension between the characters.

Once they get closer and the kiss actually happens, these worries will melt away!

#4 Describing the Details

In most cases, it's best to keep things understated (especially in regards to tongues)

tongues cannot "tangle" or "battle" or "swish around"...please, no.

Focus on the lips and how the characters move (like hugging, pushing the other against a wall, breathing, etc.), adding the tongue as an afterthought.

Don't get too exicted about taste.

No, her tongue didn't taste like fresh roses and peaches, unless she was eating peach candy right before the kiss.

Focus on other sensations other than taste: especially touch, heat. the tickle of his breath on her cheekc, etc. Or even the smell of shampoo.

#5 The Pullaway + Reaction

Does the kiss end naturally, or does something else interrupt them?

How do the characters react: do they blush, say something, hug he other person, or run away with a deep blush? For couples, they can even tease the other.

If you like my blog, buy me a coffee☕ and find me on instagram! 📸

[httpsserene]

𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐭𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐞𝐭 “𝐣𝐚𝐜𝐤”𝐞𝐝 - 𝐨𝐩. 𝟖𝟏

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: oscar’s girlfriend is feral on main. 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴: crack. this is a shitpost, you have been warned. uh this is completely unrealistic, it’s pure vibes okay. this is not an accurate representation of those mentioned. 𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: oscar piastri x fem!black!reader 𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲: smau.

𝗽𝗿𝗲𝗳𝗮𝗰𝗲: i wouldn’t consider myself an oscar girlie but then,,, i opened tumblr and saw the photos of oscar from when he went karting and um…now have another op 81 mess of a smau! this is completely unserious and it’s inspired by the nefarious actions i would do to oscar’s biceps. inspired by @dwarvenchords and @hookhausenschips ‘s reblog lol. it’s short but, enjoy, loves xxx.

insp. 1 | insp. 2 | taglist | feedback & requests | table of contents ↻

instagram

yninstagram • february 28th

view replies

oscarpiastri: love…you couldn’t even save this for the close friends stories? you had to post it on main yninstagram: did you like my joke? oscar “jack”ed piastri LOL im so clever oscarpiastri: ijbol 😐 yninstagram: i’d be pressed but ur muscles are distracting me oscarpiastri: u should cmere and give them a kiss :)

lilymhe: he let u tie a bow around his bicep?!!! omfg i have to do this with alex yninstagram: i don’t think alex has enough muscles to meet the requirement for the bow :/

landonorris: he’s such a simp landonorris: i would never let my girlfriend tie a bow on me 🥱 yninstagram: step 1: have a girlfriend

logansargeant: your freak out on twitter had a slight mentally-ill aura yninstagram: shut the fuck up and get on a podium before you talk to me yninstagram: gangly bitch + not funny didn’t laugh + L

instagram

yninstagram • february 28th • in between my boyfriends tiddies ⚑

liked by, oscarpiastri, mclaren, logansargeant, markwebber, and 1,223,458 others

yninstagram: things to do with your boyfriends muscles; listed in the comments below (a huge thanks to the toto user on twt for FINALLY sending me the photo)

tagged oscarpiastri

view comments

yninstagram 1. tie a bow around them (completed)

➥ user thx for sharing the photo

➥ user FUCK! I CAN’T FIND A PIECE OF PAPER TO WRITE THIS ON

yninstagram 2. kiss them (completed)

➥ user awh how cute! going to nap on the interstate rq

➥ user wait for me!

➥ user omg slumberpartyyyyy

yninstagram 3. touch them (completed)

➥ markwebber there’s a time i thought you were a normal girl

➥ yninstagram who told you to think that??

user i know those arms are rock solid 🥴🤤

user i’m the toto user on twitter !!! she did not kill me y’all !!!

➥ user u were flirting with death babes

➥ user i would not have admitted to this under her post

➥ user you should seek witness protection 🙏🏾

yninstagram 4. have him suffocate you with them (he said no)

➥ oscarpiastri WHY DID YOU INCLUDE THIS ONE

➥ logansargeant i think you’re proving the mentally-ill part y/n

➥ yninstagram u sound jealous logan

➥ user personally, i think if you didn’t want her to say that, you shouldn’t have muscles @/oscarpiastri

➥ oscarpiastri oh! yeah! why didn’t i think of that—lemme just take them off rq 😐 WTH

yninstagram 5. wall sex (?)

➥ oscarpiastri i specifically said not to say #4 and #5 in public

➥ user the question mark is SENDING MEEEEE

➥ yninstagram i mean, i can tell you that he didn’t say no to this one 😈 @/user

➥ landonorris i did not want to see this when i opened ig

➥ yninstagram do us all a favor then and delete ur account x

➥ oscarpiastri what she said^

➥ landonorris :o -> :(

yninstagram 6. draw on them (in progress)

➥ user wait this one is actually cute 🤭

➥ oscarpiastri watching the pure concentration on her face is adorable

➥ user omg she’s so 👉🏼👈🏼 coded

➥ oscarpiastri it tickles lol

➥ yninstagram ur moving around too much

➥ yninstagram might have to tie you to the headboard 😏

➥ user and she’s back on her bs

yninstagram 7. watch him flex for you (ongoing indefinitely)

➥ mclaren do we have your permission to post oscar thirst traps now?

➥ yninstagram i’m sure we could work out something mutually beneficial

oscarpiastri • february 28th • my girl’s basement ⚑

liked by yninstagram, danielricciardo, logansargeant, landonorris, and 1,478,539 others

oscarpiastri she knocked out on my chest halfway through drawing on me. didn’t know this was part of the boyfriend job description, felt like there was some false adverting. overall: 12/10 experience, will be doing this again.

view comments

danielricciardo didn’t know where this was going for a sec but fuck you guys are so cute 🥹

➥ oscarpiastri thank you? i guess

➥ user oh to have my relationship praised by danny ric

➥ user girl ur man responds to your texts two days late

➥ user DAMN u didn’t have to air out my business like thatttt

user WHAT DID SHE USE TO DRAW ON YOU OSCAR??? HELP A GIRL OUT

➥ oscarpiastri its liquid eyeliner 🫡

➥ oscarpiastri she used an eyeshadow palette when she wanted to add colors

➥ user why did i never think of that, she’s so smarttttt

user oscar piastri the MAN that u AREEEE

logansargeant so,,,,are we still getting dinner later orrrrr

➥ user LOL

➥ user omg y/n was right logan IS jealous

➥ logansargeant im not jealous !!!!

➥ user 💀

➥ user okayyyy….we believe you LMAOOOOO

➥ oscarpiastri ijbol 😂

➥ logansargeant stop using ijbol it’s not funny

➥ user this will be the only time that i say i agree with logan on something

➥ logansargeant ur literally a fan account FOR ME?? @/user

➥ user yeah man u didn’t have to bring that up 😒

taglist: @saintslewis @cherry2stems @lorarri @inloveallthetime @mindless-rock @biancathecool @barnestatic @my-ylenia @katekipshidze @darleneslane @lovingaphroditesworld @smoothopz @vetteltea @tallrock35 @iloveyou3000morgan @smartstupyd @spideybv28 @loomiscorpse @hiireadstuff

© httpsserene2023

[absurdthirst]

The Last Piece of Us {Joel Miller x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 16.6k

Warnings: Lingerie, birthday sex, riding, mentions of birth control, cannon violence, broken legs, car accidents, end of the world, regret, anger, harsh words, reunions, oral sex (female receiving),

Comments: When the world ends that night, Joel has to make a choice between you and his daughter. You encouraged him to save Sarah and twenty years later, he finds out that you survived that night when he sees you in Jackson.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

**Follow @absurdthirst-writes and turn on notifications to stay up to date on all new fics.

|| MasterList || Joel Miller MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

"Happy birthday, baby." You coo down the phone, twirling the cord around your finger. 

"Thank you." Joel flusters as he holds his cell phone in his hand while he watches Tommy carry some lumber across the yard of the home they are working on. 

"I have your present waiting for when you come over on your lunch break." You promise and Joel smirks, "yeah?" His voice is rougher, hoping that his present is you in that little silk number he barely managed to not rip off of you the first time you wore it. 

"Yeah...and sex. Birthday sex." You say bluntly and he chuckles at how eager you are. He's just as eager. Life is perfect. The only thing that could make it better is if you move in with him. He wants to ask Sarah about you moving in and see if she is upset with him before he takes the next step. "I'll be there for lunch." He promises just as Tommy spins around and calls out for him to work. "Just because it's your birthday doesn't mean you get the day off, asshole." Joel snorts, "I gotta go baby. See you soon." He promises and hangs up, shoving his Nokia back in his pocket to help his brother because he heads over to your place for his birthday lunch.

Only an hour remains until Joel should be here and you bite your lip as you look around. You had gotten him a cake, a small one from the grocery store, but knowing him - he hadn’t arranged for anything else. Joel doesn’t like to fuss over himself, but he deserves it. You’ve never met a man who does so much, works so hard, to provide a solid and stable life for his daughter. You had met him at the grocery store two years ago. He had been slightly panicked in the pads and tampons aisle, unsure of what to get his daughter. You had taken mercy on him and it had turned into flirting every time you ran into each other, and eventually you asked him out for a drink. Now, you are head over heels for Joel Miller and you hope that soon enough, you will take your relationship to the next level.

Joel takes his break after Tommy notices that distracted, lovesick look on his face. “Get the fuck out of here. Me and the guys will handle it.” He promises and Joel doesn’t look back as he grabs the keys to his truck and drives over to your place. He rings the doorbell and you open the door, immediately wrapping your arms around his neck. “Happy birthday, baby.” You coo and kiss his lips. He grins, pushing you into your hallway and he kicks the door closed as he slides his tongue into your mouth.

You moan into Joel’s mouth, tangling your fingers into his head and breathing him in while he kisses you. He smells like sunshine and sweat. Like man. You have no problem with your hardworking, blue collar boyfriend. You love it actually. His hands are rough, but he’s gentle with you unless you don’t want him to be.

He groans into your mouth, loving how you respond and his hands slide down to squeeze your ass through the pretty sundress you’re wearing. “You look good enough to eat.” He groans, kissing along your jaw as he backs you against the wall to push his hardening cock against your hip.

“You’re just horny.” You tease, eyes closing and you have to admit you are just as horny. You’ve been imagining him inside you all day. Especially when you put on these panties. “Fuck, baby. Tell me you can take a full lunch.” You beg, reaching for his belt between your bodies.

He nods, "Tommy has it under control. Wanna celebrate my birthday with my lady." He murmurs, kissing along your neck and his hands slide under your dress to squeeze your ass again, feeling the lace. "Fuck, I'm a lucky bastard." He groans against your neck. He knows he should sit down and have lunch with you before having sex but he's been thinking about you all damn day.

“You want to fuck me against the wall or go to the bed?” You hum, pushing on his chest slightly so you can drag him to your bed. “It’s your birthday, so I figured I would ride your cock and let you lay back and relax.”

"You are spoiling me." He grunts, letting you take his hand after he says, "bed." You escort him up the stairs to your bedroom, squealing when he smacks your ass playfully, and he groans at the flash of your panties when you are a few steps ahead of him. When you stumble into your room, he grabs the hem of your dress and drags it up your body. "Happy fucking birthday to me." He hisses, dark eyes taking in your lingerie.

You giggle, unbuttoning his jeans and reaching in to cup his cock. “I could say the same thing.” You coo, squeezing him gently. “Fuck, I’m always amazed at how fucking thick you are.” You moan. “Perfect to fill me up.” He groans and reaches for the collar of his shirt to pull it off, batting your hand away to shimmy out of his jeans and boxer briefs. “Are you going to wear the panties or fuck me.” He demands, making you grin. “They’re crotchless.”

"Jesus Christ." He hisses, "you're trying to kill me. I won't make my next birthday." He groans, stumbling as he kicks his jeans aside and reaches for you, his fingers cupping your cunt through the lace and he hisses at the slick he discovers.

“Thirty-“ you break off a moan when his fingers brush your clit and he starts to rub. “Thirty-six is old enough.” You joke, holding onto his shoulders and trying to steer him to the bed while his hand is still between your thighs. “I can claim I fucked you to death.”

"Put it on my headstone." He chuckles, shifting onto the bed after reluctantly pulling his hand away from your pussy. "Death by orgasm...not a bad way to go." He smirks at you as you straddle his stomach and he can feel how wet you are. His hands slide up your sides until he's cupping your tits, admiring the lace that is covering them.

“Happy Birthday, old man.” You grin as you start grinding down on his cock, feeling how much he loves that as his fingers dig into your skin and he squeezes. Leaning down to kiss him lets your lips catch on the head and you start to push your hips back, letting him break you open as your tongue slides against his.

His hands let go of your tits, sliding down to grab your hips as you sink down onto him with a moan into his mouth. He responds with his own and his cock twitches as you engulf him in your wet, hot heat. “Fuckkk.” He finally pants against your mouth as you take all of him.

You smirk, eyes glazed over from how good it feels. “Fuck is right.” You pant, kissing him again and again as you enjoy the pinch of him filling you and pausing so you can adjust. He’s thick and a lot to take so you give yourself a minute before you start riding him.

Joel slides his hands behind your back, wanting to unclasp your bra, and he drags the straps down your arms to expose your tits to his hungry gaze. He tosses the bra across the room and his hands find your tits again, squeezing and pinching your nipples as you slowly start to move on top of him.

“Fuck Joel.” You moan softly, always loving the way he touches you. Joel hadn’t dated a lot before you, being super protective of having people come in and out of Sarah, his daughter’s, life. You respect it, but it gave a greedy, hungry edge to his touch, like he had been so starved for it for so long he was going to gorge himself.

He hisses when your walls flutter around his cock, loving the way you moan his name. “God, baby. You feel so fucking good.” He rasps, trying to not thrust up into you. He went so many years after Helen left without touching anyone, only focusing on raising Sarah, so when you came along, he was greedy for your body, for your touch.

You agree with a hum, rocking on him a little faster. Greedy yourself for his cock inside you. “Fuck.” You moan softly. “I love you.” You promise. “So much.”

"Love you too." He promises, dark eyes watching you as you move on top of him. The best fucking birthday present he could ask for. He hisses when your walls squeeze him, "so goddamn beautiful, sweetheart. So fucking perfect." He grunts, thrusting up into you.

You chuckle breathlessly and grind down into his lap more. Feeling his cock twitch and pulse inside you. “Tomorrow- tomorrow do you want to go out?” You ask, leaning down and kissing him again. “Have Tommy watch Sarah?”

He nods, knowing that Sarah will want to spend time with Tommy. "Yes. Wanna - let me take you out for dinner. Wanna treat my lady." He declares, sliding his hands down to squeeze your ass and he shifts to sit up, wrapping your legs around his waist so he can surge forward to kiss you.

You had been thinking about treating him, but you can squabble over that later. Now you kiss him back, moaning into his mouth and desperately needing more from him as you start to bounce on his cock.

He grunts as you start to move faster on top of him, his hands caressing your back while your tongue tangles with his. His hands slide down to grab your hips, rocking you on top of him a little faster. Your whimpers against his chin tell him you're close and he is desperate to hold off from cumming inside of you. He wants to feel you squeeze his cock.

“Love you, love you, love you.” You chant, over and over again. Feeling your entire body light up with the purest pleasure. Making you gasp and whine as you rocket towards a familiar peak with Joel. “Baby- I’m gonna- cum- I’m gonna - gonna cum!” You squeal when he hits something perfect inside you and your vision goes white, body locking up in pleasure.

Joel hisses when you clamp down on his cock, soaking him with your cum, and he groans your name. He grabs your ass, lifting you and shifting to lay you down on the bed so he can work you through your orgasm and thrust to his own. He leans down to kiss along your neck, "fuck. I love you, baby. Shit, gonna - I'm gonna cum. You're too fucking tight." He groans, thrusting a half dozen more times before he cums, painting your walls with his hot seed.

You whimper, stroking his back as he cums. Filling you up in a way that makes your eyes roll back in bliss. You’re on the pill, so you can enjoy yourself like this. You took them every morning with the antibiotic for the root canal you had just had done. “Fuck, I love you.” You murmur, kissing his jaw.

Joel turns his head to kiss you properly, his tongue lazily sliding against yours as he savors this time with you before he has to go back to work. He’s having dinner with Sarah later, relaxing and he can’t wait for the days when you are curled up beside him as you watch TV with them. “I love you.” Joel murmurs, “best birthday ever.” He grins and nudges his nose against yours until he pulls out when he starts to go soft.

“You know this wasn’t your actual birthday present, right?” You laugh, watching him flop onto his back and spread his legs wide to let his cock dry. “I got you a present.” He perks up at that, his face softening. “You did?” He sounds almost surprised but you nod and climb off the bed to get the gift you had wrapped for him.

Joel takes the wrapped gift from you after you come to sit down beside him and he takes it from you, eyes wide at the beautifully wrapped gift. “You didn’t have to get me anything baby.” He tuts even as he rips off the paper and opens the box. “Oh shit!” He exclaims, eyes widening even more at the sight of the beautiful knife inside. “It’s engraved.” You tell him, pointing to the handle and he traces your initials and his on the handle. “It’s beautiful. I- I love it.” He assures you, leaning in to kiss you.

You are so fucking happy he likes the knife, you had worried that it was too personal. Then you wondered if it wasn’t personal enough. “You always complain you never have a good knife when you need one.” You remind him. “This one can clip onto your belt and you can carry it around anytime.” He’s a working man, handy as fuck and you want him to be able to use something you get for him instead of it just collecting dust.

“It’s so perfect. Just like you.” Joel murmurs, reaching up to caress your cheek, “I’m sorry I can’t go out for dinner tonight. I promised Sarah to spend tonight together and I want to make sure she knows I have time for her. She’s been so good about us and I just - I want to make sure she knows that she’s important. You’re important too.” He adds, “my girls.”

“Baby, I completely understand.” You promise, leaning in and pressing your lips to his. “Your daughter will always and should always come first. We can go out tomorrow. Tonight is for you and Sarah.” You never want the little girl to feel like you are trying to take her dad away or trying to become her mother. You’ve met her a few times, and you want to ease into a friendship with her.

“Jesus Christ, I’m a lucky bastard.” He smirks, leaning in to kiss you again. “Now…you said something about lunch?” He raises his eyebrows, his stomach rumbling and you giggle, nodding as you shift off of the bed and he carefully puts his knife back in the box. You clean up and redress just as Joel’s phone rings. He scrambles to pull it out of his pocket and he sees it’s Tommy. “Hey man, what’s up?” He asks and Tommy sighs, “I’m sorry. I know you’re having your birthday sex but we had a pipe burst over here. We need you.” Tommy says and Joel huffs, rubbing his cheek. “Sure. I’ll be right there.” He hangs up and looks at you, “I’m so sorry baby. I gotta - pipe burst over at the house. They need me there to help clean up and fix the mess.”

“Okay.” You nod quickly, knowing that he can’t help that. “Let me fix you something to take with you.” You insist, rushing to the kitchen to put some of the lunch you fixed in a Tupperware. “Shit!” You are rushing and accidentally knock the cake to the floor as Joel walks in. “Damnit, I’m so sorry.”

Joel looks down at the floor and up at you, "baby. Shit - let me-" He kneels down to scoop up the cake. It's completely smashed and he feels awful. "I'm so sorry. Fuck. I - this was supposed to be our time and it's - it's been screwed up." He shakes his head, putting the pieces of cake back in the box, "we can still eat it. Five second rule."

“No.” You huff, not finding the idea of eating cake off the floor appealing. “I’ll get you another cake.” You promise. “Or, I’ll bake you one.” You decide. “I just hate that you don’t have it to take home tonight. I know you haven’t picked up one for yourself.”

Joel stands up, walking over to the sink to clean off his hands. “It’s okay, baby. I don’t need a cake. I got you. And an incredible knife. That’s all I need.” He assures you, cupping your cheeks and leaning in to kiss you. His phone rings again and he sighs, resting his forehead against yours. “I gotta go. I’ll call you later.” He promises as he grabs his jacket.

You watch as he rushes out of the door and sigh heavily. Looking over at the Tupperware. “Damnit.” You hiss, feeling like a failure because you couldn’t even feed him lunch.

​​Joel is exhausted by the time he makes it home and he grins when he finds Sarah waiting. “I’m sorry.” He promises, Sarah reaches for his present. He playfully shakes the box, humming out and he is shocked when he opens it to discover his watch is repaired. “Thank you, baby girl.” He murmurs, kissing her hair.

Watching the news, you frown at the reports of violence escalating and you turn it off. Joel would be in the middle of a movie with Sarah and you won’t disturb them. Instead, you decide to go take a long bath, wanting to soak the day away.

Joel sighs as he hangs up, shaking his head at his brother who had gotten into trouble. He knew it was his movie night with Sarah, his goddamn birthday, but he still went out and got into it with some asshole at the bar and now Joel’s gotta go bail him out. He strokes Sarah’s hair and shuts the TV off before he carries her to bed. Kissing her forehead, he makes his way to his truck, wondering if you’re still awake.

 ****

 “Shit. What the fuck happened back there?” Tommy pants as Joel speeds away from the station. “I don’t know.” Joel shakes his head, knuckles white from how hard he’s gripping the steering wheel. People were fucking biting each other, running fast and making a clicking noise. Like nothing he’s ever seen. “We gotta get out of town.” Tommy declares and Joel agrees. “Let’s get Sarah, get my girl, and get the fuck out of here.” He decides, pushing his foot to the gas to get to his girls faster.

You wake up shortly after midnight, sirens wailing and then there’s a giant explosion. It jolts you out of a dream and you jump out of bed to rush to the window. Opening the curtains and gasping when you see fires, lights and people running and screaming in the streets. “Holy shit!” You gape, standing there for a second before you are running to get dressed and pack a bag. You don’t know what the fuck is going on, but you are going to Joel’s.

Joel speeds up, running over the next door neighbor he’s never really liked, and he panics when he sees Sarah standing outside the house, a terrified look on her face. “It’s okay, get in the car. In the car!” He shouts, ushering his daughter into his truck. He’s already tried calling you but the phone lines are down. He just hopes you stayed home to wait for him.

Your bag is slung over your shoulder, bat in your hand and you can see the car. It feels like a million miles away and you have already attracted the attention of some crazy person by unlocking the doors with your key fob. They are running back and forth in front of the door and screeching. “Fuck! Fuck!” You take the chance when they out of sight nto run out to the car, screaming when they appear out of nowhere to chase you, slamming their head into the window when you close the door in time. Fumbling with the keys, you finally get the car started, backing out of the driveway with the tires screeching and you throw it into drive.

Joel frantically drives through the streets, passing a family calling for help and he tells Tommy he can’t stop, he needs to get to you. He drives faster, squealing the tires as he turns into your neighborhood. Your car isn’t on your driveway when he drives past and he starts to panic until he finds your car crashed into a porch of the house down the street, smoke coming from the engine. He gets out, slamming the door, and he runs over to you, trying to get the car door open but it’s stuck. “Baby, are you okay?” He shouts, banging on the window but your face is resting on the steering wheel.

You groan quietly, feeling like you’ve been hit in the head with an anvil. “Wha-“ winching, you open your eyes slowly to find yourself behind the wheel and then you remember. The person who had been attacking you had jumped out in front of you and you had swerved. You jump when Joel bangs on the window again and looks over at him. “Joel!” You cry out, looking around. “Be careful- a man- he- he attacked me!”

Joel spins around when he hears a growl and he grabs the knife you gave him that put on his belt after he rescued Tommy. He raises his arm and stabs the guy in the head. You scream and Joel withdraws his knife and the guy falls to the ground dead. Joel’s heart is pounding and he turns back to the car. “Baby, the door is stuck. Can you climb to the other side?” He asks, banging on the glass.

“I-I think so.” You struggle with the seatbelt for a moment. Nearly panicking when it wouldn’t come undone right away. Finally free, you crawl over the console to the passenger door. Pushing on it for a second before Joel is there to help.

He pulls on the door, trying to open it, and he lifts his leg to brace it on the car. Sarah and Tommy watch as Joel pulls until finally, the door opens and you scream as you try to get out of the car. “What’s wrong, baby?” Joel catches you. 

“My leg. I- I think it’s broken.” You choke, the pain suddenly hitting you and Joel catches you. 

“It’s okay, baby. I got you.” He promises, lifting you into his arms. 

“We gotta go!” Tommy shouts and Sarah opens the back door for Joel to put you in the back seat. Tommy shifts into the driver's seat and Joel shuts the door, getting into the passenger seat. “You doing okay?” Joel turns to ask you and Sarah after Tommy squeals down the street.

“I think- what the fuck is going on?” You demand, making both Joel and Tommy tense up slightly. Sarah is wide eyed and frantic beside you. 

“They’re saying it’s some kind of virus.” Tommy answers, twisting his hand around the steering wheel. You listen as Sarah starts to question them about possibly having it and you wrap your arm around the little girl’s shoulders. 

“I think we would already be sick.” You try to comfort her. She turns and huddles against you and you try to ignore the way your leg is starting to throb. It feels like a fracture, which can cause problems so you need to find a pharmacy or something for a splint and antibiotics. “Joel…..I need to stop for medicine.” You know the goal is to be safe, but you also know that your leg could get infected.

Joel nods, turning to look at you and Sarah. “Tommy. The pharmacy. On Main Street.” Joel says and Tommy nods, speeding down the road. When you arrive on Main Street, it’s carnage. People screaming and running. Joel is tense, knowing he needs to help you with your leg but he’s also wanting to drive far away right now. “Tommy!” He shouts as a truck speeds down the street just as a plane overhead starts to fall from the sky.

The next few moments seem to go in slow motion. Joel demanding that Tommy plow through the crowd that is running in the streets and you looking back at the plane as it almost slowly hits the ground, although you know it’s traveling at hundreds of miles an hour. The fireball erupts and both you and Sarah cry out as the shockwave sends the force of the explosion and debris into the truck, flipping it. Your world goes dark.

……“Wake up. Baby, wake up.” Joel begs, turning to see your head lolling and Sarah groans as Joel scrambles to get out of the truck. People are screaming and running, others attacking and his heart is pounding in his chest. Joel manages to get Sarah from the truck, pulling her free and he calls out to Tommy. His brother is trying to get out still and Joel curses as he sets Sarah on the ground. “Can you walk?” He asks and she groans, “my ankle.” He growls, “stay here” and crawls back over to the truck. “Baby. Baby, can you move?” He asks, reaching for you.

Groaning, you try to move as Tommy pulls free of the truck, shaking your head. “Joe-“ you are cutting off with a scream and the truck is jolted forward as the back of the upside down truck is smashed into by a police cruiser. “Shit!” You start to panic as the cop car catches on fire. “Joel! Joel!” Your legs are pinned and even if you are able to get free, you still have a fractured leg. You can hear the panic in Joel’s curses and you know you are going to just make it dangerous for him and Sarah. “I’m stuck!” You yell. “Take Sarah and go!”

“No!” He yells, looking up to see Tommy on the other side of the cop car. Sarah is still on the ground. He can’t take both of you. “Tommy! Can you get over here?” He shouts to his brother, desperation in his voice. “Baby, baby. You gotta - just try and crawl out. I can’t reach you.” He is hyperventilating, trying to save you. “Just try!”

“Go on Joel! Get her out of here!” Tommy shouts over the noise of the fire and the chaos around you. “I’ll get her out and meet you by the river.” You know Tommy is giving Joel hope and you look in his eyes, seeing the hesitation. “I’ll meet you there.” You lie. “Take Sarah and get her out of here baby. I love you.” You choke out, knowing you won’t see him again.

Joel feels like he won’t see you again. He swallows down the lump in his throat, tears in his eyes as he leans in, wishing he could kiss you but he can’t reach you. “I love you. I’ll - I’ll see you soon.” He promises but he can’t keep it. The truck creaks and he turns, scooping up Sarah and she screams, “you have to save her!” Joel hyperventilates as he carries his daughter away, knowing he can save her. He is distracted when he stumbles into the alleyway. He sees the man stumbling before he starts to chase them and Joel grunts, running away with Sarah in his arms. He prays that Tommy rescued you.

Tommy grunts and heaves at the section of the bench that is pinning your ankle. Keeping you in the truck. “Sweetheart…” you can hear the defeat in his voice and your own tears are sliding up into your hair. You’re still upside down and soon enough you will lose consciousness. “It’s okay.” You tell him. “Take care of Joel and Sarah, okay?” You beg him. It’s been pure luck that someone hasn’t attacked Tommy yet but he can’t stay out here any longer. “Go.”

Tommy nods, knowing that this will kill Joel but they can’t do anything without calling for machinery and that isn’t going to happen with the mess that’s happening around you. “I’m so sorry.” Tommy murmurs, reaching in to squeeze your hand. “Go.” You choke and Tommy nods, his chest tight as he lets go of your hand and runs down the street to find Joel. 

**** 

“We’re not sick. We’re not sick!” Joel shouts and tries to turn as the soldier fires his gun. He rolls down the hill with Sarah and she chokes on her own blood when he scrambles over to her. “No no no no. Baby girl. It’s okay. I got you. I got you.” He promises, pulling her against him and pressing his hand to the wound to try and stop the bleeding. He’s losing her. He knows he is. He’s losing her and he’s lost you. His girls. “Baby girl. It’s okay. It’s okay.” He chokes, kissing her hair and he feels her go limp in his arms. Sobs escape his lips as he cradles her just as Tommy arrives without you. It’s his worst nightmare and it’s come true.

**** 

Joel is tense as he rides into the town, Ellie clinging to him. His heart is still pounding from nearly losing her to a rabid dog, and that’s when he hears his name. “Tommy!” He shouts, swinging off of the horse and rushing towards the brother he thought he had lost. “Tommy!” He shouts again and wraps his arms around his brother.

Your head pops up from where you were working on the lights. Knowing that voice, a ghost from your past and the sounds that haunt your dreams at night. Tommy Miller arriving in Jackson had been a complete surprise, but you hadn’t talked to him about Joel. Now even when he had offered to tell him that you were still alive. You had made him promise not to send that message. Maria had agreed and asked Tommy to stop sending communications from the tower. Watching, you see the brothers embrace in the middle of the street and know you need to rush home but before you can turn away, brown eyes that you remember so well turn and lock onto you.

Joel feels like he’s been punched in the gut. You’re standing there staring at him, mouth open like his and he drops his arms from Tommy as he murmurs your name. It’s definitely you. You look older but just as fucking beautiful. He swallows harshly and his heart thumps in his chest. “I need - it’s her. She’s alive.” He chokes, his heart pounding and he feels sick, knowing he left you there alone.

Tommy follows Joel’s gaze and shuffles guiltily. “Yeah.” He nods. “Surprised me when I saw her here.” He admits quietly, still feeling guilty about that night and you being left behind. “Joel-“ he doesn’t have the words to properly apologize, but he has regrets to last a lifetime. “I’m sorry.”

Joel shakes his head, unable to say anything. Ellie looks on as Joel practically stumbles over to you. His hands reach for you and he lifts his hands to cup your cheeks. “You’re alive.” He chokes, “you are here.” He declares in awe.

“I’m here.” You whisper, knowing that you’ve aged and so has Joel, but you can see that he’s still the same man you had been with so many years ago. Just with a little more mileage on him and what looks like a lifetime of regret. Tommy had told you about Sarah, so you know that in one night he had lost everyone he loved except for his brother. That’s why it’s not surprising to you to see Joel here.

He caresses your cheeks, trying to experience every year you have survived without him by your side through the stories your skin tells and you grip his wrists, clinging to him as a gruff voice calls out, “who the fuck is this?” Joel turns to look over at the guy, ready to defend you or himself in case it’s your husband, but he freezes when he sees the boy. He’s about twenty. His eyes and nose are like Joel’s. “Mom. Are you okay?” The boy comes over to you and Joel feels like he’s been punched in the gut.

“JJ…..” you turn your head to watch your son closely, feeling Joel stiffen and you step away from him. “Baby, this is Joel Miller.” You explain carefully, making your son’s frown deepen into a fierce scowl. 

“This is the asshole that left you to die?” He scoffs, glaring at Joel as he looks him up and down. “JJ!” You hiss. “It wasn’t like that!” You had never told your son about that night, but Tommy had told his story and it had gotten around. JJ had taken to thinking the worst of his father.

Ellie watches in shock as she tries to put the pieces together. Joel is still in shock. He has a son. He left you to die and you were pregnant. “I - you were - and I-” He chokes and JJ scoffs, “yeah. You left her to die, you piece of shit. And she was pregnant.” He growls and steps towards Joel who holds his hands up, ready to take what your son gives him. He deserves it.

“STOP IT.” You step in front of your son, your hand on his chest and you push him back to wag your finger in his face. “Joesph Joel Miller, you go back to the house right now.” You scold him. “I will talk to you later, but don’t you dare step foot out of that house until I get back.”

Joel is speechless and your son clenches his jaw, knowing it’s best to not argue with his mother so he steps back from Joel and storms off to your house. Joel watches him, his eyes wide as he looks back at you, desperate for an explanation to be spoken instead of his mind whirling.

Tommy steps up, looking around and the curious spectators. “Maybe we can talk while we get them something to eat?” He asks you. “I know that my brother has the same questions I had.” You look at him and nod, gesturing towards the meal hall. “Come, I - is your little girl hungry?” You ask, trying not to be upset that Joel has another child.

Joel doesn’t explain, he can’t. He’s still in shock so he nods and beckons Ellie to follow as you guide him to the canteen. Tommy gets some food brought over and the woman from earlier sits down. “I think this is a conversation best left between family.” Joel hints and Maria snorts, “I am family.” She holds up her hand to display her wedding ring and Tommy takes her hand in his. “She’s my wife.” Joel is shocked once more, shaking his head. “I- I can’t - when - how?” He needs answers. Now.

You don’t answer, letting Tommy tell his story as he sees fit. He explains how Maria had found him after he left the Fireflies and brought him here. “And I was surprised as shit to find her here.” He nods towards you, bringing Joel’s attention back to you, although he had kept looking at you the entire time. Apparently now it’s time that you explain your story. “That night- uh, Tommy couldn’t get me free.” You know Tommy had told him about leaving you, but only you know what happened after. “Another- there was another car that hit the police cruiser.” You wince slightly, remembering how hot it had been. “It shifted the seat and I could crawl out of the truck. The chaos-“ you shake your head. “It was- quiet then. Not many were left alive.” You look down at your hands. “I crawled to the pharmacy and managed to get inside. It was where I stayed for a week.”

Joel sets his fork down, running his fingers through his hair and he closes his eyes. He didn’t try hard enough to get you out. He left you alone. He left you alone and pregnant. The guilt claws at his insides but he doesn’t interrupt you, wanting you to tell your story.

“The pharmacy had a boot and I could use that to walk, so I waited until the antibiotics were in my system and the food in the store was gone.” You huff at yourself. “You remember when I had that root canal?” You ask and he frowns and nods. “Well….antibiotics, umm, they make your birth control not work.” You admit with a small shrug of your shoulders and a wry smile. “The best I can estimate is that we conceived JJ that day, on your birthday.” You admit quietly. “I didn’t realize I was pregnant until months later. When I was at a refugee camp.” You sigh softly, remembering how you had wondered if Joel survived, looking for him everyday during that time. You never found him.

Joel shakes his head, finally opening his eyes to look at you. "I- I left you and you were - Jesus Christ." He hates himself. The loathing from Sarah's death explodes and he chokes. "I am - shit - I am so sorry. I can't - there's - I should've tried harder to get you out of there. I should've - fuck." He feels tears sting in his eyes and he rubs them.

“You had Sarah to take care of.” You remind him softly, reaching out and touching his arm. “I always told you to put her first. I’m not- I don’t blame you Joel. And I’m so sorry about Sarah.” You murmur, ignoring the way that Ellie looks on with fascination between slurping bites of her soup. “JJ doesn’t know the entire story.”

Joel swallows harshly, “I don’t - he’s gotta hate me.” He murmurs and Maria looks at Tommy before her gaze slides to Ellie. “Hey. Why don’t we get you a shower and some new clothes? I can cut your hair too.” Maria offers and Ellie opens her mouth to protest leaving Joel when he says “let’s go. I need some air.” He stands up and grabs his backpack, needing to be outside so he can think. Maria and Tommy stand up and Joel looks at you. “You need some time. I’ll find you later.” You promise and he nods, “soon.”

​​Walking slowly back to your house, you can’t believe that Joel is here. Feeling guilty for the shock of learning that you had his child at the end of the world. You had honestly never expected to see him again. You know about Tess, learning from Tommy that Joel had found some semblance of happiness. You could never begrudge him that. Not even if you had never been involved with anyone yourself. You had been too busy raising JJ, helping build Jackson into what it is now. Surviving this cruel new world. Reaching the near home you share with your son, you sigh and watch as he comes charging out onto the front porch, oddly deflating when he sees you are alone. “He already left?” He demands bitterly and you shake your head. Everyday you are reminded how much JJ is like his father. More serious in his young life, but circumstances had dictated that. “JJ….” You sigh softly. “Sometimes you are so like him.”

Your son shakes his head, “I’m nothing like that piece of shit. He left you alone to die, mom. He left you in that truck. Everyone said uncle Tommy stayed behind to save you but he couldn’t. That bastard ran away, he left you. He left us.” JJ spits as he looks down the street as if he’s looking for Joel.

“You have- had a sister, JJ.” You reach out for him and take his hand, not letting him shake you off. “Half sister. Her name was Sarah and she was twelve the night the world ended.” You explain quietly. “That night, I was trapped in the truck and Sarah was hurt. Joel couldn’t get me out and protect her. Just like I’ve always protected you, Sarah was his priority. That’s how it should have been. How I wanted it. I told him to go. I thought I was going to die and I didn’t want them to die with me.”

JJ shakes his head, trying to process that his half sister died that night. That you sent his father away to save her and he failed. “I can’t - you have never talked about him. Why? Why didn’t you tell me the truth?” JJ asks, wanting to know why he’s been kept in the dark.

You swallow, your eyes starting to get watery and you bite your lip for a moment before you compose yourself. Needing to not sob out of anger at the way your life had turned out. “Because he’s- your father is the great love of my life.” You admit quietly, reaching under your shirt and pulling out the heart charm that you have always worn. “For a long time, I had thought he had died. So many died, and I couldn’t-“ you break off when your voice cracks. “I thought it would be easier, but you look just like him. Act just like him.”

JJ reaches for you, knowing that you’re upset. “I’m sorry, mom. Shit. I’m sorry.” He pulls you into his arms, wanting to comfort you. He’s still conflicted but he knows that you will be strong like you always have. “He’s not dead. He’s here and he - he’s got another kid.”

You hum, knowing that it’s surprising. “I can’t blame him. He thought I was dead.” You remind your son. The son you created with Joel on that fateful day. You hug him tightly. “Life is harsh. You find happiness where you can. I found my happiness in raising you. Keeping a piece of him safe.”

JJ sighs, pulling back to look at you. “I’m really like him?” He asks and you chuckle, reaching up to cup his cheek. “Yeah. You have his stubbornness.” JJ snorts and smiles at you, “I want to meet him properly.” You nod, “we can arrange that.” 

**** 

Joel sips the whiskey Tommy handed him, admiring the bar they have set up. A fucking bar. While he���s been out there fighting for his life to get Ellie where she needs to go, to find his brother, the brother in question was drinking in a bar and knew the love of Joel’s life was safe and had his kid. He downs the drink, tapping the bar to silently ask for another. Tommy raises his eyebrows but pours another measure, grabbing himself a glass. “I’m gonna be a dad.” Tommy announces and Joel can’t feel happy for him. Smothered by his own failures as a parent, he scoffs and Tommy shakes his head, “you can’t even be happy for me.” Joel shrugs, “you’ll be fine.”

Tommy sighs, exasperated. “I’m sorry about Sarah, Joel.” He huffs. “But just because she died doesn’t mean I stopped living.” He tells his brother. “You have a grown son.” His brow lifts slightly. “Maybe you should get to know him.”

Joel stares at the wood grain on the counter, knowing that his son will hate him for leaving you. He doubts he’ll ever establish a relationship with him. “I need to take Ellie to Colorado first.” He declares, “I need to help her.” 

Tommy sighs, “you better go find your girl and talk to her. Ellie will be fine with Maria.” Tommy assures his brother who nods, knowing he needs to talk to you properly. He downs the rest of the whiskey and pushes away from the bar, “show me the way.”

You bring JJ into the house, setting the kettle on to boil so you can sit down and talk with him. Answering any question frankly and telling him more about the man who had helped create him. Sharing parts of yourself that you had kept private for so long and smiling at the memories.

Joel shuffles awkwardly on the threshold of the place you call home. It’s so bizarre being in Jackson, like a mirror image of a time he thought was long gone but this little piece of paradise in Wyoming has his heart relaxing. He’s not worried about dying here. He’s not worried about Ellie getting hurt. He knocks on your door, anxiously awaiting your son to come and punch him. He deserves it and more.

Your forehead furrows slightly and you look up from your tea. “Do you-“ 

JJ stands, shaking his head. “I’ll get the door. It’s probably Matt. We were going to catch the movie after we feed the pigs.” Everyone has their assigned chores and JJ and his best friend were currently on duty with the animals. 

“Okay.” You nod, looking back down at the tea.

Joel looks up as the door opens and he inhales deeply when he sees JJ standing there. “I, uh, guess I should introduce myself properly. I’m Joel Miller.” He holds his hand out and the boy takes it, squeezing it harder than necessary but Joel understands his protectiveness and anger. 

“Joseph Joel Miller.” He responds and Joel can’t believe you named the boy after him when he left you for dead. 

Joel waits until his hand is freed before he scratches his cheek, “I didn’t want to leave your mother. I just - that night - you didn’t live through the chaos. I should’ve stayed. I have regretted it every damn day of my life.” He confesses, “and I’m sorry.” He adds and JJ nods, pushing the door open. “Better if you said it to her.” Joel nods, stepping into the house and he looks around, “she’s in the kitchen.” JJ announces and Joel steps further into the house until he finds the kitchen and you.

When you hear footsteps approaching, you look up, surprised to see Joel standing in the doorway. “Joel.” You shoot out of your seat and stand awkwardly. Wondering if he is here to chew you out for keeping your son from him. “I- do you want some tea?”

Joel knows he should have something to counter the whiskey. He wants to be lucid when he has this conversation with you. “Yeah. Thanks, sweetheart.” He steps towards the table and JJ nods when he pulls out the chair. He sits down and watches you pour out some tea for him. You’re still as beautiful as the day he left you.

“I’ve been talking to JJ.” You explain. “Telling him about that night in more detail. So he can apologize for being so rude to you.” You glance at your son pointedly, and he sighs, toying with his teacup. 

“Sorry I was rude to you.” He tells Joel, not exactly sincere but it’s not as hostile as it had been before. You snort to yourself and bump him when you move to put the kettle back on the stove.

Joel shifts in his seat as he nods at his son, "if it was my momma, I would've punched the asshole who left her to die so I think I got off easy." He says to the boy who has his eyes but your hair and mouth. Joel knows he must have your smile "I am sorry for what happened that night, I never forgave myself. I had nightmares for a long time after that night. Because of all of it." He admits and JJ fiddles with the delicate cup in his hands. "Mom said you lost your daughter...my half sister, Sarah." Joel sighs, his chest tightening in the same way it has since losing his little girl. "She got shot by a soldier. He thought - he thought we were infected and there was nothing - she died in my arms." He finishes with a whisper.

You close your eyes, almost ready to sit down when he says that and you reach out for his arm. “I am so sorry.” You whisper quietly. You had respected his love for his daughter, but it was after you had JJ had you truly understood that willingness to die for your child, or kill for them. 

JJ looks down sadly. “What was she like?” He asks curiously

Joel offers his son a rare smile. “She was funny. She would gang up on me with Tommy, play pranks on me. She was so damn pretty. I was worried about when she was gonna start dating. I was preparing my 9 mil for the boys…if she liked boys. We never established that.” He frowns, “she was a girly girl. Loved pink. She was caring too. Looked after me. Loved cooking. She practically kept me and Tommy fed.” He gets lost in his memories as he taps his fingers on the kitchen table.

JJ listens closely, building a vision of this sister he will never know in his mind. He doesn’t even know if there is a picture of her around and he doesn’t want to ask. “Well, Tommy is still a horrible cook.” He offers with a grin. “Mom and I eat at home on nights he helps in the communal kitchen.”

Joel snorts, “he’s a terrible cook. So am I. I can skin and cook a rabbit but actually spices? Hopeless.” He admits and JJ chuckles. “What about…you have another daughter?” He inquires and Joel places his hand flat on the table. “She’s not mine, biologically. She’s from Boston. Her mom died when she was born and she needs to get to Colorado. Someone I know asked me to take her there and I am.” He discloses, “she’s important. She’s -” He doesn’t know if he should say why because of Ellie’s safety but it’s you, and his son. “She was bitten back in Boston. She’s still alive. She’s - she could be the key to a cure.”

You rear back in surprise. Trying to comprehend what that might mean for the curse that has plagued the world since that night twenty years ago. “Joel-“ you shake your head and huff. “That’s- you can’t tell anyone here.” You caution him. “Tommy, that’s it. I don’t know what the council could do, but we don’t have the facilities here. What’s in Colorado?”

"Doctors. Apparently they are working on a cure. She wants to get over there and I need to take her. She's - she's important to me now." He admits, "I have to help her."

Joel has had an entire life without you. Loved and lost and apparently lost again since Tess isn’t with him. Tommy had explained their relationship and while your heart ached at Joel moving on, it was natural. You couldn’t have expected him to pine over you for the rest of his life. It wouldn’t be fair. It doesn’t matter that you have done that exact thing. “I see.” You nod and look down at your tea cup. “We will help however we can.”

Joel reaches for your hand, “I have to finish my journey with her but then I’ll come straight back. We need - I can’t - unless you want me to stay away.” He murmurs, knowing you might hate him for leaving you to die.

“I don’t want you to stay away.” You murmur softly. “I know that you didn’t have the best introduction to your son, but I want you to know him. For him to know you.” You smile at him, wondering if he’s just trying to understand the last twenty years or if this means he still cares about you in some small way.

Joel nods, offering you a smile and it feels strange on his face. Foreign. He doesn’t smile often. He swallows harshly and looks over at JJ who nods, reluctance and curiosity in his eyes. “As soon as I help Ellie, I’ll come back and we will get to know each other.”

“Did Tommy get a house sorted for you to stay in?” You ask, wondering if he’s going to need to stay with you. Or if Tommy had been planning on that.

Joel frowns, the concept of a house is also foreign to him. “I haven’t - we didn’t really get a chance to discuss where we would stay.” He admits, “Ellie is with Maria. I need to find her and speak to Tommy.” He also needs some air, a moment to process everything he’s discovered today.

“Oh, okay.” You pull your hand out of his and stand up. “She’s probably at Maria and Tommy’s house.” You move to the window and point. “Two blocks that way.”

Joel stands up, brushing down his pants, and he needs a shower but that can wait. He makes his way down the hall followed by you, JJ still in the kitchen. He reaches up to cup your cheek, “I’ll be back if you want me. I’m so sorry I left you, baby.”

“Joel….” You don’t want him to leave and feel guilty. Being distracted out here can get you killed. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for.” You murmur gently. “I’m sorry that leaving didn’t save Sarah.” You cover his hand with your own. “Be safe and come back as soon as you can.”

He nods, “I gotta - I’m gonna find Ellie and then I’ll be back.” He promises, leaning in to kiss your forehead. He makes his way outside and follows the directions you gave him until he comes to Tommy’s house and he knocks on the door.

Tommy opens the door to find Joel on the porch and he glances behind him to see if anyone else is there. “You looking for Ellie?” He asks, not sure if Joel is still in a tizzy about Maria being pregnant, or you being alive.

Joel nods, “can we talk first? I just - I need to talk to someone about all of this.” He confesses, knowing he isn’t someone who bares his feelings but he needs to talk to his brother, the one person who knows about everything.

“Yeah.” Joel looks almost panicked, or defeated and he looks down at his boots. They are worn out and held together with duct tape. “Come on, let’s get you some shoes.” He grabs his jacket and steps out of the house, pulling it on.

Joel follows his brother to the cobbler. It’s insane to know that there’s a cobbler in this world he has yet to experience. He removes his tattered boots and sits down, swallowing harshly. “I was so afraid.” Joel confesses, “and I have dreams. Every night.” 

“What kind of dreams?” Tommy asks, frowning at his older brother. 

Joel shakes his head, “I don't know. I can't remember. I just know that when I wake up ... I've lost something. I'm failing in my sleep. It's all I do. It's all I've ever done ... is fail her. Again and again." Her is the women closest to him. Sarah. Ellie. You. He has failed you all and tears sting in his eyes as he tries to process that he’s failed again. He failed you by leaving you pregnant in a world that wanted you dead.

“You can’t blame yourself.” Tommy shakes his head. “There was no easy way out of that situation. She was stuck. Hell, she still walks with a limp on really cold days. If you had got her out, you don’t think those sons of bitches wouldn’t have shot her too?”

Joel chokes at the thought. “I can’t have her again. I failed her. She should hate me. She shouldn’t be with me.” He shakes his head, a tear falling from his eye. “He should hate me. He does. I deserve to be sent away and never let back in.”

Tommy snorts, hating that Joel is letting his demons overrule his heart. He deserves this, he deserves to be free to love again. Especially since he lost Tess. Tess had been a saving grace for him, and even if he didn’t love her completely, it was only because he still loved you. “You wanna know why she wouldn’t let me tell you that she was alive?” Tommy asks Joel, waiting until his older brother looks up at him. “Because you had moved on. You had Tess. You were….content.” Tommy shrugs. “She loves you so much that knowing you were okay was enough for her.”

Joel wipes his cheeks, “I can’t let her have me back. I need to go. You need to take Ellie to Colorado for me. I need to go.” He chokes, knowing he won’t be able to be the man that you need.

“You are your own worst enemy.” Tommy tells him, shaking his head. Joel closes his eyes but whispers a quiet “please”, his tone agonized. “Yeah, alright.” Tommy sighs. “I’ll do it.”

Joel exhales shakily, standing up, and Tommy works on getting him a pair of shoes. He sighs and tries the shoes on, knowing this will be the pair that last him till the end of his days. He knows he won’t make it alone in the wilderness and he deserves to go. It’s time. When he comes back to Tommy’s house, he’s exhausted but he finds Ellie reading a diary. “Is this all they had to worry about? Boys and school?” She scoffs, flipping the page. The next words that come out of Joel’s mouth are ones he will regret. Saying that Ellie isn’t his kid.

Ellie’s face drops as Joel slams out of the room she had picked for herself. Hurt and furious at what she feels like is a betrayal. She hears Joel slam the door shut of the room down the hall before she grabs her jacket and slips out of the house. She needs to talk to someone and it might as well be you.

Joel exhales shakily, his hands shaking and chest heaving while his heart pounds in his chest. He’s failed again. He has failed everyone in his life and he doesn’t know how to stop it. He can’t fail Ellie again. He decides then and there that he’s taking her to Colorado.

The knock on the door is later than you expected. JJ is still at the movie and you wonder if Joel has come back with more questions. Opening the door, you find Ellie, her face drawn and distraught and you immediately step back. “Is everything okay, sweetheart?”

Ellie shakes her head, tears in her eyes, and she rushes forward to wrap her arms around your waist. “He- he doesn’t want me. No one wants me. I just - I feel so fucking lost.” She chokes, burying her face into you.

It must be because you are a mother, or maybe because of your history with Joel for her to come to you. Wrapping your arms around her, you hug the distraught teen tightly. “He does want you.” You promise her softly. “He’s afraid of losing you.”

Ellie shakes her head, “he doesn’t want me. No one wants me. I’m an orphan and I don’t know where the hell I belong. I need - he was gonna take me to Colorado and I wanted him to take me. I thought - I kinda wanted him to love me.” She chokes, “as a daughter.”

“Sweet girl.” You hold onto her tighter, unsure of why she’s orphaned, but she’s pretty sure it has something to do with the fucked up world. “That’s what scares him. He does.” You rub her back gently. “He loved Sarah with every fiber of her being and Tommy has told me what her dying did to him. It broke him, made him brittle and hard. He’s scared to open himself up again. But he will. He will, for you.”

Ellie sniffs, unused to being so vulnerable. Her whole life she’s had to be strong, to act like nothing bothers her. She swallows harshly and pulls back from you. “Can you walk me back to Tommy’s - I don’t - I don’t know where it is.” She admits, feeling embarrassed by her outburst.

“I can.” You nod and drop your arms from around the younger girl. “Or I can make you some tea?” You offer, knowing she still might be emotional. “You don’t have to go. I was planning on making some for myself and then baking some scones.” You smile. “We’ve grown our own wheat last summer and we are finally able to bake safely again.

Ellie’s eyes widen. She has never baked. She nods, wiping her eyes, and she follows you into the house. She is happy that you comforted her, helped her through a difficult moment. She’s never had a mother figure. Even Marlene was such a brief interaction in her life.

You find Ellie to be completely amazing. She’s witty and sarcastic, harder than Sarah was, but much the same with her sense of humor. It makes sense, because Sarah had been allowed to be innocent whereas Ellie has grown up in a harsher world. Once the scones slide into the oven, you set the timer and smile. “Now, you will have to take half of them when you and Joel go on your trip to Colorado.” You tell her. “You did most of the work.”

Ellie wonders if this is what life was like before the outbreak. If it was this easy and safe and fun. "I don' think Joel is going to take me to Colorado." She sighs, "so looks like more scones for me."

“I don’t know…” you smirk slightly. “You might not want to share them with him once you try them.” It’s a joke, not a particularly good one, but she does huff in slight amusement. “When are you leaving?”

“Tomorrow morning.” She reveals, “I want to get there as soon as possible because…” She steps towards you, pulling on the sleeve of her shirt to show you the healed teeth marks on her arm.

“I think I am the cure to all of this bullshit.”

You had heard it from Joel, but to see the not one, but two scars on her arm is nothing short of amazing. You know it must be true, she would have never gotten past the dogs otherwise. “Amazing.” You whisper quietly, reaching out to tracing the marks. “That’s- you’re amazing.”

Ellie scoffs, “I don’t know about that. I want to give people a chance. To have the life that we used to have. Go to the mall. The movies.” She sighs, dreaming of a future where she could be a normal teenager.

“We are starting to reclaim some of that.” You remind her gently. “Here. We are expanding our lives from just survival. And you are welcomed to stay here and not go to Colorado.” You chuckle quietly. “Saving the world is a tough burden to shoulder and no one would blame you if you didn’t want to.”

Ellie shakes her head, “I need to. It’s what I need to do. I need to save someone. I couldn’t save my friend. She - she got bit when I did and I - I have to save someone. Even if it’s one person.” She murmurs, closing her eyes for a second.

You reach out for her, patting her hand gently. “I understand.” You promise. “I feel guilty now, I got to keep my child and raise him, while Joel lost his.” You sigh softly. “Life sucks sometimes, huh?”

She snorts, “yeah. It does. So…Joel’s got a kid?” She asks and you nod, “yeah. He’s just like him sometimes.” Ellie whistles, “oh boy. That’s gonna be interesting to see.” You giggle, “he has his father’s stubbornness. Something I’m sure you know.” You nudge her and she nods, “abso-fucking-lutely.”

The two of you sit in the silence for another moment until Ellie clears her throat. “What was he like before? Before the outbreak?” She asks curiously. 

You smile, thinking about that time fondly. “Hard working. A flirt.” You giggle quietly when Ellie makes a disgusted face. “He was a single father, so he did everything for Sarah. Loved music, loved, loved going out where live bands were playing classic rock. And a surprisingly good dancer.”

Ellie’s eyes widen, “Joel used to dance? No fucking way!” She shakes her head and you nod, “he was good.” She can’t believe it but she knows that the harsh man he is today isn’t the same man he was before he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. “Joel…dancing.” She trails off and snorts, “can’t believe it.”

You hum, trying to remember that Ellie only knows the man after the heartbreak. “Joel wants to come back to Jackson, after you’re done saving the world.” You tell her. “Maybe you’ll come back with him?”

Ellie nods, "I would like to but this is important. The cure. A possible cure. I need to do what I can." She declares and you nod, "let's get you back to Tommy's. I'm sure you want to sleep in a proper bed." Ellie grins, "fuck yeah."

You insist on walking Ellie. It doesn’t matter that Jackson is safe. She feels lost and alone and you want her to know that she isn’t. That she has someone who will look after her. When you round the corner and Tommy’s comes into sight, the house next door has a single light on upstairs and you can see a figure pacing in front of the windows. “Joel is still awake.”

Ellie turns to you, "thanks for...well, you know." She shrugs and you reach out to squeeze her shoulder. "I am always here. I'll be here if you decide to come back." You promise and she surges forward to hug you. "Thank you." She whispers, squeezing you for a second before she pulls away and makes her way into Tommy's house. You look up at the window where Joel is pacing, wondering what he's thinking, and you turn on your heel to head home. Joel needs time to process and so do you.

**** You don’t sleep well, up before the sun and you get dressed in the dark while JJ snores away down the hall. Making your way to the stables with the hope that you didn’t miss Joel and Ellie leaving. Despite what the teenager told you, you know that Joel wouldn’t be satisfied unless he saw it through. He was the one that delivered her safely to the doctors for a cure.

****

Joel pats the horse as he finishes strapping on the saddlebags when Ellie arrives with Tommy in the stable. His dark eyes flick to where you are standing with JJ behind them. "You ready to go, kid?" He asks Ellie, not wanting to address the elephant in the room.

You step out from the stall, holding Joel’s bag as you smirk, Ellie immediately choosing Joel over Tommy as her travel companion. You had found Joel thinking about sneaking away and unable to do it, especially when he had seen you had come to see him off. “Told ya.” You tell the younger girl, pleasantly surprised to see JJ with them.

Joel doesn't let his happiness show on his face. The kid picked him. His heart nearly bursts and he knows he has to protect her, see her to the end of her journey. Joel helps her onto the horse and he steps over to you, reaching for your hand. "I am going to come back...if you want me to."

You stare into his eyes and nod. “You better come back, Miller.” You threaten softly. “Keep her safe. She loves you.”

He nods, "I'll be back as soon as I can." He promises even though you both know deep down it's impossible to keep it when he's out in the wilderness. He leans in to kiss your forehead, his eyes closing as he breathes you in.

JJ shuffles, coming up beside you and when Joel pulls away, you see the worry in your son’s eyes. “When you come back, I’d like to- to, uh, talk.” He admits. “So, uh, try not to die?”

Joel snorts, reaching out to squeeze his son’s upper arm. “I’ll be back.” He promises just as much as he can to his son. “You keep each other safe, yeah?” He says and JJ nods, standing straighter. Joel’s eyes flick over to Tommy who offers him a nod and Joel steps back, swinging his leg over after placing his foot in the stirrup.

You help Ellie up, patting her leg gently and smiling at her. “Share the scones.” You remind her with a wink. She nods, although she’s pouting so you wonder if she had already eaten some and really didn’t want to share. Stepping back from the horse, you meet Joel’s eyes again and you smile at him. “Be safe.”

Joel offers you one more nod, kicking the flank of the horse as he starts to move, beginning the journey to Colorado and the venture back into the unknown. He doesn’t know what’s going to happen but he will fight tooth and nail to get back to you and JJ. He owes you his return so he can make up for leaving you that fateful night.

****

It’s summer and there still hasn’t been any sign of Joel. You’ve gone on the scouting parties, manned the walls, talked to everyone who had come back. It’s been months, and you are worried. Of course, you don’t say anything to JJ, not wanting to upset your son, but it shouldn’t have taken this long. A few weeks, a month at most. Something’s happened and you’ve been talking to Tommy about going out to look for them. He says no, but you need to.

Joel stumbles slightly as he and Ellie walk the final stretch back to Jackson. He’s filthy, exhausted, hungry, and the guilt hangs over him that he saves Ellie, but damned the world to continue to exist in this damned reality. He is about to approach the gates when Maria rides out on a horse with several others and her eyes widen at the sight of her brother in law. “Get them inside.” She demands, seeing how exhausted the pair are.

The knock at the door comes rushed, and you hurry, not sure who it might be. But your gasp of surprise is loud when you see Maria and Tommy with an exhausted and bedraggled Joel and Ellie. “You’re back!” You leap back to let them into the house and you can tell that it’s been a hard journey. “Oh god, are you hungry? Thirsty?”

“Both.” Ellie groans, her body aching from the arduous journey on foot and Joel reaches for you, wrapping his arms around you to pull you into his chest. He knows he stinks but he just needs to know he’s alive, that he made it back to you.

“You’re here.” You sag in relief against him, almost in tears for how relieved you are. “Thought you might want them to stay with you.” Tommy speaks up and grins at you with a small wink. “I’ll send some clothes over for them both after they get a bath and sleep for a few days.”

Joel lets go of you, the weight of the word still on his shoulders and he hates how his eyes water with unshed tears. He turns his head away so no one sees and you distract Ellie, “you want a shower? We have hot water and I just made some new soap.” 

Ellie grins, “fuck yes.” She is ready to clean up and she follows you upstairs while you give Joel a minute. He looks at JJ and the boy steps forward to hug his father. He’s seen the worry in your eyes as you wait each day, watching to see if he would return and JJ realized that a man like that, a man that you would wait for, must be a man he could aspire to be. His uncle Tommy had explained more about what happened that night and he understands a little more about how Joel felt, how torn he had been to make the decision to leave you. Joel is shocked but pats the boy’s back, comforting his son. The son he now can get to know properly.

Upstairs, Ellie gives you a big hug. Just as emotional as the one Joel had given you and despite the fact that she desperately needs a bath, you kiss the top of her head. “I’m glad you’re back, kiddo.” You murmur softly, squeezing her tight. You are glad to see her, just as much as Joel, the girl meaning the world to your former lover. The man you still love.

JJ steps back, clearing his throat, and Joel offers him a small smile, knowing it’s got to be hard for him to process all of this shit. Ellie is showering so Joel hovers until JJ escorts him to the kitchen, preparing him a drink and starts on something to eat.

You set a set of pajamas down on the bed that Ellie will use. The house is a three bedroom and you always keep the other room ready for anyone that might need it. She can claim it forever for all you care, although you aren’t sure if Joel wants to share a room or a bed with you. You come downstairs and smile at JJ cooking. “You want me to finish up?”

JJ shakes his head, "I got it, mom." You nod and look over at Joel who is sipping a glass of water. "You want something stronger? Tommy gave me a bottle of whiskey for my birthday." You declare and Joel sighs softly, "I missed so many birthdays." He looks over at JJ, wondering how his birthdays were as a kid.

“You’re here for them now.” You remind him softly, aware that no matter what he wishes, you can’t turn back time. You walk over to a cabinet to pull out a couple of glasses and change your mind and get three. Your son can have a drink with his father. You smile as you get the ice and move over to the table. “I’ll grab the bottle.”

Joel watches you as you move around the kitchen. You’re still fucking gorgeous and he feels so lucky to have found you again, that you didn’t die that night. You pour three measures and slide the glass over to Joel and you look over at JJ just as he turns off the stove. “Here you go.” You nudge the glass towards him and he raises his eyebrows, “you sure, mom?”

“You’re old enough.” You promise, grinning at him. “I think it’s a right of passage to have a drink with your dad.” You tell him, pulling out a seat and sitting down.

JJ grins, shifting to sit down and he picks up the glass. He sniffs the liquid and winces, making Joel chuckle slightly. “To survivin’.” He toasts, knowing that the only thing anyone wants is to survive but it looks like you and JJ have been thriving in Jackson.

“To surviving.” You agree, holding your glass up and JJ does the same. You take a sip of your drink and your son follows his father’s example and tosses back the entire thing. It’s funny to watch him choke and sputter, a light hearted moment for you to share.

Joel smirks at the boy struggling to drink the harsh liquor and he winks at his son who looks down at the table in embarrassment. “The food is ready.” JJ announces and Joel clears his throat, “I should shower first.” You shake your head, “don’t be silly. The food is hot. Shower after. I’ll go get Ellie.” Joel nods and pours himself another glass, needing it after he nearly died out there.

You stand up and move to the staircase so you can get the younger girl, finding her coming out onto the landing. “Dinner is ready. I know you have to be ready for a hot meal.”

Joel watches JJ serve up the food and he sets the plates down on the table just as Ellie comes downstairs. The guilt swirls in Joel’s stomach. He lied to her. He did it for his own selfish reasons. He swallows harshly and sets the glass down just as Ellie sits down at the table. “Taking a shower with hot water is the fucking best.”

You laugh and nod as you sit down. “I agree. Getting electricity back has been amazing for us. Hot baths do wonders for cramps too.” You inform her with a wink.

Ellie flushes but offers you a small smile, picking up the fork so she can dig into the first hot meal she’s had for weeks. Joel watches JJ dig in and his eyes flit over to you, knowing he still needs to talk to you. He’s had a lot of time to think during the long journey and he realized during the moments that he nearly died that he doesn’t want to keep living in the past.

“Is something missing?” You ask, making Joel shake his head as he picks up his fork. “No.” He assures you, digging in. You smile and watch as Ellie clears her plate quickly. “There’s more.” You promise, nodding towards the stove. “Take as much as you want. There’s plenty for everyone.”

Joel eats enough until he feels sick. He doesn’t want to make himself sick, or to waste the food. He stands up, ready to clean the dishes when JJ places a hand on his shoulder. “I got it, dad.” He says and Joel’s heart clenches at the word. He nods and reaches up to touch his son’s hand. “I better shower.” Joel says, suddenly feeling the grime on his skin.

You nod and push back from your place. “I’ll show you.” You offer quickly, ignoring a smirk from Ellie. You only want to show him to the master bathroom and lay out some sweats and underwear that the long dead last owner of the home had left behind. They were soft and fresh, you kept the clothes in a cedar lined trunk after washing them, knowing they might be useful.

Joel follows you up the stairs and into the master bedroom, past the bed you sleep in to enter the bathroom. You turn on the shower for him and he sits on the toilet so he can remove his boots and socks. Wiggling his toes in relief, he works on shrugging off his shirts.

“Oh my god!” You gasp when his chest is revealed, a torn, jagged wound in his side that is most definitely fresh on display. “Fuck. What happened?” You demand, moving over to him and touching the ragged scar gently. It’s obvious it had been stitched closed, but it’s still very tender looking in your opinion.

He winces, “I - I got stabbed. We got to Denver and no one was there. Well, that’s what I thought. Raiders were there. They found us and before we could escape, one of them stabbed me with a broken baseball bat and I nearly died. Ellie - she saved me but she was taken and she nearly - the leader. He nearly - I failed her again.” Joel finishes in a whisper, his head dropping between his shoulders.

“Oh shit….” You whisper softly, imagining the horrors she had endured until Joel had rescued her. “But you got her back. You saved her.” Joel snorts and shakes his head. “She saved herself.” He argues and you know there is more to it than that. “And how many did you kill to get to her?”

Joel exhales shakily, “they were gonna- she hasn’t been the same since. He took something from her. Thank fuck he didn’t touch her but he changed her. When we got to the doctor. They were going to kill her. Take her goddamn brain out and I- I couldn’t let them do it. I kept thinking about Sarah and how I couldn’t save her but I could try and save Ellie. I was fuckin’ selfish. I saved her over the world possibly getting a cure and she would hate me. I told her that there wasn’t a cure. I couldn’t let her die.” He chokes, reaching up to rub his eyes.

You try to keep up with his rambling explanation and all you really understand is that he saved her from dying and the world was going to continue on. “Oh my god.” You sit back on your heels in front of him and shake your head after a moment. “You saved her, Joel. Her life matters and if a doctor was going to take her brain? Well, they are wrong. Jesus.” You huff. “Ethics went to shit in this world, I know, but doctors? They aren’t supposed to murder people for some hypothetical cure. What if it’s just not possible? They would have killed an amazing kid for fucking nothing. Nothing. You weren’t selfish. You were being her protector. Her dad.”

Joel swallows, “I lied to her. Told her there was no cure. I couldn’t tell her that I saved her because I was selfish. That she didn’t get a damn choice because I can’t live without her.” He lowers his hands and looks at you, “I can’t lose anyone else.”

“You don’t have to.” You promise quietly, even though you can’t guarantee him anything. You couldn’t even guarantee him that in the old world you both knew.

He closes his eyes again, “I never stopped loving you, you know? Even when I thought you were dead. No one could ever replace you in my heart. The woman I was with in the QZ…Tess…I could never give her all of me and she knew it. I explained that I’d lost you and she understood.” He confesses, “I know…you might’ve moved on but I just want you to know that I will always love you.”

“Joel….” You know that he might blame himself for living once you tell him this, but you feel like he should know. “There’s never been anyone but you.” You murmur softly. “I had JJ, I had a piece of you, I didn’t need anything else.” You reach under your shirt and pull out the necklace he had given you not too long before the world ended. “I kept this close the entire time and never stopped loving you. That’s why I wouldn’t let Tommy tell you I was alive. You were happy, I thought.”

Joel’s eyes widen at the sight of the small gold heart still around your neck that Joel had gotten you for Valentine’s Day before the outbreak. “God, baby.” He reaches out to caress the gold heart until he lets go of it and reaches up to caress your cheek. “Can you shower with me?” He asks, not wanting to let you go just yet.

The request isn’t sexual, but it is intimate. Still, you don’t hesitate to nod. You don’t want to let him go and you can help him clean up. He’s exhausted and worn down. In need of some tenderness, something you can provide. “Let me help you.” You agree quietly.

Joel nods, relieved that he can finally let go of the tension that’s been coiled inside of his body for so long. He stands up, reaching for his belt to remove it and he pushes his tattered jeans down along with the threadbare boxers, standing naked in front of you for the first time in decades.

He’s older, softer slightly than he had been when he was in his thirties, but he’s still handsome. His body had somehow gotten broader, there’s still strength rather than weakness. You stand up and slowly start to undress yourself. Still watching him as he keeps his eyes on you. Your heart beating faster and your body tingling.

He watches you strip off and his stomach twists. You’re still so fucking gorgeous. Still so incredibly out of his league. You kick your clothes aside and reach in to check the water temperature. Joel groans as he steps into the shower, the hot water hitting his back and he watches blood and dirt swirl down the drain. “Let me clean off first.” He tells you, not wanting you to be in the dirty water.

You smile and just watch. Feeling yourself starting to get wet. This is the man you have longed to touch again for the past twenty years. The man you’ve loved for all that time. Your attraction to him hasn’t faded, it’s still as sharp as it was the last time you touched him, the day you made JJ. Joel groans slightly and his cock twitches, making you aware that you had been staring at it.

Joel watches you as you watch him, washing his hair as more grime flows down the drain. When he's certain he's clean, he reaches for you. "Come here, baby." He murmurs, helping you into the shower. He turns so you are under the water, and he reaches for the soap to wash you, his calloused hands gentle as he rubs your skin

“I should be washing you.” You murmur softly in protest, but Joel just huffs and continues to touch you. You can’t help the small groan of pleasure, always loving how he touched you and it’s been sorely missed since you had been apart.

"I have missed out on far too much. Leaving you in that truck...I should've tried harder to save you. Maybe Sarah would still be alive if I had." He voices a thought that has haunted him since he found out you are alive. "I've lost so much time with you...with JJ."

“I never blamed you.” You promise, reaching up and caressing his shoulders. “You did the best you could that night. You were - you didn’t run off because you were afraid. I know you didn’t want to leave me, baby.”

Joel sighs, leaning in to press his forehead to yours while the hot water hits your back. “I still love you. Never stopped.” He confesses, his hands caressing your back, pulling you closer so you are pressed against him. His cock is half hard between you, pressing against your hip.

“I still love you too.” You promise. “I told you, it’s always been you, baby.” You close your eyes and sigh, enjoying the closeness between you. “Do you want to get some rest? I know you have to be exhausted. You and Ellie are safe now, you can sleep.”

"Yeah." His voice is gruff, rough with lust for you. "I want - I want you first. If you want that." He sounds unsure but he doesn't want to push you into anything.

Your cunt clenches and you nod. “I want you too.” You confess. “Let’s go to bed. I want you to relax and let me ride you again. Like the last time.”

Joel nods, reaching behind you to shut off the water and he twists so he can grab a towel, wrapping you in it before grabbing his own to dry off. He feels so much better now that he's clean and he's exhausted but he also wants you. He needs you.

You set out a tooth brush for Joel, knowing that it feels amazing after being able to brush your teeth and you quickly grab your own. You’re sure that after you have sex, Joel will fall asleep.

He grabs the toothbrush, scrubbing his teeth until he feels satisfied that they are clean. He looks at you in the mirror, watching you do the same thing and it's like a flashback to a time when getting ready was a normal occurrence between you. He spits and rinses his mouth and you do the same. When you turn off the faucet, he cups your cheeks and leans in to kiss you, immediately sliding his tongue into your mouth to taste you.

You whimper into his mouth. Not caring that you are still in towels, you turn to guide him back to the bedroom. Wanting to feel him inside you again. Groaning and reaching for the towel at his waist so you can pull it off him. “I love you.” You gasp when he pulls back.

Joel caresses your back, ripping the towel from your body to toss it to the floor and he spins to lay you down on the bed. He's been gone for so long, there's not enough kisses he can press to your skin to make up for his absence, for leaving you. He kisses you again, hovering over your body, and he migrates his kisses down your neck. Pressing a kiss to the gold of your necklace, he continues his journey until he's taking your nipple into his mouth.

It’s been a long time since your breasts carried milk, but you feel as if Joel is trying to feed from you. Moaning, you sink your fingers into his wet hair and arch your back to let him explore as he wants.

He sucks on your nipple, biting and licking at the bud until he’s satisfied and he kisses down your stomach. Lathing extra attention on the faded stretch marks that display where you carried his son inside of you. “Fuck, I love you.” He chokes, pushing your thighs apart so he can settle between them.

"Joel." You shiver in anticipation. It's been a long goddamn time since you've had pleasure that didn't come at your own fingertips, over twenty years. Oral had been a favorite of yours and Joel had always been amazing at eating pussy. "Baby, you don't have to- I know you are tired."

“I want to.” He promises, leaning in to nudge his nose at the neatly trimmed curls at the apex of your thighs. He breathes you in and caresses your thighs, leaning closer to slide his tongue through your folds. He groans at the familiar heady taste of your arousal, and he lifts his gaze to watch you as he flicks his tongue over your clit.

With a groan, your head slips back on the pillow a little, already overstimulated by just the first licks of his tongue. "Oh shit." You whimper, reaching down and running your fingers through his hair as he slowly savors you. Even though things have changed, he's obviously the same when it comes to giving you attention.

He sucks on your clit and slides his tongue lower to push inside of you, his nose pressing against your clit. His hand slides up to squeeze your breast, wanting you to fall apart before you take him inside of you for the first time in twenty years. He loves the way your fingers tug on his hair, still wet from the shower, and he groans into your flesh.

You can’t help the way your hips start to rock down onto his face. Grinding down on his tongue and moaning softly. He squeezes your breast again, pinching your nipple hard enough to make you gasp. He remembers how you like a little pain with your pleasure.

Joel curls his tongue inside of you, shaking his head so you are stimulated more. He wants you to cum for him, to make up for lost time. His other hand reaches for yours, squeezing it as he slides his tongue through your folds.

All you hear is your own panting moans and the slick sounds of Joel’s tongue as he laps at your clit. Making you bite your lip and whimper as your orgasm looms close. “Joel-“ you whine. “I’m so close.”

He flicks his tongue over your clit a little faster, wrapping his lips around your clit to send you over the edge. He desperately wants you to cum for him, to taste you again.

You don’t cum with a scream, it’s not ripping through you like a freight train. It floods your body with pleasure and makes your body tighten, shaking silently as you gasp. It’s better than anything you’ve had in so long and your stomach heaves in pleasure.

He works you through it, lapping at your cum, and he loves how you run your fingers through his hair, pulling on it as your hips jerk. "I fucking love you." He murmurs, kissing along your thigh.

Panting quietly, you can’t help but giggle. “I love you too.” You promise. “Do you want to fuck me, or do you want me to ride you?” You ask breathlessly, greedy for more of him. Ready to feel full and complete for the first time in twenty years.

"I want to fuck you." He murmurs, kissing along your body until he's hovering over you. His lips find yours as he kneels between your legs. He reaches down to squeeze his cock, positioning himself at your entrance, and he starts to push inside of you.

You would close your eyes, but you want his rugged face etched into your mind. Watching the weathered brow and eyes that have been haunting you as he sinks into you. Your legs hitch up at his waist so he can push deeper, whining softly at the gorgeous stretch of him inside you.

He closes his eyes, taking in the feel of your hot, wet heat surrounding him. He leans in to kiss your chin, his breath mingling with yours. “I love you.” He murmurs, starting to move inside of you.

“I love you too.” You gasp out softly, holding onto his shoulders and giving into the urge to close your eyes. It’s perfect and slow. Both of you are older and you’ve got all the time in the world tonight. There’s just the two of you here. You know JJ will show Ellie her room if you don’t make it back downstairs and all of you are safe here. You’re safe and back together.

He doesn’t rush. He takes his time moving inside of you. Yes, he’s overwhelmed with his emotions because you are the love of his life and he’s got you back. He’s back in your arms and he doesn’t plan on leaving. He’s safe. Ellie is safe. He can get to know his son. It’s more than he can handle but he inhales deeply and kisses along your jaw, enjoying the way you caress his back.

You move together, sedately and lovingly. You let him kiss you all over, but you prefer when his lips are pressed against yours and his cock is buried deep inside you. You rock together slowly, and your fingers learn the new scars and marks on your lover’s body.

He’s in no rush but it’s been a while since he was inside someone, especially the woman he loves so much. “I love you, darlin’.” He murmurs again, sliding his hand between you so he can rub your clit.

One his side, he can see all of you. He can touch you as you need him to. Not that you can’t cum from his cock alone but you are happy that he cares about your pleasure. “I love you. I love you so much. Always dreamed of having you back like this.”

Joel groans, rubbing your clit a little faster as your words wash over him. “That’s it, baby. Want you to cum for me.” He murmurs against your chin. He rocks into you a little harder, needing to hear and see you fall apart beneath him.

It’s almost too much, the way he rocks into you and he also touches you. “Joel, Joel.” You moan quietly, starting to shake and quiver under him. “I’m going to cum baby.”

He feels your walls fluttering around his cock and he groans, pushing into you until you’re clenching down around his cock. “That’s it. Fuck, such a good girl for me. Shit, feel so good. So tight.” He coos into your ear and works you through it. His hand drops from your clit and he grabs your hip, shifting to lay down. “Want you to ride me when you can.” He demands, letting you slump against him as you enjoy your orgasm.

You hum, throwing your leg over his waist and shifting to straddle him. “You want me to ride you?” You lean down and press your lips to his as you reach between you and line up with his cock to sink down onto it. You moan his name quietly as the new angle presents a much fuller feeling.

“Fuck.” He pants, his dark eyes taking you in as you start to rock on top of him. “I’ve missed you. I missed you every goddamn night in my dreams. Imagined what could’ve been if it weren’t for the fucking outbreak.” He confesses, sliding his hands up to cup your tits. “Imagined what you’d look like pregnant. Bet you were fuckin’ gorgeous.”

“Ha.” You snort and kiss his chin. “I was waddling around. He was a big baby.” You don’t mention how scared you had been, how dangerous it had been for everyone around while you were pregnant. You were slower and ungainly, some of the men overly protective and others wanting to leave you behind. Still, you prevailed. You’re here and that’s where you want to be.

“Wish I had been there to see it. To protect you.” He murmurs, looking at you with sad eyes as his hands slide down to caress your waist, sliding around to squeeze your ass. “I wish I had been there for you.”

“You’re here now.” You remind him softly. “That’s all that matters.” You slowly rock on him, peppering his face with kisses as you caress his arms and chest. “We are together again, that’s all that matters.”

He sighs, knowing he can’t keep dwelling on the past. He knows that. He kisses you, helping you rock on top of him by squeezing your ass. “Want you to cum again for me.” He murmurs, “cum with me.” He demands with a slight whine, wanting you to fall apart around him.

“Still so greedy.” You tease quietly, rocking onto him faster, and feeling the way his cock twitches up inside you. You know that he’s had past lovers before, but you don’t worry about that now. Now, you are with him and you want to do exactly as he wants. You want to cum for him. “Play with my tits.” You beg quietly.

He obeys, his hands cupping your tits. He squeezes them. “Cum for me, baby.” He demands, pinching your nipples. He desperately wants you to cum for him, to feel you clamp down on his cock again.

It takes just a minute more, mouth hanging open slightly and you moan, your walls tightening around him. Soaking him with a wave of your juices as you groan out his name. “Joel! Shit- so good.”

He grunts when you clamp down onto him, making him thrust up into you. You fall forward onto his chest and he hisses when he starts to twitch inside of you. Cum spurts out of his cock to cost your walls and he lets out a strangled groan of your name as he fills you up.

You would have worried about him cumming inside you, fearful of another pregnancy, but you had stopped having a menstrual cycle a few years ago. Instead, you moan softly and close your eyes, pressing your lips to his.

Joel caresses your back, reveling in how you feel around him, above him. “I love you.” He murmurs, knowing that he is finally where he belongs. Back in your arms and he’s safe. Ellie is safe. He doesn’t have to fight anymore. He can stay in Jackson and create a life with you, get to know his son. It’s more than he could’ve ever asked for. He smiles against your lips and you lean back, looking at him. “What?” You chuckle, “nothing. Just - I’m happy.” He confesses and you caress his cheek. “Me too.” You whisper, knowing that nothing will get the time back that you lost out on with Joel but you have him now. Now, you get to be together. The way it was always supposed to be.

[lupinqs]

CRUSH CULTURE ━━ paige bueckers x reader

☆ ━ summary: paige has a hopeless crush on you, a cheerleader

☆ ━ word count: 5.4K

☆ ━ warnings: alcohol consumption, kissing, this one’s tame

☆ ━ links: my masterlist, inspired by this request (lol i know this was forever ago)

☆ ━ author’s note: hiii i hope y’all enjoy—lemme know if you guys want a part 2 and if so send in ideas for it!!! i have been hopelessly uncreative recently!!! also yes i have been writing tmtc and safe and sound i promise—new chapter of tmtc should be out sometime this weekend, no idea on safe and sound because goddamn that fic takes me forever to write

PAIGE HAS ALWAYS noticed you—though, funny enough, at first it wasn’t because you cheered. That part didn’t even register until her junior year, when she started paying attention to things off the court. But she’d first noticed you back in her sophomore year, in that one class she didn’t feel like she needed at all. She’d often zone out, either doodling in the margins of her notebook or letting her eyes drift around the room as she let her mind wander. Her gaze would skip over classmates until, one day, it stopped on you.

And, God, she remembers that moment. The way she’d blinked, like she needed to reset her brain for a second because… well, you. It wasn’t anything specific, nothing she could even name at the time. But there was this something about you that made her stomach flip. From then on, whenever she zoned out, her eyes would find you before she even realized it. You’d be focused on your notes or lost in thought, completely unaware, and Paige would catch herself staring just a little too long.

She’d think about talking to you, but for some reason, you made her nervous. And that wasn’t something Paige was used to feeling—not with girls. She’d been confident her whole life, even a little cocky when it came to flirting, and her reputation certainly proceeded her. But with you, all of that confidence vanished. Her brain would go blank, her hands would fidget, and her heart would pound just watching you, sitting across the room. The idea of walking up to you, striking up a conversation, felt almost laughable. You’d somehow managed to turn her, Paige Bueckers, into a stammering mess with just a look.

And then there was the other part—the part that kept her from making a move even when she managed to work up the nerve. You looked so…straight. She knows it’s a stupid assumption, but something about the way you carried yourself—she’d convinced herself that you had to be straight. Maybe it was the way you fit in with the other girls, how they flocked around you like they were all in some effortlessly straight, picture-perfect group. Whatever it was, Paige felt certain you’d never look at her the way she looked at you.

So she let it go, or at least, she tried to. But you kept slipping into her thoughts, distracting her in that class, making her mind wander back to you when she least expected it. Her silly little crush on you lingered all through sophomore year, and even when summer rolled around, she found herself thinking of you every now and then, imagining what it might have been like to know you outside of that class.

Then junior year rolled around, and her whole world changed with that ACL tear. Benched for the season, her focus shifted in ways she never anticipated. Instead of charging down the court, she found herself sitting on the sidelines, watching, observing things she normally wouldn’t have noticed. And it was during one of those games, one of those long, frustrating nights when she just wanted to play, that she saw you again—this time, on the court as one of the cheerleaders.

At first, she couldn’t believe it. She actually had to blink a few times, like her brain was trying to catch up with what her eyes were seeing. This was her third year at UConn, and she hadn’t noticed you were a cheerleader ever. Maybe she really was just unobservant, but it truly shocked her. You looked completely different from how you did in class—more animated, more alive, like you were in your element. And when you started that long, impressive tumbling pass down the court, her jaw dropped. She didn’t even know you could do that, and it left her staring, heart hammering in a way she hadn’t felt in a long time. (And maybe the tiny little uniform helped speed it up, too.)

From then on, Paige couldn’t keep her eyes off you during games. She’d always find herself watching you, wondering if you’d somehow feel her gaze, hoping that maybe, just once, you’d look her way. She spent so many games like that—sneaking glances, letting her mind wander, imagining what it might be like to finally work up the nerve to talk to you. But game after game, you never seemed to notice her, too focused on your routines, your teammates, and the cheering crowd around you.

And Paige? She knew she was hopelessly stuck. She’d sit there on the sidelines, feeling ridiculous, pining after a girl she couldn’t even talk to, a girl she thought she’d never really have a chance with. It was her worst crush yet—the kind that left her feeling off-balance, stumbling over her own thoughts, trying to convince herself that it didn’t matter—and she’d never even spoken to you. But each time she saw you out there, smiling, moving with that same effortless grace, she’d feel that same pull, that same quiet, persistent ache.

It’s senior year now, and Paige has one thing on her mind: basketball. It’s been more than a year since she’s played, and she’s determined to make this season count. All summer, she told herself the same thing over and over: Stay focused. Don’t get distracted. No more drifting thoughts, no more daydreams, and absolutely no more pointless crushes on girls she can’t have. And especially no crushes on you.

You, the cheerleader she’d spent too many junior year games staring at from the sidelines. You, the girl she still thought about when her mind wandered late at night, even though she knew better. No, this year, she was locking in. She’d worked too hard, too long, to let her head get all twisted up over you again. She was here to play basketball, not to chase after some unattainable crush.

But as she jogs onto the court for warm-ups, trying to ignore the butterflies that come with her first game back, her eyes somehow find you anyway. Just like they always do. And it’s like no time has passed at all. You’re laughing with the other cheerleaders, your hair perfectly styled in a half-up-half-down, a bow nestled in it, your uniform hugging you just right. The lights catch on your skin, giving you this soft glow, and your smile—God, that smile, so open and sweet and painfully distracting—has her heart skipping a beat before she even realizes it. Paige quickly snaps her eyes away, reminding herself she’s here to play, not to get lost in some imaginary world where she has a chance with you. This is her first game back, and even if it’s just an exhibition against Dayton, she’s got to make it count.

With a deep breath, she manages to brush you off. The pregame excitement kicks in, and her focus sharpens as the game begins. And it’s everything she’s been waiting for—the sounds of the court, the rush of the crowd, the thrill of moving with the ball in her hands again. She’s finally back, and for the first quarter, she’s locked in, feeling the rhythm of the game, feeling unstoppable.

Then it happens. KK makes a bad pass, and Paige is already in motion, chasing down the ball to save it from going out of bounds. She dives, stretching to reach it, but it’s just out of reach. Before she can stop herself, she’s crashing full speed into the sidelines—right into the cheerleaders.

Right into you.

The impact is quick and jarring, and she scrambles to her feet as fast as she can, heart hammering in her chest. She’s prepared to rattle off an apology when she realizes who she’s just barreled into. You’re significantly smaller than her, and her stomach drops as she takes in your wide eyes and the faint wince that flickers across your face. But you handle it with the same grace she’d always admired from afar, waving her off with a laugh and saying, “It’s fine! You’re good!” Your smile is easy, casual, and she’s even more mortified by how sweet you’re being about it.

She tries to apologize again, but you’re already brushing it off with that smile, and she feels her face heating up as she mumbles something unintelligible before hurrying back onto the court. But now her head’s a mess, all her carefully built-up focus gone, replaced by the embarrassing replay of what just happened. She tells herself to get it together, but it’s no use. Her mind keeps drifting back to the look on your face, to the sound of your laugh, to the softness in your smile when you waved her off.

The rest of the game passes in a frustrating blur. She’s off her rhythm, missing open shots she’d normally sink with ease, getting caught in rotations she usually anticipates. By the end, she’s only scored eight points—a painfully low number, especially for her—and she feels the weight of it like a stone in her stomach. She should be thinking about the game, her missed shots, how to get her focus back. But as she sits on the bench, watching the last few minutes tick away, all she can think about is you standing there, laughing off her clumsy collision, looking up at her with that easy, unbothered smile.

So much for not getting distracted.

After the game, Paige is still kicking herself over how sloppy her performance was. She lingers in the locker room, hoping to avoid any unwanted run-ins. But finally, when she’s convinced she’s given it enough time for everyone to clear out, she heads out into the quiet halls of Gampel Pavilion.

Except, of course, her luck isn’t that great. Just as she’s walking out, she spots you—still in your cheer uniform but with a UConn sweatshirt thrown over it, heading down the hall, cheer bag on your back. Her first instinct is to turn around, bolt back into the locker room, and hope to avoid any more humiliation, but it’s already too late. You look up, and your eyes meet, and suddenly she’s frozen in place, panicking because she’s actually staring straight into your eyes.

And then you smile at her. That smile, the one that sends her brain into a meltdown every time. But it’s so much worse now because your smile is directed at her. And, suddenly, you’re walking up to her and saying, “Hey, good game tonight,” and Paige is pretty sure her heart has stopped.

She tries to seem casual, to play it cool, but all she can manage is a shrug and a half-hearted, “Eh, wasn’t my best.” She’s hoping you don’t notice her stutter, but her cheeks are burning, giving her away.

You just wave it off, your dimple showing as you grin up at her. “Nah, this was just your warm-up. You haven’t played in, like, over a year. Next game you’ll drop thirty.”

Paige blinks, and the fact that you know she’s good at basketball—even though everyone knows she’s good at basketball—is enough to send her into a coma, she thinks. “Oh, gosh,” she says, rubbing the back of her neck, struggling to find words. “Gonna have to now, just for you.” The second it’s out of her mouth, she mentally facepalms. That totally sounds like she’s trying to flirt with you.

But you just laugh, eyes crinkling as you look at her, completely unfazed. “I’ll hold you to it,” you say, and that smile doesn’t waver.

There’s a pause, and Paige knows this is where you’re about to say goodbye, and she panics because, after two years of thinking and practically obsessing over you, she’s finally talking to you, and it feels too short, too fleeting. Before she can second-guess herself, she blurts, “Oh—uh, hey, about earlier… when I ran into you. I’m… really sorry about that.”

You shake your head, smiling even wider, brushing it off with an easy laugh. “Don’t worry about it. Happens all the time; more than you’d think.”

There’s something so casual and warm about the way you say it, and she feels herself relax a little, caught up in the fact that you’re looking right at her, not at all bothered, almost… endeared? And for some reason, seeing your dimpled smile has her stammering like she’s never done before.

“So… uh…” Paige stumbles, her words failing, her confidence gone. “Are you, um, going to Ted’s tonight?” She bites her lip the moment it’s out, but she presses on. “You know, a lot of people go there after the first game—it’s kinda, like, a…thing. Which, y’know, I guess you probably already know about because… you’re, like, not a freshman…” She sounds so stupid. God.

You tilt your head slightly, considering, before you smile at her again. “I wasn’t really planning on going, but…” You pause, looking at her with a bit of a spark in your eyes, and for a second, she feels like she might actually combust. “Should I?”

Paige’s eyes widen, and she’s nodding before she can stop herself. “Y-yes! I—I think you’d have a good time.” She mentally scolds herself for the stutter, but you’re just nodding, still smiling, still looking so effortlessly at ease while she’s a nervous mess.

You laugh softly, a sound she’s sure she’ll replay in her head all night, and say, “Alright. I’ll think about it. And if I do decide to go, I’ll see you there, Bueckers.”

And with one last smile, you turn and walk away, leaving her standing there in shock, her heart racing and her mind replaying every word you just said. She’s tempted to pinch herself, convinced this has to be some elaborate daydream because there’s no way she actually just talked to you.

She doesn’t move for a long moment, replaying the way you said her name, the sound of your laugh, and the chance that she might actually see you tonight.

IT’S LATER in the night at Ted’s, and Paige is doing her best to stay composed, talking with one of the guys from the men’s team. Dirty Shirley in hand, she’s feeling just the faintest buzz, not enough to loosen her grip on reality but just enough to feel the edges of her confidence soften. She’s nodding along to something the guy’s saying when, over his shoulder, she spots you walking in.

Paige’s attention falters as she takes you in. You’re in baggy jeans that hang low on your hips, and a leather tube top that clings in all the right places, dipping enough to make her gaze lower slightly. She can barely tear her gaze away as you head over to the bar with a couple of friends, both of whom Paige recognizes from the cheer team. You’re laughing, leaning into one of them, completely at ease, and she can’t stop watching.

She realizes she’s staring a little too long, so she quickly excuses herself, not to talk to you—God, no, she can’t even think straight around you—but to hide by her teammates before she does something stupid. Her teammates notice her the moment she approaches, grinning as they watch her flustered expression.

“You see who just walked in, P?” Azzi teases, nudging her.

Paige groans, cheeks burning. “Don’t start.”

But they’re all laughing, and Ice is elbowing KK with a smirk. Nika, who’s been listening with a barely disguised grin, rolls her eyes. “Okay, this is ridiculous. You’ve had a crush on this girl since, like, forever. Go talk to her.”

“Are you kidding? I can’t. She’s—” Paige doesn’t even finish the sentence, glancing over her shoulder just in time to see you at the bar, waiting for your drink. She’d be lying if she said her confidence hadn’t evaporated the moment you walked in, looking like that.

“Girl boo,” KK sighs dramatically, before grabbing Paige’s wrist and dragging her toward the bar. Paige stumbles after her, mumbling weak protests, but KK is determined, practically hauling her across the crowded floor until they’re standing right next to you. KK orders a Sprite, leaning casually on the bar and glancing over at you with a grin. “Hey, girly pop! You cheer, right?”

You smile, looking more at Paige than at KK, and Paige’s heart thuds against her ribs. “Yeah, I do,” you say, introducing yourself and holding out a hand to KK, but your gaze flickers right back to Paige, who’s half-hiding behind her friend, cheeks pink and looking slightly caught. “Hi, Paige.”

Paige’s voice comes out a little sheepish. “Hey.”

KK smirks, clearly satisfied, and gives Paige a quick wink before excusing herself, leaving Paige standing there alone with you.

There’s a beat of awkward silence as Paige shifts on her feet, trying to keep herself from looking like an idiot, which is hard considering how aware she is of every single thing about you—your posture, your smile, the way you’re leaning in just close enough that she can catch a faint hint of your perfume.

“So,” Paige says, trying for casual. “You glad you came?”

You tilt your head, your lips quirking up. “Hmm, not sure yet. I’m not too impressed so far.”

She nods, stifling a wince, feeling more awkward than she can ever remember. And yet, her mind’s racing, urging her to just go for it, because this is her moment. She’s Paige Bueckers—she’s supposed to be confident. She always is. Besides, if you’re not interested, at least she’ll know. And if you are…

She hesitates, then swallows, trying to keep her voice steady as she says, “Um… can I buy you a drink?”

There’s a flicker of something in your eyes—maybe amusement, maybe surprise—and she’s mentally bracing herself for you to say no when you glance at the bar and say, “Actually, I just ordered one.” Her heart sinks a little, but she forces a smile, trying to play it off. Of course you’re not interested; she should have known better—

Then you’re leaning closer, nudging her elbow with yours, and you smirk, your voice soft and playful. “But you can buy my next one, if you want.”

Paige’s brain short-circuits as your words settle in, her mouth going dry as she realizes what you just said. “Uh, y-yeah, totally,” she manages, trying to keep from looking as giddy as she feels. “I…I’d love to.”

Your smirk turns into a grin, and you’re looking at her like she’s the only person in the room. She’s trying to come up with something smooth to say when, suddenly, one of your friends pops ups beside you and Paige, tugging on your arm, pulling you off the barstool and towards the crowd with a teasing, “Come on!”

Paige opens her mouth to protest, but before she knows it, you’re being swallowed up into the throng of people—not before you send her a quick, apologetic look over your shoulder, your friend still dragging you. Paige frowns, a little disappointed, but quickly catches herself. It’s fine, she thinks, though a twinge of regret lingers. She pushes it aside, grabbing her drink from the bar and returning back to her table, telling herself to focus on celebrating. She’s finally back on the court, and after such a long, difficult recovery, tonight is meant to be about unwinding. So she does, letting her team hype her up as they cheer and clink their drinks in her honor, pulling her deeper into the night.

As the time passes, Paige’s frustration eases, replaced by a warm buzz that dulls everything except the elation of being surrounded by her friends. But even as she sips her drink, she can’t help but think about where you’ve disappeared to, if you’re still here, still laughing with your friends somewhere across the bar. She finds herself scanning the crowd more than once, looking for a glimpse of you. She tries to push it down, laugh it off with another round, but every time she looks around, her gaze seems to search for you.

Eventually, the heat of the crowded bar gets to her. She feels flushed, dizzy from the alcohol and the mass of people, so she slips out the back door for some air. The cool breeze hits her face, and she closes her eyes for a second, sighing as the sounds of the bar fade behind her. She barely has a moment to herself before she notices a figure sitting just a few feet away.

It’s you, sitting on the curb, looking down at your hands as if lost in thought. Paige blinks, unsure if she’s seeing things. But then you look up at the sound of the door closing and smile, that familiar, gentle smile that makes her heart stutter. You seem just as surprised to see her, but your expression softens, like you’re genuinely happy she’s there. And that’s all the encouragement Paige needs.

“You care if I join?” she asks, trying to sound casual, even though her heart’s racing.

“Not at all,” you reply, and she takes a seat beside you, a bit closer than she planned. She feels your warmth even in the night air, and it makes her head spin in a way she can’t blame on the alcohol.

There’s a pause, a comfortable silence stretching between you. Paige watches as you draw patterns in the gravel with your fingers, the lights from the bar casting a soft glow over your face. She swallows, summoning up the nerve to say something—anything that might keep you sitting here with her.

“Why you out here?” she starts, genuinely curious.

You shrug, glancing back toward the bar. “Got a little claustrophobic in there,” you say, voice soft.

“Yeah… me too,” Paige nods, grateful for the fresh air and this quiet moment with you. The silence returns, but this time, it’s charged, heavy with something she can’t quite put into words.

Finally, Paige finds her voice again, her words slipping out before she can think them over. “You’re a good cheerleader, y’know. You do all those flips and shit—it’s impressive.”

You let out a small laugh, looking away for a second as if flattered. Paige is almost certain she sees a faint blush on your cheeks, and the sight makes her smile a little, lips curving upward. “Didn’t know you really paid attention to the cheerleaders,” you respond, teasing.

Paige scoffs, shrugging as if it isn’t a big deal, even though she feels like she’s been caught in some sort of confession—which, she kinda has. “Well, I did sit out for a year, so… I had to find something to watch.”

You tilt your head, smirking as you ask, “So you chose to watch me?”

Paige’s cheeks warm, and she silently thanks the alcohol for the courage that lets her meet your gaze. “Yeah,” she murmurs, watching as you look away, biting your lip as if trying to hide a smile. The sight makes her heart skip in a way that’s both exhilarating and terrifying.

After a moment, Paige adds, “I think we… had a class together, couple years ago?”

You nod, eyes lighting up at the memory. “Yeah, we did. Sociology, right?” you reaffirm, nodding in tandem with her. “’M surprised you remember that—you always seemed so disinterested.”

Paige nearly blanches, genuinely surprised you’d noticed her too. She didn’t think you’d have remembered her, much less noticed her back then. The notion gives her some of her usual confidence beck and she manages a chuckle, shaking her head and tilting it slightly toward you as she murmurs, “Ah, so you were watching me too, huh?”

You roll your eyes, but your smile betrays you as you nudge her shoulder. “Shut up,” you mutter, but the blush on your face doesn’t go unnoticed.

There’s another pause, the two of you sitting side by side in the quiet, both of you lingering on the edge of something unsaid. Finally, you break the silence, voice soft and hesitant. “How come you never said anything before?”

Paige swallows, the question catching her off guard. She doesn’t know how to answer without giving herself away, without admitting the way her stomach twists every time she sees you around campus. So instead, she asks, turning the question back on you, “How come you never did?”

You don’t seem to mind that she didn’t really give you an answer. Instead, you just shrug, looking down at your hands. “I don’t know… you make me kinda nervous.”

The confession makes Paige’s heart alight, feeling like it’s on fire and might spread throughout her whole body. She’s used to people being in awe of her for basketball, for her skills on the court. But hearing you say that you feel that way too, like she’s someone more than just her reputation, shakes her. Besides, you’ve always seemed so incredibly at ease around her, never even bothering to look her way. So, almost incredulously, she asks, “Why?”

You scoff, looking at her like she’s missing something obvious. “Um, because you’re Paige Bueckers. Basketball prodigy, campus celebrity.” You raise your eyebrows at her. “I think most people would be.”

Paige feels a rush of warmth at your words, the way you say her name like it means something special. She searches your face, feeling the air grow thick around you, heavy with something she couldn’t quite name. And maybe it’s the alcohol in her system, maybe it’s the way you’re looking at her like she’s somehow both intimidating and endearing at the same time, but she’s feeling bold. Bold enough to keep this conversation going, to see where this moment might lead.

She clears her throat, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Well, if it helps… you make me nervous.”

You laugh, a little breathless, clearly surprised. “Yeah, right.”

“I’m serious,” Paige insists. “You ain’t see the way I stuttered around you earlier? Ion know, ma, you just kinda fuck with my head.”

She watches, grin widening, as you blush at her words, the color blooming across your cheeks. It’s addictive, seeing you react like that—because of her. She doesn’t even try to hide her amusement when you ask, gaze set out in front of you instead of on her, “Why would I fuck with your head?”

It’s a good question, one Paige asked herself for a long time. It never took her long to figure out the answer. Though, she’s a little nervous to explain herself.

And she gets even more nervous when your gaze slides back onto hers, your head turning towards her. Paige’s smile falters, just slightly, at the eye contact. It’s intense, the kind that feels like it’s holding the world still for a second. Paige’s heart is a drum in her chest, each beat vibrating through her veins. Her eyes slide across your face, your features, tracing the slope of your nose, the curve of your lips, the faint shimmer glitter swiped along your eyelids. She catalogues every detail as if she’s never going to get this close again—a very real possibility if she doesn’t up her game.

Finally, she leans in—just slightly—her voice low and steady as she answers you. “You got this positive energy that makes you just… stand out in front of a crowd. Big smile. Bright eyes. Mm, I just… like seeing that in people.”

The words settle in the space between you, warm and lingering. Paige hesitates, letting them wrap around you both before adding, her voice dipping lower, her boldness shooting upward, “And it doesn’t help that you’re too beautiful for your own good.”

You blush deeper this time, cheeks tinted more red than pink, and it makes Paige’s heart skip. She can’t help the way her lips twitch into a grin. She’s waited so long to see this—see you flustered because of her. It’s everything she imagined and more.

“Stop,” you protest, fighting a smile as you push at her hands, your tone not carrying any weight behind the word. Paige just laughs, soft and easy, catching your hand in hers before you can pull away. She lifts it slightly, letting her thumb brush over your knuckles as she murmurs, “Nah, really.”

It’s then that the air changes—shifting into something heavier. The space between the two of you is practically nonexistent at this point, your sides tucked right into each other. You’re staring at one another, and Paige can’t help it when her gaze flickers down to your lips, just for a second. But it turns out to be enough. Because then she sees your eyes dart to her mouth in return, lingering there. And that’s when Paige knows.

Still holding your hand, she locks her gaze on yours, her voice firm but soft when she repeats, “Really.”

It’s like that word unlocks something between you because suddenly you’re leaning in, and Paige is doing the same, her breath catching the moment your lips touch hers. It’s soft, tentative at first, like neither of you are quite sure if this is real. But then you press into her just slightly, and Paige swears the whole world tilts on its axis.

The kiss deepens, slow but deliberate, and Paige feels her whole body light up. Your lips are warm, soft, and you taste faintly of tequila and strawberry chapstick. It’s intoxicating, the way you move against her, gentle but with enough purpose to make her head spin. Paige’s hand slides up to cradle your jaw, her thumb brushing against your cheekbone.

Your fingers grab at her bicep, holding on like you don’t want to let go, and it sends a thrill through her. Paige’s lips part slightly, and when you follow, letting her slip her tongue into your mouth, it’s like a fire ignites somewhere deep inside her. The kiss isn’t frantic or messy—it’s unhurried, like the two of you have all the time in the world to explore this. She can feel the heat of your skin where her hand cups your face, and she wants to memorize every second, every sensation.

The way you tilt your head just a little, giving her more access, nearly undoes her. Paige tilts her own in response, deepening the kiss further, her fingers slipping from your jaw to the back of your neck. The touch is light, almost reverent, but the closeness makes her heart race.

Your other hand moves, grazing against her side before resting lightly on her hip. Paige’s stomach flips at the contact, her body leaning instinctively closer to yours. She swears she can feel the warmth of your breath between kisses, the subtle hitch when she nips at your bottom lip.

It’s slow, it’s sweet, but it’s intoxicating. Paige swears she’s never kissed anyone like this before, never felt this much just from simple lip-locking. When you pull back slightly—not breaking the kiss entirely, just catching your breath—she can’t help herself. She follows you instinctively, her mouth chasing yours in a way that feels both vulnerable and utterly fearless. You allow her to, tongues half entwined between your swollen lips.

When you finally part, Paige keeps close, her forehead gently pressing against yours, her hand still cradling your neck. Neither of you moves far, the space between you so small your breaths still mingle, soft and warm against each other’s lips. Paige’s eyes flutter open, but she doesn’t look away from you, her gaze locked on yours like you’re the only thing in the world that matters—which, right now, you might as well be.

Her voice comes out lower than she intends, husky and laced with something she can’t quite hide as she murmurs, “You gonna let me buy you that drink now?”

Your lips curve into a slow, easy grin, and Paige feels her chest tighten, her heart skipping a beat at the sight of it. You’re so close she can see the faint glimmer of mischief in your eyes, the way they soften as you look at her.

“Yeah,” you say, your voice soft but sure, “I’d like that.”

The way you say it, the way your smile widens just slightly after, makes Paige’s heart race all over again. She can’t help the small, satisfied smile that spreads across her face. Paige leans back just enough to take in the sight of you—your flushed cheeks, the way your hair’s slightly mussed, and that lingering, breathtaking smile she knows will haunt her in the best way.

“Good,” she murmurs, her thumb brushing your jaw lightly one last time before she pulls away completely, standing up and offering you her hand. When you take it, she holds on a little longer than necessary, leading you back into the bar, already planning how she’s going to keep you smiling for the rest of the night—and, hopefully, much longer afterwards.

[clockwayswrites]

Distracting Birb! Part 28

*throws this and runs* Masterpost

“So what did you find out?” Tim asked as he spun around. He was at the computer, of course, and looked most of the way to villainy backlit by the large screens.

(Dick loved his little brother, but villainy really wouldn’t be the most surprising outcome for Tim.)

“What makes you think we found anything?” Jason answered, just to be impertinent.

Tim rolled his eyes. “You wouldn’t have called us all down to the Cave if you didn’t have anything.”

Jason scoffed. “You underestimate how willing I am to waste your time.”

“Boys,” Cass said calmly, ending the growing argument with just that word.

“Duke still out on patrol?” Dick asked as a distraction.

Tim glanced over his shoulder and back at the screen. “On his way back. He’ll be here in fifteenish.”

Best not to wait in case Danny woke, Dick decided. They’d be sure to fill him in. “Okay. Well, Danny was not lying, he has a lot of plants.”

“Dick managed to turn on the watering system. We’re all very proud of him,” Jason said flatly.

The siblings all golf clapped, which Dick took a dramatic bow to. “Thank you, thank you. Otherwise a pretty normal apartment. Comfortable, a little nerdy, and not fussy.”

Jason nodded. “There’s a hero—not sure if someone real or fictional—that we saw a few times. Someone called Phantom.”

Obliging, Dick sent the photo of the mug from the bathroom up onto one of the screens. Tim spun back to the computer and started searching.

“There were also a lot of medication in his cabinet; vitamins and several prescriptions also. Some of them had weird labels.”

“Damn, Dick, you couldn’t have gotten a clearer photo?” Tim asked as he squinted at the new set of images.

“As much as I hate to defend Dick,” Jason said as he added photos of his own to the screen, ‘that is a clear photo. Danny was writing in the same language along with English in a bedside notebook of his.”

“Are you in need of glasses, Drake?” Damian asked as he looked from the photos to Tim with a judgmental brow raised.

Tim flicked him off, which Dick considered telling Tim off for (Damian had enough bad habits), but was actually curious about this. “No. The text looks glitched out.’

“No,” Damian said slowly and with a scowl, “it is clear. Odd, but clear.”

“Cass?” Dick asked.

She moved a step closer to the television, head tilted. There was a long, quiet moment before she lifted her hand a gave a so-so motion.

Tim looked from her, to Damian, to the screens. “…Dick?”

“So that’s the thing, it looks wrong to me too. If I look at it too long it’s like it gives me a headache. Jason can read it though.”

Jason snorted. “That’s taking it a bit far. I feel like I should be able to read it. I can get a word here or there maybe.”

“Like it whispers,” Damian said, the quiet words oddly poetic for the youngest of them.

“…yeah, like it whispers,” Jason agreed, just as softly.

“Right, okay. Freaky language that only some of us can even see, much less read, and those who can have spent a lot of time in or around the league,” Tim said. “How concerned do we need to be able this? To we need to be concerned about this? I feel like we need to be concerned about this.”

None of them had an easy answer for Tim.

All of them were grateful for the roar of Duke’s bike interrupting the conversation as he pulled into the cave.

“What are you all looking some grim about?” Duke asked. He yanked his helmet off and took a deep breath, like he hadn’t been able to breath in hours.

It was a feeling they all got. Even a good patrol was draining and Duke had been actively on follow up over what had gone down today with the Mad Hatter. Dick tossed a towel Duke’s way and went to grab a drink for the other from the food safe fridge.

“Stuff from Danny’s place. Take a look at the screen,” Jason said.

“Danny? I thought that we liked the guy,” Duke said, accepting the drink with a grateful thank you. He drained half of it his the way to the screens. “Shit, that’s a lot of meds.”

“Take a closer look,” Jason said, though not unkindly.

Duke stepped closer to the screen.

And went alarmingly still.

Dick resisted the instinctual urge to reach out and grab him. “Duke?”

Duke gave an answering hum and turned his head, just slightly, towards Dick. His eyes never left the screen. Dick wasn’t sure if Duke had really heard him. It was Jason who ended up acting, ended up listening to that instinct. He stepped between Duke and the screen, blocking their newest brother’s view. Duke sucked in a sharp, startled breath.

“What?”

“Hey, come on, have a seat,” Jason said and guided Duke backwards into one of the chairs at the table.

Tim swiftly cleared the photos from the screen.

Duke shook his head. “Sorry, man, I don’t know what… that, huh. What did those look like to you all?”

“Magenta tinted pill bottles with different levels of medication in them,” Tim replied calmly. “Dick and I can’t read what’s printed on them. Damian, Jason, and maybe Cass can a little which means it might be League writing of some sort.”

Dick leaned against the table. “What did you see, Duke?”

“Magenta tinted pill bottles with something in them. Like whatever it was my powers were weird about it. I’d have to see them in person to know anything about why, I guess, but they were… I don’t know. But whatever that stuff was I don’t think it’s League because I don’t think it’s human. I don’t think it’s earthly.”

“Well, fuck,” Dick said with a sigh.

He wasn’t sure if that was better or worse.

[thessaralka]

Solas romance is basically:

Inquisitor: hey Solas:. …. Inky: I gotchu boo bear ❤️ Solas: choking th-thank you? Inky:… ;) you're not like other girls Solas: I - no I’m not. Thank u for noticing. Inky: ;;;) Solas: ur hot and I’m into u and I might plausibly want to test that theory Inky: choking Inky: so u have feelings for me? Solas: n-noo Inky: tests that theory Solas: fade tongue

Solas: moaning oh hehe this is a dream btw ~ Inky: wow. Hot. sooo. Wanna? Solas: there are....considerations. like mythal's geas over me which is heavily implied in the subcontext throughout my entire narrative arc. Inky:……. U don’t have to do this alone. I felt your tongue in my mouth. I said I gotchu.

Inky: I SAIDDDD I gotchu. Solas: choking vhenan ar lath ma I haven’t and will never forget that kiss smooching noises Inky: damn alright mf Solas: vhenan ❤️❤️❤️❤️ Solas: wow I love sex and parties reminds me of the good ol days let's dance babe Inky: ??? Solas: in the fade ofc. I don't party. Inky: o-okay Solas: mythal's temple…. It's all coming back…. Memories of my pa- the fade. you really cannot rely on friends at all. untrustworthy mfs Inky: ??? damn you're being negative as hell right now you tryina fuc Solas: no. Actually, Yes. Come with me vhenan. Solas: I have so much to tell you. Choking the truth. Your face. The Dalish are but simple fools - Inky: what the fuck Solas: kissing and grabbing ass, choking back tears we cannot. Your duty - I am but a distraction crying Vhenan: … I said whatever you're going thru you don't have to go thru alone. I meant that. Wyd? I love you. Don't leave me. Let's be worms together. Solas: choking and crying I'm such a piece of shit vhenan I can't Vhenan: 😭😭😭😭???????? Vhenan: 😡😡😡😡!!!!!!!!!!!

Solas: heartbroken and wracked with so much guilt on main Cole: all you have to do is tell her. she thinks it's her fault why don't you just tell her? Solas: I'm a piece of shit Cole please stop trying to help me I'm unlovable Vhenan: 💔💔💔???? Solas: harden your heart and use that pain against C-Corypheus. Solas: wh-what we had was real vhenan 😭😭💔💔😭 Solas: leaves Vhenan: 🚬😭 what the fuck even was that

Vhenan: Cullen wyd Vhenan: nevermind. Ew

Vhenan 2 years later: *putting on a clown nose* wdym Solas is an agent of Fen'Harel. Of course. He has been helping us all along ☝🏻😍 Everyone except Cole: you stupid bitch Cole: you see him ❤️ Vhenan: Solas idgaf that you're the dread wolf you should have trusted me. Solas: ….. I'm such a bastard. Solas: I'm going to tear down the veil and kill you and everyone you love. Vhenan: *in full clown makeup* let me help you Solas. You don't have to do his alone. I am literally just as crazy as you. Solas: choking I walk the din'anshiral vhenan I can't let you love me when I'm like this. Vhenan: you stupid mf. I will save you from yourself. Solas: choking and crying my love~ kissing sounds Solas: sobbing I will never forget you…. But you should forget me… I'm such a loser and horrible person. Bye Vhenan: this stupid mf. I will find his ass and make him see.

Solas for 8 years: writing vhenan unsent letters and reading smut and painting murals about it all emo Vhenan: wearing clown makeup this stupid mf. I love him still. Rook: damn okay. Vhenan: *putting on clown shoes* can we save him from himself at this point in time maybe? Morrigan: thinking with your pussy Inquisitor? Vhenan: I have literally never stopped thinking with my pussy from the moment I saw him

Vhenan: Solas, stop. Solas: choking vhenan what are you doing here? I am a peice of shit. Vhenan: Idgaf. You're my peice of shit. Solas: I cannot stop. I am under a geas by Mythal and the writers didn't want to extrapolate on that further even though it is the only thing that makes my character motivations make sense 💔 Mythal: I release you from my service btw. Solas: wow suddenly I am free to make descisions that align with my morals and values. Crazy. Rook: wack. I wanted to punch you. Solas: I will go and seek atonement. Vhenan: not alone you aren't. Solas: crying where I am going is terrible vhenan. Vhenan: I SAID I GOTCHU. WE GOING TO THE BLIGHTED ASS BLACK CITY TOGETHER TO BE WORMS ETERNAL. AND IT WILL BE FINE BECAUSE I SAID SO. Kissing noises Solas: 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 thanks for bringing my woman back to me Rook, serving your only narrative purpose ❤️. Rook: whatever. Vhenan: ;)))) ❤️

[tongue-like-a-razor]

Request for Rooster please :) basically fluff, not sure if you have something like this already but something along the line of y/n being a pilot as well, Rooster falling for them and trying to potentially impress them? Trying to confess before his chance is loss because he sees hangman around y/n time to time but Rooster doesn’t find out (immediately) that hangman and y/n are siblings so Rooster is torn between confessing or not (he does end up confessing)

Ahh thank you for the super cute request! I have a thing for writing sisters, you know ;)

Worst Day Ever

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Seresin Sister!Reader

CW: Just a lil drabble, nothing fancy. A little cheesy. A bit fluffy. A lot goofy. The star of this show is Nat XD

WC: ~1100

“This is the worst day ever.”

Natasha looks over at Bradley as he moodily packs up his things at the end of the briefing. She grins in amusement. “You sound like a toddler.”

Bradley exhales gloomily and directs his gaze toward the front of the room where you stand, chatting with Bagman. “What does she see in that dirtbag?” he makes a face of disgust.

“I guess she sees his abs.” Natasha shrugs.

Bradley gives her a flat look. “Not you too.”

“What?” she exclaims with a laugh. “I’m not denying that he’s got a shit personality.” She glances over at you and Jake. “But he’s easy on the eyes, what can I say?”

“Maybe I should challenge him to a push up contest,” Bradley muses.

“Dude, we’re in the military.” Natasha shakes her head. “Push ups are not going to impress her.”

“But his abs did the trick?”

Natasha purses her lips. “Have you seen him flex?”

“Maybe you should bag him,” Bradley proposes sourly. Then, he adds, “Actually, that’s not a half bad idea!”

“No,” Natasha responds curtly and starts for the door.

“C’mon, Trace. I will owe you.” Bradley trails after her. “I will pay you.”

Natasha stops just short of the door. “To do what?”

“We’ll invite them to the Hard Deck. You distract Bagman –”

“No,” Natasha repeats, exiting the room.

“I thought you had my back!” Bradley calls after her as the rest of the aviators assigned to the mission start filing out into the hallway.

“Someone leave you hangin’, Rooster?” Jake asks playfully as he walks by.

Bradley flashes an annoyed look in his direction and sees that you’re walking alongside him. He locks eyes with you briefly – for the first time ever – and then glances back at Jake irritably. “Don’t worry, Bagman. That’s still your undisputed domain.”

Jake scoffs while you drop your head to hide a smile.

“Hey Bagman!” Natasha calls from down the hall.

Bradley looks up to see her doubling back.

“You guys want to join us at the Hard Deck tonight?” she asks casually.

Jake raises his eyebrows in surprise, so shocked at the invitation that he doesn’t respond right away.

That’s when you say, “Sure! We’ll be there!”

…

“Drink as much as you want, Phoenix,” Bradley says giddily. “It’s on me.”

“You bet your ass it is,” Natasha says, taking a swig of beer. “I’m going to need it.”

Bradley doesn’t have a chance to laugh because that’s when you and Jake enter the bar.

The two of you make your way over to Bradley and Natasha’s table. Jake is scowling but your smile is bright enough for the both of you.

“Hey!” Bradley says, rising from his seat to greet you.

Jake gives him a dirty look and Bradley squares his shoulders to appear a little taller. Jake might have gotten to you first but that doesn't mean that Bradley can't, at least, try.

“How’s it going?” you say as you take a seat and Bradley could swear they’re the three sweetest words he’s ever heard in his life.

“Great,” he responds, beaming at you like an idiot.

“So good,” Natasha responds absently, downing the remainder of her beer. “I need a refill.”

Jake, who is just about to sit down, rises again with an irritable sigh. “What’re you drinking?” he asks.

Natasha grimaces at him. “I can get my own beer,” she responds, also getting up.

Jake gives her a phony grin. “I guess you’re used to it,” he bites back.

You elbow Jake aggressively in his leg and he nearly loses his balance. “Be nice,” you warn him.

Bradley watches Natasha and Jake head to the bar together, surprised that you’re familiar enough with Jake to physically assault him considering the briefing this morning was only the third time you’ve met. Bradley wonders if maybe you know Jake from before; that would explain your allegiance.

“I’m glad you guys came,” Bradley says to you, not really sure how else to start a conversation with a girl who’s more or less spoken for.

You smile at him. “Yeah, thanks for the invite!”

“Of course,” Bradley responds. He decides not to mention that the entire night was orchestrated just so he could spend time with you.

“Jake’s pretty excited.”

Bradley lifts his eyebrows dubiously and looks over at Jake who’s at the bar with Natasha. “He’s got a weird way of showing it.”

You laugh. “Oh, he’s far too ‘badass’ to show it.”

Bradley snorts and looks back at you with a grin. “I like you,” he says before he can stop himself.

You chuckle slightly and lower you gaze without responding.

“I mean it,” he says.

You shift slightly in your seat and change the subject. “Your low altitude pass yesterday was pretty awesome,” you say.

Bradley grins and straightens his posture proudly. “You saw that?”

“It was hard to miss.” You cringe slightly. “Cyclone was so mad, I'm surprised you didn't hear him yelling from the cockpit.”

Bradley winces. “Yeah, I may have gotten into some trouble. But hey, if it means you noticed me, it was worth it.” He lets out a chuckle.

You smile, your eyes resting on his. "I noticed you," you admit.

Bradley keeps his gaze on you, releasing a guilty sigh. What's he doing flirting with you when Jake has clearly already shown interest? He hangs his head sullenly and says, "Look, I don’t know what you and Bagman have going on –”

“Umm,” you interject, holding up a hand. Bradley looks up at you, already nauseated because he’s fairly certain you’re about to tell him off. Instead, you proceed to say, “You know he’s my brother, right?”

Bradley blinks at you in awe. After several lengthy seconds, he says, “Shut the fuck up.”

You start laughing. “What did you think?”

Bradley drops his face in his hands, embarrassed and relieved in equal measure. “That’s why you like him.”

“Well, I wouldn’t go that far,” you mutter sarcastically.

Bradley nearly chokes. “You’re hilarious,” he says.

You lean into the table toward him. “And you’re cute.”

Bradley stares at you in amazement and then grins sheepishly. “I’m so glad you think so.”

“Alright kids,” Bradley hears Jake’s voice and realizes that he and Natasha have approached the table. “We’re gonna call it a night.”

“What? Already?” Bradley exclaims, looking up at them. He instantly observes that Jake is holding Natasha’s hand. “Oh,” Bradley adds, meeting Natasha’s gaze with an amused grin. “Well, this is turning out to be an alright day.”

Natasha shoots him a threatening look but says not a word.

“Bradshaw,” Jake says, narrowing his eyes as he glances between you and Bradley pointedly. “Keep your hands to yourself.”

Bradley solutes him with a nod and a smirk and then says, “You have yourself a good night, Seresin.”

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[helaintoloki]

the other Hargreeves siblings being absolutely teary-eyed on the day of y/n and Five’s wedding. they like to think of her as an adopted member of the family, because she’s gone through so much with them, gotten so close to death in multiple occasions while trying to save them. after everything, they never thought to see her live out the happy life she deserve, much less getting married to Five.

a/n: i am a sucker for found family tropes and wedding pieces so this was fun for me to write

warnings: none i think ? mostly fluff

Your stomach feels as if it’s tied into a million knots, and you can’t bring yourself to even touch the plate of fruit Klaus had fetched for you to nibble on as you got ready for the big day. Allison works diligently to perfect your look despite her insistence that you should have just let her hire a professional to get the job done, but you were adamant about keeping everything as simple as possible. Neither you nor Five wanted some big extravagant mess when it came to your ceremony, and if it had been up to you both you would have just settled for a courthouse marriage, but his family wouldn’t have it. You were finally becoming an official Hargreeves, and they deemed it necessary to celebrate with a proper wedding and reception despite the fact that there really would only be about ten guests at most.

You met Five in the apocalyptic ruins of the world while scavenging for food. Despite everyone you knew and cared about perishing in the gale of fire that blanketed the earth, you had miraculously survived. Call it pure luck for being at the right place at the right time, but you had been searching for a flashlight in your underground basement when the moon had been struck, and the reinforced steel structure of the room had kept you from suffering the same fate as everyone around you.

Neither of you trusted each other in the beginning, but you both were smart enough to realize that sticking together was necessary for your survival, and so you put aside your differences to travel the apocalyptic wasteland together. That’s not to say there weren’t times when you got on each others nerves or wanted to strangle him with your bare hands, but with time your partnership evolved into an actual friendship, and perhaps it could have evolved into more if not for the constant distractions that arose during your fight for survival.

Allison accidentally poking your eye with a mascara wand interrupts your moment of reminiscing, and she merely gives you an apologetic smile when you shoot her a look of annoyance in return.

“I told you we should have hired a professional,” she reminds you matter of factly only for you to lightly swat her hand away.

“And I told you I wanted to go down to the courthouse and pick up a sheet cake at the grocery store,” you counter with a raised brow. Sensing defeat, Allison relents with a small sigh and takes a step back to look at her masterpiece.

“You’re right, I’m sorry. It’s just our family doesn’t get to do these sorts of things very often, and it’s not every day I get a new sister.”

Your shoulders slump guilty at her admission, and you find yourself now feeling less combative against her than you initially were. Though you mentally are in your 50’s and no longer see a need to have a big wedding to marry a man you’ve known for basically your whole life, you still physically look like a young bride, so it’s only natural for Allison and the rest of Five’s siblings to want to treat you as such. From what Five has told you along with the stories that have been recounted in your presence, their lives have always been less than normal. You of all people can relate to that- growing up in an apocalypse, becoming a glorified secretary for a time-ordinance bureau while your only friend is out on assignments, risking your life to save the world, ending multiple apocalypses. The list could go on forever. They’re only trying to experience normal family milestones, so who are you to get in the way of that.

“No, I’m sorry,” you relent with a remorseful sigh. “I know you’re just trying to be nice, and I’m grateful for how quickly you and your siblings have welcomed me into the family despite how unconventional this all is. I really appreciate it.”

“Good, I’m glad you see it my way,” Allison teases playfully before finishing up the final touches on her masterpiece.

“Knock, knock,” Klaus singsongs from outside your dressing room before letting himself in. Proudly holding up the plastic wrap bag from its hanger, he announces, “Here I am with the dress, and as promised, nothing happened to it under my watch.”

“Thank you, Klaus,” you smile gratefully only for him to return the gesture with an affectionate pinch of your cheek.

“No need to thank me, sweetheart. I’m just so excited to finally have a little sister!”

“You know I’m technically older than you right?” You retort with a raised brow only for him to press a finger to your lips.

“Shh, don’t ruin this for me,” he gently corrects you before pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. You don’t miss the way his eyes begin to water at the sight of you with your hair and makeup done, but you’re kind enough not to point it out. Klaus had been the easiest of Five’s siblings to warm up to, always treating you like one of his own and roping you into his mischief despite your fiancé’s protests. The Seance couldn’t even count on one hand how many times you had been there to lend a shoulder for him to cry on when his addiction became too much or offer a supportive hand when his siblings had been less than eager to do so. He adored you, and he could nearly burst with pride at finally being able to call himself your brother.

“Alright, we have thirty minutes left to get you into that dress and down that isle,” Allison announces with a determined clap of her hands before snatching the dress from Klaus. “Are you ready to officially become Mrs. Hargreeves?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” you announce with a resigned sigh before immediately being pulled every which way by the two siblings to finish your ensamble.

You can’t wait to get this over with.

~~~

“You nervous?” Viktor whispers with a gentle nudge to Five’s side. Quiet chatter drifts through the air as the handful of guests that are present make conversation to pass the time before the ceremony begins. Neither of you exactly have big families; Five has only ever had his siblings, and your family isn’t exactly supportive of your choice of groom. It’s an intimate affair, but you both prefer it that way.

“Hardly,” he scoffs indignantly, though his need to readjust his tie for the millionth time says otherwise. Five knows that this probably should have happened sooner and promoting you from his partner to his wife has been long overdue. He was honestly surprised you had said yes when he’d finally bit the bullet and asked the question. He loved you, cared for you in a way he never thought possible and in a way that honestly wasn’t quite like him. But you were different, and he hadn’t risked it all trying to end multiple apocalypses just to not marry you once the world was finally safe.

“I’m glad you’re happy, we all are,” his brother notes with a kind smile. “She’s good for you, and she’ll be a good addition to the family.”

Five can’t argue with that. It honestly pains him to think about just how many times you’ve thrown your own life on the line for not just him but his siblings as well. You’ve been there for them even when it wasn’t your responsibility, when they technically weren’t your family yet, even when Five himself wasn’t the best brother to them all. While Five could at times be brash or crude, you were patient and understanding, and this balance helped make their team stronger. You’d make a fine Hargreeves; he wouldn’t be standing here today if that weren’t the case.

Behind the wooden double doors you nervously readjust your veil as you wait for your cue to enter the room. Diego holds your bouquet patiently on your left while Luther fluffs out the skirt of your dress for you on your right. Having no real family present for your big day, you were left without anyone to give you away to your new husband. Diego and Luther had both been eager to throw themselves at the chance to be at your side down the aisle, constantly at each other’s necks arguing over who deserved the right more. Of course, as the bride it was you who got the final say, and the choice couldn’t have been more obvious. You picked them both.

Both men had been put through a lot by your fiancé, from having to carry his drunken form out of a library to dealing with his fits of rage at their inability to meet his deadlines for important tasks, but they had always been kind to you despite the unorthodox nature of your relationship with their brother. Luther had taken several bullets for you before, and Diego hadn’t shied away from being a supportive shoulder to cry on whenever you and Five couldn’t see eye-to-eye. It would feel wrong not to have them both by your side, and they were honored.

“You scared?” Diego questions after noticing your tight grip on his bicep when the music begins. He has to hold back a wince from the way your manicured nails dig into his arm and distracts himself by handing you your bouquet.

“A little,” you answer honestly, harshly swallowing down your nerves when Luther opens the doors for you to walk through.

“You’ve got this,” Diego encourages after pressing a chaste kiss to your temple. “If anyone is brave enough to marry my brother, it’s you.”

“Brave or maybe a little insane,” Luther adds under his breath.

You can’t help the small huff of air that pushes past your lips in response to his quip, but you’re given no time to respond as your soon-to-be brother-in-laws escort you to your awaiting husband.

No one can deny how absolutely breath taking you look in your elegantly simple wedding gown, your smile nervous as you make your way towards Five who looks so handsome in his perfectly tailored suit. All day you’ve wanted nothing more than to see him, but now that you’re here you find yourself full of nerves and anxiety.

Luther and Diego give you away at the end of the isle (not without sternly warning Five to take good care of their new sister), and you finally find yourself face-to-face with the man you’ve loved for years.

“You ready for this?” He whispers under his breath as Viktor begins his officiant speech, subtly reaching for your hand to give it a reassuring squeeze.

“This won’t be the worst thing we’ve done together,” you note cheekily with a shrug as you hide your smile behind your bouquet, and Five can’t argue with that.

Though his siblings have been better at showing their excitement for this day than you or Five combined, you’d be lying if you said you weren’t happy to finally be marrying the boy who had been by your side through thick and thin, good and bad, and life and death. Perhaps your love story was a bit unconventional, but unconventionality is a Hargreeves speciality.

You’re going to fit right in.

[cozage]

congratulations on reaching 2k 🫶💕

For the event, I was wondering if you could do option one with reader being hit on right in front of them? With shanks, Sanji, zoro and if possible Nami <3

Hehe I love your writing so much!!

Hii thank you! And thank you for the request :)

Characters: gn reader x Shanks, Sanji, Zoro, Nami Cw: creepy bar guys who can't take a hint Total word count: 730

Take a Hint

Shanks

Shanks’s reaction really depends on the kind of mood he’s in. 

Sometimes, you both go into a bar in a competitive mind, trying to see who can get more free drinks throughout the night. 

He enjoys watching guys trying to flirt with you. Plus, free booze is free booze. It’s funny how they never seem to ask if you’re there with someone before they buy you a round. 

But sometimes it really rubs him the wrong way (especially when he’s in the middle of a conversation with you and someone interrupts him to talk to you). 

He usually says some snarky comment like “If you’re going to buy one for my friend here, you should probably buy one for me, considering we’re together.”

He doesn’t ever start a fight, but he will finish them. And he will always take up for you if someone says something rude to you or tries to put their hands on you. 

Sanji

People rarely get the chance to try and flirt with you because Sanji is literally all over you 24/7. He wants everyone to know that he belongs to you. 

However, there are some brave (and foolish) souls that sometimes try while he’s got his back turned or he steps away from a moment. 

The moment he is back, he immediately steps between you and the man who’s trying to shoot his shot. “Is this guy bothering you?” he’ll ask.

He’ll turn back to the guy, his curly brows furrowed in anger. “Unless you want to get your ass kicked, buddy, you might want to move along.”

Afterward the flirter leaves, Sanji will fawn over you, asking if the man hurt you or did anything that made you uncomfortable. He won't relax until he knows for sure you’re okay. 

Zoro

Zoro knows you can handle yourself. And besides, it’s amusing to watch. 

He lets you handle the situation. Most of the guys take rejections pretty well, but there are a few stubborn ones who insist on buying you a drink even after you’ve turned them down. So you accept a drink.

When you accept, Zoro’s focus on you usually sharpens slightly. He watches carefully for any passes this guy might try to make on you. If you show even an ounce of discomfort, Zoro’s hand is resting on his blade, just in case. 

Your eyes meet his, and he’ll mouth “You okay?”. If yes, he’ll leave you be. But if it’s no, he’ll take action. 

He’ll position himself between you and the man, taking a nice long drink of the alcohol the guy bought you. Then he’ll plant a kiss firmly on your lips and smirk at you, ignoring the fussing happening from the other man. 

“Listen man,” he’ll say, resting his hand on his blade as he turns to him. “I think you need to learn what rejection is. So why don’t you just buzz off, and leave us alone to enjoy this fine alcohol?”

If it leads to a fight, that’s fine. Zoro has never minded fighting for your honor before. And he’s never lost a bar fight. 

Nami

Listen, Nami is no stranger to people flirting with her. And neither are you. 

Plus, free things are always better. Which is why you two set up a system. 

If a guy starts flirting with you and can’t take a hint, well, he’s basically just inviting in some unfortunate circumstances. 

So you let him buy you a drink. Maybe two, if you’re feeling crazy. You keep him distracted, telling him stories about your life. 

Of course he thinks you need saving by a big strong man or whatever he imagines he is. He has no clue you could knock him out in about 3 seconds flat. But you just smile and listen to his clearly made-up stories. 

Meanwhile, Nami is absolutely robbing him blind. It’s actually hilarious to watch. She starts out with his wallet, but she slowly gets more confident as he gets more drunk. She steals his necklace, watch, even his rings. She’s truly amazing at thievery; you can’t help but be in awe at her skill.

At the end of the night, he goes to pay his tab, and you and Nami quietly slip out together hand-in-hand, serenaded by the screams of panic from that dreadful man.

[webbluvrsugar]

Hellowww, love your writing.

I can't stop thinking about reader being tuned on by Ethan being such a nerd, like every time he says something smart or dorky she just wants to jump his bones.

a/n: since I’ve been so obsessed with the concept of my bully!reader, I decided to make her in this one. Final request that has pretty Ethan header because it consumes a lot of time and I can’t get them out quick.

not proofread

Ethan turns you on in the weirdest ways…

Ethan is always telling you some random nerdy thing that you didn’t even ask about but sometimes relates to what your speaking of, he blames his quick thinking and apologises when you mock him for it, what he doesn’t know is that… it’s attractive, in a way.

You don’t know where your fondness for nerds started, but it surely seems a lot more noticeable when he’s a sound, sure, you make fun of him and you curse him out but there’s always times that you find yourself biting down on your pen, slowly getting more interested in what he’s saying, it’s weird…

“I can’t believe his head exploded like — why would he take off his spacesuit?” You comment about a recent movie you’ve seen, completely disgusted by it, you sit down on your chair, Ethan, who’s sitting on the desk besides you, can’t help but listen it.

“You know… that’s actually not true.” He points out.

Your frown, turn to him with a scoff. “What?”

“Your head wouldn’t explode if you.. took off your suit.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“It wouldn’t, it’s impossible.” He mutters. “You would just… go blind from the blood vessels in your head popping, then you’d slowly freeze and —“ he keeps speaking, your eyes go down to his lips, you can’t even remember what you were talking about in the first place. “You’d asphyxiate.”

Your lips are lightly parted, he thinks you’re confused but you aren’t, you’re just in a very.. very light transe from what he just said, eyes focused on his before he speaks up.

“S — Sorry.” He fiddles with his pen, sighing.

“Uhm…” you chuckle, almost if not believing him. “how do you… how do you even know that?”

“I… read a lot of books, google things often…” he swallows hard, nervous of your reaction.

“‘Course you do.” You mock, crossing one leg over the other. “Tell me, E, what other facts do you know?”

It’s the first time you really do seem interested in what he has to say without making fun of him and Ethan takes advantage of it, he starts rambling about some geek movie stuff, something that you quickly start ignoring once you feel heat pooling down your stomach, it’s unlike you, it’s unlike him to be seducing you — if he’s even doing so — but it just works so well, and after a matter of minutes, you’re not sure what you’re even staring at.

Somehow, Ethan notices it, this time, it’s going to be him who teases you.

“Got it?” He raises one eyebrow, tries to hide back the smirk on his face.

“Y — Yeah, totally.” You swallow. “But it was so hard to, I was getting distracted by all your geeky stuff, I mean shit’s so boring.”

Ethan chuckles, and it’s the first time he’s ever laughed at you, in your face. “For someone who’s so smart, you don’t seem to have a lot of brains when I’m talking.”

“What?”

“Just saying, you’re.. so dull when you’re talking to me.” He points out.

“The hell does that mean?”

“Nothing, I just… I just think maybe you’re not so truthful about your hate towards me…”

You scoff, as if you don’t believe him, deep down, you know he’s probably right, but you’ll deny it.

“What? You think I find you hot or something? Get a grip, nerd, I wouldn’t like you even if you were born again.” You scoff, so upset that you stand, grab your things and leave.

Ethan know he should be offended, but he really can’t be anything other than glad when he sees the look on your face as you walk away.

[caturdwy]

ok, i don't know why i wrote this, i'm not even a ford girl, i'm a stanley girlie all the way. but this image came to me yesterday and i had to write it down, so i spent my entire class working on this. it's not finished but i don't now if i'm gonna write more. here goes nothing

pairing: stanford pines x reader

warnings: smut (?), definitely sexual. 18+, mdni

word count: 1.5k

"Is that why Stanley calls you Sixer?" You ask, breaking the silence.

Your voice gets him out of his trance, but not early enough for him to actually hear what you asked. "Huh?"

"Is that why Stanley calls you Sixer?" You repeat yourself, pointing one finger at his hands.

He lets out a laugh and nods. "Yeah, he's so creative with the nicknames." He answers, voice full of sarcasm.

"Can I touch it?" You ask, finger still pointing at his left hand, the closest to you. "Your hand, can I touch it?"

He blushes and tugs at the collar of his sweater, voice faint. "Uh, yes."

You take your hand off your thighs and touch the back of his, feather light touch as to not scare him off. You observe attentively his reaction, checking if he will wince or take it away from you. Since he stays still, you take it as a sign to continue.

You grip his hand firmly, not harshly, and pull it closer to you. His gaze follows your every move, cheeks still a bit flushed, and he swallows dry. You start to touch just his fingers, pinching his phalanxes and moving them around before pressing on them and hearing them pop. His eyes grow a bit when you do it, not expecting you to do that.

You linger a bit more on his extra pinky, still fascinated. You touch it a bit differently, and wonder if you should ask anything about it.

"May I ask you a question?" You say out loud. Well, it doesn't hurt to try.

"Yes, go on." He speaks, still watching you closely.

"Is it ever a hindrance? Like, does it work like every other finger?" You ask, still with your hands focused on popping said finger.

"No, it's never a hindrance. It works just like the rest of my hand." He replies, pulling his hand away from your touch. He wiggles his fingers, moving every phalanx to show you, and then he lifts only his extra little finger and does the same thing. "See? Full control."

You let out a smile, finding it fascinating. It's at the very least interesting. Unusual. You like it. But you also can't help how your mind goes straight to the gutter.

You can't jump on this too fast, or you'll startle him. So you put your hands back on his and pull it closer to you, like it was before.

Stanford smiles back at you, a little awkward, sure, but you can see his flattery.

"Very interesting. Must be useful." You utter.

Meanwhile, your grip on his hand gets stronger, and you use both your thumbs to squeeze his skin, pressing on spots that are usually stiff.

"It doesn't make that much of a difference. My niece, however, always says it's friendlier than a regular handshake."

You let out a little laugh while pressing your thumbs on the back of his hands, paying attention to the tendons. You hear Ford suck in a breath once you hit what is apparently the right spot. "That's adorable."

"Yeah." He agrees mindlessly, but he's not really here. He's a bit distracted, hopefully enjoying the massage. "Yeah, she's adorable."

You change your focus from the back of his hand to the palm, going straight to the spot where his thumb meets the rest, the thenar area. He hisses a bit and you stop for a second, looking at his face to check if this was still okay. You can confidently say he was more than okay, because he has his eyes closed and the face of someone who was enjoying the situation. His back was not as stiff now and had a little arch to it as his shoulders leaned in towards your touch.

You do this to the entirety of his palm, running your thumbs on the soft spot on the middle of it, pressing on the flesh of his fingers, the side of his hand, dragging all the way to to the area of his carpals. The more you press and massage, the more he relaxes. Depending on what you do you even get an approvingly hum, almost a little moan. Of course these are the things you do again and again, just to hear him make any noise.

At last, you move his wrist in little circles, improving the circulation on the area before pressing both the dorsal and ventral areas. You give the back of his hand a little kiss before placing it on his thigh again, and point to his right, the farthest away from you.

It takes him a moment to register, his brain wrapped around a fog of calmness and relaxation. He's never felt like this before, he's never gotten a massage in his life, much less in his hand. And oh boy, how bad did he need it. He didn't even know his muscles could get that stiff, hold on to that much stress. A lifetime of stress, really. With just simple strokes of your own hands, that was all gone, vaporized. He's so out of it he doesn't even blush when you kiss his hand.

He lifts his right hand and shifts on the bed, figuring out a position that would be more comfortable to stretch his arm out, but still manageable for you to keep doing the sorcery you were doing. You keep following the same procedure, pop the phalanxes first, run your thumbs on the back of his hand, then go the palm, rub the thenar area out, press on the soft spot on the middle, massage the muscles on his fingers, the works.

The more you touch him, the more he relaxes, the more he lets himself go. He's feeling so light he can almost lift off the ground. If he lays on the bed he is sure he'll never be able to leave, the mattress and him becoming one. You think about saying something, but nothing comes out, not when he looks so good like this, all relaxed. Possibly the first time he's actually relaxed in his entire life.

After you are almost done you decide it's time to speak up. "Hey, Ford."

"Hmmmm." He purrs, not bothering looking up at you.

"Do you know what this makes me think?" You ask right after giving a kiss on the same spot you did the other hand. However, you don't let it go. You keep holding it, rubbing little circles on his skin.

"Hmmmm?" He hums again, but this time tries to voice the end like a question. This prompts a tiny laugh from you.

Now's the moment, he has his guard down. You move your body carefully closer to him, placing your face near his ear. Ford can feel his warm breath on the side of his face, the skin almost burning from the sudden heat. You pull out the sexiest voice you can make and whisper lowly, like a secret and he's the only person meant to hear.

"It makes me think of how good this extra finger would feel grabbing my ass."

He nearly chokes out, being pulled from his half-dreaming state and slammed back into reality, the blood split between rushing to his face or his lower belly, straight to his dick. He takes in a sharp breath, eyes opening and growing twice the size they usually are. You give him a little giggle from the reaction, finding it a bit funnier than it should be.

With all of his attention on you now, you place yourself a bit farther from him and bring the hand you're holding to your eye view, right in front of you face. You wait for him to look you in the eyes and put his thumb on your hot tongue. He jolts at the movement, but doesn't push back. You close your lips around it and suck it all the way to the back of your mouth. When you swallow everything, you circle your tongue around his skin while dragging it out of your mouth, little by little.

Stanford feels like his body is burning. Someone might as well have drowned him in gas and set fire to it. Once your tongue leaves his finger, he feels the cooling sensation the of the air coming in contact with your saliva and his dick gets incredibly harder.

He didn't want to react this way, he really didn't. Stanley hired you as a bad joke and he was not pleased about it, but hell. He can't not be turned on when you look at him like that, lips shiny and wet, breath hot on the skin of his hand, fingers still holding him by the wrists.

When he opens his mouth to say something, you catch him off guard again by kissing his index finger. Then his middle finger, all the way to his extra pinky, which you also suck while looking at him straight in the eyes. But he's weak, so while you're still halfway done putting the thing in your mouth he closes his eyes, trying to calm down the turmoil of feelings raging inside him.

You take his finger out of your mouth and it makes a wet, loud 'pop'. You give yourself a proud smile and lick the extra saliva off your own lips, bringing your body closer to his again. In the sultriest voice you can pull off, you whisper on his ear again. "How does that sound, Mr. Pines?"