#i think that's the last one!!! thank you for sending & thank you for being so patient | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gracieheartspedro · 1 day ago

Text

Me and The Devil

pairing: qz!joel miller x afab!reader

how to help the palestinians and what it means to write for the last of us characters

description: joel seeks out revenge on the man who stole from him. he finds you in the process. 14k words

warnings: mdni!, dark content, DUBCON, joel is a bad man, no mention of age (but joel is older than reader), murder, weapon use (g*ns), mentions of drug and alcohol, excessive alcohol consumption from reader, nicknames for reader (sweetheart, little one, etc.), stockholm syndrome, forced withdrawals from alcohol, mentions of non-con, forced proximity, physical violence/assault, reader is freaky and insane, reader has a vagina and boobs, sub!reader, dom!joel, orgasm denial, masturbation, unprotected p-in-v, oral (m receiving), fingering, throat fucking, cumplay/cum eating, dirty talk, name calling, spanking. PLEASE LISTEN TO THE WARNINGS.

author’s note: hi everyone! this fic came to me literally like... january of last year. it sat in the docs forever. and then my wonderful and beautiful friend @amanitacowboy told me to pick it back up and it spiraled from there. she also helped me edit, so i've forever indebted to you, lindsey!! it's probably the meanest joel you will get from me. some of the story has loose ends, but it's intentional *brow wiggle* (; also thank you @pedgito for listening to me blab about this shit forever. lindsey and ali have heard every detail and tidbit in this fic, I swear. thank you for putting up with me! anyway, hope you dirty lil whores enjoy this one!

You thought he was a myth.

The crime-riddled streets of the Boston QZ seemed to lace different stories about him together. You could not understand how a pill dealer could also kill countless guards and top honchos. People would conjure up the wildest lies about the man, so you were always morbidly curious.

You would sit in your apartment organizing the weapons you and your partner laundered through the streets of the QZ, pondering what it would be like to meet the man. You were never the one to deliver the weapons, only ensuring you were getting what you paid for. Your partner, Roger, would dispense the weapons to God knows who.

It was enough to get you by. You never ran out of rations and your alcohol dependency was never a problem.

You were too young to be this beat down. That’s what Roger would tell you, at least.

But the truth of the matter was that before the QZ, you were free-roaming the US with no purpose. You killed a lot of people. When you arrived at the QZ with an ounce of ‘normalcy’ within your reach, you promised yourself never again. The darkness you harnessed would have to be forced down, sitting in the very pits of your being.

When you met Roger, he just needed someone to live in his apartment and watch his stash when he was gone. You did just that and eventually, you formed an odd bond with the older man. He would let you count his rations and drink his liquor. Four years later, you depended on him to bring you back alcohol in return for your watchful eye. If a shipment came in late, you would panic, thinking your addiction would get cut off. You needed something to numb the scrambling thoughts, violent tendencies, and crippling anxiety.

After one tough deal, Roger stumbles back to your shared apartment, venting about the man.

“Fuckin’ Joel screwed me again. Gave him two .22’s and the motherfucker shorted me a bottle of Oxys.”

You were already too far gone to listen to the rest of the rant, finding yourself dozing off on the couch. The alcohol too often consumed you, sending you into dark nightmares that would have you waking up in the dead of night screaming.

By the time you woke up, though, Roger was no where to be found. Him being gone was not the worrisome part, though.

No, what worried you was all the drugs and guns he left out on display.

Springing up from your spot on the couch, you instantly get to work hiding the paraphernalia. When you grab a handgun from the table where you remember Roger sitting before you close your eyes, you feel eyes on you.

You are still drunk and now your stomach is churning. You feel like you may throw up.

There’s a figure standing by the window. Too tall to be Roger.

Your instant dazed reaction is to hold the gun up, and point at the large man who stands in your messy bedroom. You blink away the sleep that’s still in your eyes and stumble a bit as the intoxication still riddles your bones.

“You were sleepin’ when I came in,” His voice is slow and deep and it sends chills down your forearms.

“Who are you?”

You managed to sound pretty confident, even though you were scared shitless. You had not been so rattled since you almost got bit by some infected a year ago. You can make out his clothes, but that’s about it. Dirty jeans, an old green flannel with holes, and dark brown boots.

“‘M Joel. Roger ever told you about me?”

He finally turns to face you. You’re shocked to see a handsome dark-haired man and not some damaged old mug. His eyebrows are perpetually furrowed it seems, but you could also tell he was annoyed you were pointing a loaded gun at him.

You were so terrified, you could not even speak.

He puts a hand up, holding it over the barrel of the gun. “You shouldn’t be pointin’ that at me, sweetheart.”

You just nod, slowly putting down the weapon. You did not want problems with him. You knew what he was capable of.

You also knew your aim would be off if you did try to shoot, still feeling like you were rocking on a boat.

“Sorry,” You mutter, bringing the gun down and to your side. You swallow hard as his eyes rake your entire body, “Yes, he’s told me about you. Other people have, too.”

He looks pleased with that response. He steps away from the window and begins to saunter over to you. His footfalls are heavy. You assume it is because of his filthy brown boots. Or maybe it was the intimidation factor he was playing for you. He did not need to scare you, because you were fucked up and not on your game. He could kill you at any time. Why has he not killed you yet?

“What have people said about me?”

You gulp, sucking in a whiff of his musk. He somehow still smelled good, even though it looked like he had been rolling in the dirt. His hair was pretty greasy but the curls laid perfectly on both sides. He looks like a guy you would avoid in the street, especially in this QZ. The attractive ones were usually the ones who would take advantage of any woman who looked their way.

“They said you’re dangerous,” You manage, holding the grip of the gun a bit tighter, “That you have killed a-a lot of people.”

“Yeah,” Is all he says, before stepping an inch closer, “Yeah, I have.”

You can not look away from him. You are so rattled at the fact that he is good-looking. You vividly remember hearing a couple of dealers talk about how formidable he was and for some reason, you mocked up a man who looked like The Joker from Batman.

He inspects you and your gun and crosses his arms, almost like he is guarding himself. “Now tell me… What did Roger say when he came home last night? I need to know how to handle this situation without spillin’ any more blood.”

You start to panic a bit, but you know you can’t be rash with your emotions. You did not want to be more blood that Joel Miller spills. You did not need to be a notch in his belt.

But you also did not want to rat out Roger. He had done so much for you and you knew deep down, he cared for you in his own sick ways. If you told Joel everything, would that come at cost to him?

What were you thinking? He was a dead man.

He notices your demeanor change and his eyes soften. “Don’t worry, little one. I don’t kill just anyone. Unless they cross me. You haven’t crossed me, have you?”

You do not know why or how, but tears start to spill from your eyes. You know you are not guilty of doing him wrong, but you have heard before that it does not matter in his eyes. By proxy, you are associated with the man who fucked him over. You would be next.

“I have not crossed you, Mr. Miller,” You start to slur a bit, your face getting wet quickly with more tears, “Roger just said you fucked him over. I was too fucked up to hear the rest. Said you didn’t give him enough oxys.”

Joel raises one hand and grabs the bottom of your chin. His skin is rough and callous against your sheeny skin. His whole aura gives off danger. You are too afraid to look at him. You’re trembling, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“That fucker stole them all, that’s why. When I tried to get him to confess his wrongdoings, fucker dipped out of there,” He explains, using his thumb to push one of your falling tears, “We followed him and luckily he swallowed too many pills even to realize we were breaking in. You were pretty out of it, too.”

“I w-was d-drinking last n-night,” You knew you had to get ahold of yourself. You were like sand in his hands, slipping right through his fingers. You were so easy to get information out of. “Where did you take him?”

Joel clicks his tongue, tilting your face so your eyes would look into his, “Don’t worry bout that, sweetheart.”

“Is he going to die?”

“Probably.” He states plainly, his eyes scanning your figure, “You’re going to show me where his stash is and ‘m gonna take back what’s mine.”

Your heart sinks to the floor. Roger was all you had. Without him running the guns and ammo, you had no way of income. You could not do these things yourself, especially now that Joel Miller knew who you were. No one would come near you when they heard he paid you and Roger a visit.

“I’ll show you,” You respond, trying to steady your voice. “Are you going to kill me?”

It was selfish. With him admitting to having to kill Roger, you knew you were fucked either way. Without a dealer or runner, you had no earnings. You were going to rot away in this apartment, dying from starvation. Joel killing you would be a mercy killing and from the sounds of it, he did not show much mercy.

“Just tell me where everything is.”

You shake your head as you step back away from him. Your instinct is to hand him the gun in your hands, proving to him that you are not a real threat. You grab the barrel and give him the grip, shaking it in his direction. “Here.”

He stares at you, the divots on his forehead still prominent. He slowly lifts his flannel. You first see his hairy tummy and then you see he has a 9mm strapped in his waistband. “Don’t need it, sweetheart.”

You keep the gun extended out to him, “You can have another.”

There’s a beat of silence, a bitterness in the air.

“Are you stalling?” Your blood runs cold. You were not, you were just afraid and unsure of yourself. You also assumed he would want your weapon so you would not use it against him. So many assumptions run through your head, that you are not even aware you are creating more uncertainty for him.

Your eyes drop, looking at the gun. “No, sir. Here… Follow me.”

You turn on your heels, walking back out to the dining room, right off the kitchen. You scoot the table away from the rug, the ammo and pills on the table vibrating as it moves. Joel watches your every move, the same unimpressed expression written on his face. You put the gun down on the table before you get on your knees at the corner of the rug. You pull it back, revealing a large trap door Roger installed before you moved in with him. It had a deadlock on it that was only able to be opened with a code.

You think for a moment, your muddled brain trying to remember the numbers.

8-3-6-7-1-9-6-9.

You say it out loud as you open it. When it clicks, you pull down and unhook it. As you toss it away from you, you hear Joel clear his throat. “Move.”

You instantly throw your hands up, crawling back onto your knees and sliding away from the trap door. You glance back at the tall man, seeing he has his gun trained on you. You did not even hear him pull it out. You sit back, pressing your shoulders into the wall opposite of the entrance of the storage cut-out. It’s lined with different drugs, handguns, some shotguns, and lots of pornography.

Joel chuckles darkly, looking into the unit. “Seems like you two are freaky, huh?”

You never assumed Joel thought Roger was your lover, but the inclination made you want to throw up. You shake your head, “He was. Not me.”

His addiction never really affected you in any way. He saved those vices for when he was alone. You do recall one night accidentally walking in on him doing something very disturbing that was forever etched inside your brain. Jerking off over a pillow with a magazine full of very young girls. You never looked at him the same way after that.

Roger was sick in the head, but he gave you drugs. He gave you alcohol. He gave you a place to stay.

Joel clicks his tongue, crouching down to loot through your stash. “You’re too young for’a man his age, anyway. Too pretty.”

The hairs on your arms and shoulders raise at such a comment. You cock your head to the side, watching the man curiously. He thought you were pretty.

He does not say anything else the rest of the time he is picking up bags of pills. He inspects each one, sniffing some of the bags as he does. The illumination from the window in the dining room lights up his face with golden stripes. It made you take note of his amber eyes. They were not dark brown in the sunlight. You can hear people on the street from the partially shattered panels, some dragged-out footsteps, and some hushed conversations. Screaming for help would be no use, people hear women screaming in the streets in broad daylight and do nothing. This QZ was not about justice. It was every man for himself.

Joel stands up, tucking his gun back into his waistband. His eyes laser toward you and you feel his gaze pierce you. “Stand up, you’re comin’ with me.”

You do not try to hide your fear. While you knew better, you silently hoped that he would just shoot you here, let you drown in your own blood in the comfort of your own home. But he was going to take you to a secondary location. You would be dying on his terms.

You push yourself up off the floor, your feet stuttering as you walk over to him. “Can I put on some shoes?”

He nods almost robotically. He watches you carefully as you drag yourself across the living room. You start to realize how torn up the place really is. Roger must have put up a fight because the side table is in pieces on the rug. You step around the splinters and grab your boots. After you tie up your laces, Joel is yanking you up by your bicep and dragging you into the dark alley your apartment opens up into. You were so fucked.

Joel is a harsh man, but he does not kill you.

You did not understand why he kept you around. You were eating his food, occupying a room in his apartment, and you were going through horrific withdrawals. He refused to give you an ounce of alcohol. The first couple nights at Joel’s, you were so sick that you violently shook for a whole day straight. You begged Joel through the door to shoot you and put you out of your misery. It was the worst feeling in the world. Your heart felt like it may beat out of your chest.

After the third day, your shakes had subsided and your mind was a bit more clear. You still felt like shit, but it was tolerable enough that you just laid in bed and stared at the floral wallpaper in your new bedroom.

You did not mind being spared, but being locked away was almost worse than death. You noted the mold smell the day you arrived in Joel’s apartment. You could not stop smelling it, no matter what you did. You kept telling yourself you would get used to it, but it always lingered. He restricted you to a bedroom where the window was completely caged. You had spotty natural light that only really peaked through in the evenings.

Joel would bring you a small meal every morning, usually stale bread and a mug of water. On rare occasions, his footsteps would stomp over to your rotting wooden door and he’d unlock the door to feed you for lunch. That only happened twice, though, and it was a bare-bones meal. But every night, right after sunset, he would barge in with a Spam sandwich and a cup of ice water. You would sit on the rusty framed-out bed as he sat in the armchair in the corner of the room by the window. Occasionally he would have a sandwich for himself, other times he would just sit there and watch you slowly eat the meal he provided.

And for some sick reason, you always thanked him.

He would never reply, his jaw slack and arms crossed. You only heard his voice a handful of times since he brought you here.

After two weeks of isolation and staring contests over dinner, Joel finally asked you a question after you finished your Spam sandwich. “Do you want to shower?”

You had not washed yourself in weeks and you could smell yourself. The idea of being able to shower was so appealing, that you actually smiled as he asked it.

Joel guided you across his expansive apartment into his bedroom. The entire place was falling apart, but Joel’s room seemed completely untouched by the times. It smelled like pine as soon as you bounded through the threshold. His bed was made up perfectly, with two pillows on each side. His side table only had one single lamp and a novel that’s title was in another language. Joel snatched you away from soaking up his oasis and forced you into the dated bathroom. He shuts the door behind him, clicking when he rattles the handle.

You swallow, “Are you joining me?”

He shakes his head, turning and grabbing the bar of soap on the edge of the vanity. “No, ‘m just making sure you don’t try anything.”

You narrow your eyes at him, not completely believing him. Joel had not made any moves towards you, so you are not sure why you are suddenly skeptical of his intentions. Even if he did try something, you knew you could not do anything about it.

You were at Joel’s mercy. You did not completely comprehend why he was locking you down in his home and you did not get why you were just going along with it. You used to be a ferocious fighter, but after everything with Roger, you did not know where else you would go if it was not with Joel.

You turn your back to him, hesitantly undressing. Your clothes were disgusting, stained with sweat marks that you left when you were going through withdrawals. As you drop them onto the cold tile, Joel clears his throat.

You cannot remember the last time you were nude in front of another man. Another person. It had to be over 10 years. “I got ya some new clothes. I’ll grab them when you get in the shower.”

You just nod. While you were grateful for new clothes, you were still confused as to why you were here. As you turn on the water, you peek back at Joel. He is not looking at you, he’s looking out the window. His hands are tucked in his pocket and you have truly never seen him look at peace. His face is relaxed and his shoulders are eased down.

You use your hand to gauge the water’s lukewarm temperature before you slip in behind the curtain. The bathtub is an off-white color. As soon as you get under the shower head, you note the dirt and grime combining with the water and spinning down the drain.

You use the bar of soap Joel gave you to clean off your frigid skin. The scent is just a hint of lavender. It must have been an old bar and with age, the smell has faded. As you massage it in, you hear the door creak open and click shut. You assume it’s Joel doing what he told you and then your mind circles back to your previous observation.

Why is Joel doing this?

You ponder the idea that maybe he is a sadist psychopath who just likes the idea of having someone held captive. But you had heard a lot about this man, and while he was a murderer, you never heard about him kidnapping or hurting women. If anything, he was easier on women who did him wrong.

But you were not a woman who did him wrong. You did nothing to him. You simply were in the wrong place at the wrong time. You did exactly what he asked and then you went along with his plans for you.

Maybe he was just lonely?

His deep voice slices through your thoughts, “You almost done in there?”

You nod even though he cannot see you. “Yeah, I’m almost done.”

You rinse the soap out of your hair and turn off the faucet. You peek your head out from the curtain and Joel stands there with a towel in his hands. He laid a pile of clothes on the sink and you noticed that your clothes were gone from off the floor. Joel extends the towel to you and you reach around and grab it.

It’s scratchy, but it absorbs all the beads of water off your body. You wrap it around your body, tucking the end under your right armpit. You pull back the curtain and Joel is still standing there.

You step over the edge of the tub, letting some of the droplets run onto the cold tiles. Joel’s eyes never leave yours, but as soon as you step towards the clothes on the counter, his eyes trickle down your body.

Your heart picks up when his hand comes up to your cheek. Your natural reaction is to flinch away from him, but his motion is quicker than you. He wipes away a water drip off your cheekbone, pulling it down to your jawline. “All better?” He asks, his voice low. You nod, sheepishly. “Yes, thank you.”

He smiles.

“So polite. So pretty.”

And then he leaves you alone, clicking the knob shut as he exits the bathroom.

You get dressed quickly. Joel somehow knows your exact sizes because the cargo pants, long sleeve, and undergarments are a perfect fit. You never even managed to find clothes to fit you this well when you were doing your own stealing and looting.

His words rattle around in your head and you start to panic a bit. You start to formulate a plan. You had to stop thanking him. You had to stick up for yourself a bit more. You had to see where your boundaries were with him. You had to figure out his motive.

It was scary. Daunting. But you knew you could not live like this much longer.

You reach out for the door, but the knob was already turned and being pulled forward. Joel stands by the entrance of the door and you stride out, your head held a bit higher than usual. His face shows confusion, but you do not falter.

“I’m still hungry.”

It is like all the air is sucked out of the room. Suddenly, Joel is nine feet tall and you are an inch short. Your voice was confident enough to pass, but it was like he saw right through you.

“I fed you.”

You swallow, your eyes averted from his face for a moment, “Can I have a snack?”

His frown is more memorable than his smile. It is a permanent fixture in his big scary man aesthetic.

“A snack?”

You almost want to laugh at his condescending tone. But you also realize how you are playing with fire and at any moment this man could snap and kill you. You had to know if you were able to test him, see if you could truly ask him for something and he would be willing to give it to you. This would be your lesson.

So you nod, very matter-of-factly.

He is looking at you like you have four heads, but he bites.

“Fine, I’ll getcha a snack. Why don’t you have a seat on my bed?”

His cadence is giving him away. You can already tell he is not good at hiding his annoyance. You hesitantly walk over to his bed, plopping down rather obnoxiously. Your feet swipe the rug like a child’s would as you wait for him to return to the room. When he comes back, he has a single piece of beef jerky between his fingers.

You narrow your eyes at the so-called snack. You hated cured meats and you were sure to let him know that. “Jerky?”

You are really testing him now. And you can tell by the way his chest rises and falls in one quick breath.

“You seem very ungrateful, little one.”

You reach out to grab the bark but he snatches it back in a quick motion. You crinkle your eyebrows at him, trying your best to feign innocence. With the way he is staring daggers at you, you should fear his next move.

“Beg.”

You feel like your chest cannot take any more air in. Your hand is still hanging in the air, trying to reach out to his offering, but his hand is holding it far from your grasp.

You do not want to beg, this standoff would be part of your resistance to his captivity. In your mind, something would have to give way eventually. You could not sit around and just take his crumbs and passive weird behavior. So, you shake your head no.

“Go to your room. You’ve pissed me off,” His tone is abrupt and rushed. You do not want to push this further, knowing that you have made it an inch with him and were not completely ready to run the mile. You needed to game plan your next move.

You stand up, walking painfully slow to the door and leaving his space. His steps trail behind you, ensuring you did what he asked you to do. You can smell his musk, which makes the hairs on your arms stand up. He smelled good for a man as rugged as him.

When you reach your bedroom door, you grab the handle and turn around to face him. He stares down at you, his pupils dilated.

You make one last plea. “So, no snack?”

You regret saying it immediately. He puts the jerky bit up to his lips, opens them deliberately, and takes a huge bite of the meat. It pulls apart with a crackle and watching it, you know it probably would hurt your teeth if you did something like that. His flexed jaw is a lot stronger than yours. His action is animalistic in a way, reminding you of a lion tearing into an antelope.

And for some reason, it brings a rise of heat from your shoulders to your cheeks. Watching his teeth gnaw on the jerky sends your mind traveling to la la land.

His voice forces you out of your thoughts. “Go to bed. Now.”

He stopped bringing you breakfast. Instead of your usual routine, Joel started giving you one small meal a day. You start to resent him and by the looks he is giving you, he is still bitter over your whole scheme with the snack.

You woke up hungry, which only started your day off wrong. You are regretting ever testing him in the first place. You were biting the same hand that literally fed you. The more you think about it, the more you realize that you should be grateful he is even keeping you alive. Why are you even trying to rock the boat with him? In some weird twisted way, he gave you a second chance. You were completely sober from alcohol going on a month now. And while most nights you grieved the burn of it going down your throat, your mind was more clear. You felt more grounded in reality. You did not want to go back to the way you were. Sure, you were hungry, but you were not plastered and sleeping 18 hours a day, and that seemed like a fair enough trade.

But the ache of your chest started to set in. You were feeling impulsive. You do not clearly remember how your body felt before you started drinking so much, but you do recall the aggression that would riddle your bones from time to time. The knee jerk reaction just to let loose. It had gotten you in some very sticky situations, but it was a sort of rush you craved.

After three days of the stalemate, he brought you the Spam sandwich and a short cup of water for dinner. You do not look at him when he walks into the room, and you do not thank him.

You had to get on his good side again. Somehow.

“Are you on a hunger strike or somethin’?” His deep Southern drawl always extending out the end of his sentences. You loved hearing it.

You shake your head no.

“You stopped giving me breakfast,” You grumble, reaching out to the plate he offers you. He shrugs, plopping down in his usual chair in the corner. He does not have his dinner in hand tonight. He leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees.

“You were bein’ an ungrateful little bitch. I am offerin’ you a second chance here and you are not appreciative,” He states, almost sighing. You grit your teeth at his name for you, but you decide it is not worth the argument.

You take a bite of the stale bread. The moan of your stomach subsides for a moment.

“I am appreciative…”

He sits back, his shoulders flexing under his jean button-up. You scan his body, noting his dirty clothes and muddy brown boots. He was always tracking things into your bedroom from the bottom of his shoes and it ate away at your need for wanting things more clean. Your sober mind needed tidiness.

He grunts, “Doesn’t seem that way, sweetheart. Didn’t thank me just now.”

You try to get your thoughts in order before you respond. You take one careful bite into the sandwich, trying to read the man sitting in front of you. He got you sober. He feeds you and houses you even though he could have shot you in the face for being involved with a man who screwed him over. And he is not a bad view to look at when you eat.

“Thank you, Joel.”

He stands up and saunters over to you. As you swallow your bite, your eyes trail up his large frame. You start to worry a bit. Maybe he did not see your answer as genuine.

His thumb begins to trace the outline of your jaw, before slowly making its way up to your cheekbone. You grasp onto the plate tighter, your eyes piercing his as he focuses in on your lips. When you think he’s about to pull away, his palm goes over your mouth and his hand squeezes your cheeks together. His grip on you is painful, his fingers sinking into the divots of your upper jaw.

“You are receptive to feedback. Which is a good thing…” He trails off. Your heart starts to pound against your rib cage as you wait for the other shoe to drop. His hand jerks your head to the right, inspecting your side profile. “You will be good for me.”

You do not know what he is insinuating and are too afraid to speak up. You dip your head down, trying to promise him silently. Yes, I will be good. Please don’t kill me.

He slowly lets go of your face. He brings his thumb up to his lips and licks the very tip of the finger. You watch him bring it back down to your level. You flinch when he brings it up to the very corner of your lip. He wipes away at something like a father would to his young child who had food left on their face.

Joel was violent. But he was quiet about it and that scared you. He moved with such intention and you found yourself occasionally hypnotized by his aura. He was unlike any man you ever met. It could be the fact that others around you made him out to be some enigma, but maybe he was one.

You finally manage to speak up, the sudden tender touch starkly different from the aggression just minutes before.

“What do you want with me?”

It comes out as a whisper, but with Joel being so close, his ears perk up.

His face does not change from the steeled expression. “Time.”

He gives you breakfast one morning. You have been sleeping in, trying to use slumber as a substitute for food and it seemed to work for a couple of days. Joel brings in a plate with eggs and some stale bread. You had not seen him bring in eggs before and it shocked you. Your eyes almost well up in tears when he hands it to you in bed.

“Thank you, Joel.”

He sits in his usual spot and watches you scarf down the meal. “I am going to be gone for a couple of days.”

Your eyes shoot back at him, confusion laced in your countenance. “What about me?”

“I’m letting you have access to the kitchen and living room. You’re not allowed to leave. The door will be locked from the outside.”

The thought of being alone for that long scares you. Your thoughts start spinning. Why is he leaving you? Why would he let you be alone? Would you be able to eat?

Joel can see the cogs turning in your brain.

“You are leaving me alone?”

He claps his hands on his thighs as he stands, “I have a run to make. I usually have other guys do it for me but I gotta do this one myself. You will be okay.”

For some reason, your instinct is to worry about him. Going out of the QZ walls is always a very dangerous feat and you knew he would be unprotected from the elements and infected. Joel seems more than capable, but anything can happen. What would happen if he died out there?

“How long will you be gone?”

The question comes out desperate and you do not mean it to. You crawl out from under your covers, planting your feet on the ground. You suddenly felt hot. When the cold air hits your bare legs, you realize that you forgot you discarded your pants in the middle of the night. You were just in your underwear in front of him.

Joel’s eyes flicker down your unclad legs. You had a good radar when it came to men checking you out and as much as you did not want to admit it, you knew Joel was doing just that.

His lips twitch, “Not long. Two days, max.”

You cross your legs, holding your hands in front of your crotch in an attempt to try to shield yourself a bit. You watch him meander over to you, his steps purposeful. Once he reaches about a foot away, your breathing slows as his hand trails up your arm.

You felt this tension rise within the room and for a second you think he may act on his reaction to your legs. But instead, he just clears his throat. You are a bit disappointed and you do not know why.

“I’ll be good, Joel.”

You survive the first night. You busy yourself with stuff around his apartment. You decide that you would not snoop through his belongings, only organizing the kitchen cabinets and alphabetizing his record collection. You had found a sense of purpose, filling your day with pointless tasks.

When the second night comes, you decide that you finally need a shower. Joel did not tell you that you could use the bathroom in his room, but you became aware that the other tub did not work and was covered in mold. The smell in the bathroom was enough to make you gag.

You were starting to reek of body odor and you did not want to sleep another night smelling the way you did. Plus, you knew the soap you used when Joel called you pretty was in that shower. He could not be that mad.

So, you tiptoe into his room and wander into his bathroom. When you flick on the light, you notice some of his beard shavings in the sink bowl. To the left of the shower curtain, you spot a jumbled pair of boxer shorts. You feel a pang in your stomach. His face appears in your mind. You cannot stop yourself from imagining him in the room with you, just like he was when you stripped for your shower before.

You step into the cool water, letting it soak you as your hands traveled around your body. Your nerve endings were buzzing as your thoughts pondered the idea of Joel being there with you.

The glimmer of his eyes when you were pantsless days before still rattled around in your head. You had not been desired in so long and with that action alone, Joel made you feel wanted. The tension was so palpable. His close proximity to you, the occasional gentle touches, it was enough to fill your mind with all the dirty possibilities.

Your hand travels down to between your legs. At first it’s only to clean, but as you explore, you cannot help but slip your fingers between your folds. The titillating motion is enough to have you throwing your head back in pleasure. You squeeze your eyes shut, thoughts drifting to how you need an explosive release and you sickeningly want Joel Miller to give it to you.

Your pointer finger and middle spread your folds, rubbing carelessly and eagerly. You have not felt this driven to orgasm in years. You recall the sight of Joel’s stomach the first day you met him. Then you think about the boxers right outside of the shower next to you. Your thoughts spin and suddenly he’s naked in your mind.

Your hand only moves quicker with the thoughts. Your clit is aching with such intensity, you are shuttering and using your free hand to balance yourself on the tub’s wall. The water is pounding down your chest, dripping through the valley of your breasts.

Your eyes open a bit as you try to find your footing and you notice a bar of soap that’s covered in his short hairs. You snatch it up, bringing it up to your nose as your lips quirk up into a smile.

Of course, it smells like him.

You finger yourself faster, his name spilling from his lips as you press the bar into your face. It is almost like you are imagining it is his face stuck to your face.

“Joel… Oh my god, Joel-”

The sound of the curtain being ripped away from its spot makes you completely jump out of your skin. His fierce brown eyes raking down your completely nude frame, hunched over and in a compromising position. He slams his fist against the faucet, shutting the water off in one swoop. You drop his soap to the floor, scrambling backward trying to dodge his rage.

He is pissed.

His hand wraps around your bicep, ripping you out of the tub and onto the tile. Your hip hits the ground first and it sends a shooting pain up your back. He is panting like he just ran a mile, standing over your sopping naked frame.

“What are ya’? A bitch in heat?” He spits. You are so dazed and a bit afraid, you start to shake and raise your hands in defense.

He squats down to you, his eyes scanning your dripping body. His hands work so quick to reach out and grab your face. With clenched teeth, he brings your face close. “Answer me.”

His grip is tight on your face and you do not know if you can even respond effectively. You feel your core pulsate with the way he has a hold of you.

“I-I wanted to s-shower.”

He mocks you, “I-I… You are fuckin’ yourself in my shower like a dirty whore.”

He turns back to check to see if he actually saw you holding his bar of soap. It’s in pieces at the bottom of the tub surround. He pulls his hand away but the sting still remains.

“I-I’m sorry, Joel.”

His gaze falls upon you again, a little less aggravated. “Dry off and get dressed. Sit on my bed when you’re done.”

Your mind is all over the place when you sit down on Joel’s bed. He is not in the room but you hear him in the kitchen moving around. You hear the clatter of some plates and then him grunting.

When he barges in,you can tell he is annoyed still.

“You reorganized?”

Your heart pounds with uncertainty. You did not believe that would ever set him off, but you are starting to realize you have gauged Joel incorrectly. “Yes.”

He stops his pacing, his hands still propped up on his hips. “Why?”

“Because I needed to keep busy while you were gone. I also went through and-”

“Alphabetized the records. I saw.”

Nothing was getting past him. Your breathing is labored, the idea of him killing you for helping him be more orderly is so pathetic. You had to go out in a better way.

You clench your hands in your lap, “I did not mean to make you angry.”

He does not say anything, staring at you with an askane expression. He pivots to the dresser beside the bed, opening up the top drawer. He pulls out a pair of gray sweatpants and a beat up white t-shirt. He folds them meticulously, stacking them and then handing them to you.

You reach out for them, putting them in your empty lap.

“Put them on and get under the covers.”

Of all the things he could have said, this surprises you the most. “In my own bed?”

“No, this one.”

You look back at his perfectly made bed. He wanted you to sleep with him?

“Joel-”

“We are tryin’ somethin’ new tonight. Change your clothes while I take a shower with my soap, and be under those covers when I get out,” His outline of directions is seriously rattling you to your core. You felt nervous but almost excited?

You watch him turn on his heels and amble over to the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. Your stomach sinks when you hear the lock click. You look down at the clothes he gave you, raising them up to check the tags.

Just your size.

His bed is way more comfortable than the mattress you were cursed with. The blue quilt feels soft and worn under your fingertips. You lay on your back, feeling out of your own body. You hear the water shut off in the bathroom and your heart starts racing. You hear the rip up the curtain and some small stomps as Joel must be exiting the shower.

When the door creaks open and you see him standing in only some boxer shorts, your breathing hitches. His hair is brushed backward and his hairy upper body is a sight to behold. You silently wished you had this image earlier when you were rubbing your clit.

He walks over to his dresser, the same dresser he pulled clothes for you out of, and grabs a plain white t-shirt. He tosses it over his head, pushing his arms out of the holes on the side. It was slightly stained at the collar and it was see-through enough that you saw his dark chest hair still.

“You are sleeping with me tonight,” He announces, walking over to the opposite side of the bed. Your stomach flips when you watch him pull the blanket back and crawl under the blanket. You observe how drastic his mood shifted from ripping you out of the shower. Why did he want you in his bed? What was his end goal? Your core is still sticky with your desire. You secretly wish he would just take advantage of you already.

But he does not even turn your direction. You watch him face his back to you, tuck one arm under his pillow and shut the lamp off.

Your mind starts to race. The bedroom door is unlocked, you can see it in the moonlight. You could easily slip out of the bed in the middle of the night and head for the front door and run.

But it’s the same thought that slipped your mind when Joel left you a couple days ago. You could have jumped out a window, rigged the doorknob to the apartment to get out, but you just never did. Instead, you sat idle inside Joel’s apartment and waited for him to return.

And now you have access to him when he’s at his most vulnerable. What was preventing you from sneaking a pointy object into the bedroom and stabbing him directly in the throat?

Because you needed him. And while your demented and violent thoughts of all the ways you could kill him rattled around in your mind, you knew deep down you would never do it. You craved the need to impress him. To be good for him.

He’s silent next to you, not a sound leaving his body. You are not even sure if he is asleep when you slowly turn on your side, facing away from him as well.

Somehow, you sleep better in his bed than your own.

The routine changes after that night.

Joel wakes up as soon as the sun breaks the sky and he leaves you in his bed as he prepares you breakfast. When you hear the door reopen, you always wake up to his frame standing over you with a plate. You rub your eyes as you grab the handoff, propping yourself up on his headboard. He would sit on the end of the bed, nibbling on his own meal.

And then he starts asking you questions.

It starts off with him asking you where you were from originally. You explain how you traveled with a group of people that were essentially raiding other established communities. You had escaped the Baltimore QZ when a bunch of people got infected practically overnight and there was no oversight. When you got out, the people who survived with you became vicious and desperate.

Then he asks you about your relationship with Roger.

You give him the overview. You tell him you relied on him to fund your mind-numbing habits and he left you to look over his stash. When you press him about what he did to him, Joel gives you those eyes. Almost to say “you don’t get to ask the questions here.”

Most days you sat on the couch and read his collection of books. You were not the fastest reader so it took days to get through some of the stories. He had a lot of books about space and a variety of science fiction. He would leave every day, running his usual business. When he got back home, you would still be planted on the sofa, reading. He would slam his keys down and get to work on your Spam sandwich.

Every other night you would shower. After the soap incident, he kept his soap on the very top corner of the shower. When you first noticed it, you smiled sickly.

The sleeping situation is the same every night. You lay on your back, Joel lays on his side, completely facing away from you. Sometimes in the middle of the night, your arms would brush his back and he would stir. You tried your very best not to test his limits even though you had no real clue what they were.

One particular night, the window he kept cracked was letting in the most frigid air. You always ran cold while Joel was like a furnace when he slept. He radiated enough heat to keep a whole house warm. But this night you were shaking under the quilt, your toes feeling like they may fall off.

You turn on your side, facing his expansive back. You are so deliberate with your movement that when your arm falls over his waist, his body jolts. Instead of slapping you away or turning to face you, his body just stills completely, not even a rise and fall of breath.

“What are you doing?” He asks through the darkness, his sleepy voice. Almost wholesome.

You stifle a response, trying your best to sound confident. “I’m cold.”

He finally breathes out, his arm moving down over yours and holding it against his waist. Your heart races so hard you can hardly fathom falling asleep, but at least you were warm.

You start to do it every night, even when the air is balmy outside. You settle on your side, your arm swinging over his waist and pulling your lower half taut with his butt. You never expected you would ever be spooning Joel Miller every night, but here you were, wearing his clothes with your pelvis flush to him.

Your hand finds his hips one night while you adjusted your position. Your hand graces right below his waist and you feel his member half-hard in his boxer shorts. It makes your eyes snap open, the shock of your body waking him up. Your hand does not move, though. You hover it over that spot, curiously wanting to touch him through his shorts.

“Do you feel me?”

His voice makes your throat tighten, unsure of how to respond to such a question. So you just hum and shake your head.

He takes your reluctant hand and pushes it down to his clothed cock, his body pushing back into a bit. Your mind is still a bit fuzzy from your slumber, but when you feel him harden under your touch, you do not want to stop until you finish him.

He is deliberately moving your hand around, pulling it over and under his boxers until you are touching his bare cock. You shutter at how large it feels in your hand and you cannot even see it from how you are laying. Your hand cannot completely wrap around it due to its girth.

“Joel…” You practically whimper, clawing his back to get him to lay back so you can see him. He does not budge, still laying on his side.

Your hand massages the very base of his dick, his curly hair poking your fingertips as you do. You are so eager that as you jerk him off, he grabs your hand to start guiding you slower. When your hand graces his tip, he hisses.

“Gotta take me slow, girl,” He groans, holding your wrist so tight you know it will be bruised in the morning. You do as he says, slowly and methodically following how he likes to be jerked off. After a minute, you can hear his shallow breaths increasing as you bring your speed up just a bit.

“Are you gonna cum?”

You try to say it in a sultry voice, but it comes out rushed and desperate. You just want to see him seize by your own hand. Joel grunts, his grip on your arm practically stilling your movements before he can even finish. You resist his persistent handle on you. You craved to make him orgasm. Eventually, he pushes his hips forward into your hand, sighing as he releases.

You feel the ropes of cum spill all over the back of your hand. As soon as the warm seed empties onto you and his tummy, he rips back the covers and stumbles into the bathroom. He shuts the door so fast, you hardly see him through the dark.

You look at his clear-white fluid on your knuckles and smile in satisfaction.You want him to see your next actions.

The bathroom light spills into the room as he holds out a wash rag to you. It’s obvious it’s the one he just used on himself. You shake your head, bringing your hand up to your lips, extending your tongue, and licking the spend off your knuckles. You swallow, willingly.

He gawks at you, his eyebrows still knitted together, watching you clean off your hand entirely. “Didn’t even need my help. What a good girl.”

You wake up with Joel standing over you. It rattles you a bit, his stare zeroed in on your face.

“Mornin’,” He uttered, holding out a small pile of clothes for you. “We are goin’ on a field trip.”

The last thing you expected after jerking the man off last night was an outing. You sit straight up, holding out your hands for him to shove the clothes in your palms.

“Where are we going,” You stammer, pushing the covers down your legs.

His eyes rake down your body as you stand up, almost standing at attention in front of him.

“You’re comin’ to work with me.”

You look down at the clothes he has given you. Some cargo pants, a short sleeve gray top, and even a new pair of underwear.

This is the first outing you have had since being with Joel, so you are a bit nervous thinking about how the outside world may be. It cannot be any worse than it already was, but you worried about how you would be perceived walking down the street with Joel Miller.

The more you ponder the idea, you start to feel more reassured than anything. If you were placed beside anyone, you would want it to be with the guy everyone feared. No one would ever think to give you a hard time.

Joel’s line of work was dangerous but it was also a powerful role to have in this fucked up world in the QZ. You were on the right side of the insanity, in your opinion. Joel was your protection in some demented fucked-up way.

You get dressed as he makes breakfast. This morning, he decides to make you two some eggs that he said were getting old so he had to make them. He likes his eggs runny, so you had to like yours runny, too.

You two sat at the dining table as you ate. He scarfs his down in a minute, while you take your time to savor the different flavor. You missed eating food that was not Spam or plain bread. Joel notes your painstakingly slow chews.

“Hurry up, we got places to be.”

The people on the streets pay mind to you now. Before, when you did leave your former place with Roger, everyone kept their heads down. Occasionally people would slam into you with their shoulders, acting like they could phase right through you.

When you walk with Joel, people move out of the way.

The alleyway is not too far from Joel’s apartment. He forces you to walk in front of him, copying every step you make with his loud footfalls. He grabs your shoulders to direct you down a concrete staircase that seems to lead to nowhere. At the bottom, a brute man stands with his arms crossed. You hesitantly stop right in front of him, your eyes taking in all the scars littering his face.

Joel grunts. “She’s with me, Pete. Thomas and Garrett in there with him?”

The man, who’s now known as Pete, just nods minutely. Joel pushes the door beside him open and grabs your forearm to drag you through the threshold. It’s a dimly lit hallway that smelled like dampness and gunpowder. There’s two light bulbs dangling from the paint chipped ceiling that guide you to the end of the hallway. Joel pushes open the door, and you smell that familiar metallic smell.

It was a smell that leaked into your dreams occasionally. It’s so overpowering you can almost taste it.

When you walk in, the room is occupied by three men. Two are standing over the other, their bodies blocking the entirety of the scene. You do note the huge puddle of blood on the floor near a knocked over wooden chair. Joel clears his throat and the two men step away looking at Joel, then you. They have to be around your age, maybe a bit older. The blond man speaks up first as he scans your body.

“Bringing your kid along for the show?”

You glance over at Joel who’s jaw tightens. You watch his whole demeanor shift, his body becoming rigid.

“Get out of here, Garrett.”

The blond man furrows his brows, not understanding why he was really being directed to leave. You can sense a bit of hesitance. “Joel, I’m just kidd-”

“Get the fuck out, now. We don’t need you.”

The man scrambles past you and Joel, shutting the door behind him. The dynamic Joel and his men have is very easy to figure out. Whatever he says, goes. The look the other man is giving him is that of unease.

“He confessed that he stole from our stash. More than once.” Joel walks forward, drawing his gun out. Finally, the man on the floor comes into full view.

And you recognize him.

He was a pill smuggler that had come over to Roger’s a couple times before. He always gave off the vibe that he would take advantage of anyone, especially a woman. He would whisper things about you to Roger and you remember a couple times when he had inappropriately touched you. You believe his name to be Don. Maybe Ron.

His eyes are swollen and bruised. His lip is completely split open and he has a gnarly gash on his left cheekbone. He is tied up, his arms and legs bound by ropes and zip ties.

You are not at all phased by blood, but his beaten body is a bit hard to look at. He was not a nice looking man already, and surely the swelling was not helping him.

His lips part almost like he is about to speak up, but Joel swipes the butt of his gun across his face with insane accuracy.

One thing about you was you did not turn away from violence. Now that you are sober, it's easier to recognize that something was off for you to be so unfazed by the savagery. You sickeningly enjoyed watching people get their karma.

You had no context as to why this man was bound and brutalized in this random basement, but you knew Joel had good reason to set him straight.

“Donny boy, I thought we were friends,” Joel’s voice is dripping with sarcasm. He seems in his element as he squats in front of the man, “And you fucked me over good. Sold out people only to get yourself in this position. Pretty fuckin’ dumb.”

Don can hardly sit up, his body completely tilted with his elbow propping up his entire body weight. You can tell he is struggling to respond, but you hear the faintest voice quip up.

“I told the truth, please,” He begs as he attempts to sit up more. Joel grabs his shoulder roughly, balancing his back on his butt. “I won’t do it again.”

You cannot see Joel’s face, but you know he does not believe that. His shoulders slot back a bit as he stands up and turns to face you. His face is straight, not showing any emotion at all. You notice the gun still in his hand, his finger completely off the trigger.

“You know him?”

You just nod, your eyes peering down at the gun he has directed at you. His eyes flicker back and forth, seemingly contemplating what to say next. He pushes the weapon into your hand, his fingers curling around the grip so that your hand would follow suit. You watch every meticulous move, pulling the safety clip, slipping his hand away and gesturing towards the man.

“You’re gonna kill him.”

Your eyes fly open, unsure if this problem should be dealt with by you. The promise you made to yourself when you stepped foot in this QZ rattled around in your brain as you tried not to show Joel your irresolution. Your mouth is dry when you gulp, “Why?”

His hand presses on your back as he pushes you towards the guy. You are about 2 feet from him and Joel’s face is so close to your ear. It’s the closest he has ever been to you. You can feel his breath on your lobe and neck and it makes bumps scatter across your body.

He raises your arms, pointing the barrel towards Don. As soon as he does that, Don starts begging. His voice shaking, sweat pooling on his forehead, tears pricking at the corners of his swollen eyes.

Joel’s voice is so hushed over Don’s pleas. “He is the one who told me about Roger stealing from me. Little did I know, he was stealing from me, too.”

It is like a switch goes off in your brain. Your eyes are trained forward on the trembling man but it is as if the whole world went quiet when Joel stopped speaking. You hear white noise in your ears and your mind shuts off for a nanosecond. Your pointer finger slots between trigger guard and trigger and you squeeze, your aim right at his head.

You feel the spray explode across your face and suddenly you snap back to your reality.

Your body was overtaken by the need to please. The need to impress Joel. It was also like your own sick revenge. This man is the reason Roger was dead. The reason you got ripped from your normalcy. Your brain had no time to catch up to your body’s actions. Instead of flinching or falling backward away from the body of the traitor, you stand over him like he’s some commodity in a circus. With wonder and curiosity, you lower the gun and smile.

Joel steps beside you, his face expressing fervor.

Finally facing him and forgetting the other man in the room who was just a witness to the scene, you speak up.

“Did I do good?”

A small semblance of a grin spreads across his lips. “Very good, sweetheart.”

You and Joel do not stay in the room long after. Very quickly, he ushers you into another room where he checks a cabinet full of guns, looking over each other and counting in a hushed tone. You hear bounding footsteps in the hallway and men talking amongst each other.

The voices are rushed and surprised. One states, “She didn’t even flinch. Joel’s lucky to have her.”

You feel a tickle on your brow and itch it absentmindedly. As you pull your finger back and look at it, it is stained red.

You find a shiny surface in the room of arms and paraphernalia, glancing at your own reflection. The smear of blood goes across your forehead, while the splatter itself is speckled across your cheeks like freckles. Joel stops what he is doing to check you out, his steps trailing up to your back. His breathing is quite labored and as you stare at your own mirror image, you note the look he’s giving you.

His hand goes across your chest, his finger tips starting to dance across your décolletage.

“We gotta clean you up. Can’t have you walkin’ the streets lookin’ like you killed someone.”

He says it while he rubs the blood across your chest, smearing it and massaging it into your skin.

You loved it when he touched you. Even if it was roughly, you counted yourself lucky that Joel felt the need to do so.

“But I did kill someone.”

Your voice does not have any hesitance, you are simply stating facts. Joel’s chin tilts upward, his hand grabbing your shoulder and jerking you around to face him. His face is practically millimeters from the tip of your nose.

He grunts, almost like he’s clearing his throat. “And you didn’t even second guess me. I didn’t even need to push you, you just did it.”

You smirk to yourself, enjoying the slight praise he is giving you.

“And here I thought I was testin’ ya.”

Your eyes flicker up to his, trying to see right into his soul. Testing you?

“Did you not expect me to do it?” You bite.

“I had an inklin’ you’d be loyal. Consistent. Even a bit violent. But I didn’t expect a killer.”

Your chest rises at his statement. You are trying to manage your breathing as his words have a visceral effect on you. It was like he was talking dirty to you. Why did his impression of you mean so much? Ever since you met the man, you were at his mercy and you got off at his reassurance. It was like he was your new vice.

His right hand traces down your bare arm, while his left grabs your jaw. “Let’s get you cleaned up and home, how ‘bout it?”

You agree with a jerk of your head.

Once you walk into the apartment again, you are reminded of the smell of mold again. When the scent hits your nostrils, you scrunch your face. Joel is quick to notice the expression because his eyes and hands have not left your body since you shot that guy. He has been watching your every move.

You toe off your shoes by the front door as Joel tosses down the keys. He takes the handgun out of his waistband and places it carelessly next to them.

When he turns to look at you, he crosses his arms. He is studying you as you unzip the jacket he offered you. It was only to cover the blood that stained your new outfit.

“Take it off slow.”

You shoot him a confused look, still trying your best to follow his instructions. You shrug the jacket off your shoulders, letting it purposefully fall down your arms. The blood on your clothes has left semi-permanent spots on your skin. Once the clothing pools to the floor, you stand there at Joel’s mercy.

He clenches his jaw, nodding slowly as he inspects you. “Now the shirt.”

You do not second guess his next directions. You grab the hem of your shirt and draw it upward over your head. The fabric goes across your lips and nose lifting them up awkwardly. You smile when you drop the next article next to the jacket.

The anticipation makes your pussy pulsate. You have thought about this moment for longer than you care to admit.

“Pants.”

The pants are buttoned so you fumble with getting it undone before you are shoving them down your goosebump-ridden legs. When they get to your ankles, you use the opposite feet to step on the fabric and pull them off your feet. You kick them further away than the shirt and jacket.

You are only in your underwear in Joel’s living room. He is looking at you with such confliction. You have never felt very self conscious until this very moment.

“Should I keep going?”

It is an innocent question, but there is lustful intention behind it. There would be a point of no return if he did answer it.

“I was gettin’ there,” He steps towards you, his guise not giving away any of his next movements. His face was still unyielding. “Panties first.”

Your breathing hitches when his fingers wrap around the elasticity of the waistband.

“I’m still c-covered in blood-” “Shut up.”

You nod, sliding the underwear down and revealing your already dripping core. He sucks in a big breath of air as his hand reaches between your legs and swipes at your wetness with the pads of his fingers. Your entire body tenses, the feeling so foreign and exciting that you cannot contain your gasp for air.

Finally his expressionless face changes to a small twinge of a smile, “Dirty fuckin’ girl. Have been wantin’ this for a long time, eh?”

You are afraid to admit it out loud so you just nod. His fingers still make work through your folds and your knees feel like they may buckle with every swipe. Joel notes your position and grabs your face with his left hand, squeezing your cheeks so hard it forces you to look at him and stand up straighter.

His fingers dip into you briefly, making squelching noise so loud that you both groan.

“Joel,” you whimper, sounding desperate and hasty.

He leans forward, pressing his lips to yours. It is a passionate act you did not expect. You did not know that sex would Joel would mean open mouth kisses, but you are thankful for it. His hand releases its grip on your cheeks and wraps itself around the base of your throat. Your lips slip open for his tongue, letting it explore every inch of your mouth. His fingers are making their slow methodical movements around your clit, driving you absolutely insane with desire.

Your body seems so in tune with every movement he makes, but as you makeout with him, you realize it is because he has molded you this way. To curve and bend to his every will and way.

And you loved every moment of it. You thirsted for this type of control. You knew you would not have to worry or have a second thought, ever. Joel was already ten steps ahead and thinking out everything for you.

He pulls away from the kiss, his eyes flickering between your lips and eyes. You note the red tinge of blood on his lips from kissing yours.

“Get on your knees.”

You obey, whining when you realize that means he would no longer be keeping your pussy warm with his hand. Once your knees hit the hardwood, his hands are making work at his belt and jean buttons.

“You know how to suck dick? Or do I gotta do all the work for ya?”

Your eyes fly open at the vulgarity. You tug your bottom lip between your teeth, “Yes, Joel. I’ve done it before.”

Having his dick in your hand last night was one thing, but seeing it for the first time is jarring. He is definitely the biggest you have ever had the pleasure of being in front of. He can tell by the look on your face that you are a bit stunned.

“Let’s see how you do,” He inches his waist closer to your face and slightly ajar lips, “Open.”

Complying is what you do for Joel.

You open your mouth nice and wide as he inches his cock into your warm mouth. You close your eyes, trying to focus on not disappointing him with your gag reflex. You try your best to relax, but his watchful eye is making you feel disoriented.

He pulls out, letting you take a breath, only to push back in more forcefully. You try to stop his intrusion by putting your hand up on his hairy bare thigh, but it is no use. Your closed eyes prick with tears as Joel pulls out again, this time he is slapping his dick across your mouth.

“Keep those fuckin’ eyes open and on me. Open nice n’ wide and relax that fuckin’ throat.”

His demands needed to be met, so you nod and adjust your position, laying your tongue out. He inches in again and instead of resisting, you relax and watch him through your eyelashes. His face twists as he draws back, his cock getting so impossibly close to the back of your throat. When he hits your gag reflex, you grip onto your own thighs tightly to contain the urge to empty your stomach. He smiles sickly at your reaction. “Poor girl,” He teases, snapping his hips forward again. Another gag. “Can’t fuckin’ take me? Guess we will have to train that mouth and throat, huh?”

He keeps fucking your mouth as your eyebrows draw together in concentration. Joel’s loving every moment, watching you writhe under him. Your wetness is pooling on the hardwood and you can already hint the embarrassment you will feel if Joel notices.

You hollow out your cheeks, attempting to assert yourself in the situation. When you do that, Joel pulls out completely. He leans down to grab your arms and lifts you off the floor, dragging your shins against the uneven wood planks. And to your horror, he notices the wetness on the floor. “Drippin’ on the floor like a wet mop, ain’t ya?”

Joel’s eyes were always dark brown, but they look black with his eyes as dilated as they are. His grip on your arms is very assertive and when he pushes you back over the arm of the couch, you can feel your heartbeat in your ears.

“Please, Joel.”

He grabs you up by your armpits, dragging your body across the couch. When you're lying flat, he settles himself between your legs, holding your right leg taut with his hipbone.

“Keep begging,” He demands, a smug expression taking over his face. His eyes scour your entire body, “My little killer.”

The word sends your body into overdrive and you start grabbing at his body, trying to take what you want. He fights your hands, grabbing both of them and pinning them against the throw pillow right above your head.

You want to confess everything to him in that moment. The very moment you laid eyes on him, you wanted to give yourself to him. In every single way possible.

“I want you.”

“I know you do,” He grabs the shaft of his cock and begins his torture. Sliding it through your soaked folds and humming in satisfaction. You lift your hips, trying to get him to slip it in, but he is always quicker than you. “Desperate, ain’t ya?”

Before your face can react to his mocking, his hips snap forward, fully sheathing himself inside you. The meat of your thigh presses against his waist, trying to hold him in that spot, but he does not let up. The pressure is almost too much but the pain is appallingly satisfying.

You cannot even remember the last time you felt this. Your previous sexual encounters were usually hasty and boring. Most were not consensual and left you feeling gross and deprived of release.

The build up between you and Joel was a months long endeavor that left you feeling borderline insane. You could not help but let your desire for him fester.

His pace is not slow in the slightest, but it is calculated. You manage to widen your legs a bit allowing more space for his thighs to take up. As he kneels between you, you get a great view of his muscular flexed thighs.

Joel was a specimen. You could not stop yourself from admiring such a sight, especially when his hands are all over you and his dick is driving into you over and over. You had never been in love, never seen it first hand even, but you knew you love this moment. You love Joel for making you feel so good. That’s not a feeling you have ever had for anyone, let alone a man in this sick world.

“Oh my god, yes,” You clamor, your hands still locked over your head. The tension you feel in the pit of your stomach feels like it may explode, “Please, please.”

He repositions himself, releasing your wrists and pushing your legs up. You are folded in half while his upper body falls over you. You can already see the glistening of sweat across his neck and shoulders. His body locks you on the couch as he continues rocking into you.

“You don’t cum til I say, got me?”

He fucks into you harder now, and from this angle, you do not know how that will be possible. A couple more thrusts and you know you are a goner.

“I feel it,” You choke, trying to clench to prevent yourself from letting go before Joel’s instruction. “Joel.”

“I said hold that shit back,” His pace only speeds up, like he is chasing his own high, “Not ‘til I say.”

The friction is too much. You tug your lip between your teeth and you bite so hard that you start to taste blood. He is not letting up and you know the rope is about to snap. No matter how hard you try, when your eyes roll back and your body goes rigid, you let the release take over everything.

You are screaming, your voice cracking as you do. Joel’s hip stutter when your pussy tightens up around him, but you know he’s only slowing down because you did not listen.

Your limbs feel like jello and being that you are unable to really shift or move below Joel anyway, you just lay there limp. Joel flexes his arms and you can tell as he pulls away from your body that he is pissed.

“Roll over.”

You knit your brows together, still trying to manage your breathing. “I’m sorry-”

He slaps your thigh, the sting prickling down your entire leg. “Roll the fuck over.”

The motion takes almost all of your energy. When you are on your stomach, Joel hauls your ass towards his pelvis. With your ass up in the air, you can feel the cold air hit your spent cunt. Your head is tilted, only able to see Joel in your peripheral vision. He looks down at your pussy, dragging his cock head through your seams. You note how he smiles coyly.

When his lips purse and spit starts to dribble out, you start babbling all sorts of nonsense. The spit lands perfectly between your pussy lips and the top of his red tip.

“You know what happens to girls who don’t listen?”

You keen as he pushes his cockhead into your cunt, “What?”

“Punishment.”

The thrust is so powerful it has your body almost slamming back onto the sofa. As he ruts into you, the moans that come out of you do not sound human. You are already so sensitive from your orgasm, you know that it takes practically no touch at all to set off the chain reaction again.

His grip on your ass will leave bruises, just like all the other bruises he has given you in the last couple months. You count all of them like trophies. All the time Joel has touched you.

When the grip turns into open hand spanking, you know your ‘punishments’ would be something you would enjoy tempting time to time.

They are brutal. With each thrust, his palm comes down on your left ass cheek. All the while, his right fingers are digging scratches all along your ass and thigh. Between the sounds of the smacks and his balls slapping against your skin, you are being sent back into an ever-growing burn in the pit of your stomach.

“Fuckin’ pussy is squeezin’ my cock,” He mewls, his voice gravelly, “You like gettin’ spanked? Hm?”

You restrain yourself from screaming out that you love it. You settle for just, “Please don’t stop.”

You can hear him chuckle behind you, his actions continuing as he bucks into you.

“You’re lucky ‘m feelin’ nice.”

His hips start to stutter as you continue your mewling over his cock. He reaches out to your shoulders, pulling you upward and locking his arm around your neck. He has you in a loose headlock as he fucks you. Your hands rest on your forearm, your nails digging so hard that you leave small half moons on his freckled skin.

His other arm finds its way between your legs, swiping your clit as his thrusts become more labored. Even with the pace slowed down, the small titillating circles he pushes into your sensitive bud sends you over the edge again. As you fall apart in his arms, he spirals into his own climax, fucking his seed so deep into you that you will probably have it dripping out of you for days.

The husky moans he lets out as he empties himself inside you rattles in your eardrum. It was like music to your ears. You finally got what you want.

“You came again without permission.”

You do not respond, just grunt and fall onto the couch.

Your body is humming still. Joel’s half-hard cock is still standing at attention as he stands up and walks over to the kitchen. You grab the back couch cushion and push yourself up to watch him wander over the sink. His hand reaches for a kitchen towel and he wets it under the sink faucet.

His ass is so perfect and you silently curse yourself for not grabbing it when he was balls deep in you.

“Come ‘ere.”

You scramble up, your legs wobbling with each step. Joel’s eyes scan your entire body again, enjoying the sight of you so bare in front of him. “Didn’t think you were the one for aftercare.”

He furrows his eyebrows, as he extends the towel to you. “I ain’t. Wipe yourself up.”

Your heart pangs against your ribcage. For some reason you thought being so intimate with him would bring something different out. You are sorely mistaken.

The anger you felt earlier, the blind rage, takes over all your nerve endings again. You cannot stop yourself from lashing out after such a high. A high he gave you.

You slap the towel away, tilting your chin up at him. He has never seen you defiant. His face twists in confusion.

“You made me kill for you. Then you fuck me. And you can’t even give me any decency by wiping your fucking cum off of me?”

The words are like vomit coming out of your mouth. You ever thought you would talk back to him like this. It is the kind of thing you could have been killed for months ago. But now, you both are in vulnerable positions. You want to prove a point. Look at me, appreciate me, love me.

“Excuse me?”

His tone is threatening. But so is yours.

“You heard me.”

As silence cuts through the air, you notice the gun Joel put on the kitchen counter next to a broken coffee pot. He sees you eyeing it and goes to reach for it, but you are closer and a bit faster than him. When your hand wraps around the metal, you point it directly at his hairy chest.

Proving a point with violence was always your specialty. Before the alcohol, and now, after the alcohol.

“You fuckin’ bitch,” He bites, his lips tightening inward, “You put that shit down now.”

You are steady with it, your finger not on the trigger, but only millimeters from gracing it. “No.”

“You’re not gonna kill me. Not after all you just did for me,” His voice is more clipped, his words staggered. His hands raise in the air, almost in surrender. “Put it down.”

You are not sure what your next move should be. The rage now turns into confliction.

You have screwed yourself for snapping so quickly at him and now he was never going to trust you. Threatening him with words would be one thing, but pointing a gun at center mass was absurd. While you wanted to get your point across to him, you knew this was overkill. Your fuse was so short and your urges were unkempt. Acting on impulse was going to get you in major trouble.

In the time you are second guessing your actions, Joel’s already springing forward and snatching the gun from you. You are easy to disarm when you are not prepared for a naked man springing at you in your time of contemplation. Joel grabs the gun, pushing you backward into the kitchen counter and points it at you.

“Now…” His southern drawl carries out the word. Your heart is pounding, the same way it was racing last time Joel trained a gun on you. This time was different. Instead of a look of contempt and uncertainty, he appears to be offended by your actions. “You know damn well that shit ain’t gonna fly with me.”

“Joel-” “Shut your fuckin’ mouth,” He steps closer, the gun still trained on you, “You know better, don’t ya?”

The coldness of the barrel on your right collarbone is enough to send you over the edge. Your eyes flicker between his chest, his lips, to his eyes, “I do. I don’t know what came over me.”

His eyes reflect a silent consideration. He is trying to figure out if he believes you or not. You silently pray he does even if you do not fully believe yourself.

“You are too quick to react to someone tellin’ you know. Knock that shit off now or else we will have bigger issues.”

You knew those bigger issues would lead to Joel putting you out of your misery. You would have to work on impulse control. “It won’t happen again. I will work on it.”

“You’re lucky I love that pussy of yours or else you would have a hole in your fuckin’ head.”

Love.

“You love it?”

He smirks at your candor. He did not even realize he said that. “Get on your knees and beg for my forgiveness. You don’t have time to get a big head.”

“On my knees?”

He clenches his jaw, withdrawing the end of the gun from your skin. It leaves a small circle indentation, solidifying that next time, there may be a much bigger one there. “On your knees, little one.”

divider from @/saradika-graphics

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glystenangel · 1 day ago

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you up?

SoftBoyfriend!Sukuna x GN!Reader Oneshot (Modern AU)

summary: you and sukuna can't sleep w/o each other, in a cute way

tags/warnings: 18+ blog but this story is 100% fluff, established relationship, being clingy, calling each other baby, sukuna's highkeyyy a softie cutie baby boy, shortnsweet like sabrina carpenter

~1k

thanks for reading and enjoy<3

_________________

You’ve been tossing and turning all night.

It was getting more and more difficult to sleep without Sukuna.

You hadn’t been dating for very long. Less than a year, but ever since you started sleeping over at his place, you can’t seem to sleep on your own.

Somehow, your bed feels empty. Worse, you feel alone.

“I want to see him.” You mutter to yourself, yawning into the heel of your palm before smoothing it over your cheek.

A few quiet moments pass, and you can hear your frustrated, sleepy breathing through the silence. Warm puffs of air breeze past your lips as crickets chirp outside of your window.

You worry at your bottom lip for a drawn out minute, indecision tugging at your brain.

Then, you remember that Sukuna had gifted you a key to his apartment last week.

“Happy six months. Come over anytime, babe.” He had said, placing a hand on top of your head.

Sukuna had punctuated the end of the sentiment with a sweet kiss in the space between his forefinger and thumb, right where your temple was.

You reach up and touch the spot, feeling vaguely pathetic because of how much you miss your gruff yet affectionate boyfriend.

The persistent thought repeats over and over.

I miss him. I miss him. I miss him.

Finally, you sit up with a resolute sigh and swing your feet out of bed.

You quickly bundle up and then grab your keys, nerves fluttering in your stomach as you run your thumb over the metal grooves of Sukuna’s apartment key.

In all honesty, you’re so excited to see him. You just hope that he won’t be too weirded out by you coming over so late.

You pick up your phone and start typing a heads up to him, deftly switching hands to open the door.

“Oh, shit. Hey.”

The familiar voice startles you, and you look up to see Sukuna standing right in front of you.

The roguish grin donned across his face is absolutely infectious. The lifted corners of his mouth only widen when you mirror his expression, the point of his canines complementing the sharp cut of his jawline. Even though every part of Sukuna seems rough, especially with his huge stature and penchant for swearing, his gaze is so soft and open whenever he stares at you.

It’s one of the many reasons why you love him. Plus, he looks too pretty with sweatpants hanging off of his hips.

He also has on a zipped open, baggy jacket that fully displays an olive green band tee. If you look closely, you can see peeks of his ruffled, rosy toned hair underneath the black baseball cap and jacket hood he had thrown over the mussed strands. He touches the brim of it with a hand to lower the cap further, and his sleeve slides down to reveal the tattoos inked above his wrist and further up his arm.

The shy gesture has you immediately jumping up to hug him, a stunned laugh leaving you but feeling happy nonetheless at his unexpected appearance.

“Sukuna!” You exclaim, heart warming when he reciprocates your joy and wraps strong arms around your torso.

Held in his arms, you realize the embrace provides a fond reminder that it really is the little things.

The brush of his cheek against your own, the faint scent of woodsy cologne, and the steady heartbeat beneath your fingertips when you slide your hands down to his chest.

He bends down to kiss around the crown of your head and then your smiling lips. He keeps his hands clasped over yours, and you can feel the rhythm of his heart quickening from your touch.

You hum into the press of his lips, keeping your hands softly resting on his solid chest.

Once Sukuna pulls away, he sends you a nervous look. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him embarrassed, so you practically swoon at how adorable his hesitation is.

“I was just about to call you. I know it’s late and I don’t mean to be weird but-” He bites his lip, and then rakes a large hand across the back of his neck, “Damn it, I missed you. Couldn’t sleep without my new teddy bear, I guess.”

He sweeps his sightline up to you, as if gauging your reaction, and you smile so widely that it hurts your cheeks.

“Really, baby?”

He gazes at you for a brief moment, drinking in your features and then letting out a smitten sigh, “Of course, baby.”

You start laughing as he steps closer to dot your cheeks and nose with a flurry of kisses.

“I missed you. I missed you. I fucking missed you, okay?”

“Okay, stop!” You breathlessly command, and he lets out a tired grumble.

“Okay, okay. Don’t act like you didn’t miss me either though.”

“I did. I was actually about to head to your place.” You sheepishly draw out his apartment key from your pocket, and it glints in the low light.

Sukuna smirks at your admission and then scans you from head to toe.

His eyes flit over your pajama clad figure approvingly, “Guess we had the same idea, huh? God, we are the fuckin’ cutest. Makes me sick.”

He fakes a gag at the end of his sentence, clutching at his stomach and rolling his eyes.

You push his chest with a sarcastic scoff and a scrunch of your nose, “Whatever.”

“You love me, and I love you.” He proudly declares, and then yawns into his hand.

You take in his sleep softened face, beaming at how handsome he still looks with heavy lidded eyes and disheveled hair. Sukuna remains striking even when obviously exhausted.

You love it.

And him, unfathomably.

“I do love you.” You agree, grabbing his hand and tugging him further inside your home, “Now, come inside. I love sleep too.”

He curls his fingers around yours, trying to hide his smile by bowing the brim of his hat and failing miserably.

“I think I’m already dreaming.”

_________________

End Notes:

warming up getting back into writing with some wholesome fluff! this is also partially a thank you for the "in the heat of battle" oneshot reaching 2k notes which is so so wild - thanks everyone! lmk what you think of this one, and ty for reading!!😚😚

#ryomen sukuna #sukuna ryomen #sukuna #sukuna fluff #jjk fluff #sukuna fic #sukuna oneshot #sukuna x reader #sukuna x y/n #sukuna x you

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buzzcutlip · 3 days ago

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For @tyferbebe who requested "You know you didn't have to get me anything" & Touch starved from my Winter prompts list <3 I changed the sentence a little bit

Not Monday Carmen Berzatto x Fem!Reader Rated E (oral sex) 2170 words

You have a massive, ginormous crush on your neighbour, Carmen Berzatto. You find him extremely good-looking—even though he might not be the typical hot guy type—and the fact that he’s a successful chef takes things to an even higher level. The fact that he’s been capable of running some of the best restaurants in the world definitely impresses you, and, frankly, turns you on in all sorts of ways.

Hi, are you at home?

Mind if I pop in for a sec?

The two messages from Carmy show up on the screen of your phone, and you simultaneously panic and get excited. You’ve just returned from the Christmas family visit late last night, and now you’re in the middle of unpacking, sorting out dirty laundry, and eating leftovers. The urge to put on at least a bit of makeup and change out of your old sweatpants is strong, but on the other hand, you’re worried that Carmen’s plan might change if you don’t respond immediately.

Sure, come over!

The next second, you hear the door opposite yours open and shut, followed by a quick rap on your entrance door. When you open it, you’re still clutching your phone in one hand.

“Wow, you’re quick,” you blurt out with a laugh. Carmy smiles back, his dimples appearing, and your heart swells. Your eyes quickly roam over his form and face, hoping that he won’t notice your obvious gluttonous interest.

“I’m returning the screwdriver,” Carmen says, handing you the tool he borrowed at the beginning of December.

“Oh, thank you.” This has become a game you two play. Not so innocent on your side, as you would often come up with silly reasons, but hopefully convincing ones, to either visit Carmy or invite him over to your place—to borrow a cup of flour, ask him to change a bulb, or help you move the sofa. On the other hand, Carmen’s been over to yours for small favors like shirt ironing, sewing a button on his chef whites, or suggestions for Natalie’s birthday present.

“Sorry about the mess,” you say quickly, clutching the screwdriver like it’s a precious artifact. “I just got back last night and haven’t really… sorted everything out yet.”

Carmen shrugs, a little smile playing at his lips. “Looks fine to me.” His eyes linger for a moment on the half-open suitcase spilling clothes onto the floor before they return to you. There’s something about the way he looks at you—like he’s caught between being bashful and wanting to stay longer.

“So, uh, how was your trip?” he asks, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jeans. You know that despite The Bear being closed for the Christmas holidays, Carmen was probably busy coming up with new dishes and similar things. No rest for the wicked.

You’re a little surprised by the question—he doesn’t usually linger after these quick exchanges. “Good. A little chaotic, but that’s family for you.” Carmen knows about your mother and three siblings—each of you with a different father—and how intense she gets.

Carmen chuckles, the sound low and warm, and you wonder if it’s possible to bottle it. You’d play it on repeat whenever you needed cheering up. “I can imagine.”

“Oh—wait! I’ve got something for you,” you suddenly remember and reach into your suitcase to fish out a small package adorned with a green ribbon.

Carmen’s eyes widen, flicking between you and the package as you hand it to him. “It’s Belgian chocolate. Milk with roasted almonds and sea salt,” you quickly explain. “One of my older brother’s father is Belgian. He always sends a lot of chocolates. I think he doesn’t remember how old we are anymore,” you shrug. “This is my favorite.”

Carmen’s face softens as he looks at the package in your hand, and he hesitates for just a moment before taking it. His fingers brush yours, and you don’t miss the way he notices it too—his eyes darting to yours for a fraction of a second.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he says, his voice quieter, almost shy. “It’s nothing,” you reply, brushing it off. “I mean, you’ve helped me out so many times. And besides…” You trail off, shrugging again as you feel a little self-conscious. “I thought you might like it.”

Carmen studies the package for a moment before meeting your eyes again. There’s something so earnest about the way he looks at you, it makes your chest ache in the best way.

“Thanks…Uhm—I didn’t get you anything.”

You wave your hand dismissively, shaking your head as you try to mask the pang of disappointment you feel, even though you honestly hadn’t expected a present from Carmy. “Don’t be silly. It’s not like that.”

Carmen’s shoulders relax slightly, though his brows remain knitted together like he’s still mulling it over. “Still… I feel bad now,” he mutters.

“You really don’t have to,” you insist, a small laugh escaping you. “I mean, unless you wanna give me the New Year’s kiss I didn’t get.”

When you blurt out the last sentence, your eyes widen as you realize what you just said. You quickly laugh again, only this time it sounds a bit forced. “I guess I take that from my mom—finding the right guy who would stick around is not my strength,” you ramble on uncomfortably, trying your best to get out of the situation with as much dignity as possible.

Carmen looks genuinely caught off guard, like he’s not sure if you’re joking or not. You can feel the heat rising in your cheeks, spreading all the way to your ears. “You serious, or…?”

Your heart skips—no, jumps—at his words. The laugh that escapes you now is soft, nervous, and entirely unplanned. “I mean… maybe?” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper.

Carmen’s eyes flicker to yours as he steps just a little closer, the tension between you so thick you can almost touch it. “You tell me,” he says conspiratorially, his voice even softer now.

You don’t even realize you’re holding your breath until he leans in, his movements careful, like he’s giving you all the time in the world to pull away. But you don’t. Instead, you tilt your head, your lips brushing his just barely, soft and tentative.

It’s you who leans back first, afraid of him ending the kiss. Only now do you realize you’re wearing old sweatpants and a stretched-out t-shirt, your face completely makeup-free. Carmen’s seen you at The Bear, when you went there for dinner with a friend—all dressed up in fancy clothes and carefully styled hair. “I’m a mess,” you state, still vibrating from the little kiss.

“You always look pretty,” Carmy says quietly with a small smile, sounding genuine. You want nothing more than to kiss him some more, so you ask: “Was that just a one-time—” but before you have a chance to finish your question, or even your thought, Carmy’s lips are on yours again, and your brain short-circuits.

Your bed is hiding behind an old antique paravent you bought in Boston when you first moved here. The bed itself is large, just how you like it, with a solid wood-carved headboard. That’s where you end up together.

The touch of your tongue against Carm’s is intoxicating; the taste of his kiss is absolutely addictive. You moan into the kiss needily, the sound catching in the back of your throat, and blush furiously at your own reaction.

Despite how much you hate admitting it, it’s been years since you kissed someone like this—since a guy has touched you like Carmen is now. His hands roam up and down your sides under your jumper, squeezing the meat of your thighs, enveloping you heavily, wholly.

Carmy’s solid weight above you is grounding and electrifying all at once. Your hands find their way under his hoodie, fingers brushing against his warm skin, the wiry strength of muscle a reminder of how physical his life is. He lets out a quiet, almost shy groan when your nails graze his back, and you feel the sound in your chest as much as you hear it.

“Is this okay?” he asks between kisses, his voice husky, his breath warm against your neck. The care in his tone makes your stomach flip. “Yes,” you whisper, arching into him.

That seems to give him permission, and his touch grows bolder. He pushes your shirt up, his fingers brushing against the bare skin of your waist, sending shivers up your spine. His lips trail from your mouth to your jaw, to your neck, each kiss deliberate. You’re finding it harder and harder to keep still under his attention, your head tilting restlessly, your teeth sinking into your lip to stifle the embarrassing noises spilling from you.

When Carmen leans away and up, you almost protest. He sits back on his haunches between your spread legs, all flushed cheeks and messy hair. He looks adorable and also devastatingly hot. Before you can say anything, he swiftly takes off his t-shirt and jumper in one go, and you finally have the opportunity to admire his bare torso.

The second you want to get up to explore his torso properly with your hands—and maybe your mouth—he stops you.

“Lie back,” Carmy gently nudges you into position, and you obey willingly, watching him curiously.

Carmen’s gaze is heavy, filled with an intensity that sends a fresh wave of heat coursing through you. His chest rises and falls with uneven breaths as he studies you quietly. All you can do is watch as he reaches down for the waist of your sweatpants.

“Can I…” he trails off, leaning down to kiss the sliver of bare skin peeking between the waistband and the jumper. Immediately, you nod, letting him know he has your consent. You even help him push the garment down your legs and off. His calloused fingers are warm, rough in a way that contrasts beautifully with how gently he’s touching you. You feel like you’re about to melt into the bed.

A sudden stillness forces you to open your eyes to check on Carmy. He’s staring down, right between your legs.

“It’s not Monday,” he says, sensing your eyes on him.

“Whaat?”

He touches his thumb to your pelvis bone. “Here. It says ‘Monday.’”

Confused, you look down. It takes you only about two seconds to understand that he’s referring to the word on your panties, just above a picture of daisies.

“Shut up,” you nudge him with your knee, laughing.

He chuckles low, his breath fanning against your skin as he presses a kiss just below your navel. “I’m just observant,” he murmurs, his lips brushing your skin between words, sending a violent shiver up your spine with the tender contact.

“And for the record, these”—he hooks a finger under the elastic, tugging gently—“are cute as hell.”

Then, instead of taking your underwear off as you expect, he takes your hand in his and pulls it down to your crotch—a silent invitation to touch yourself. You do, feeling your heart in your throat, turned on and shy in equal measures. Carmen watches as you stroke yourself through your panties, hesitantly at first. You’ve been wet since the moment you two started kissing, the damp patch on the pale blue fabric drawing Carmy’s eyes.

He lowers himself, planting open-mouthed kisses on your inner thighs and moving higher, closer to your core. He kisses your hand too, mouthing at it with his tongue as if it were your mouth—or your pussy. You can’t believe something so innocent can feel so sexual, and you let out a stream of soft moans. With every passing second, you’re closer and closer to voicing out loud that it’s time for the main act.

Carmen seems to sense it—your need, your desperation. His gaze flickers up to your face, heavy-lidded, and he murmurs, “Don’t rush. Let me take care of you.” His voice is a low rasp, full of tenderness and heat.

The way he’s looking at you sends another ripple of arousal straight through you, and your breath catches when he pulls the soaked crotch of your panties aside, kissing your pussy for the first time.

“Fuck. Carmy,” you whisper, your voice shaky.

He hums against you, not letting up, giving you a hard lick—one that ends right at your sensitive clit. Your hands find his hair, threading through the soft strands as his lips and tongue explore you. You can feel his breath against your skin, the way it hitches every time you squirm or let out a sound. All the sensations are new, overwhelming, and intense in the best possible way.

Carmen doesn’t stop, doesn’t hesitate. His mouth is warm, deliberate, and unrelenting. The rough drag of his tongue paired with the softness of his lips makes your head spin. Each stroke feels like he’s memorizing you, mapping out what makes you gasp and moan with the precision of someone determined to get it right.

#the prompts are now changed into Winter-post-Christmas ones #winter prompts #oh and i've kinda lost my job today ha ha #perfect beginning of the new year #not letting it get to me tho!!#carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto #the bear #carmen berzatto fic #carmen berzatto x you #carmen x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto fantic #carmen berzatto smut #the bear fanfic

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 2 days ago

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To Those Who Wait 3

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as non/dubcon, virginity loss, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You are tired of being the safe one so you decide to pay for some excitement.

Characters: escort!Ransom Drysdale, Curtis Everett

Note: yeah, I couldn’t resist.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. Thanks to everyone who reads this one and thank you for all your energy.<3

Love you all like Tony loves himself. Take care. 💖

'Morning, sunshine.'

The sarcasm burns into every letter. You stick your tongue out and type your reply. You lay in the dim of your drawn curtains, still half-nestled in your bed.

'Morning, sparky.'

Curtis' response makes you giggle. 'Sparky?'

No emojis. He's not the type. You laze despite the minutes ticking by. Your thumbs flick over the digital keys.

'Give it but can't take it.'

The next bubble has you breathless; 'oh I'm more than willing to give'. Oh, okay. You don't know how to answer that. You send a wink emoticon then prompty groan at your own cluelessness.

You lock the screen and sit up. Is this what life is? Torturous obligation and cringey efforts to be normal. You want to send a message telling Curtis it's okay if he just gives up. You're a mess.

You drag yourself out of your room. As you try to empty the reusable filter for the coffee grounds, you spill it everwhere. You need to start emptying it after use. Another missed checkbox.

Your phone buzzes again. Great. You're sure it's just him calling you lame. You snatch the cell and go to swipe away the message but it isn't Curtis.

WhatsApp.

Hm. Maybe another recruiter cold messaging?

You tap with your thumb, resolved to finally delete the app and wipe the slate clean. You just need to forget that mistake. If you can.

The message waiting for you doesn’t bode well.

‘Feeling thirsty yet?’

You stare at it. You can’t be sure it’s Hugh. The number isn’t the same, you would recognise the last few digits at least. The coffee machine spits out the last few droplets. You turn to grab your cup, the phone buzzing in your hand.

You read with dread, ‘ah come on, just one more go.’

It has to be him. Who else could it be? What else could they be referring to?

A video pops up and plays automatically. You click it to make it bigger as you try to make out what’s going on. Your heart drops and your phone nearly does too. You stare at the recording of yourself on the bed, undressing as you huddle near the top of the hotel bed.

A cold splash sends a chill through you. You remember him turning on the speaker. He must have connected his phone but then you didn’t see what he did with it after that. You didn’t think to pay attention to that, you were too swept up in your own catastrophe.

‘Let’s talk.’

Those two words spike your panic. What did you do? You’re so stupid and yet how are you surprised? Nothing ever goes right. How dare you even try to believe things could get better? That maybe Curtis could be something more than a disappointment.

Loser. Loser. Loser!

You want to bang your head on the counter. You want to scream. You want to crumple into a heap in cry.

You don’t do anything of that. You simply key into the screen; ‘why?’

He sends a laughing emoji. Then a real message. ‘That’s what we’re going to talk about.’

Your eyes glaze with tears and you shake your head. He’s taunting you. Toying with you. This is all just an ego stroke for some narcissist that gets off on himself. Why else would he do what he does? Well, who are you to judge? You paid for his services.

‘That cafe near your office. 12:30.’

You toss the phone on the counter like it’s acid. What the hell? How does he know where you work? How does he know there’s a cafe there? No, no, no. How does he know anything about you? Why does he care?

You pace around hectically. You can’t stay still. You scratch your skin as if you might peel it off. An unbearable itch burns through you. You make a noise somewhere between a sob and a wretch.

You reel in your doom, just enough to retrieve the cell from the floor. You shakily send a thumbs up. That’s all you can manage. Not a good job, just a confirmation. You’ll be there because you have no other choice.

⛅

Your morning is frantic. You have a thousand things to do at once. The phone calls are endless and Shania double-booked another reservation. Don’t you always get the happy job of informing the guests they have to rebook. Fun, fun, fun.

The demanding customers are the least of your problems. Work at the Travel Agency can be downright agony but right now you prefer it to the alternative. It’s the rare instance where you curse the clock for going too fast.

Usually, a trip down to the cafe is your relief. An indulgence on an especially stressful day. That day is more nerve-wracking than any but you don’t think a dose of caffeine would make it any better. You’re already rattling through to your bones.

You reluctantly leave your desk. Your phone is firmly in your purse, where it’s been all day. You don’t want to look at it, even if it’s Curtis making it buzz. You just want to shut down.

You take the stairs. You don’t want to be around other people though you realise the cafe will be busy with the lunchtime rush. You wonder if that’s deliberate. You get to the ground floor and make your way outside.

You stop before the cafe. You peer along the tinted windows and your eyes stop on the singular familiar figure. There he is. Hugh. Somehow, he looks different than that night. How, you can’t say. He’s wearing a similar swear, a light robin’s egg blue, luxurious even. The sweater can’t be cheap given the small logo embroidered on one side of the chest.

You enter and skip the line. You go straight to the table and stop behind the chair opposite...him. You cross your arms and glare at him. Hugh casually lifts his chin and smiles up at you. Your forehead wrinkles in disgust.

“You look wound tight,” he sits up completely, the last consonant sharp. “Need help with that?”

Your nostrils flare and you drag out the chair. You drop into the seat and push your elbows into the table. You lean across it and snarl, “what do you want?”

He snorts, “I like that about. Always straight to the point... even when you have no idea what you’re doing.”

Your cheeks tingle with heat and you look away. You push your shoulders back and shift in discomfort. Even as the bruises fade, if you think hard enough, you can feel that night still.

“That boyfriend know about me yet?” He sips from the tall porcelain cup in front of him. You shake your head and put your eyes to the table.

“Aw, well, I can’t blame you,” he clinks the cup down. “He wouldn’t be able to handle the competition. Would he?”

“I have to get back to work so whatever you want, just say it.”

He chortles again and hums, “I said I wanna talk. We’re talking. Isn’t it nice?”

“I don’t have money if that’s what you’re getting at--”

“Money? Hm, that’s real funny. Oh, you think... you think I’m desperate? I wanted some Balenciaga.” He flicks a finger up and down the mug handle. “Thanks for that, by the way.”

You huff and shake your head, “and it’s better that you get off on embarrassing me? Well, I hope you’re enjoying it because you’ve done a great job.”

You peek up at him and his grin slants. He leans an elbow on the table as he sits forward. His eyes crinkle as he considers you.

“It’s not about money, not even about a joke,” he says. “It’s the way you squeezed me. The way you whined for me,” his voice lowers to a sultry rasp. “The way you drained me fucking dry. You know how many princesses I’ve had on my dick and they just lay there and--” He makes a motion with his hand, “dead fish.”

You frown, “you’re gross.”

“I’m secure in myself,” he argues. “Real rich of you to act like you didn’t like it when you came all over my fucking fingers. Didn’t even take much.”

You rub your neck and stare out the window. Your stomach is boiling. You just want him to get his kicks and go.

“It’s how I know you didn’t lie. About being a virgin, or whatever,” he says. “You know, you could’ve sold that yourself but I guess you were having some trouble finding a buyer--”

“My lunch is almost over,” you grit out. “Get to it, Hugh.”

He laughs louder than before. He scoops up his cup and drains it. “You’re so funny. Really. You make me laugh.” You glower and his smirks widens. “Alright, alright. Pretty simple, you probably already know what I want. Just one more time. I just need to feel it again. That grip--” He makes a fist and you scoff.

“I told you I’m not interested--”

“No? Not interested at all in your porn debut,” he taps his phone and you reach across to swat his hand back.

“Why did you do that?” You hiss.

“Woah, I gotta be safe. I record in case something goes wrong,” he pushes your hand away. “Lucky me, it went so fucking right. You know how many times I’ve watched it?”

You groan and rest your head in your hands. You’re fucked. Utterly and totally. Likely literally.

“Tonight,” he says. “Tell the goth boy you’re doing overtime.”

You sit back and stare at him. Your chest pits and your eyes glimmer. It shouldn’t hurt so much but it does. You don’t want to lose Curtis, not yet.

This is exactly why you didn’t want to get attached.

☕

You don't text Curtis. You can't bring yourself to do it. You just leave him hanging. He'll probably assume your busy. You're sure he has something better to do.

Just like most things in your life, it's over before it begins. Why did you let yourself believe it could be anything? After tonight, it definitely won't be.

That time is different. You don't primp yourself or preen over whether you look good. Instead, you toss all those things you bought to do yourself up the first time in the trash. Everything but the condoms.

You pace restlessly around your apartment. That's another violation. You offered another hotel. 'Your place.' The argument was short. Fuck.

He can't come here. He can't do this. You can't do this. Not again.

Your legs wobble and you teeter to the couch. You sit down and fold over your knees. You can feel the dull pain already. Back in that room, bawling as he pumps into you, scraping out your guts.

You're going to be sick!

You lurch up and run to the bathroom. You spew into the toilet and pant through the acidic saliva left in your mouth. You shut the lid and flush.

You should leave the residue in your mouth. It might repulse Hugh enough to get rid of him. Yet if you don't rinse out the acidic flavour, you'll just hurl again.

You brush your teeth slowly then look at yourself in the mirror. You look scared. You are but you look utterly terrified. Why is this happening to you?

You're not stupid enough to think you're special. No, you're weak. He's a shark and he smelled blood in the water. He set you up for this. You were too nervous, too desperate, and too stupid to see through his ploy.

Your phone buzzes. You ignore it, even as it thrums against the table noisily. If it's Curtis, you might just cry.

The door buzzer chirps. Right. You push away from the sink and shudder.

Your feet hit the floor clumsily and you walk as if you're wadding through thick mud. You hit the button as your stomach churns again. His voice adds to the broil of sickness.

"Baby, I'm here."

You press the button down without as response. You stagger away and linger by the door. You hear him coming down the hall. You open the door at the first knock.

"Someone's eager," he snickers.

You don't say a word. You step back. He enters and whistles.

"Not bad. Cozy," he says. "Bouta get real cozy, huh?"

You shut the door and lock it. He turns and examines the walls. You stare at him.

"Jeez, baby, you got a knife or something? Looking like you're about to crack up over there," he taunts.

That might have been a good idea if you weren't nervous of stabbing yourself in an attempt. Besides, he's a lot stronger. You remember how thick his muscle was, how easily he ignored your pleas.

"Hospitable too," he sniffs and slips off his velvet loafers. "Whatcha got going on?" He struts further into the apartment. "Wine? Beer?"

He goes to fridge and pops it open. You loom like a shadow against the wall as you tiptoe after him. He sucks his teeth as he examines the contents on the racks.

"Ugh, boring," he remarks.

"Don't drink," you croak.

"You didn't seem to mind the wine," he shuts the fridge without his bounty. "Fuck, well, it'll be good. You'll like it better sober. Although I do prefer a sloppy fuck."

You grimace. He makes no pretense as he continues his exploration. He strides past the living room and head through your bedroom door.

"No cute jammies tonight, huh?" He calls through.

You waft into the doorway like a ghost. That's what you are. You are hollowed out. You resign yourself, surrender yourself to ruin. It's all over.

Goodbye, Curtis.

"Looks like you don't got much in mind but don't worry, baby, I planned ahead," he faces you with a wink. "Wanna try something new?"

No. You don’t want to do any of this. You glower.

“Shit, baby, you keep looking at me like that and I’m going to have to wipe that look off your face... along with something else,” he grabs his crotch and growls. “Hard already, you know? Just thinking about what I’m about to do.”

Your lip curls as disgust crawls up your back. “Just get it over with,” you murmur.

“Trying,” his eyes flash dangerously. The retort makes you think of Curtis but he never spoke to you so harshly.

You step out of the doorway before you can fall apart. Your breath clouds in your chest until it feels like someone’s standing on you. You let it out slowly as plays with the black cat figuring on your bookshelf. He scoffs, unimpressed.

“So,” he faces you and tugs at the hem of his sweater, inching it up, “why are your clothes still on?”

You glance away angrily. “Your phone goes in the drawer,” you point to the night stand.

“Pfft, come on. I already got the good shots. What’s another dirty movie, baby? I gotta say, you look good on film--”

“Put it in the drawer,” you insist.

“Damn, don’t gotta be so mean, baby.” He snickers and wiggles his phone at you then puts it in the night stand.

“I’m not your joke, so stop laughing at me.”

“Lighten up. I’m not laughing at you, baby. I just...” He pauses as he pulls his sweater over his head. He wears a thin white tank underneath, his reddish chest hair peeking out the top. “How many women do you think hold my attention once I’ve been in ‘em? Let’s just say, we both had our first that night.”

“Don’t try to flatter me,” you snip.

“Girl,” he squares his shoulder and the humour flickers from his expression, “get your clothes off.”

Your mouth twitches. You take a breath and turn away. You look down at the wrinkled blouse you wore to work. You’re sure he’s full of hot air, he’s just mocking you, especially since he’s wearing Calvin Klein and you’re in Walmart clearance.

You unbutton it as you hear his clothing rustle softly. A shiver speckles across your back as you throw it in your hamper. Your pants go just as easily as you push down the elastic waistband. Another wave of nausea threatens but you keep it down.

You unhook your bra as your bed squeaks. You keep your eyes down and step out of your panties. You pause as you dangle them over the basket. You blink away the heat in your eyes. Why did you run away from Curtis all those times? Why does it have to be Hugh?

You spin and march over to him. He sits on the end of the bed, naked, knees wide. You reach for him, intent to be done with him, but he catches your hands and holds them away from him.

“Uh uh, you really think it’s going to be that easy,” he sneers. “Oh, baby, I didn’t get any of that mouth.”

Your lip quivers and your nose scrunches, “what?”

“Don’t worry, it’s fun, baby. I can train you up for the sad boy,” he chuckles.

“Shut up,” you twist away from him. “Don’t talk about him.”

“Aw, what’sa matter? He don’t make you wet like I do, huh?”

You stomp away and snatch the box of condoms from behind your dresser. You take one and bring it to him. He snorts.

“You like the taste of rubber?”

“Put it on.”

“You think I’m dirty? You saw my test results.”

“I don’t care,” you shove it into his chest.

“Be a lot nicer if you tasted the real thing,” he huffs.

You cross your arms and wait. He rolls his eyes and peels the wrapper open. He pinches the thick ring then presses the rubber to his tip.

“Well, get on your knees. You’re the one so anxious to get this done with. Is the boy toy on his way? Scared he’ll catch—woah!”

He lets go of himself and the condom rolls up just to his tip. He catches your hand before you can make contact with his cheek. “I told you not to talk about him.”

“I like this zest,” He stands and raises your arms above you, “but you won’t like mine.”

He spins you and pushes you onto the bed. You fall heavily and bounce, your teeth snapping down on your tongue. You whimper as he slides his fingers around his dick, pushing the rubber to his base. He climbs up on his knees, straddling you as he advances up your body.

You push on his thighs as he gets higher. Once more, he has your wrists. He clasps them against the mattress, locking them above your head. You flail your legs and he laughs again. His other hand goes to his length and he strokes himself as he presses the lubed condom to your lips.

“Open up for daddy,” he jeers and pushes until he meets your teeth. “I feel the hint of a nip and I’ll skip the kitty and go straight for the peach. Understand that, baby girl?”

Your eyes widen as your bottom puckers. Your fear radiates from your gaze and draws another pleased hum from him. You open your mouth and close your eyes, gagging as the rubber smears lube across your tongue.

He angles as he dips down, touching your reflex as he invades your throat. You choke and spasm under him as he wiggles his hips, testing your limits. You can’t breathe.

He rears and you heave in before he blocks your airway again. He groans and tilts again. Thrusting in and out as you writhe. Tears crest along the brims of your eyes and your saliva smears around your mouth. Each time, he pushes a little further.

“Fuck, baby, how is it just as good as the pussy?” He purrs as he clutches your hair, rocking over you as the smell of the condom adds to your revulsion.

He pumps into you until you’re raw with agony. He lets go of your hands and you push on his hips, begging for him to stop. He doesn’t care. He just keeps going. He quakes and groan, grasping the blankets around your head as he fucks you your head into the bed.

“Gahhh,” he pulls out of you so quickly you gag.

You cover your mouth as he bounces over you. He rolls the condom off and keeps stroking himself. You’re surprised as he spurts his cum onto you, the slimy mess string over your knuckles and onto your nose and cheeks. You put your hand out to shield yourself as he grunts and sits back on his heels.

“The hell?” You gasp.

“I couldn’t fucking hold it, woulda split the damn thing in half,” he puffs as he cups his balls. “Speaking of splitting things in half--”

You lift yourself on your elbows, trying to drag yourself out from under him. He snags you around your ribs and pushes you flat. “Where are you going?”

“You just--”

“Finished? No, that’s round one,” he snickers. “You don’t think I got a few tricks? I mean, a blue pill keeps me in business.”

You curl your lip again and he laughs even louder. You glance up at the night table at the box of condoms. He sighs.

“Fucking tight ass,” he hisses. “Want me to see if that’s literal?” You look at him and bare your teeth. He waves you off and climbs off you to grab the box. “Whatever. At least you had the good sense to get good ones.”

You slowly sit up and wipe your face. He leans on one knee and slides on another condom. He quivers and exhales through his nose. He grabs your shoulder and nudges you.

“Wouldn’t mind it from the back,” he says.

You resist and he snarls, “relax. If I go through the back door, I might not get it out with you being so uptight.” He pinches your nipple cruelly. “Go on, show Ransom that booty.” You tilt your head curiously. Ransom? His eyes dart away, “you gonna listen to daddy or you want some spankings while I’m back there?”

You move reluctantly. You roll over and he grabs your hips, guiding your ass higher as he jostles behind you. He drags his hands around your ass and down your thighs, then up again. He smacks you harshly so you feel the jiggle. You yelp and he guffaws.

“Oh, fuck, should flipped you over the first time.” He gropes your ass and rubs himself against you.

Your insides curdle. You hide in yourself. You try not to think about reality. Not about the desecration of your home, your safe space, of the place you made all your own. Nor the same being done to your body. To your relationship.

Whatever, it was never going to last.

He glides down between your cheeks, lingering as if considering it. You twitch and he snorts. He trails further down and presses against your cunt. He groans as he stretches you slowly. It isn’t easier. Not better. Not like they say.

No, they say the first time is the worst. No, this is. This is torture. This is hell.

He leans into you, grunting as you squeeze him, as your body resists his intrusion. He bends over you, his torso flush to your back, and thrusts. He impales you complete and you cry out. You push against him as your body racks in agony.

He pumps again and you squeal louder. Fuck. Your fingers curl until your knuckles hurt. You hang your head and shudder. He rocks into you, playing with your hair as he nuzzles your nape. He puffs into your skin and it sends a roil of disgust through you.

You sink down until your face is in the blankets. You crush your arms beneath you and drone into the bed. He hooks his arm under you to keep your ass up, rutting faster and faster. Your flesh claps like thunder, a never-ending cacophony.

He growls and brings a hand under your chin, then his other. You wriggle as he squeezes your face and hooks his fingers in your mouth, pulling taught your lips. You arch your back and whine as he keeps his callous pace.

You grab onto his arms as the strain in your lips feels as if it might tear. He lifts your head and you deepen the curve in your back, trying to balance him at both ends. His nose tickles the back of your ear.

“Yeah, baby, squeeze me just like that. Ugh, that pussy knows what it wants better than you do,” he taunts. “Ugh, you latched on tight.”

You can’t speak, you can’t shake your head, you can’t deny him in any way.

“You feel so good,” he snarls. “The way you go me... fuck I feel it in my gut... I’m gonna...”

He slides his hands from your mouth and wraps his arms around you instead; one at your neck, the other around your middle. He pulls you up with him and pounds relentlessly. The bed rocks furiously beneath you as your addled voice gurgles from your throat. The headboard knocks into the wall in a frenetic tempo.

“Yeah, so good,” he rasps between deep breaths. “So good. Never... think I’d let you go, huh?”

You hang from his embrace. Defeated. You did this to yourself. So take it.

#ransom drysdale #curtis everett #dark random drysdale #dark!ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x reader #curtis everett x reader #dark curtis everett #dark!curtis everett #to those who wait #fic #series #dark fic #dark!fic #snowpiercer #knives out

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kteezy997 · 3 days ago

Text

Beyond Business-part two//t.c.

Warnings: mention of deception, possibly toxic relationship, small argument

He was so close, leaning onto the table with his hands. You turned your head, your heart racing, thinking he’d do something crazy like kiss you. There’s no way he would do that, right?

You watched him look at the laptop screen for a few seconds, but it felt much longer before he spoke. “I think it’s time for a lunch break.” He stood up straight, “Ready?”

You were brought back to your senses, “Yeah, um, what do you want me to go get today?” you asked, pushing your chair back and standing up as well.

“Actually, I thought we’d go out somewhere.”

"Oh." you said, shrugging, "Alright."

............

The lunch wasn't really anything special, he just took you to a sandwich shop where you sat in a booth and finished eating within ten minutes. But it was abnormal, considering the two of you had never gone out to lunch, or any other meal together. Typically, he would have you go pick up food from somewhere, mostly to give you a mental break from the workday, or you would order food to be delivered to his place.

After returning to his house, you decided to break the ice on a topic that he was dreading: the Golden Globes.

"So, have you been thinking about the Globes? Do you have an acceptance speech ready?"

"What are you talking about? I'm not gonna win." he slumped down in one of his comfy chairs in the living room.

"Timmy, you should have something prepared. I can help you write something."

"Yeah," he sighed, "I guess I should have something, just in case. That's your job for the rest of the day, write my speech." he smiled cheekily.

You giggled at his goofy face, "Okay, boss. You'll have to proofread so I don't leave anyone out on your thank you list. Should I mention Miss Jenner?” the last question was a bit of a joke. You didn't think Timmy would ever mention a significant other publicly, not even if he were married to someone for 10 years with children.

Timmy only rolled his eyes, “Yeah, no.” he said firmly, taking his phone out, looking at the screen.

“Are you guys…okay?” You knew this was a sensitive spot, but not sure exactly why.

“Yeah, we’re fine.” he said plainly. He did not want to talk about her.

You bit your lip, "Well, I will go get started on that speech, unless there's anything else you need me to work on?" you started to turn on your heel.

"No, nothing right now, y/n, thanks." he said to you, but kept his eyes on the phone.

You could not get your head around how nice he was being to you, not that he was ever particularly mean, except for the night before, but you were over that. But to actually thank you for just doing your job was not typical of him.

.........

Later on, evening hours were approaching, and it was nearly time for you to go home. You heard Timmy's footsteps trailing into the dining room. His phone was still in hand.

"She is wanting to text; I just don't have the energy tonight. Just keep her on the hook, make her think the relationship is secure." he said, attempting to hand the device over to you.

"Is the relationship not secure?" you asked, not sure if you should take the phone.

Tip-toeing around an answer, he shrugged, "Just say enough to make it so. You've done it for me before." he pointed out.

"I know...it just doesn't feel right. This is something you should be doing Timmy. What if she mentions something from a text that I sent, and you don't even know what she's talking about?"

"She won't. Don't worry about that, it's not that deep. Just send a few texts back and forth and it'll be done." his nonchalant attitude was a little unnerving.

You shook your head, "It just seems mean, like towards her. She is still just a girl, you know, I think she actually might like you, Timmy."

"It's not that serious, she knows that, but I need her to think that everything is fine."

"I don't want to lie for you anymore, Timmy."

"It's not lying." he insisted.

"It's not genuine. Even if you don't care about Kylie, she is still a person. She doesn't deserve to be deceived."

"I never said I didn't care."

"Well, you don't act like you do! What even is your relationship with her? You never say anything about her."

"You're my assistant, I don't have to talk about my love life with you." he gave you a dirty look.

You scoffed, "You have literally had me do your texting for you, and you want me to do it again! You are such a walking contradiction. I'm not doing it." You were extra firm in your last sentence.

"Whatever. I think it's about quitting time for you today anyway, y/n." he said, grabbing his phone back from you.

"Look, I'm sorry for yelling at you. But you have to admit that I'm right. That's not a way to treat someone. I shouldn't have done it before, but you're my boss and I guess at the time I just wanted to please you."

He nodded, taking a breath and a moment to reflect, "Yeah, well, I'm glad to have you to call me out on my bullshit." He then tapped your arm with his hand. "Okay, get out of here, kid."

You frowned, "Did you just call me 'kid'?"

"Yeah, what?" he frowned right back at you. The mood was lighter now.

"I'm only like a year and a half younger than you, old man, don't call me a kid." you joked, gathering up your things to leave. You liked the playful banter you and he shared sometimes.

"Fine, don't call me an ‘old man’ then." he chuckled. He followed you to the front door as you slung your purse over your shoulder.

“Well, goodnight, boss.” you said, facing him one last time after to opened the door.

He held the door, his arm resting above your head. “Okay, goodnight.” he smiled softly. “Drive safe.” he said simply, then leaned in to leave a peck on your cheek.

Your heart skipped a beat, you felt your cheeks flood pink immediately. The tiny spot that his lips had touched was inflamed. You didn’t know what else to do, so you stood there smiling like an idiot.

Timmy closed his eyes, shaking his head and pressing his lips together, “I’m sorry! I don’t know why I did that. I really don’t.” he was clearly embarrassed; he took about a half step backward. “Let’s just forget about that, okay?” he smiled innocently.

“Yeah, it’s okay.” you shrugged, putting your arms behind your back. “It didn’t bother me anyway.”

He grinned, “Good. See you tomorrow?”

“Yep, definitely. Don’t forget to read over that speech. You’re running out of time before the awards.”

He mock rolled his eyes, letting his head hang down in annoyance, not at you, but the awards. “Okay.” he whined.

“Bye Timmy.” you giggled, then walked out the door. You weren't sure why he was dreading the Golden Globes so badly.

January 7, 2025

@gatoenlaciudad @thebetawolfgirl @musicandbooksaremyhappyplace @softhecreator @tchalamss @lixzey @bitchyunknownuser @ducktapebar @aoi-targaryen @yukideadinside @elloise0 @thatoneweirdgirl17 @mel-vaz @sammy-halpert @iwishchalamet @that-one-fangirl69 @jindongdongie @briefkittenearthquake @imnotoverlyobsessive

#timothée chalamet #timmy chalamet #timothée imagine #timothee x reader #timothee chalamet #timothee fanfic #timothée chalamet fanfic #personal assistant #slow burn #love story

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fashionteahouse · 2 days ago

Text

i wonder - edward cullen x reader

next>>>

You patiently waited as the doctor came in. The nurse already checked your vitals. She tells you it’s been a pretty eventful day.

His face was magical in a way but you felt comfortable. His smile was bright and shiny and you couldn’t help but bring out your own smile.

“I know you’re ready to get this thing off.” he says to you and you nod.

It was true. You were tired of doing everything with one hand. The special saw cut through the cast and you look at the limb that’s been covered for some time. It felt freeing.

You walk out of the room as you thank the doctor.

“Now remember, no playing right away. Wait for a few days to a week.”

“Aw, really?” you say with much disappointment.

“It’s important that you don’t rush it. Your other hand I’m sure is thanking you.”

“It’s no fun playing with one hand.” you say with a playful pout and Dr. Cullen laughs a bit. Placing a hand on your arm, “It won’t be fun to hurt it even more.”

He glances elsewhere and he then gives you a polite smile before sending you on your way. You see him walk in the direction of the boy and a girl, around your same age as they talked quietly.

You then flex your hand, seeing that your wrist was a bit smaller than your other one. You test out of your wrist, pretending to play a few notes as if you’re at a piano. You shake your head as you clutch it.

You wince a bit as you understood what Dr. Cullen meant. You then sigh a bit before pulling out your phone to let your parent know that you’re done and on your way home.

“You play?” you hear a voice. It startled you a bit but it was soothing.

You slowly look up. You see that the boy that Dr. Cullen seemed to know, was staring at you. He was by himself instead of with the girl you seen him with earlier, waiting for an answer. His gaze was intense, which made you look down for a moment as you nod.

“How do you know?” you ask quietly. You didn’t know why you felt shy.

“I saw you test your wrist out as if you were playing keys.” He says. You look up and he brings on a soft but friendly smile.

“Do..You play?” you ask.

You expected the same answer as always.

“Yes.”

Your eyebrows raise a little in shock.

“Why are you…Surprised?” he asks with a low chuckle.

“Sorry..It’s just…I don’t know too many people who do play.”

“Did you just move here?” he asks.

“Yeah..I’ve been asking people..To you know, make friends but…” you end it with a shrug.

He opens his mouth to say something but you hear a small voice close to you.

“Can I talk to you for a minute?”

You turn around to see a brunette, she’s hanging near the corner of the hallway. She staring dead at the boy you were talking to.

You turn back to the boy in front of you. He had a look that showed he was conflicted.

You make a small wave and started to be on your way. You didn’t look back.

“It was nice while it lasted.” you say in your head.

“So what did the doctor say?” your parent asks you.

“They said I have to wait up to a week to get back into using both hands.” you say over dinner.

“Well, that’s not bad. You catch on quick.”

“I know…You know I want to enter the music competition soon.”

That’s when they paused their chewing.

“You’re…Thinking about joining that?” they ask. You nod.

“Oh.” they comment.

“What?” you ask.

“It’s just….It’s your hobby and all but..For it to be your career…It’s very hard to make a profitable career out of that.”

“So..All of these years of classes and lessons are just going to be thrown away? Just like that?”

“I’m not saying that. Maybe it shouldn’t come first. You’ve always have gotten great grades. Y/N, it’s your final year before you go out into the real world. Picking a smart and lucrative career choice will help you be more prepared while being comfortable and stable.”

You sigh as you dig into your dinner. The same old talk.

“You start school tomorrow. Are you excited?” they ask with a smile. You mutter out a yes.

You lie in bed in the new home. After the divorce of your parents, you had to choose which one to stay with to finish out your year. The parent you chose, chose to move away for new beginnings. You didn’t mind. You were a bit happy that you got to start fresh in a way. You were a bit tired of your old school and wasn’t afraid of change.

The heat blasted from the vents of the car as you wrung your fingers a bit. A hand meets your hand.

“Easy, Y/N. Your wrist finally starting to heal up.”

“I know. Sorry.” you say and the school comes into view.

“I will be here when school lets out. Have a good first day.” they say with a big smile.

You get out after giving your parent a quick hug and you slowly walk towards the building.

You looked at your phone, checking the room number of where your home room was.

Chatters of different students meeting up with their friends were surrounding you and your ears.

Your eyes catch a familiar face. The same boy from the hospital, was leaning against his car. He seemed just as surprised to see you as you.

You continue walking however, you didn’t want to be overbearing.

You kept saying yes to people asking you if you were new. You were a bit tired of the question.

At lunch, people from classes that you did make small talk with, did ask you to sit with them.

When school was over, you walked out to the school lot. You saw the same boy from the hospital. This time, he made an effort to make a small wave. A small smile formed on your lips as you waved back.

“Y/N. Over here!” you hear and you internally groan with embarrassment.

“I know what your car looks like.” you say as you close the car door. They only laugh.

The next day, you walk to the school stairs, you slipped on the patch of ice.

A hand catches you and your heart race. You steady your knees and you look up to find the same boy.

“Thanks.” you say and he nods with a tight grin.

You start to walk away.

“You never told me your name.” he says.

“You never told me yours.” you reply back as you look back at him.

Names were then exchanged.

Edward was his name.

You both began to walk side to side.

“How long have you been playing?” he asks with interest.

“Since I gained consciousness.” you say with a small laugh. It was true. You don’t remember the first lessons, you just remember always having to go. His small laugh sounded a bit like bell chimes. It made you prolong your eye contact with him.

“What about you? You seem to be the expert.” you say.

“A very long time.”

“What’s a long time?” you playfully challenge.

You watch as his eyebrows furrow, as he continues to walk.

“What’s wrong…?” you ask slowly in slight confusion.

Shaking his head slightly, you both stop at the classroom you were supposed to go in, “Nothing…I would like to hear you play sometime.”

“Really? Well some time next week I should be good.” you say as you raise your wrists and you walk in the classroom. As you sat down, you realize that he was still standing at the same spot you left him in. It wasn’t until you were fully seated, you see him walk away.

A teacher asks you if you could take some paperwork to the office. You accept since your class work is completed.

You walk in the office and find that Edward is murmuring to the woman at the front desk.

“Here you go.” you say and Edward turns around. The woman thanks you and tells him with apologetic intentions, “It’s January, I’m afraid I can’t do that, Mr. Cullen.”

You watch as he has a wave of frustration be painted on his face.

You held the door open for him as you exit out.

“Cullen…So, your dad is Dr. Cullen?” you observe and ask.

“Yes.” he answered. You both walk as if there isn’t a rush to get to anywhere.

“He’s nice.” you comment.

“It wouldn’t be the first time he’s heard that.” he says.

“So..The blonde girl is your girlfriend?”

“No. She’s my sister.”

“Oh. Sorry.” you say sheepishly.

“It’s alright.”

“She’s beautiful.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time she’s heard that.” he says with a grin that makes you return it.

“So…How many siblings do you have?”

“Two brothers and two sisters.”

“Eventful.” you say and enter back into the classroom.

“How was school?” your parent asks you over dinner.

“It was fine.”

“Any new friends?”

“A couple. The people and the teachers there are nice.” you say as you look at your food.

“That’s good.”

“I didn’t know Dr. Cullen’s son went to this high school.”

“You met him?”

“Yeah. He’s nice too.” you say.

“The entire family keeps to themselves I heard.”

You nod at that.

You were in the middle of reading a book.

“No class this period?”

You look up and Edward is peering down at you as you sat in a chair in the school library, being immersed in the plot.

“Study hall.” you say.

He nods.

“What about you?”

“Free period.” he says as he sits in a seat that’s close to yours.

“Oh.” you say and close your book.

You look at him. “You know, I meant to tell you something.”

“What’s that?” he asks as he searched your face.

“You have unique eyes. Is it some type of…Condition or something?”

“….I guess you can say that….Yeah..It’s a condition.”

“Oh. Do you want to dive into that?” you ask.

“I prefer not. Is that alright?”

“Fine by me.”

“How did you mess up your wrist?”

You chuckle a bit before answering.

“Trampoline.��

It was his turn to match your chuckle.

“That’s interesting.”

“Yeah well…That’s what happened over the summer. Man, I was pissed. I was crying, not because of the pain, but because I couldn’t use both hands to play piano.” you say.

“Did you still use one hand?”

“Yeah. It’s boring though.” you say with a slight frown.

“Which wrist?”

You extend it.

“This one.”

You didn’t expect him to close his hand around it. His hands were cold, but it felt nice, like an ice pack. You’ve been using it to exercise it, so the cool sensation helped. In sync, you both lean in.

“Are you used to the cold? And snow?”

“Yeah. You?” you ask.

“Yeah. It’s my favorite time of the year.”

“Same. No annoying bugs.” you answer back.

He grins as he looked down at your wrist.

“Have you ever broken or sprained a bone before?” you ask.

“No.” he says.

“Aren’t you lucky.” you comment.

“I am.” he says and the bell rings.

You walk the halls to lunch, you find that the brunette girl from the hospital also went to the same school.

She looked at you only for a second before looking away.

In history, the teacher announced a project. You all had to pick a time period out of a bin, write in a journal and pretend to be someone who is living in the time period.

“Fun.” you said under your breath, you thought it was interesting.

A small journal was passed out, the teacher allowed you and others to work in groups if you wanted.

You started writing down your year in your journal.

“Are you working with someone?”

You look up to a familiar boy in the class. He was quiet, but sat in the back from the times you’ve been in this class.

You shake your head.

“Do you mind if we work together?”

“I don’t mind.” you say in a small voice.

As he sat down, he scoots his chair a bit away from you, but his presence was friendly enough that you didn’t feel offended, you felt a wave of calmness, you didn’t feel nervous like you thought you would be.

Smiling softly, “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you speak in class.” you say.

He shrugged with his own quiet smile.

“What year did you get?” you ask.

“The 1980’s.” he says with a roll of his eyes, “What about you?”

“1860’s.” you say sharing your distaste for the year you had to do, with a roll of your own eyes. You quickly saw a sparkle in his eye.

“What? You think this time period was interesting?” you ask. He nods a bit.

“So much history happened within that time frame.” he said with certainty.

“At least the 80’s were fun. Big hair, good music, and colorful vibes.” you say as you thought of music videos.

“It was alright.” he says but clears his throat, “I’m a bit old fashioned. I don’t really care to learn much about that time period but it looks like I have to.”

“Yeah.” you say as you look at him.

“So. Have any trouble?” he asks.

“The heck did people do for fun back then?” you say. You wanted to snooze.

“Play games, read, gamble on horse races.” he lists.

“How do you know so much?” you ask as you doodle spirals on the edge of your paper to kill time.

“I guess you can say I’m a history geek.”

You laugh a little, “What’s your name?”

Jasper.

As the bell rang to leave, “Pray for me. Hopefully I won’t fall asleep while writing.” you say jokingly.

A small laugh escaped his throat, “You will be fine…You can always ask me questions..”

“Cool. See you…Around?”

He nods once as a small and petite girl skips to his side. She brightly shined her sparkling smile at you.

“Hi.” she greets.

You wave.

“You’re new right?”

You nod.

“When did you move here?”

“A little last week.” you answer. She grins as she nods in acknowledgment. Her energy was high. You felt it was a bit contagious as you couldn’t help feel the excitement rubbing off on you.

“Do you like it here?” she asks as you walk. She hugged Jasper’s arm as you all walk the hallway.

“It’s been good to me so far.” you say.

You all three talk as you made your way to your last class of the day. Learning the girl’s name you tell her, “Nice to meet you again Alice. See you, Jasper.”

Coming out to the school lot, you see that the rest of Edward’s family is looking at you by their cars.

You then knew who Edward’s siblings were. All expect one. He was muscular and he held the blonde girl close to him.

You felt a bit nervous.

It was the weekend. You were thankful that you got to sleep in.

Pulling out your keyboard, you fiddle with it with your one hand.

You were bored. You missed trying to learn complex notes but you knew that if you forced the fast recovery, you wouldn’t be better.

You scrolled through the website of the music competition. You knew exactly what song you wanted to play. You had to submit a recording.

You didn’t care about the prize money, but just to show off your talents was something that you wanted to do.

The weeks rolled by, you could finally play again. You parent comes home and that’s all they hear, the tinkering of the keyboard and the piano that was in the home.

“When’s your lesson?” they ask as you help them unload groceries.

“Next week. I’ve been practicing.” you say with a grin.

“That’s nice. Fill out for colleges yet?”

That’s when you got quiet.

“Y/N.” they say in a warning tone.

“I’m working on it. I just don’t know what I want to do yet.” you say.

“You were always good with tech. Maybe, do something with math. It’s your highest grade.”

“Ugh, no. I only make sure it’s my highest because it’s important.” you say. They only sigh with a slight shake of their head as they state, “Your time is ticking.”

In lab, you sighed as you mixed substances with your lab partner.

“You’re joining this class?” you heard your teacher ask.

You look up and you almost took your goggles off. Edward looks at you as you looked at him.

“Y/N, you have to weigh it.” your lab partner beside you, tells you, the pen is in their hand and ready to write down the information on the worksheet.

“Right. Sorry.” you say and weigh the concoction in the glass measuring cup.

You watch him join a group, making him the third person.

When class was over, “You’re in this class?” you ask, trying your best to hold your excitement. He was a year below you. You didn’t know why you were excited. You brushed it off as it being happy to see a familiar face.

“Yeah.” he says casually.

“Willingly?” you ask and he nods.

“Jeez, no offense but, do you enjoy suffering?” you ask. You hated that class. Especially lab days. You were glad that the next day was a study hall instead of a double period.

He laughs, “It’s not that bad. I enjoy science.”

You both enter the hall and you place your hands together, “Be my guardian angel?”

“Next report period when it’s time to pick partners, just pick me. You’ll get an easy A.” he says with a slight shrug.

Jasper suggested that you both take turns reading each other’s journals. The due date was the next day.

He did a good job. It made you want to live in the 80’s. For Jasper, it was as if he went through a time machine.

You slide each other your journals back.

“Man, what a ride. I would’ve thought you lived it.” you say. You didn’t miss the flash of happiness. He then makes his face neutral.

“I can say the same.” he says, almost looking proud at your journal.

“I thought you weren’t interested in that time frame?” he continued to ask as if he caught your hand in the cookie jar. You shrug with a smile.

“I’m not. But, you gotta do what you gotta do right?” you reply as gesture the classroom.

He nods at that.

Before you could push the door open to leave the school building, you heard, “Do you have a ride?”

You turn to see Alice.

“Oh, hey. Um…I do.” you say.

She seemed a bit disappointed.

“Well, tomorrow we have a two hour delay. We should come to school together.” she suggests as she picks her mood back up.

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion, “How do you-”

The announcement came on, “A two hour delay is issued for Forks High School, tomorrow morning. Students don’t forget to….”

“Lucky guess. You should be gambler or something.” you say. She laughs a perfect laugh and links her arm with yours follows you outside.

“So, what do you say? I’ll get you breakfast.” she bribed.

“Oh wow, food? How could I say no?” you ask with a smile.

You still woke up at your usual time, you watched the snowflakes fall fast out of your window. You used the extra time to work the keyboard in your room with your headphones in. Your parent knows you have a way to school, they tell you to let them know if you need a ride back home.

You carefully walk down the steps. Edward leans against the car. You had to be careful with your steps as you observed the snowflakes that fell perfectly on him. You look away to not seem rude or weird. He closes the car door after you get in. Jasper and Alice is in the backseat.

“He was just standing out there like it isn’t freezing.” you say to them and they laugh as they looked at each other.

“I told you, it’s my favorite time of the year.” he says with a grin as he worked the steering wheel.

“You’re crazy, Edward.” you comments as you put your hands to the vents that blew out hot air.

“I know.” you heard him say.

People stared as you got out of the car. You didn’t know why. Your stomach was full from the breakfast that was in fact paid for by Alice. You had to fight with her to not be so sharing but she prevailed, saying she was keeping her promise.

“Uh.. Why are people staring?” you whispered to Edward as he walked close to you. Jasper had his arm around Alice.

“They just want to know how and why you’re around us.” he says with a lax expression.

Walking through the metal detectors and picking your bag back up.

“How do you know?” you ask.

“We stay to ourselves. Never felt the need to make new friends.” he explains as Jasper and Alice waved goodbye to you both.

After waving, you turn your head as you walk, “So, I’m the chosen one?” you say with a joking tone.

“That’s..One way to put it.” he says.

“So, answer their question. Why me?” you ask as you stop at your locker, placing your wet coat inside.

He leans next to the locker that’s beside you, “You don’t want friends?”

“Whatever.” you say with a light laugh, “If I don’t recall, you talked to me first.”

“I did?” he asks but you knew that he knew.

You shoot him a look.

“I still want to hear you play. It’s been more than a week.” he says.

With a slight smile as you look ahead of you as you walk, “You’ve been keeping count?”

“Call me excited. I want to see what you got.”

“Cool, I’ll send you a video when I get the chance.” you say and try to go into the classroom but a hand gently grasp your sweater covered arm. You look to him.

“In person.”

“Oh….Okay.” you say and you hesitantly walk in your classroom.

Your mind was on the thought of playing piano in front of Edward. You wondered how. Would he come over to your house? Would you go over his house? You immediately shook the thought out of your head. He already told you that him and his siblings really don’t bring people around them. But, you couldn’t help but wonder in your brain, “I wonder what made me the exception?”

“Y/N?”

You snap out of your thoughts. You clear your throat as the teacher and classroom was silent, waiting for your answer.

You look down on your worksheet and speak out an answer.

“Very good.” the teacher says and moves on.

Your class took notes in science, it didn’t help that you could see Edward from across the room. You didn’t know how it was possible for one to be so non sociable.

You sat sideways on the comfy library chair. It was in the back, the history section.

“Wait…You said you had two sisters. Who’s the brunette?” you ask in a bored tone, fidgeting idly with the book on one of the shelves.

“Bella Swan. She’s not related to us.”

“Oh. Your friend.”

Chuckling as he looked at his hands, “She’s not my friend.”

You look about. He watches you.

You sit up straighter, feeling slightly nervous under his gaze, “Something’s fishy.”

“What do you mean?” he asks in a stoic tone.

“Are you….” you sigh. He’s patient. You look down before looking up, “Are you and your siblings like….Blood related?”

He opens his mouth but you speak, “Sorry. That was rude. Damn.” you say.

“We are not.”

“Okay.”

“Don’t you want to ask something else?”

“Is it obvious?” you ask and he nods.

“Well….” you say and look at him in the eye before looking at his fabric covered chest, “Are you all…Adopted?”

“Yes.”

You look at him.

“So….” you sigh and shake your head and he asks, “What?”

You sigh a bit before giving him a nervous smile, “I see how Alice and Jasper act towards….Each other…I’m not judging but…”

“Yes. They’re dating.”

“Oh.” you say as you swallow and grab a book off of instinct.

“Are you weirded out?” he asks. He didn’t seem uncomfortable. He simply asked.

You open and close it as you look down. “Yeah.”

“Many are.”

“Like I said, who am I to be someone’s judge?” you propose.

He doesn’t say anything after that.

At lunch, you chewed slowly. You looked up a couple of times at Jasper’s table. The blonde girl and the brawny boy who was their brother. They all three glanced your way and you felt small in a way. But, you look back to what the person next to you at the table was saying.

You wondered if the other brother played a sport, but he didn’t hang out with the guys who were on actual teams.

The history teacher turns on a movie and makes everyone write down answers for the worksheet.

You were thankful for the distraction.

Pulling your coat out, you hear your name.

You turn around, to find Edward standing there.

You look.

“Do you have any plans after school?”

You rack your brain, but it’s been such a relaxed day, that homework was done.

“Um…” you say and you immediately think of your keyboard that you left on your bed.

“Honestly I’m just trying to get home and relax.”

He blinked at your answer.

Alice then bounces in your view.

“Hey, you.” she says with a smile.

“Oh. Hey. Thanks so much for this morning. That really meant a lot.” you say.

She touched your arm with a grin.

“Come on, ride back with us.” she persuades.

“Oh…”

“We have a piano at our house.” she says.

“You did that on purpose.” you say with a small laugh as you close your locker and start to walk.

“What?” she asks.

“I wanted to go home and relax and here you are bribing me once again.” you say.

At your side, “Carlisle says that your wrists are way better.” Alice chirped.

“Who’s that?” you ask dripping in confusion.

“Sorry..Our father.”

You never thought to call your parent by their first name like that. But you still didn’t judge.

“Oh. Yeah. I’m just using my keyboard for right now.” you say as you walk out the school doors.

“Well.. Our piano is huge. You should see it. Maybe play for us.” she says as you walk down the school stairs.

“Hmm…” you say with dramatic sarcasm.

“Please?” she dragged on.

“You guys act like I’m a special composer or something.” you say as you look at both Alice and Edward.

“We’re parked over here.” Alice grabs your hand.

On a doctor’s salary, there was just no way. You subtly peered around the home.

The parents. They looked so vibrant. So youthful. Dr. Cullen almost shined as he stood next to his smiling wife.

“Hi, Dr. Cullen.” you say.

Esme was the mother’s name.

“I like your name.” you compliment. She seemed touched and complimented yours back.

“Carlisle is okay. I already know who you are Y/N.” he says in a friendly tone.

Shrugging your coat off, it’s taken out of your hands as Edward placed a hand on your shoulder.

You saw it. You silently let your jaw drop. You walk out from under Edward’s hand.

It sat tall and strong. It was grand. It was shiny as if it was newly purchased. You thought you were dreaming. You could almost hear it whispering your name.

“Oh my gosh.” you whisper.

“What is it?” You hear Esme ask.

“This piano….Do you mind if I-“

“Of course. Yes. Please do.” she says, almost excited as you.

You sit at the bench.

Edward was immediately near you and if you weren’t so distracted, you would’ve wondered how he had gotten there so fast.

With a smile that made your cheeks sore, your fingers pressed down on the keys with precision. Your foot tapped the pedal as music filled the living room. You stop your tiny concert short as you felt that you were overstaying your company.

“Why did you stop?” you collectively heard.

“Sorry..I didn’t know..” you say and you rise from the bench, feeling a bit sheepish from the attention.

The blonde that had her arms crossed looked at the area you were in, with slight interest. She reminded you of an ice queen.

“So. Whats the new rank?” the boy who was brawny spoke up. His voice was deep and displayed a smirk.

The blonde taps the back of her hand onto his chest with a clenched jaw. He looked at her with slight apologetics.

Edward chuckled next to you.

Emmett.

You knew off of the top, he knew how to liven up a room.

“Rank of what?” you ask.

“Nothing. Ignore him.” the blonde says snappily.

Rosalie.

Emmett and Rosalie reminded you of Jasper and Alice in a way. You didn’t want to ask questions, but you couldn’t stop the questions from coming inside of your brain.

“You’re talented.” Esme says to you without drawing attention.

You show sincere appreciation.

You held and read his music sheets as you sat on his couch. His room was spacious. He invited you up as he could tell you weren’t going to touch the piano anymore.

Edward let you take the lead in the conversation. Allowing you to talk about yourself and what you want to do passionately.

“A competition?” he asks with interest. You only nod as you sat his sheets down.

“So. When am I going to see you play?” you ask.

He doesn’t say anything for a moment before peering at the floor for a moment.

“Soon.”

“I’m keeping you to your word.” you say.

“Please do.”

#edward cullen #edward cullen x reader #twilight saga #cullen x reader #edward cullen x you #twilight x you #x you #fanfiction #fanfic #y/n imagines #y/n #x y/n #x reader #twilight x reader #twilight

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kyoyoyay · 8 hours ago

Note

i beg of u for a continuation of the lee byung hun actor fic!!!! doesnt have to be smut just like a kiss myb any sort of continuation i beeeggg it was so cute!

Take after Take - Part 2 ── .✦

Lee Byung-Hun x GN!actor!reader

warnings: hot old man warning! BEWARE! HAZARD! (not proofread 💪)

a/n: I post once in a blue moon chat idk and ignore that, and the reader is now gn bc I think I didn't use any pronouns in the last part and in this part so i'm sorry if I got it wrong :/.

Byung Hun’s hand brushed lightly against your arm as the two of you walked off set, the quiet hum of the studio fading into the background. His touch lingered just long enough to send another shiver through you, though you didn’t dare look at him yet. Your heart was still racing, and you weren’t sure if it was from the scene, his teasing, or the way his eyes seemed to linger on you just a little too long.

“Where are you parked?” he asked casually, his voice breaking the silence.

“Not parked,” you replied, finally glancing his way. “My trailer’s just around the corner.”

He nodded. “Then I’ll walk you there.”

“Oh, you don’t have to-”

“I want to,” he interrupted, his tone leaving no room for argument but carrying a gentleness that made it impossible to protest.

You gave him a small smile, and the two of you continued in companionable silence. The air outside the studio was cool, and the quiet intimacy of the moment felt like a breath of fresh air (literally) from the embarrassing moments earlier today.

When you reached your trailer, you hesitated at the bottom of the steps, turning to face him. “Thanks for walking me back. And for... everything today. I don’t think I would’ve made it through without you.”

He smiled, that easy, confident smile that always seemed to disarm you. “You would’ve been fine. But I’m glad I could help.”

His eyes held yours for a moment, and the silence between you grew heavier, charged with something unspoken. You opened your mouth to say something, anything-but the words wouldn’t come out.

“You’re still overthinking,” he said softly, stepping closer.

“I can’t help it,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

His hand lifted, his fingers brushing against yours before moving to cup your cheek. The warmth of his touch sent your thoughts scattering. “Then let me help with that too,” he murmured.

Before you could process his words, he leaned in, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was as soft as it was deliberate. It wasn’t like the tentative kiss of the scene you’d filmed earlier... this was real, and it left you breathless.

Your hands moved instinctively, finding their way to his shoulders as you steadied yourself. His thumb stroked gently along your cheek, and for a moment, everything else fell away... the long day, the nerves, the lingering embarrassment.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested lightly against yours, his breath warm against your skin. “Better?” he asked, his voice low and teasing.

You laughed softly, the sound breaking the tension. “A little,” you admitted, though your heart was still racing.

“Good,” he said, his lips quirking into a small smile. “Because I’ve been waiting to do that all day.”

Your cheeks burned, but you couldn’t help the grin spreading across your face. “You’re really good at this whole charming thing, aren’t you?”

He chuckled, stepping back but letting his hand linger on yours. “It’s not about being charming. It’s about you.”

His words left you speechless, and before you could recover, he gave your hand a gentle squeeze and nodded toward your trailer door. “Get some rest. Big day tomorrow.”

You nodded, your voice refusing to cooperate. As you climbed the steps, you glanced back at him one last time. He was still standing there, watching you with a soft smile that made your heart flip.

“Goodnight, Byung Hun,” you managed, your voice steady despite the chaos in your chest.

“Goodnight, Y/n,” he replied, his voice in a low and sort of seductive tone that made your stomach do a backflip. (brookhaven style)

As you closed the door behind you, leaning against it for support, you couldn’t stop the smile that spread across your face. The day might have started as a disaster, but now, as you replayed that kiss in your mind, you tried not to let your mind linger to other not so PG thoughts about him.

IM SORRY FOR THE ROBLOX JOKE.

#squid game x reader #lee byung hun is FINE #squid game x y/n #lee byung hun #squid game #yippee

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fluffy-fics · 2 days ago

Text

VI X Reader (PART 2)

BARTENDER VI MODERN AU (PART 2)

Part 1

(Vi x fem reader)

(INFO: Vi is 30, you are 30 too)

2 days had passed since your last trip to the bar, and you were ecstatic about today. Something inside you yearned for the smell of sweet cedar that had clung to Vi, and to see the way she expertly poured drinks. Something about the way light reflected off of her arms and biceps as she worked made butterflies jolt in your stomach.

You walk into the bathroom of your small apartment, staring into a mirror as you adjusted your hair and clothing to look perfect, as perfect as it was gonna be atleast.

You sigh, and flash yourself a smile, bounding outside the apartment complex and getting into your car, starting down the asphalted streets and keeping your eyes peeled for The Last Drop. Suddenly a flicker of green light up ahead caught your eyes as you traced letters across a wooden sign that spelled out the name of the bar. A sensation tingles up your spine as you survey the nearby parking lot for open spots, being a tad more packed then you would have expected.

You finally find an open spot, park, and feel cool air hit your face as you walk out of the veichle, eagerly walking, more like sprinting into the bar. The aroma of alcohol burns the back of your throat once more as you walk through the door, a crowded scene erupting into your vision. Your eyes scan the area, looking for the bartop, and when you find it the feeling of excitement within you stalls for a moment. There is no bartender behind the counter, only the colourful bottles of booze that illuminate the bar with life. You feel your body still push forwards towards the table, taking a seat at the same stool you sat at last time.

Your eyes search for any trace of Vi, hoping to see her hair peaking through the crowd, your nose hoping for just a small taste of the cedar that had entranced you last time. But as you turn around to face the bar, you feel a small tap on your shoulder. You whip around, hope streaming through your body as you see a light tattoo.

“Are you y/n?”

You freeze. How does this person know your name? Her outfit is interesting, a leather top with lacing in an X formation, long purple plaid pants underneath a large belt, accompanied by 2 long blue braids of hair. You froze as you saw a shape move behind her, but felt relieved as you realized it was just a small child, brown-orange hair with blue hair colour at the tips.

“Yeah? What’s it to you.” You respond, coming off much more hostile sounding than intended.

“I’m Jinx, Vi’s little sister. She has been gushing to me about you, but she hasn’t been feeling well. She’s being a HUGE baby about it, I really think it’s just a minor cold, but whatever.” Jinx hands you a small slip of paper, putting a hand on the little one’s head as she pulled on Jinx’s braids. You unfold the crisp paper, gazing at a phone number.

“Thank you.” You say, sighing with relief that Vi remembered about you as you put the number into your phone.

“Aaaaanny time- c’mon Isha.” She murmurs to the child, the two walking out of the bar. Hesistantly, you send a message to the number.

You: Vi? Is this the right number?

…

No response.

You: Hello?

…

Vi: Yeah, it’s Vi. I’m so sorry I couldn’t make our little date today, I felt really awful and didn’t want to make anybody else sick, especially you.

You: Its alright! Please don’t stress, I appreciate the thought and hope you feel better soon <33

Vi: Awhh~ thanks cupcake. I appreciate it. If you’d like to stop by sometime, maybe when I’m not as sick as I am, I’d love to have you over!-

You read the screen as an address gets sent. Your heartbeat picks up, and excitement wiggles through your stomach.

You: Can we meet soon? When do you think you’ll feel better??

Vi: Maybe on Friday, 6pm? I think this thing will blow over relatively quick.

You graze your schedule, seeing that you’d have to work earlier on Friday but should still have enough time to go home and get ready before 6.

You: Yeah! That works!

Vi: See you then, cupcake~

You don’t know why the word flusters you as much as it does, but you DO know that you love seeing, and hearing that word spoken to you, especially when Vi is the one saying it. Or writing it.

“I’ll see you soon.” You whisper to the phone, giddy with excitement once more, but ultimately hoping that this time you’d be able to meet up for sure.

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yelenasdiary · 13 hours ago

Note

this might be weirdly specific but would you be able to write a fic where Kate Bishop is (fem)reader's best friend and she comforts reader after a breakup and it leads to romance? Could be fluff or smut, idrc

Take Your Time

Pairing: Kate Bishop x Fem! Reader (Platonic to Romance)

Summary: After dealing with a breakup, your best friend is here to help you get over you ex anyway she can.

Angst, Fluff, Comfort

Warnings: None, if there is any, please let me know | 1.4K

AC: I missed writing for Kate so much!! Thank you for sending this! I hope you enjoy x

It had been weeks since you and your ex-girlfriend broke up, but the heartache still lingered. You took some time for yourself trying to enjoy your hobbies once again, trying to not let the little things remind you of a love you once had. It wasn’t like you both ended on bad terms, but it still didn’t ease the feeling of your heart being broken into a million tiny pieces.

The night was young, and the city of New York was loud and vibrant with its night life. Even with the light rain that trickled over the city, that didn’t stop the city from becoming a city of magic on a Friday night. While everybody was making it clear they were glad it was Friday, chit chatter from the street floated its way into your apartment by the open window of your bedroom, you were lying on the sofa with another case of red, puffy eyes.

The throw pillow had a damp spot from your afternoon tears as trashy romantic movies played on the television, you knew it wasn’t going to help you heal but something drove you to just spend the afternoon binge watching the classics. Your phone would light up every now and then only to be ignored, your eyes not even moving from the television to see the who was trying to contact you.

Your afternoon of self-torture was cut short when your best friend, Kate, let herself into your apartment. “Alright, let’s turn this crap off” she said, reaching for the television's remote and turning the screen black.

“Kate! I was watching that” you groaned, slowly forcing yourself to sit up.

“I know but” she paused, dropping her backpack to your feet and taking a seat next to you, making herself comfortable, “I think you forget that having friends around you in a time like this helps. So, here I am and in that bag is plenty of snacks, mostly your favourite ones” she continued with a soft smile.

You sighed lightly, defeated by your friends kindness, “I guess you’re right” you said before reaching for her backpack. “Of course I am, you know who I am, right?” Kate joked, making you laugh for the first time in what felt like a very long time. “So, you’ve had a break from the world and now you’ve locked yourself away in this apartment. It’s time to have some fun!” She added.

“Honestly, I’m not really up for… um, fun right now” you replied, your eyes stinging with every blink.

“Fine,” she said dramatically, “then we’ll just sit here until you realize how amazing you are and how ridiculously terrible your ex was” Kate teasingly smiled.

A small laugh escaped your lips despite yourself, and Kate seized the opportunity as she nudged you with her elbow. “See? I knew I could get you to laugh more than once” she said proudly as you playfully rolled your eyes at your friend before opening up a bag of your favorite potato chips. “Okay, fine, you can stay but under one condition” you replied before munching on a few chips.

“Go on?” Kate questioned.

“We don’t talk about her, like ever” you muttered, your mouth still somewhat full. Kate let out a chuckle, “fine by me, I came over here to watch a bulk load of action and comedy movies, eat some pizza and tell you about this thing Clint did on a mission last week!” Your friend smirked as she reached for the television remote again.

----

As the night went into the early hours of the morning, losing complete track of time as you watched movie after movie with your best friend. Your coffee table littered with rubbish of pizza boxes, empty soda cans and juice boxes, empty bowls of melted leftover sundaes, chop sticks along with the small take-out boxes from the Thai restaurant a few blocks over, it was truly a mess.

You couldn’t believe that you allowed yourself to even for a moment to forget just how much fun you always had with Kate. Each movie you guys watched; she’d have you laughing to the point of tears by her like banter with the different characters. With both your stomachs full, the night life of New York City slowly fades from the chit chatter of pedestrians on the street to loud truck horns and trains on the train line.

Not only did the city start to calm down but so did your apartment. Tiredness would soon start to hit you, reminding you just how late in the night it was. Gently, you rested your head on Kate’s shoulder, “thank you for making my day” you said softly, your eyes focused on the movie playing on the television. Kate smiled softly to herself, ignoring the way her heart skipped a beat at your actions.

“You’re welcome” she replied, “I know break ups suck but you can’t wallow in it forever” she added.

“I know, I guess…I guess I just hated not knowing what to do. You always hear stories of people growing apart, but I never thought I would relate to that” you admitted, sighing heavily to yourself.

“You deserve so much better” Kate spoke softly, “I mean, who breaks up with somebody over text? To me, that kinda says they didn’t care too much. You deserve somebody who loves you for you, who’s stomach gets all twisted and full of butterflies whenever you walk into the room, you deserve somebody who’s face feels warm when you la-“Kate stopped herself mid-sentence abruptly and quickly reached for her drink. Her sudden shift made you frown ever so slightly.

“Kate?” You said calmly, “are you okay?” You asked.

Kate turned to you and smiled softly, “I’m good, I guess I just missed hanging out with you” she replied, feeling her stomach turn on her. Her eyes quickly moved back to the television, leaving you to watch her become slightly nervous.

Gently, you placed a hang on top of her knee, allowing yourself to sit up right again. “Kate, come on, what’s going on?” You asked her. She took a sip of her soda to give herself that short extra seconds to panic on the inside before she nervously swallowed the mouthful of soda and looking at you once again, this time struggling to keep eye contact.

“Please don’t freak out, I know things at too soon and look at me go, good one Kate! About to mess things up!” She rolled her eyes at her own frustration, “I never really liked you being with her becau-“ she paused once again as she looked into your eyes and saw nothing but care and patience as you gave her the time she needed to gather her words. “because I think you’re incredible and they never deserved you in the first place….and I think if anybody is going to spoil you and love you for who you are….I want it to be me” she continued. Her eyes dropped once again; this time worried for any form of rejection.

Carefully you cupped her face with one hand, wanting her to look at you. She looked at you like a lost puppy who’d thought they had done something wrong. Her eyes making you smile softly at her as you crushed a lock of her long dark hair behind her ear, “you didn’t mess anything up Katie” you started, “I’ve always been in awe of you but in all honesty, I didn’t think you would ever look at me more than just a friend” you added, making Kate smile softly at you.

“Would it be awful of me to say that I’m so glad a broken heart pushed a confession out of me?” The archer asked nervously. Her words made you chuckle, “I’m starting to think of it more a of a bless of some kind. Maybe it this was exactly how things were supposed to go” you replied, your eyes sparkled from the glow from the television giving Kate another reason to admire your beauty without the worry of being caught.

Kate took a deep breath, “so, what now?” She asked.

“We take our time, enjoy this new chapter... and see where it leads us,” you replied, “if that is something you’d be interest in of course” you quickly added, your own fear of rejection suddenly creeping in. Kate gently took a hold of your hand, removing it from her cheek “I’d like that, one moment at a time” she spoke softly. “Maybe next week I could take you out on an actual date?” Kate asked, feeling the warmth of your comfort embracing her as you gave her a soft nod, “it’s a date, Katie” you said before placing a kiss on her warm cheek.

If you want to be on the taglist for my work, please click HERE.

#yelenasdiary asks #anon #fanfiction #marvel #Kate bishop #Kate Bishop x reader #Kate Bishop x you #hailee steinfeld

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sillysystems · 3 days ago

Text

Goodbye

This is the goodbye everybody, the last post of the blog before I deactivate it forever

Being here, having this blog was so much fun, I managed to get a big community, interact with other systems, have fun, feel like I brought a little bit of joy and help to a damaged community that I wanted to see bloom, but just like everything, there's an end

This blog was so fun... Until it wasn't, I don't find joy here anymore, I thought I could finally make a good space, feel comfortable and just be me, but I was wrong, sysblr, the system community, have been so horrible for me that I don't have enough energy or care to still be in their spaces, the system community has hurted so bad I'm tired of being part of it when I'm not appreciated as I'd like to

I know that there's people that appreciate me here, but the community have shown me such a bad face and experience I don't feel comfortable enough to have these blogs anymore (in plural because I'm deleting multiple of my community sideblogs) so I'll just deactivate them

This blog was very important for me, but now it's a hurtful reminder on how I gave sysblr, the system community my hand and they bite it

No, don't ask if you can own now the blog, I won't be giving the blogs I'll delete to anyone, I think once you deactivate a blog you can make a new one with the same username as the deleted one, so if it works as I think and anyone wants to, yk, retake the concept of the blog, go ahead and do it, I won't stop you! (Just, if you're gonna use the same @ as we use to have, please add a clarification that you're not the first/original, I do not want to be associated with those blogs anymore and I'm sure you don't want to be associated with me)

The inbox's gonna be open if someone wants to make a question, send a message or anything before I delete the blog, to make sure everyone, or at least most of the people that used to follow the blog, know about this decision the blog's gonna be deactivated on friday, then it's the goodbye

Thank you so much for this journey, thank you to the people who supported us, thank you for being here and liking this little blog, thanks for the good memories and all, thank you for staying till the end... Goodbye

#silly systems #endos dni

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sillygoofyqueer · 3 days ago

Note

I don’t know if you or any of your anons have said something like this before but what if Corvid King/Crow Deity thing Shen Yuan gets B-points whenever he’s prayed to, given offerings, etc?

First of all, it has been a W H I L E since I've seen a crowyuan ask in my inbox, you should have seen the WHIPLASH I got when reading this - I thought I'd gone back to Summer last year!!! And this isn't a bad thing, my brain immediately started ticking, thank you for sending this bad boy! I always love asks, especially ones like these. Now, *cracks knuckles then dies because I hate the sound* let's get back into my crowyuan mindset, ehhehehehehe!!! Honestly, this is such a good idea! Because it's like, Shen Yuan is getting these random offerings and prayers (and obviously he both accepts the offerings and helps out, he's going to be a good deity!!), and then he gets B-points for it?! I think this would almost throw him off, because the system's been pretty silent in the AU so far (from what I can remember), and then he's suddenly getting an influx in all these B-points, reminding him that he wasn't born in this world! You can have angst from that - y'know, imposter syndrome and all that - and/or you can also have Crowyuan going out of his way to gain more followers, for more B-points! This is great comedic potential because before he was just casually helping out whoever needed assistance while being a social devil who broke through literally all of the demons' different social rules because he didn't know them, and now he's actually going out of his way to help people? He's actively seeking out people to help out and gain as followers? That shit's hilarious. Imagine for a moment, that you're an NPC in a random village, a village that is kind of removed from the cultivation world as a whole, that has heard whispers of some sort of 'corvid deity' that helps out those in need. Now, you may believe it, you may think it's bullshit, but you know that it won't affect you because your village doesn't get involved with any of that!! You go about your normal day, right, helping out in the local village, and then out of nowhere, this demon with golden crow wings and golden eyes and feathers (or like feather scale type shit (think those feathered dragons as a reference of sorts)) dancing down his neck and cheeks and {insert other cool features here} is like "hi, friendly neighbourhood corvid deity, here! Y'all need any help around the village? Any beasts terrorising you, or curses befalling you, or....broken fences that need mending???" I think I'd devote myself right away, my bad for even doubting you Mr. Crow King sir!!!

#crowyuan au #of the heavenly demon variety #honestly it's been SO LONG!!!#I wrote those tags and just almost passed away because hello hello pretty kiddos #check me out #it's been a while #but this anon pulled me back into it hahaha!!!!#I'm always open to asks #and this one was so interesting!!!!!#Really made me think haha #scum villain self saving system #ren zha fanpai zijiu xitong #scum villain #mxtx svsss #svsss au #svsss #shen qingqiu #shen yuan

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gouraminnow · 2 days ago

Note

Shanks anon here and it’s so okay I always love reading your analysis/ the reasoning behind shanks’ character in your yandere fics! It makes your fics feel so real like the characters feel so.. in character when they typically feel ooc in yandere fics.

your response made me wonder- what would shanks or benn (or both ;)- okay I need to stop) be like with an emperor darling? Or an admiral darling since admirals are placed on the same power scale as emperors? I feel like this would require them to actually really have to strategize to get their darling since it’s not as easy as just flexing their position as an emperors crew and just snatching their darling up.

Thank you!! Honestly being OOC is something I worry about. I know it's not the biggest deal ever, it's fanfic and we're already warping things, but I very much obsess over whether or not things feel "right" enough to me, haha. Like yeah yandere versions of characters differ but there are still core aspects of a character that make them who they are.

Rambling under the cut, much lighter on Benn tbh... hint of suggestiveness at the absolute very end like literally the last sentence

Anyway if Mc is another Emperor, then Shanks is gonna try and pester them into an alliance, first of all. He's friendly and laying on the charm, but also a bit more serious than he would be with a civillian or less powerful/experienced pirate. You're someone who could actually potentially cause problems for him if he pushes too hard. A lot more passive, but pays special attention to your movements. If he runs into any of your subordinate crews or other members, he's friendly with them too- willing to assist them in battle if they bite off more than they can chew. Sends them back to you with gifts- both for them, and something meant to be delivered directly to you.

And he "runs into" you too, of course! Very frequently, actually. Throws a party, does his best to draw you and your crew in. All the better to give gifts directly, isn't it? Some quality alcohol is his go-to, but he likes you. Does his best to dig for any interests you may have, learn/estimate your clothing sizes... whether or not Benn is into you as well, Shanks tries to get him to dig a little as well. He'll grunt, maybe even roll his eyes, but approaches you all the same. Probably has more luck anyway, since according to that SBS he scores more ladies than Shanks lmao.

If it's Benn who's interested and not Shanks, then... I think it'd be funny if things don't change all that much, actually. Teases Benn for aiming high, but ultimately decides to try and be a good wingman for his first mate. It's the least he can do, after all! And if he does succeed in getting with you, the resulting alliance will be good for everyone, he reasons. Benn has a headache.

Benn would also send gifts, I think, but they're smaller. More personal and often functional. A small bottle of your favorite spirits, a leather-bound journal, a small piece of subtle but pretty jewelry. A replacement for a scabbard strap that snapped during a skirmish, an extra button when one popped off of your coat... was he even there for that? How did he notice..?

And Benn is no stranger to drinking and partying, of course, but he makes more relaxing company than Shanks. Won't pester you or drag you into things the same way Shanks will, happy to find somewhere a little quieter and just enjoy a shared drink and a moment of quiet.

All in all, kidnapping is far less likely to be on the table. You're on equal footing, and neither man wants the massive clash between Yonkos or the deaths that would result from it that could come from this. They both ultimately want you to like them, after all, and captivity wouldn't break the Will of someone like you even if they did manage it.

An Admiral Mc, on the other hand... oof.

This has a bigger chance of blowing up but Shanks is high-maintenance and loves to court danger. Takes care of troublemakers for you, which pisses you off because you do not need him for that, goddamnit. He likes to antagonize you, knowing you can't just start something without the input of the other Admirals. You're on par with him, but ultimately still a tool for the WG... if you fail, they're more likely to write you off as a failure than a loyal crew would. Would try to get you to defect. Aokiji did it after all, so it's not impossible. But if you're determined to remain a Marine, well... if he can beat you, kidnapping IS on the table here as an alliance is impossible. Uses the danger your subordinates are in against you. The gap between you and them is just too big, are you really willing to risk all of them..? It's worse for an Admiral, tbh. If they can't get you to leave the Marines and join them, and they succeed in taking you for themselves, they're more willing to break you than a fellow Yonko. Can see it becoming something akin to a brat-taming scenario, tbh.

#one piece x reader #asks #yandere one piece #shanks #benn beckman #red hair shanks #reader insert #but yeah Yonko reader thinks Shanks is weird and clingy but chances are good they never find out he's yandere #an admiral on the other hand...

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lsunstreakerl · 2 days ago

Note

THE NEW SEARCH HISTORY CHAPTER!!!! sooo many more amazing moments omg

not the red bull drivers scamming max into joining on movie night 😭😭😭 it kinda feels like luring him out of his little cave of pets and baking bread using data review hdhhdhfhshd too funny, they know EXACTLY how to lure him in because they know him so well yep 🙂‍↕️

AND THEN max just being a menace instead of answering Christian seriously...he's just pulling excuses out of his ass that it's impressive 😭

AND POSSESSIVE CHARLES????? him wanting to be connected to max in every way including championship wise...and then max matching his freak by encouraging charles and telling him he's the one who's gonna break his streak...

AND LASTLY MY FAVOURITE of course it's the max and GP fishing moment...I think this definitely counts as father and son bonding ahhdhshdd I do wonder how GP managed to even convince max though, I bet he guilt tripped max or convinced him while he was high on morphine in the hospital 😭😭 (also feel like max will absolutely send charles pics of any fish he has caught while charles has an aneurysm over the ugly waders shdhd) (and the tiny mention of max uni arc 😁😁)

(AND read 1+1+1...I have so many thoughts about it but I will patiently wait till the last chapter comes out THANK YOU AGAIN FOR WRITING THESE AMAZING FICS 😭😭)

the juniors wanted a max movie night and they know exactly how to get it 😭 you have to respect it, which is why they only get in a little bit of trouble with christian, and not a lot. (this is also what makes them realize max can get away with literal murder and RB would cover it up)

If lewis were to win the championship, max's name would forever be in a hamilton sandwich on the WDC trophy, and charles literally froths at the mouth when he thinks about it, he refuses. lewis has had every other championship winning blonde boy, but max is charles', and honestly, there's so many reasons he's THIS worked up about it. One of them being that if one of them is bringing home a WDC to Ferrari, it's sure as hell not going to be lewis, not when charles has poured his blood sweat and tears into the team.

the other being that while max is perfectly content letting water be under the bridge, as far as his eye injury, charles is not, and he is very capable of holding a grudge.

and then he refuses to be the only one being possessive there, so it's really just too easy to slide carlos into the conversation, because it turns max into an animal every time, and it works, every time.

max is actually perfectly happy to spend bonding time with GP, the real convincing was the waders, which only happened because GP made a sad face at him irl. He's a clever man. (max actually took a picture with GP's fish and sent that one to charles 😭)

Max uni arc!!!

(I am at 3k for chapter four and am maybe 15% through with everything I wanted to write so I'm a little bit concerned that this chapter is going to be a complete monster.)

#search history verse #lestappen is lestappening here #again #possessive little freaks

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punkrockmlchael · 3 days ago

Text

Bed Chem - Chapter Two

My Main Masterlist

Bed Chem Masterlist

Modern AU; Rockstar!Gareth Emerson x Popstar!Fem Reader (Both Gareth and Reader are in their early 20s) ; loosely based off of the song Bed Chem by Sabrina Carpenter

Warnings: 18+ mdni, Slow Burn, Popstar!Fem Reader, Rockstar!Gareth, Best Friend!Robin, Mutual Pining, Flirting, Texting

Synopsis: Your friend hit me up so we could connect, and, what're the odds? You send me a text.

Word Count: 2.9k

The remainder of the night, the words “anything for you, princess,” rang through your head in Gareth’s husky voice. It was like a broken record that replayed those four simple words; words you had definitely heard him speak separately, but as soon as they were all merged together and directed at you? It was enough to make you flush in the face and feel something deep in your lower stomach.

Unfortunately, as the night finally ended, you were not graced with seeing Gareth in person again or interacting with him at all. It felt like you were being pulled to the side to talk to other artists left and right; being praised, being asked questions about your work and yourself, it was all such a surreal feeling.

You did, however, cross paths with Eddie once again that night; he smiled at you and winked before he came over and engulfed you in an enormous and tight hug. “Good job, tonight,” Eddie mumbled, smiling at you. “You absolutely killed it and I seriously cannot wait to see you perform again. I’ll be looking out for tour dates and new music from you. You’re a natural born star.”

You smiled up at Eddie, pulling away from the hug slightly. “Thanks, you guys too. Tell the boys I said hi. Oh! And, congratulations on that award; very well deserved for you and your bandmates.” You added, giving Eddie one last hug. “It was amazing to meet you, I cannot wait to see you all again,” you smiled.

“It was amazing to meet you as well! And, of course, princess; I will be sure to tell Grant, Jeff and Gareth that you said hi and send your blessings. Until we meet again,” he nodded, giving you another wink before he released you from his grip and walked away into the crowd of people. You watched him walk away and sighed, wanting to follow him just to get one last glimpse of his drummer.

Just one last glimpse would be sufficient… wouldn’t it?

“Hold on,” Robin asked, watching you pace around the hotel room… again. “You talked to Corroded Coffin on the red carpet after you heard Gareth talking about you? Like, he was literally just praising you?” She looked at you in shock, raising an eyebrow as she laid on her bed in her sweatpants and hoodie. “You, like, huh?! I have so many questions that it’s not even funny.”

You sat on the bed opposite of her, resting your back against the pillows. “Yeah, he was talking about how awesome my music is and how it’s so amazing that it speaks to so many people the way that it does and that in itself is a true making of an amazing artist.” You replied, looking at Robin. “How I have this way of moving an entire crowd with my music and my stage presence, and how that is really badass of me.”

“Holy shit, Gareth Emerson has a crush on you,” she commented, looking at you with a huge grin. “Oh, my god. Gareth Emerson, the same drummer that you’ve been simping over for almost two years, has a crush on you! Gareth Emerson has a crush on you!” She repeated, clapping her hands a couple of times.

“No, he doesn’t,” you argued, shaking your head. “He was just being friendly, that’s all.” You replied, looking at Robin. “He was being nice, it’s the first time we’ve met, you know?”

“Are you dumb or stupid?”

“Excuse me?”

“Gareth Emerson, the drummer you were just drooling over was talking about how awesome you are on the red carpet to reporters, journalists and fans. He was simping over you, they even showed him and the boys on the screen while you were performing and oh my god, the look on his face was love! And you still think he was just being friendly?” Robin asked, raising an eyebrow. “My god, I hear wedding bells. Oh, and there’s me, walking down the aisle with Eddie, standing next to you as you say ‘I do’ to the drummer and man of your dreams. Oh, look! There you are holding your first daughter who you named after your best friend in the whole world, Robin. Oh, and there’s a baby boy, too,” she added, pointing to random places in the air, as if she was looking into your future. “Cute family, really,” she smiled.

“You’re insufferable.” You rolled your eyes, a small smile forming in your lips as you looked at Robin. “Did I mention he caught me?”

“He did what?!” She shrieked, sitting up in bed now. She looked at you and raised an eyebrow, demanding more details. “He caught you? What the fuck does that even mean?”

“I was walking backstage and tripped over my heels and fell into him. I didn’t realize it was him until I looked up and saw him smiling back at me. He had his arms wrapped around me, and my hands went to his biceps because I was so scared I was going to eat concrete in front of everyone.” You said, smiling at the encounter. “He said, ‘careful, princess,’ and before he walked away he said ‘anything for you, princess,’ and he said he’ll see me around.”

“Wait; see you around like see you around or see you around like see you around?” Robin asked, wiggling her eyebrows.

You shrugged, “he just had to go to get on stage and perform, so he said he would see me around. Robs, I think you’re thinking too much into this.” You said softly.

“I think you’re not thinking too much into this,” she replied, looking at you. “You fell for him.”

“I did not fall for him, I fell into him; there's a difference.”

“You fell for him. Holy shit, he totally has a crush on you and absolutely fell for him.”

“Robin, I swear to god,” you groaned, sighing as you leaned back against the pillows more.

“You’re only swearing to god because you know that I’m right; you said it yourself earlier. I’m always right.”

“I hate you,” you mumbled, crossing your arms over your chest.

“No, you don’t. You love me and Gareth Emerson.”

It had been one week since the Music Awards and one week since you had last seen Corroded Coffin in person; seven whole days since you were in Gareth’s arms… accidentally, of course. You could still remember the feeling of his strong arms around your waist, the feeling of the heat radiating off of his body as his grip tightened around you; Gareth just wanted to hold you closer, wanted to protect you, wanted to call you his…

It had been a week of you shamelessly scrolling through Corroded Coffin’s Instagram feed, somehow always finding your way onto their drummer’s page.

It had been a week of you nervously typing out a message to their drummer in his Instagram DMs before you would back out and delete it, closing the app in the middle of a freak out.

It had been a week since Robin had first told you that she firmly believes their drummer has a crush on you. And since that day, she has brought it up endless amounts of time (really, any chance she could get). Since that day you had constantly denied it, not wanting to get your hopes up, because, why would he like you?

It had been a week of your thoughts being clouded and taken over by their drummer, the one and only Gareth Emerson; his arms, his body, his voice, his drumming skills, his… everything. Everytime you scrolled on Instagram, on TikTok, on Twitter, on any app you could think of, somehow he always popped up. That cocky smile on his face as he was banging on his drums in perfect time; his bicep muscles flexing, that shaded dragon tattoo moving so perfectly it seemed as if it was flying; his soft curls turned matted, stuck to his forehead from the sweat trickling down his forehead…

And, Gareth wasn’t fairing much better. Because, you had also been on his mind for the last week. Your soft, long curls falling over your shoulders perfectly, shining in the light; the way your hand wrapped around your microphone, holding it with that perfect grip; how you wore those cute and sparkly little short skirts on stage, your legs looking like they went on forever and ever. He often thought that those skirts would look better on his bedroom floor; you would be laying on your back on his bed as his hands roamed up and down your body, he would lean in, leaving soft and sweet kisses on your neck, trailing down your chest and stomach until he reached your…

Anyways, it had been a week of Gareth wanting to reach out to you but not knowing what to say because, what if he came off as a creeper? A stalker? A really weird guy that seemed like he just wanted to get into your pants? Don’t get him wrong, he’d love to get into your pants, but that’s not all he wants… you know?

It had been a week of him stalking, no, wait, admiring?, your Instagram and TikTok pages, just to see your smile and hear your laugh through videos when he desperately wanted to see and hear all of that in person. He also desperately wanted to be the one that made you laugh and smile, seeing that smile light up your face with him being the cause of it? Fuck.

There had been one whole week of Eddie, Grant and Jeff raising their eyebrows and smirking when they saw Gareth was watching another video of you; constantly telling him to just fucking do it. “Come on, man, just send her a message, talk to her, shoot your shot, do something,” but Gareth always refused. He was too scared to make the first move, because, who would like the drummer? Girls like you always went after the guitarist, fawning over Eddie left and right, even Jeff and Grant seemed to get more action than he did.

After an entire week of watching Gareth simp and long after you, Eddie couldn’t take it anymore. He was sick of listening to the drummer bitch and moan about how hot you were, about how much he wished he could talk to you, about how much he just wished you were his. So, Eddie decided to take matters into his own hands. He found your Instagram account, sending you a message to get your phone number for his drummer, because he knew Gareth would never do it on his own.

You were currently in the studio, working on recording a new song. You had written a new love song long ago, and had just finally gotten down to the nitty gritty of recording and making the song come to life. It was always fun to see your visions come to life, but more recently as you went about your day to day life you were thinking of a particular drummer.

“Hey, that take sounded awesome; let’s take a break, yeah?” Your recording artist asked, giving you a thumbs up from outside of the booth. You nodded, smiling at him as you took your headphones off, hanging them on the music stand in front of you.

You made your way out of the booth, smiling at Robin as she sat on the couch. “That sounded awesome, this song may be your best one yet,” she gushed, handing you an iced coffee she had grabbed while you were recording. “Like, wow, there’s so much emotion in this

“Thanks, Robs,” you smiled, taking a sip of your caramel flavored iced coffee. You grabbed your phone from the couch next to her, feeling it vibrate in your hand.

Buzz.

New Instagram message from Eddiemunson_cc!

Eddiemunson_cc: Hey, pop princess! Long time no chat! Hope your past week has been good, we have spent ours on the road doing some shows. Anyways, I’m messaging you for your number, if you’ll give it to me that is. Our amazingly hot and sexy drummer would love to chat with you but has been too much of a pussy to ask for your number so here I am shooting his shot for him ;) Thanks in advance, princess!

Your eyes widened as you read over the message from Eddie. A smile formed on your face as Robin raised her eyebrow, taking in the sudden change in your mood. “What the fuck is up with you?” She asked, sipping her energy drink since she wasn’t the biggest coffee girl.

You re-read over the message from Eddie, before you looked up at Robin with a giggle. “Eddie Munson just messaged me on Instagram,” you replied.

“He did what? What did he say, oh my god, spill!” She begged, looking at you.

“God, chill, damn. He basically asked for my number because their ‘amazingly hot and sexy drummer would love to chat with you but has been too much of a pussy to ask for your number.’ Oh, my god? Did Eddie Munson just ask for my number for Gareth Emerson?!” You asked, looking up at Robin with a shocked face.

She smirked, a grin on her face, “still think Gareth doesn’t have a crush on you?”

“Okay, so, maybe you were right,” you muttered as you typed a reply to Eddie.

You: Hey, Eddie! The past week has been super busy, I’m actually in the studio working on a new song! And, I guess since you asked so nicely I’ll drop my number… just as long as you promise to pass it along to your, how did you word it, your amazingly hot and sexy drummer for me? ;)

Eddiemunson_cc: Oh, princess, that sounds like fun! Aren’t studio days just the best thing ever? But, yes, I will 1000% pass your number along to our amazingly hot and sexy drummer, and I will make damn sure he texts you as well! ;)

You smiled at Eddie’s reply, feeling giddy as you took another sip of your coffee. “Am I dreaming? I must be dreaming, pinch me?” You mumbled, staring at your screen. Robin smirked, leaning towards you before she pinched your arm gently. “Ow! Fuck, that hurt,” you mumbled, rubbing the skin on your arm gently.

“What? You said to pinch you,” she said with a shrug as she sipped on her energy drink more.

“That wasn’t literal!” You whined, looking at your arm. You rolled your eyes before you felt your phone vibrate again.

Buzz.

New Message from Unknown Number.

Unknown Number: Hey, princess, it’s Gareth! Eddie gave me your number… I hope that’s okay? Sorry, I’ve just been dying to talk to you again since I saw you fall for me last week ;) What’re you up to today?

You shrieked, literally shrieked. “Robin! He texted me!” You squealed, jumping up and down. “Holy shit, be cool, be cool,” you mumbled, taking a deep breath to compose yourself. You quickly saved his number into your phone before replying, trying to be smooth.

You: Why, if it isn’t Corroded Coffin’s amazingly hot and sexy drummer! Perfectly okay that he passed my number along, just as long as you promise you’re actually who you say you are hehe. But, I’m currently in the studio working on a new song I wrote. What about you?

“What is he saying?!” Robin asked, pulling you out of your phone to look up at her again. “What?!”

You looked up at her with a grin, immediately looking back at your phone. “He asked what I was up to today and he said he’s been dying to talk to me again since I fell for him last week..” you trailed off, looking back up at Robin.

“I told you you fell for him! I fucking told you!” She replied, giggling to herself.

Beep.

New Photo from Gareth Emerson.

You opened your messages to see a selfie from Gareth on the beach. He was sitting back on a lawn chair in the sun, black sunglasses covering his eyes as his cocky grin stretched across his face. He was shirtless, a slight red tint on his shoulders which made his freckles look more prominent. You blushed, looking at the picture in detail, taking in every little thing about him that you could see.

Gareth: Damn right it’s Corroded Coffin’s amazingly hot and sexy drummer! In the flesh!.. Or, I guess over the screen? Anyways, here’s photographic proof that it’s me! ;)

Gareth: Damn, in the studio? That sounds like fun! I’m currently in Miami on a day off, just soaking up some sun! Wish you were here with me, though..

You: Wish I was with you too! Looks like you need some sunscreen on your shoulders, if only I could apply that for you… ;) Instead I’m soaking up the hard studio lighting while sipping on my iced caramel latte.

You snapped a quick picture of yourself in the studio with your coffee, pressing send instantly.

Beep.

New Message from Gareth Emerson.

Gareth: Ugh, coffee sounds amazing right now… but, then again, so do you ;)

tag list: wanna be added? comment + let me know! @the-unforgivenn ; @keeryhours ; @fan-maddson ; @hotgirlsshareaccounts ; @swiftieintheupsidedown ; @hawkinsmafia ; @losingmygrasponreality ; @ilovecupcakesandtea ; @pupwrites ; @the-lurking-await-you

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