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jaggedamethyst · 2 months ago

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not in that way (part one)

bucky barnes x fwb!reader

content: steve rogers is your best friend, which means that inherently bucky should be yours too. somewhere along the way, it became more than that for you. for bucky, it's just tolerance. he likes you, but not like that. not in that way.

warnings: 18+ minors dni, smut, protected sex (yeah wrap that up), rough, choking, fwb, mean bucky, mutual pining, not proofread

notes: thank you guys for the support on the snippet as well as for waiting for me as i got this done! i just finished finals so i plan on locking in on this one and circuit breaker bc i cannot stop thinking about them.

ps. i swear bucky and reader are friends, just had to hit the angst and give some background but there will be cute moments along with smut probably every chapter...I'm hoeing out.

series master list

。·:*:·ﾟ★,。·:*:·ﾟ☆　。·:*:·ﾟ★,。·:*:·ﾟ☆

“Steve?” You called out to him, steps pounding behind you as you hurriedly moved toward his pinged location. “Steve, oh my god.” Your voice trailed off, shock evident.

People brushed by you and pushed toward Steve’s figure on the ground. You’d never seen him like this. Sure, Steve Rogers was a super soldier and the most physically strong man you knew—but this was different. Mentally, he seemed destroyed.

He called your phone, short of breath and muttering for help. It immediately sent you into action. You were normal—the most civilian anyone could be. There was no other option but to call someone, plead with them to find and help your friend. He’d been washed up on the shore, lying in the dirt and clearly out of it.

You watched him get worked on, staring into the distance.

“What happened?” You kneeled next to him, “Who did this?”

Steve turned to you, eyes glossed over in disbelief. “Bucky.” He shook his head, “It was Bucky.” He kept repeating it to himself, attempting to convince his own mind that it was true. “It was him. It was Bucky. He was here.”

“I don’t understand,” you grasped his shoulder. “I thought he was gone—you saw.” You gulped, searching his face for any hesitance. “You said he fell, that he-“

“It was him.”

“Okay.” You nodded, “Okay, I believe you. He was here.”

It was true. The man you’d heard so many stories about had returned. He wasn’t like the anecdotes Steve recalled; this Bucky was darker, more quiet, resigned.

He was an observer. You often caught him staring at you, eyes lingering between your figure and Steve’s. Bucky would always stand, tucked into a corner. He didn’t feel deserving of the warmth Steve offered—the humanity that remained present in you. There were times, then, that you would offer a welcoming hand. A slight wave of motion offered him a seat, acknowledging that he did deserve to be there. He felt human with you.

That’s what initially drew Bucky to you and inevitably why you became friends, too. There was a way that you loved everyone, insisted on not leaving them out and nourished their insides.

The hurt came when he realized it would never be that way for him.

You could never love him, not a monster. Not when the shining emblem of a perfect man sat beside you every day. Steve had so much time with you—he was your best friend. Bucky couldn’t replace him, not if he tried. So he always kept you at arms length, hoping to be more than friends but settling for something less.

The first time it happened, when Bucky had been so lucky to have a moment with you—he swore that he was dreaming. He never gave you a reason to like him, in fact, it was the opposite. He’d gone out of his way every day to push you further from him, make it known that he’d never be as good as Steve.

He could tell you saw something different; he hated it.

The three of you had tried small talk often, Steve facilitating some sort of discussion to break the ice. It almost always ended with you and Bucky exactly where you started, friends who were forced to be so because of a mutual one.

“Well, I’m headed out—you two should talk.”

“Steve, no-“

“Buck, you two are my favorite people in the world. I would love it if you gave this a chance.” Steve patted his friend’s shoulder, “For me. Please.”

Bucky turned to look at Steve, a solid expression on his face. He didn’t speak, just gave him a small nod and let Steve step around him and out of your place.

It was common that Steve would find solace in your home. It was far from the city, neatly tucked away in a residential area. There was a sense of normalcy and he was proud to introduce that to Bucky—he needed that, deserved it after everything.

The room was silent, violently so. You sat across from Bucky—him lingering in your peripheral, and you nestled softly into your couch. He didn’t move, standing still near a wall that offered him the sight of every possible window and exit.

“Do you wanna sit?”

You watched his body for any reaction, dissatisfied when there was none. It was awkward, him avoiding eye contact and you not sure of what else to say.

You sighed. “I’ll be back.” You announced your departure, not that it mattered to him.

You beeline to the bathroom, desperately needing to escape him. He was always like this, closed off and so obviously annoyed by your presence. Splashing your face with water did little to temper you, and your body seemed to overheat at the thought of having to see him again.

You didn’t let yourself think—couldn’t. You stepped out and kept your head down before looking toward Bucky’s signature spot on the wall. He wasn’t there.

You tilted your head down, seeing Bucky now sitting on the couch, two cushions away from where you’d been prior. He watched you smile softly, moving to sit in your spot.

Bucky made a habit of keeping his hands in his lap. He would sit stoically at all times. It was the same now.

He avoided eye contact but muttered, “Hi.”

Your breath hitched, surprised he’d started a conversation. Keeping your tone even so as not to overwhelm him, you replied, “Hi, Bucky.”

The both of you nodded, letting the weight of your forced proximity surround you. As much as he tried, he couldn’t ignore you. The faint smell of your hair products, the way you tapped your own leg rhythmically, how nervous you were—he noticed it all.

“Do you, um,” you swallowed. “Do you want something to drink, maybe?”

It’d been over a year since Bucky had shown up. You, of course, shared small talk with him in that time. He’d grown to know the story of you and Steve—how you met. It would suffice to say that Bucky grew to be an acquaintance of yours—a long lost friend of a friend…one that would never truly like you. Accepting that was hard; you wanted Bucky to be comfortable at the very least. If not like you, he would at bare minimum be able to sit down for once.

So today was a win.

Bucky didn’t reply to your question but instead asked his own, “How was Steve? Without me, I mean?”

His voice was gruff, and you hadn’t expected that question, let alone more than a single syllable from him.

“Well,” you readjusted to face Bucky, “He’s always the most positive guy in the room—which I’m sure you know.”

Bucky let a smirk slip, recounting the optimism his friend had at all times.

“He’s better than me that way, than a lot of us.”

“I don’t think that’s true. He’s just Steve, you know that.”

He didn’t know that. Bucky was living in his body but observing from outside his own mind. He was witnessing his friend after so much time had escaped him. Everything he thought was true wasn’t anymore.

He wanted to get to know you, offer you the same grace that was given to him. But he couldn’t. Before it even begun, Bucky was overwhelmed. He pushed himself to be kinder, to do this for Steve. It was simply futile.

He stood suddenly and looked down at you. “I should go.”

“Okay,” you stood, nodding. “I guess I’ll be seeing you.”

He hummed, rolling his shoulders back and tightening his posture again. He didn’t respond.

“I’ll tell Steve you tried today,” you whispered to him. “I know he’ll appreciate it. I do.”

The tension was palpable. Your eyes stayed locked on each other until you heard a sound and looked down. The mechanical whirring of his metal arm was clear, only slightly suppressed by the gloves he always wore. He watched you noticing his hand twitch as if he wanted to move it. There was a restraint there, like he was pushing down something that was second nature. As if he meant to do something that he’d always done.

You swallowed hard enough to hear it in your ears. Looking at Bucky, you arched your brow in a subtle defiance—daring him to do what he intended. You wanted to know him and his habits, to understand even a modicum of what was in his brain.

Without thinking a second more, he let his left arm lift a bit. He reached toward your face but paused at you flinching, leaning away from him.

Just barely audible, you spoke, “Sorry.”

Bucky blinked and furrowed his brows, unable to stop himself. He let his fingers wrap around your face, a single hand pressing just under your chin and at the top of your throat. Slightly wide eyed, you watched him watching you. Most of his hand rested on your cheek, his thumb pressing into the other side of your face.

Despite no longer being the Winter Soldier, his habits lingered. When in that state he remembered being like this so vividly—a hand around someone’s throat and crushing the life out of them. He hissed at the thought, not at all intending for that with you. He craned your head, though, observing the quizzical look on your face.

It didn’t make sense to him, the need to maintain this routine. But he did. Beyond the haze of what was once his signature way of taking life—he saw a new one. Bucky could envision his future so clearly, yet he couldn’t let himself have it.

He went to drop his hand but stopped at the feeling of yours on his wrist. It was inexplicable. Glove or not, you craved the contact from him.

The room stayed silent except for the slight creak of the floorboards beneath you. While Bucky stayed steady, you teetered on the balls of your feet—this moment feeling fleeting.

He inched forward, watching your eyes fall closed.

Your lips were right there, the ones he’d openly been ogling at for months. It was torture, but all he knew. He couldn't allow himself the satisfaction of the feeling. He wasn’t deserving.

Instead, he latched onto your neck. Bucky kissed and nibbled there with an urgency you hadn’t expected—hell, you didn’t even think today would’ve progressed to this at all.

The feeling of him on you was intoxicating, and it was so minuscule. His hands were all over you, and yours on him. Your breath came out ragged, “We shouldn’t.”

“You’re right.” He paused on your neck briefly, directly in your ear now. “We shouldn’t.”

“We’re friends.” You nodded, letting your hands trail up his back and into his hair.

“Are we?”

You weren’t sure. It was complicated. You couldn’t let yourself think about that now and neither could he.

He pushed you down onto the couch and stood above you, allowing you to finally look him over. He was casually in jeans and a t-shirt, the rest of his body entirely covered. The only skin that showed besides his face was just below at his neck. Around it lay his dog tags, which he was so adamant about wearing. The glint of them always caught your eye and alerted you of his presence. Even when he showed up silent, you’d see him and those damn tags. Just always out of your eyeline but in the room—that was who Bucky had always been. In his stoicism, he was still consistently there.

Watching Bucky undo his pants already had you eager for him, too. There was always something there for you, an intrigue simply at the way he carried himself. You stayed seated, leaning back a bit in an attempt to slide down your sweatpants. Both of you watched the other discarding the bottom half of their clothes with little thought, tossing them aside.

He leaned, then, ruffling into his dark jacket’s interior.

“I got it,” he mumbled, ripping into the condom wrapper with his teeth. He slid the latex over himself just before pushing the jacket off his back.

He kneeled into the couch, the angle awkward but enough that he was able to slide into you like he wanted. It was tight—rough. You expected the burn but still sucked in a breath at it, the lack of prep. Bucky didn’t mean to make it this way but just wanted it to be over—the insatiable need to pump in and out of you. Only you.

Slowly and deliberately, he continued to kiss around your neck, collarbone, and ears. He snapped into you, purposely moving at a speed that allowed him to chase a high rather than savor the moment with you. He wanted to, truly…to acknowledge the way you looked up at him. It was his dream to let the sounds of you falling apart actually hit his ears and mean something, but he couldn’t.

The couch creaked and rocked. You were now slightly bent into the back of the cushions, your chest moving up and down alongside Bucky’s. He pulled back, stabilizing himself behind you. The new angle allowed you to see his dog tags again, them hitting you with every movement into you. Without thinking, you grabbed them, hooking them under one of your fingers.

He finally allowed himself some relief, his voice dragging out the moans he’d himself been holding in. “Fuck...”

You watched him intently, pulling him closer by the chain on his neck. He shifted his angle a bit at that and watched your jaw drop open. Your brows furrowed, whines choking out of you at the new sensation. It made you let go of his tags, grasping at the fabric of his shirt. This made him pound into you faster—realizing a tether of intimacy was gone.

He was subconsciously glad for that, happy that he could pinpoint and force that sweet look in your eyes away. There was no longer an adoration in your gaze but simply one of pleasure. This was for the best. He could appreciate you from a distance despite the line of friendship being crossed so carelessly now.

“Shit,” you groaned out suddenly. “Buck-“

He hushed you softly, quelling the harsh sound in your throat. It only spurred him on, though, truly ruthless about this. He only slowed at the feeling of your fingers gliding over his face, pushing the stray piece of hair out of view. His pace stuttered, faltering as he really looked at you.

A second later, he started in on you again. A clothed hand found its way into your shirt and pinched at your nipples. His grip was rough, kneading your chest. You were already so close; every additional sensation only pushed you further.

You met him suddenly, writhing into him and filling the living room with lewd slapping sounds.

Bucky huffed breaths out at every push into you. You fought a squeak, pressing your own hand over your mouth. You gnawed at it as it allowed some relief from the burning inside of you. He was hitting that same spongey spot over and over. He was so good at picking up on the subtle changes in your face and body.

Without warning he slipped out and nudged you, “Turn.”

You did without questioning, a firm covered hand rubbing at the skin of your hips. Regardless of his gloves, you felt the difference in his hands—the slight shift of metal in one versus the pulse in the other. There was a contrast you enjoyed, a chill about his metal arm that grounded you.

A knee pushed your legs open as he slid into you again, this time using you as leverage. Bucky pushed you down slowly, the side of your head finding the cushion. This angle was new, deeper. It wouldn’t be much longer at this point and he could tell. One hand slipped underneath you and up to your neck again, squeezing just enough for you to appreciate the loss of breath. In between gasps you nudged further into the couch, the sensation becoming too much for you.

He couldn’t stop when you came, relishing the way your insides continued to pulse. It was as if he was meant to stay; his one true purpose was to be completely enveloped by you. When he finished a strained sound choked in his throat, one that you hadn’t expected.

You were throbbing still, a cold feeling finally making you realize he pulled away. The feeling of him on you had gone away so quick. The sound of a different metal clanked—his belt buckle bouncing around as he slid his pants back on.

“Should we…should I tell Steve about this?”

Your question was sudden but was filled with a weight that scared him. You didn’t want to be too forward—but it was only right. Steve was now caught in the middle of something complicated. Even if this was the first and only time…you weren’t sure you could keep this from him.

Bucky thought differently.

“Why would you wanna tell Steve?”

“Because it’s-“

“Leave him out of this.”

Bucky readjusted his clothes, smoothing them over as they’d been before. You watched him inch his way to the door—his back toward you.

You ignored the pang in your chest, the confusion that now resonated in you. Pushing it away, you settled on changing the subject. “Steve wanted to do something tomorrow, you coming?”

He didn’t turn as he grabbed the doorknob, merely craned his head to the side. You watched his profile for any sense of something, but again, he was so unreadable for you.

“I’ll be there.”

Then he left.

part two

taglist (click to request to be tagged)

@crookedtimetravelheart @wintercrows @rimunagenius @gorgeouslylethal @taylormobley @fan4astic @chimchoom @lilulo-12 @greatenthusiasttidalwave @hrlzy @foxinthestreet98 @lostinspace33 @royallykt @sleepysongbirdsings @pickuptruck01 @unclearblur @mrsalexstan @akiyhara @spaceconveyor @winchestert101

(for some of you it may not let me tag, check ur settings or if anyone has advice on how to fix it lmk!!)

#jaggedamethyst #not in that way #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky #bucky barnes x reader #james bucky buchanan barnes #bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #smut #angst #fwb #fwb reader

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mellowwillowy · 10 months ago

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𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫 𝐃𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐇𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝

Yan! Sugar Daddy who fell in love with you at first sight in the cafe he often visited for his daily to-go coffee. He had seen lots of beauties but you were the first to catch his breath.

Yan! Sugar Daddy who tried to woo you, he tried his best to not scare you and subtly flirt with you. It took him a huge courage to approach you and ask for your number.

Yan! Sugar Daddy who found out you were still just a college student who was most likely to be struggling with financial issues, or so he assumed from how most of the students there were.

Yan! Sugar Daddy who took his time bonding with you before subtly offering an arrangement with you, a mutual arrangement of a sugar relationship. Instead of sex, fancy dates, or a plus one to those higher-ups events, he wanted your company all the time if he could.

You were wary and hesitant but his silver-tongued nature convinced you that this would change your life for the better.

While you were inexperienced in most of it, Yulian made sure to make you feel comfortable about it and him. The weekly allowance and PPM were enough to make you never lift a single finger to work anymore.

The more you spent time with him, the less it felt like an arrangement. It felt like a man treating you with utmost respect while spoiling you with luxuries you would never imagine to have.

But with such great benefits came a great price. You noticed that you had been seeing your friends less because of the attention you had on him.

You noticed the higher-ups never stopped sneering at you for being a commoner or his pet whenever you attended the fancy events with him as his plus one.

You noticed how you had almost less to none freedom, always heavily guarded by what seemed to be his bodyguards. Who was he and why did you even need this sort of protection?

One day you decided to trick his bodyguards with your flat-out white lies so that they'd leave you alone. They did not expect someone like you to ever lie and put them at risk so they left you alone.

All you did was wander around in awe, checking the grand balcony to go to the washroom as normal people would.

Yan! Sugar Daddy who was seething in rage when the bodyguards came to him, tricked by your childish lie. But there was no way something bad would happen with this slight mistake right? You were not his spouse by any means.

But oh did everyone know you were someone he fancied for the first time in his whole life. Part of his brain just tried to look at this mistake in a bright light and it backfired.

Yan! Sugar Daddy who had to be endlessly teased by his great-for-nothing cartel friend. He had to endure the stress of losing you and the risk of not being able to take you back.

It's not like the Drug Lord couldn't help him, it was simply humiliating for him to endanger you by not keeping a close eye on you.

Yan! Sugar Daddy who could track you down in less than a week and ordered a mass slaughter on the faction that imprisoned you. You were not wounded terribly but a wound was still a wound.

Yan! Sugar Daddy was just a confidant to the Drug Lord and an infamous lawyer. You only knew he was a lawyer but never the lurking threat of his other occupation. No wonder he was always wary of his surroundings.

How could someone from such a cold underground world have the heart to fall in love with you? That was what you thought when you woke up to his concerned face.

Weeks passed and it didn't take him so long to propose to you, for you to become his spouse.

"I truly love you, dear. I have never even once seen our arrangement as something strictly business instead." He showed you a velvety box with a diamond ring in it. "I admit, it was not the best approach but I thought I could work my way into your heart while profiting you with all the benefits and luxuries you could have from me."

He swallowed the lump in his throat, "I wanted you to see how capable I am."

Something told you that nothing good would come out of your refusal. And instead, logic swarm into your brain. You had been in an arrangement with him for almost a year already and had never even once felt any hardships.

He was nice to you, downright kind and loving even. He cared for you deeply and wouldn't hurt you in any way. It was your fault that you broke free from the barrier of protection he granted you.

With great fame and luxuries, came all sorts of threats. He wasn't disloyal like those higher-ups. He didn't belittle you like others would. He loved you.

Even if you didn't love him, you knew how great it felt to be loved by him. There was not a single loss from this arrangement which was a marriage, right?

#Yulian the Corruption #LIfE Project #LIfE Project 5k celebration #LIfE Project 7 Years Anniversary #Yandere x Reader #Yandere x GN Reader #Yandere Scenarios #Yandere Imagines #Eat well all of you Yulian simps

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lushrue · 4 months ago

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dinner party (nsfw)

ghoap x fem!reader

cw: oral (m and f receiving), dubcon (sort of?), voyeurism, dom ghost

it was supposed to be a normal dinner party.

by all accounts, it had been up to this point. it wasn’t unusual for your husband to invite the men he worked with over for dinner, especially johnny. the man lives alone, he’d said, least I can do is give ‘em a nice home-cooked meal every once in a while. you always pulled out the stops, cooking something bordering on gourmet that the mess halls couldn’t even hope to replicate. tonight, it had been grilled salmon with wild rice and roasted asparagus.

conversation over dinner was normal, aided by the wine and whiskey loosening everyone’s lips. you’re far more sociable than simon is, but that doesn't take much, so the alcohol kept the words flowing freely. it wasn’t until after dinner that things started to shift.

the three of you settled in the living room with your respective spirits, wrapping up the night with friendly conversation over light dessert. you moved to your usual spot in the armchair beside the bookshelf, but the sound of simon clicking his tongue at you stopped you in your tracks. he was sat in his own chair nearest the sofa, legs spread like a king on his throne. you couldn’t quite keep your eyes from wandering, admiring the way his jeans clung to his thighs. he met your gaze, the corner of his lips quirked up in a mischievous smirk. he patted his thigh and you felt embarrassment burn your cheeks.

you glanced over to johnny, as if to remind simon that you had company, but he didn’t seem to care. his dark eyes stayed fixed on you, silence falling over the room as johnny’s gaze followed his lieutenant’s. simon cocked his head, a gesture that you recognized as obey or else. you didn’t feel like testing the waters tonight, so you padded over to him, perching yourself on his thigh.

your husband’s arm snaked around your waist as you swirled your wine in your glass, staring at the whirlpool it created to distract you from the way johnny was eyeing you. simon had pulled you onto his lap for a reason, and part of you wondered if it wasn’t entirely selfish motivation that had you positioned here. simon’s hand stroked over the crushed velvet of the dress he’d insisted you wear, sliding down to grip your ass occasionally when you got too fidgety.

conversation gradually turned to their work, so you tuned them out. it wasn’t that you weren’t interested; most of it just flew over your head. it gave you time to focus on the way your husband was feeling you up. his hand never stayed in one place too long, sliding from your shoulder to your spine to the nape of your neck and down. it made shivers run down your spine, goosebumps rising on your arms and legs the longer it continued. despite your squirming, you managed to stay ladylike, a metaphorical aspirin between your knees as the two men talked.

“so, how’s y’r sex life?” simon asked, which snapped you back to attention. johnny seemed just as bewildered as you did at the question, his cheeks flushed scarlet beneath the stubble. you nudged simon’s shoulder, shaking your head at him. “simon, that’s not polite,” you said, but he didn’t pay you any mind. he was too busy watching johnny fluster and scramble to find his words. “l.t., I-” he started, but simon held up a hand to stop him. “nah, don’ play dumb with me, lad. heard ya jus’ the other day in the rec room. talkin’ about how ya haven’t had a good shag in months, somethin’ like tha’.”

you were just as embarrassed as johnny was now. you knew simon wasn’t the most tactful of men, but this was a whole other level. johnny stuttered around his words, trying to find some kind of reply that was appropriate for the situation. nothing would be appropriate for this situation, you thought. simon just chuckled, his hand rubbing the plush cheek of your ass. “look how flustered ‘e is, lovie,” he said to you, finally giving you his full attention. “poor man, doesn’ have a good bird like I do. no one to cook ‘im a nice dinner and keep ‘is cock wet.”

as flustered as you were, the words sent a jolt straight to your core. taking care of your husband was a sense of pride for you. you got a primal satisfaction out of sinking to your knees and sucking him dry after he’d had a hard day. it meant the world to you when his shoulders sagged and released the burden that he’d been carrying, all at your hands. you shifted on his lap, pressing your thighs together to get some relieving friction.

simon looked back at johnny, who seemed just as affected. he had his hands clasped over his lap, his gaze cast down at the throw rug like it was the most interesting thing he’d ever seen. “ya wanna know wha’ it’s like, sergeant?” simon asked, his voice dropping into a register only you got to hear. “wanna feel my sweet, pretty dove wrapped aroun’ ya?” johnny jolted like he’d been shocked with a prod, wide blue eyes looking up at his commanding officer. there was bewilderment there, you noticed. clearly, he hadn’t been expecting this. but behind the surprise, there was something more carnal. he looked hungry, like a mutt begging for scraps from the table.

your husband placed a firm hand on your back, taking the wine glass from your hands and coaxing you to stand. “g’won, lovie. on your knees for our bashful lad, hmm?” simon’s choice of words struck you. our. this was for both of you, not just simon. the two of you had discussed the idea of a threesome once, but it felt like a pipe dream then. you’d expressed interest, never really expecting simon to share but confessing your fantasy all the same. and now, here it was. Happening.

you did as you were told, kneeling in front of the sofa where johnny was. from this angle, you could see how harshly his chest was rising and falling, his breath quick and uncertain. it brought you a strange sense of satisfaction that you could fluster a special ops soldier so easily. you sat there expectantly, but johnny didn’t move. he just stared at you, almost the same way he’d stared at his dinner plate before digging in. his eyes traced the contours of your body, over your shoulders and down to your full chest, over your breasts and down to the plush of your stomach and thighs where they pressed against your dress.

“starin’ won’ make ‘er cum, johnny,” simon quipped. you drew in a sharp breath, glancing back over your shoulder at your husband. he clicked his tongue again, motioning back towards johnny. “ah-ah, keep your eyes on ‘im, precious. he needs y’r attention more’n I do.” you looked back up at johnny dutifully, your lips parting slightly as you waited for him to do something, anything. the fabric of the rug was biting into your knees, making you a tad uncomfortable. “she’s yer wife, simon, I cannae jus’-” “you can an’ you will,” simon interrupted. “the only way she gets any pleasure tonigh’ is by your hand, an’ I don’t let my wife go to bed unsatisfied.” you let out a whine at that, the stakes so much higher now that you knew the terms. johnny just had to touch you.

“steamin’ jesus,” the Scot cursed under his breath, your whine sending a spark of pleasure between his legs. he’d never heard a woman make that sound before, especially not at the prospect of being pleased by him. “i can touch ‘er?” he asked, but he didn’t look at simon for an answer. his stare was more intense, sizing you up, deciding which piece of you would be most juicy to sink his teeth into. simon hummed in amusement. “unless y’r bloody telekinetic, s’pose ya have to, don’ ya?” simon responded, shifting in his chair. you heard the zipper of his jeans go down and it was almost painful that you couldn’t look at him.

johnny reached forward, taking your chin in his thumb and forefinger. he stroked his thumb along your jaw, shuddering on his exhale. “y’r so soft,” he breathed out, marvelling at the beauty of you on your knees. you lean your head into his touch, following the pulls and pushes of his hand as he inspects you. “such a bonnie bird,” he cooed, spreading his legs and pulling you in closer to him. you shuffle forward, settling yourself more squarely between his knees.

“simon says ya suck cock like a dream. is he righ’?” johnny asked. you nod, leaning forward to mouth at his crotch through his jeans. you could feel how hard he was already from barely having touched you. instead of focusing on the fact that simon was going around blabbing about your blowjob skills, you chose to take in as much of johnny’s musk as you could through his pants. you couldn’t quite smell him, but there was the barest hint of his body wash peeking through.

simon had started stroking himself to the sight of both of you, the wet shlick reaching your ears and emboldening you. knowing that your husband was enjoying this ignited a fire that started in your core and spread through your veins. johnny got the same motivation, locking eyes with simon for only a moment before shoving his jeans and boxers down. you gasp at the suddenness of it, placing your hands on his bare thighs to steady yourself. before you can fully get your bearings, johnny grabs the back of your head and shoves you down.

he’s not as long as simon, but he’s certainly thicker. he fills your mouth almost instantly, your cheeks aching a little with the stretch. you and johnny moan in unison, your eyes fluttering shut as johnny’s hand balls up in your hair. simon chuckles behind you, his hand tightening around himself. “tha’s it, lad. fuck ‘er mouth good, she likes it a bit rough.”

johnny’s hips start thrusting, the ruddy tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat and making you gag. tears bead up in the corners of your eyes, whimpers and moans giving johnny some vibration as he fucks your throat. you applauded yourself for the decision not to wear mascara; cleaning the tears and spit from your face would be difficult enough. saliva dribbled down johnny’s length, wetting your lips as you hollowed your cheeks. the salt of him coated your tongue, precum leaking down your throat. above you, johnny was grunting and groaning like a rutting bull, thrusting into your mouth with abandon. “how’s my girl feel, johnny?” simon asked, his voice sounding strained. hearing just how affected they both were had your pussy dripping with arousal. “fuck, si, she’s…ah, so warm. fuckin’ milkin’ me.”

your tongue traced the protruding vein on the underside of johnny’s cock, delighting in the shudder you earned from him. it didn’t take long after that for him to finish down your throat. you swallowed every drop, taking in everything he offered. he was more bitter than simon, but you enjoyed it all the same. you pulled your mouth off of johnny’s cock with a wet pop, peeking up at him with heavy lidded eyes. the man you saw was not the man who’d sat across from you at dinner. he looked downright feral, grabbing you like a man possessed. he pulled you up from the floor, laying you out on the sofa and tugging your underwear down.

before johnny tossed them away, he held them to his nose, drinking in the smell of you. he groaned, balling the fabric up in his fists. “y’r bird smells like heav’n, l.t.,” he rasped, dropping the panties and fixing his wild gaze back on you. “bet she tastes even better.” without any further warning, he dipped his head between your thighs, thick tongue lapping up the moisture from your cunt. you squealed in surprise, throwing your head back against the cushions. simon bit back a curse behind his hand, watching his best friend devour his wife like his last meal. the mere thought was enough to make him spill all over his hand and stomach, his release silent so as not to distract johnny.

you didn’t think anything could. your thighs clamped around his head to keep him in place, but it was hardly necessary. even the rapture couldn’t pull him away from your pussy and the nectar that dripped from it. as much as you enjoyed the feeling, johnny wasn’t as coordinated as simon was. his tongue was wild, moving for his pleasure rather than yours.

you twitched and moaned when he would happen to graze your clit, hoping that he’d get the hint, but he never did. there was no technique, no purpose. johnny came up for air, hazy eyes meeting yours. he was pussy-drunk, your juices shining on his lips and chin. he nosed at the inside of your plush thigh, sinking his teeth into the fat there. it stung and your back arched, reaching down to push his head away. the sting wasn’t pleasurable, not compared to his tongue against your cunt.

the moment simon caught the resistance from you, he was on his feet, yanking johnny back by his mohawk. the Scot gasped, back arching as simon held his hair tight in his fist. “easy, mutt,” simon growled in johnny’s ear, pushing his head down to look at you. “tha’s my girl, and y’r gonna treat ‘er with the respect she deserves. not some blushin’ virgin tha’s never had a woman, are ya?” johnny huffed, taking the question as an insult to his manhood. “‘course not,” he said, voice tense and strained. simon shook johnny’s head, then released his hair. “didn’ think so. remember y’r place, treat ‘er right.”

the scolding from simon had leveled johnny, forced him to slow down and think with his brain and not his cock. you twitched and whined as he paid more attention to your aching clit, swollen and puffy with desire. your hips bucked against your will, pressing against johnny’s tongue harder.

finally, his tongue pushed inside you, caressing your walls. you clenched around him, tension building in your lower stomach. “don’t stop, fuck, don’t stop!” you begged, chest heaving. simon appeared at your side, stroking your hair. his gaze was soft, admiring, a welcome contrast to johnny’s. “cum on his tongue, love. he’s been waitin’ for it, not gonna stop ‘til he gets it.” those words were all it took to push you over the edge, shuddering and whining as johnny licked you through your orgasm.

you felt floaty after, the pleasure of having your husband’s best friend eat you out while your husband watched going straight to your head. there were cooed praises and kisses to your cheeks, but you weren’t entirely sure who they came from. hushed words were exchanged at your feet, then johnny was zipping himself up and kissing you goodbye. simon wrapped you in your favorite fuzzy blanket, the gentle sway of his gait soothing you as he carried you to the bedroom. once he’d laid you on the bed, he started to leave, but your soft hum and hand on his arm stopped him. “si? can we do that again?” you asked, voice soft and wrecked.

simon just chuckled, brushing your hair away from your face. “don’ you worry, lovie. he’s comin’ back for dinner next week.”

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writtenapoiogy · 9 months ago

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longfully awaited; jacaerys velaryon

pairing: jacaerys velaryon x f!reader

summary: sequel to patience running thin. the wedding night.

word count: 2.2k

warnings: nsfw, 18+, smut, MINORS DNI, SWEET MARRIED JACEXREADER, nerves, oral (f receiving), fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, hair pulling (who wouldn't when his hair is that beautiful), some dirty talk, high valyrian used and i think that's it

a/n: the much anticipated sequel i am so sorry for the wait. i really hope everyone enjoys this!! (barely proofread i will go through it after work tomorrowww)

READ PART ONE HERE

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about that night.” You whispered to your now husband.

Your wedding ceremony had taken place at Aegon’s Garden at Dragonstone. It was just your parents and the Queen and Jacaerys’ little siblings. The day was full of love and there wasn’t one dark cloud in the sky. Your mother believed it to be a good omen for your future marriage.

The two of you were now at your wedding feast and you couldn’t help but think of the duties to take place once the two of you leave. You spoke to Rhaenyra before the wedding discussing your discomfort with the normal bedding ceremony. She immediately made sure nothing of the sort would take place.

Jacaerys smirked before responding into your ear. “Just a little bit longer, my sweet.” He grabbed your hand and rested them in your lap.

The two of you endured about another fifteen more drunk congratulations that had come your way before Jace rose and announced your departure to everyone. You stood joining him and bid farewell to all of your guests, bowing at your queen.

Jacaerys held your hand firmly as he guided you down the corridor to your newly shared bedchamber. You both were riddled with excitement. You two would finally be one together.

When you arrived Jace pressed you against the door, eager to feel you against him. He placed his lips upon yours in a fiery kiss.

The air in your lungs left you, making you dizzy.

Jacaerys was an all-consuming heat. His lips were hot almost searing. Your hands were tracing all over his clothed chest. You wanted to feel his warmth against you. You let out a moan against his lips. At that Jace moved his hand towards the door handle and the two of you stumbled in.

Jacaerys hands were gripping the back of your dress. “You do not know how long I have wanted this. How bad I have needed this.”

“I could probably take a guess, Husband.” You lifted your head up and smiled at him, getting just a tad bit closer to him. Close enough for him to smell your intoxicating scent.

He placed his hands on your cheeks, dropping his head down, reconnecting your lips. He deepened your kiss. You parted your lips allowing his tongue to slip in and glide across yours. He moved his hands to the back of your dress. He was desperately trying to remove the article of clothing that was keeping your full beauty away from him.

Jace began to tug your corset strings free. Being as impatient as he is, he tore open the back of your dress.

You gasped against his open mouth. Your dress slid past your shoulders and fell, pooling at the bottom of your feet. You felt goosebumps litter your body when a particularly cold breeze flew through your window.

Jace’s eyes fell down to your now hardened buds. He couldn’t help but reach his hand out, letting his thumb graze the side before his hand slid down your waist. “Mmm. They are perfect. You are perfect.” Jacaerys took in your bare beauty. He could not believe himself to be so lucky to be wed to you.

You could melt at his words. His voice like silk. “You are wearing too much clothing, Husband.” Your hands scrambled to undress his top half. Jacaerys groaned at the term Husband. He never thought hearing you say that would make ignite the way it did. His hand shuffled down to rid himself of his pants.

Your eyes slowly glazed over his body. Taking in everything about him. The cut of his abs. Then they landed upon his cock. You had spoken to your mother about the whole… marital act. However, you weren’t quite sure how this wouldn’t cause you pain, you blanched at the thought.

Jacaerys took note of your expression. He pulled you closer to him so that all the two of you could see were each other’s faces. No need to stress over the act. “My love. You do not need to worry. I will take care of you.” He placed a kiss on your soft swollen lips.

“B-but, I do no-,” You stammered.

“Do you trust me?” His eyes stared into yours with such intensity. All you could do was swallow your words and nod. He kissed you again, “Good.”

You both stepped outside of the pile of clothes that were now surrounding you on the floor. Jacaerys guided you to the side of the bed. You both climbed in with Jacaerys hovering over you. He placed soft kisses all over your face. He bent his head down towards your ear and whispered to you how beautiful you are. His words and actions made your heart flutter and that familiar burn in your stomach start to churn.

“I wish to learn all about your body. Wish to touch you. All of you. Every square inch of your body.” He began to pepper kisses all along you. Down your neck. Across your chest, leaving fleeting kisses on your nipples, causing you to arch your back against him.

You ran your fingers through his hair, lifting his head slightly. “We have our whole lives for that Jacaerys. Please. I need you. I have needed you for so long.”

“Very well, My wife.” He kissed your forehead before he moved down, coming to a halt right in front of your heat. “However you can not deny me this.”

Jace’s face was burrowed into your cunt in seconds. You gasped as he tested the waters. He was licking and sucking every part of your cunt, listening to your responses. He licked a stripe from your entrance to your clit that had you shuddering. Jacaerys had a skillful tongue. Whether that be negotiating with vassals or in the martial bed.

You ran your fingers through his curls and gripped with all your might. “Jacaerys,” You moaned.

At the sound of your pleasure, he slipped a finger inside of your warmth. He groaned against your clit feeling your tightness. It made his dick twitch, but he ignored it. His focus was on you right now. Making sure you were comfortable and ready for him.

Jace continued to pump his finger into you. He didn’t add another finger till your juices were dripping down his palm. He hummed against your clit as he coaxed sweet moans out of you with his fingers. They were rubbing against the inside of your walls so nicely.

You felt yourself reaching dangerously close to your peak. You started to grind your core against Jacaerys tongue. He stilled himself allowing you to use him to reach your climax. Your face was contorted struggling to come.

Jacaerys, whose eyes were staring at you observing your face closely, closed his mouth over your clit and began to suck. As you continued to fuck yourself on his fingers, you felt your orgasm run through your body in a hot wave of pleasure that covered your whole body.

After your climax, your hips continued to grind down onto his fingers. They were still inside you, stretching you to perfection for him. He knew you needed him. He could feel how needy you were for him. Once wasn’t enough and it never would be for you. You could see yourself being victim to his pleasure for as long as you both shall please.

“That was so good my love,” Jacaerys said as he went to hover over you. His fingers never left your heat pumping into you slowly. Your juices from your orgasm created a squelching sound, which embarrassed you just a bit.

You turned your head from him as he entered your space. The scent of your arousal was strong on his face.

“You shouldn’t be embarrassed. This is something so beautiful. You do not have to shy away from it, my wife. We are doing our marital duty.” He laid his lips upon yours in a hot wet kiss. You could taste yourself on his tongue and lips. Jacaerys kissed down the side of your cheek to your neck. He sucked on the patch of skin right below your ear.

Your legs spread even wider for him. Accepting him in between your thighs. He regrettably removed his fingers from your sopping cunt. The both of you gasped when he leaned forward, his cock slid through your folds, the tip swiping your clit.

“Fuck,” Jacaerys rasped in your ear. He knew after feeling your slick heat against his cock that he was ruined. Laying with you was going to knock his world off its axis. “Do you feel ready to take me, my sweet?”

Your mother had informed you how horseback riding helps breakdown the barrier within you which should help ease the pain. But the uncertainty still ran through your body making you tense. “As ready as I believe I can be.”

Jace kissed the side of your ear. “Just relax. I got you.” He whispered.

His sweet words melt into your bed. You two were skin-to-skin. Completely bare. Jacaerys lined himself up to your entrance. He then moved his hand from around himself to rub his thumb along the side of your stomach, trying to calm you from the intrusion. He lifted himself on his unoccupied arm. He wanted to stare into your eyes as he entered you for the first time.

Jacaerys mouth fell agape when the tip of his cock finally breached through your entrance. Thanks to Your Husband, he slid into you with almost no resistance. Your warm wet walls inviting him in. “Fuck, ao issi vok.” You are perfect.

“Oh, gods.” You mewled once you felt him in you completely.

“Look at me, My Wife.”

Your eyes met his but only for a short second. He began to thrust into you and you squeezed your eyes shut. The stretch of his hard cock was a bit much. All of your other senses were drowned out by the overwhelming feeling of lust and pleasure. All you could feel was the push and pull of him inside of you.

“You feel so good.” He helped ease you around his cock before he spoke again. “Please try, my love. Look me in the eyes while I fuck you”

Your eyes shot open at his words. He dropped his forehead to yours and kept a slow pace. Little whimpers and whines left your mouth. Your eyebrows furrowed at the pleasure you were now receiving. Your eyes never left the princes usually hazel eyes. Which were now filled with lust.

“That’s my girl.” He felt you clamp down around him and he let out an unkingly sound. He knew you were close. Your heat was pulling him deeper inside of you. You were getting wetter with each thrust.

“Jacaerys.” You warned

“Oh, I love the way you moan my name. Fuck, I’m not going to last much longer.” Jace removed his head from yours and nestled it into your neck. You two were emitting such a lovely scent. It pleased his nose and made his body feel like molten lava. It made him want to ravish you and spill his seed inside of you.

He moved his hips to a slight angle so that every time he entered you, he hit that sweet spot deep within your heat.

“Jace! Fuck. Right there.” Your hands were everywhere on him. Scratching down his back. Running your fingers through his beautiful brown locs.

“Nyke gīmigon. Fuck, nyke gīmigon.” He growled against your neck in High Valyrian. I know. Fuck, I know.

Jace needed you to come before him. He was feeling so much pleasure. His hand never would compare to this. If he came before you he might faint before you get the chance to finish. He brought one hand down to rub your sensitive bud at the same time he began to suck the flesh of your neck.

“Jacaerys! Oh, Gods!” You screamed into your hot chambers. You were overcome with pleasure. You began to tremble under your husband.

Jacaerys was quick to follow behind you. Spilling his seed with one last hard thrust. “Fuck.”

Jace waited till you both came down from your highs to pull his limp cock out of you. You winced and he hissed at the feeling. Jacaerys got out of bed and brought a cloth to clean the both of you. Once he had finished and kissed you everywhere he could reach and he got you both under the covers.

You rested your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. He laid there running his hand up and down your arm. “I could lay like this forever, with you by my side.”

“I could not ask for a better side to be mushed upon, My Future King.” You beamed at your husband.

Jacaerys chucked. “I love you, My Future Queen.”

“Avy jorrāelan tolī, Valzȳrys.” I love you more, Husband.

Jace’s eyes widened. That was the first time you had ever spoken High Valyrian. You sounded lovely. He looked at you as if you had just mounted a Dragon. Bewildered and all the more in love.

“I have been practicing with Your Mother. She wishes for me to learn your language just as much as you do. She is a wonderful teacher.” You spoke kindly about your new mother-in-law.

He couldn’t think of anything else but to kiss you before sleep took the both of you.

#jacaerys velaryon #house of the dragon #jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys velaryon smut #jacaerys x reader #jacaerys targaryen #jacaerys targaryen smut #prince jacaerys #hotd jacaerys

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cl0udy3 · 26 days ago

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𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐄

ellie williams x dina's sister!reader fluff, some angst occasionally i think, slow burn wc: 9616 a/n: first time writing something this long, i had a friend beta read but she didn't see the whole thing so it might need some work near the end but hope its okay for now :D (also this is the first part of the acts, i'll be working on the next one soon, a little busy with class) ✩ pt2 | pt3

She was new.

Not new-new–Ellie had been in Jackson for over a year by the time you really met her--but still new enough that people said her name with a little weight behind it. Joel's girl. The one who came in from the Fireflies. The one who survived.

You'd seen her around. Heard rumors. And honestly? You thought she looked like kind of a dick.

Always glaring. Always muttering. Always pulling her sleeves over her hands like she didn't want to touch the world.

You didn't plan on talking to her.

It just sort of... happened.

You were coming back from a short patrol loop near the creek, boots soaked and mood worse, and you passed by the stables where Ellie sat crouched behind one of the sheds. Knife in one hand. Dead rabbit in the other. Her sleeves were pushed to her elbows, red with blood. Her fingers weren't steady.

You almost kept walking. You probably should've kept walking.

But something about the way she kept slicing and reslicing the same patch of skin made you stop.

"You're gonna ruin the meat," you said.

She froze. Looked up. She had this wild, cornered-animal lookin er eye--like she'd been alone for a long time and didn't like being seen.

"What?"

You pointed. "You're cutting it wrong. Want me to show you?"

Ellie blinked at you like you'd just offered to skin her instead. Then, slowly, she held out the knife.

You stepped forward, knelt down next to her, and slid the blade down cleanly, quick and practiced. You didn't look at her, but you felt her watching.

"You always sneak up on people like that?" she muttered.

You smirked. "You always ruin perfectly good rabbits?"

And then she laughed. Just a huff. Barely there. But it cracked through something all the same.

You handed the knife back. "I'm Y/N."

She hesitated. "Ellie."

"Yeah, I know."

Of course you did. Everyone knew Ellie.

You didn't expect to see her again.

And then, a week later, you were assigned to patrol with her.

She was always with Joel. Or sketching on his front porch. Or slipping through the front gate with blood on her knuckles and a scowl that dared anyone to ask. You'd just seen her around enough to recognize the shape of her, the short temper, the thousand-yard stare she got when she thought no one was looking.

But you didn't speak much after the stables. Not until the morning you were both assigned to patrol.

The day was bleak, but a normal, snowy day in Jackson.

Maria handed you your slip, eyes already moving to the next person in line. "West loop. You're with Ellie."

You hesitated.

Ellie didn't.

She glanced at you--brief, unreadable--and said, "Cool," like it didn't matter. Like you were just any other name on a page.

You followed her out to the stables in silence. She moved quick, didn't wait up, didn't look back to check if you were behind her. It didn't offend you. You weren't sure she was even capable of small talk.

You saddled your horse quietly. She did the same. Neither of you spoke until you were past the gates and the trees swallowed up the sky.

The snow was light that morning, soft enough to let the horses keep pace without slipping. You didn't say anything for the first twenty minutes. Figured she'd appreciate the quiet.

Then she said, suddenly, like she couldn't help herself. "So. You new, or just quiet?"

You blinked. "I've been here. Just not loud."

Ellie glanced over, eyebrow raised. "You on patrol before?"

"Yeah. Mostly with Tommy or Nora. Sometimes Jesse."

"Damn," she said. "They really threw me a wild card."

You snorted. "You're not exactly subtle either, y'know."

She didn't answer, but you caught the smirk pulling at her mouth before she turned her head. The first thread of something loosening between you.

The next time either of you spoke, it was after spotting a limping fox slipping between the trees.

"Front left leg," you whispered, pointing. "Injured. Look how it leans."

Ellie followed your gesture. "You got good eyes."

You shrugged. "I get bored easy."

"Bored enough to track limping foxes?"

You glanced at her. "Better than staring at your back the whole ride."

Her laugh was quick and surprised. "Okay. You're kind of funny."

"Only kind of?"

"Don't get cocky."

You didn't say it, but your chest felt warmer all of a sudden. Like something was working its way open. Like maybe this wouldn't be so bad.

Later, when you stopped to check a half collapsed shed for signs of infested, she waved you back with one hand and went in first. Cleared the corners like she'd done it a thousand times. You stepped in after, the air inside stale and cold, and sat on a crate while she double-checked the trapdoor.

"Clear," she said, and plopped down beside you, close enough for your knee to knock.

Neither of you moved to fix it.

You pulled a half-crushed protein bar from your coat and offered her half. She look at it like it might explode. "That thing's probably older than I am."

"It's either this or whatever weird jerky Maria gave me this morning."

Ellie took it. Ate it. Looked like she regretted every bite.

"You're right," she said. "That was awful."

You smiled. "And yet you still ate it."

"I'm not wasteful."

"Mm. Brave."

She laughed again, this time quieter. The sound stayed with you.

After a while, the cold started to settle in deeper, and neither of you said anything. You just sat there, shoulder to shoulder, breath visible in the air between you.

She looked down at your hands, then her own. "You always this calm out here?"

You shrugged. "I like quiet."

She tilted her head. "That's rare."

You glanced over. "You don't?"

"I do," she said, after a beat. "I just never get to have it with anyone else."

Something tightened in your throat, but you didn't let it show. Just nodded.

"Get we're both a little rare, then."

She looked at you a second too long. Then stood. "C'mon. Still got two markers to check."

The rest of the ride back, the silence felt different. Like a thread had been tugged, something delicate but present, stretching between you with every word you didn't say.

When you got to the gate, she slowed her horse beside yours and said, "You did alright."

You raised a brow. "High praise."

"I mean it."

You opened your mouth. Closed it. Then, "You're not bad yourself."

She nodded. Looked like she wanted to say something else. Didn't.

As you left your horse in the stables again, you watched her walk away, hands in her pockets, shoulders hunched against the wind.

You didn't know what any of it meant.

But you knew you wanted to ride with her again.

And thanks to some miracle, it wasn't the last time they paired you.

You weren't sure who requested it--if anyone did--but it kept happening. Quiet little loops on the outskirts. Traps. Check-ins. One infected, two at the most. Not much conversation at first, just her voice cutting through the silence when it mattered. "Right side." "Stay back." "You okay?"

Eventually, the silences weren't so sharp. They softened. Turned into something like... habit.

A week passed. Then two.

A third patrol ended later than planned. Snow came down heavy, faster than expected, and by the time you made it back, the sky was nearly black and your hands were numb through your gloves. You didn't go straight home. Neither did she.

Ellie sat with you on the back steps of the weapon shed, both of you still half-geared up. Her knife lay across her lap. You were eating something cold and miserable from your pocket, she was chewing a toothpick she'd found god-knows-where.

"You ever think about leaving?" you asked, after a long stretch of nothing.

She didn't look at you.

"Like... just walking past the perimeter. Seeing what's out there."

Another beat.

"Yeah," she said eventually. "All the time."

You nodded. "But you stay."

She shrugged. "Don't know if I'm supposed to."

"What do you mean?"

Ellie finally looked at you then, eyes darker than usual in the low light. There was something strange in her face. Not sad, not angry. Just tired. Hollow in a way you hadn't noticed before.

"Sometimes I think I should've died a long time ago."

The words landed like a gut punch. Not dramatic. Not loud. Just matter-of-fact. Like she'd said it before. Like she believed it.

You didn't know what to say.

She was still looking at you, watching for something--maybe judgement, maybe fear--but you just sat there with her. Let the silence stretch.

"Why?" you asked, careful.

She pulled the toothpick from her mouth, rolled it between her fingers.

"Just feels like... I keep walking away from shit other people don't get to."

You swallowed, throat dry. "Maybe that's not a bad thing."

Ellie didn't answer. Just turned her head toward the dark tree line, like she could see past it. Past Jackson. Past all of it.

"Survivor's guilt," you said, quieter. "That's what they call it."

She laughed, but it was a small sound. "That's a dumb name."

"Most things are."

You nudged her knee with yours. She didn't pull away.

After a while, she asked, "Do you ever feel like that?"

You looked down at your hands.

"Not in the same way," you admitted. "But... yeah. Sometimes."

She nodded. Didn't press.

You sat there until the cold soaked through your coats and your bones started to ache. She stood first, offered you a hand, pulled you up without a word.

That night, when you got home, your fingers still tingled where they'd brushed hers.

***

After another quiet patrol, you followed each other to the kitchen for dinner. You don't ask her to sit with you. But she does.

Slides her tray across from yours in the cafeteria and grumbles about the soup like she's always been there. You both eat in silence, your knees occasionally brushing under the table neither of you pulling away.

When you stand to leave, she follows. Doesn't ask. Doesn't even glance up--just tugs her jacket on like it's a habit.

Outside, the sky's streaked with purples and gold, bleeding into the snowy mountains. The air smells like wet bark, like winter giving up.

Ellie kicks a half frozen pile of slush. It splashes your boot.

You side-eye her.

"Oops," she says.

You continue to walk in silence after that, boots squelching in the softening snow. She keeps her hands buried in her pockets, head tilted like she's listening to something you can't hear.

At one point, her shoulder bumps yours--not hard, just enough to make you look. She doesn't apologize. You don't say anything.

The silence is weightless. Safe.

Right before the path splits, she slows.

"Tomorrow?" she asks, voice low.

You nod, almost without thinking. "Tomorrow."

She turns towards Joel's place. You watch her walk for a few steps, like maybe you forgot to say something.

But there's time.

You tell yourself there's always time.

That night, you set your alarm earlier than usual.

You don't know why. You just want to see what her face looks like when she tastes the worst coffee ever made.

The next morning, you find her barely conscious, slouching against the mess hall wall like she spent all night fighting off a bear. Her hoodie's half-on, eyes half-open.

You hand her the mug wordlessly. She takes it like a reflex.

"What is this?" she croaks.

"Liquid motivation."

She sips. And then freezes. Then winces. "You trying to kill me?"

"It's artisanal," you say, straight-faced. "Crafted with love and desperation."

She glares at you like you've insulted her ancestors. "This tastes like betrayal."

You raise an eyebrow. "Drink it or go back to bed."

She sighs, dramatic as hell, but drinks it. Grimaces the entire time. When the mug's empty, she slams it on the table like it's personally wronged her.

"I'm telling Maria."

"You're welcome."

She rolls her eyes. But when she walks off, she mutters over her shoulder, "Next time I expect a real gift."

You don't forget that.

Two days later, she finds you behind the library, elbows deep in stubborn, frostbitten roots. You're trying to make something out of frozen soil and leftover hope. It isn't going well.

She crouches beside you, not saying anything first.

"Gardening now?" she says eventually.

"You glance at her. "Killing time."

She digs into her pocket and pulls out something small and purple, wilted but not dead. She brushes it off gently and holds it up to you like an offering.

"It reminded me of you."

You blink. "Because I'm beautiful and radiant?"

She gives you a look. "Because you're stubborn. And you grow in places you shouldn't."

You snort. "Wow. Romantic."

She shrugs like she's done her part and stands.

You watch her goes, flower still in your gloved hand, heart thudding for reasons you don't name.

That night, you press it in your notebook. The petals stain the page.

After that, she starts showing up more.

You try to write it off at first. Jackson's not that big. People cross paths.

But then she's on your patrol shifts. Leaning against fences during training. Sitting in the market like she's waiting for someone--and she always leaves when you do.

One afternoon, you catch her watching you spar with Jesse. She doesn't blink when you spot her. Doesn't look away.

You wipe sweat off your forehead and walk past her without a word. She falls into step beside you like it's the most natural thing in the world.

"You following me?" you ask, half-teasing.

She shrugs. "You're just everywhere."

You don't say anything. Neither does she. But later, when she isn't around, you notice.

It's a week later, late afternoon, when you find Ellie again.

She's sitting with her back against the barn wall, sketchbook in her lap, pencil smudged against her fingers. Her brows are furrowed, jaw slack, totally focused. The sun hits the side of her face in patches through the warped wooden slats, making her hair look redder than usual, like something burning low and slow.

You don't say anything at first. You just watch her.

Then she notices you.

"What," she mutters, barely looking up, "do I have something on my face?"

"No," you say, smirking. "Just surprised to see you doing something that looks... meditative."

She sticks her tongue out at you and goes back to her sketch. "I meditate all the time."

"Bullshit."

Ellie shrugs. "Fine. But drawing is kind of like meditating. Except when it pisses me off."

You inch closer and tilt your head to peek over her shoulder. "What is it?"

She hesitates for half a second before letting you look.

It's... a tree. Something about is it ethereal. She had somehow managed to capture the essence of the real thing in her drawing. You couldn't quite put your finger on it, but it was somehow her.

You stare at it for a long moment. "It's beautiful."

She stiffens. Just slightly. Then shrugs again, like the compliment doesn't mean anything, even though it does.

"Thanks," she says. "You do anything like this?"

You blink. "Like drawing?"

"Yeah. Art. Hobbies. Fun shit."

You pause. "I garden sometimes."

Ellie turns to look at you. "That's it? Gardening?"

"I like it."

"Yeah, so do old people."

You glare. "Thanks."

"I mean, come on. You're telling me you've got nothing else in there?" She gestures vaguely to your head. "No secret skill? No tragic backstory? No like... knife-throwing championship title?"

You hesitate. Then sigh.

"I write."

She perks up. "Like what?"

"Just... stuff."

"Stuff?"

You give her a look. "Poetry."

There's a pause. Not a long one. But just long enough for you to regret saying it.

Then Ellie raises an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Yeah, okay. Laugh."

"I'm not laughing," she says. And she isn't. She's smirking a little, but it's more... curious than mocking. "That's actually kind of cool."

"It's stupid."

"Why?"

"I don't know. Feels personal. And I haven't written anything good in a long time."

Ellie leans back, the corner of her mouth twitching. "You got any of it still?"

You shake your head. "No."

She raises both brows now. "No?"

"I mean... yes. But I'm not showing you."

"Why not?"

"Because you'd make fun of me."

"I just said I wouldn't."

"You lie."

She grins. "Constantly. But not about this."

You look at her then. Really look. She's sitting there, sun in her hair, dirt on her knees, pencil still tucked between her fingers--and she's listening. Not just asking. Not just humoring you.

You're not used to that.

"I don't know," you say finally. "It's dumb."

Ellie opens her mouth like she's going to argue--but doesn't. She just shrugs and flicks her pencil against the paper a few times.

"Whatever. I'm still gonna bully you about it later."

"I'd expect nothing less."

You stay there a while long, talking about nothing, the kind of nothing that fills your chest like it's everything. And when the light starts to dim and your stomach growls and she makes some shitty joke about eating tree bark if the cafeteria runs out of food again, you walk with her. Shoulder to shoulder. Quiet.

That night, you stare at a blank page for twenty minutes before writing a single word.

And once you start, you can't stop.

You write about the way Ellie walks--fast like she's got somewhere to be, slow when she's next to you. You write about the way she talks, like every word is a dare, like silence is something she hasn't figure out how to live with yet. You write about the way her laugh hits you in the gut, sharp and sudden and rare.

And then, quieter--you write:

I have never wanted to be a place until I met you Now I want to be the ground you rest your boots on. The window you stare out of. The air that makes you stay.

It's not perfect, or polished, or even good. But it's true.

The next morning, you fold the page three times and slip it into your jacket pocket. Find her near the greenhouse where she always ends up when she thinks no one's watching. She's sitting cross-legged in the dirt, a pencil tucket behind one ear, her sleeves rolled up like spring isn't still pretending to be winter.

You hand her the folded paper without a word.

She doesn't ask what it is. Just unfolds it slowly, her eyes scanning each line, mouth moving just slightly. Reading it out loud in her head.

She doesn't say anything for a long moment. Then she folds it again--smaller this time--and tucks it into her jacket pocket, right over her chest.

"You should write more," she says.

And you do.

Because now you have a reason.

***

The next day, she’s gone.

Not in a dramatic way—no patrol assignment, no emergency, no blood trail leading into the trees. Just… gone. No Ellie at breakfast. No Ellie in the usual hallway corner with her boots half-laced and a sarcastic comment on her tongue. Not even a glimpse of her jacket disappearing around a corner.

You tell yourself it’s not a big deal.

She probably overslept. Or went out early. Or just needed space, like she sometimes does—quiet days where she holes up with her sketchbook or disappears into the woods with a bow and a scowl.

But still.

You feel it.

You feel it in the way your steps fall too loud on the gravel.

In the way your breakfast feels longer.

In the way you start listening for a voice that doesn’t come.

You keep catching yourself turning, expecting to find her slouched against a doorway or perched on a fence like a cat, arms crossed, that smug glint in her eye. And every time you don’t see her, something unsettles a little deeper in your ribs.

It’s not until late—near sundown, the sky fading soft orange and bruised lavender—that you notice the shape in your coat pocket. Something light. Hard. Small.

You stop walking.

Reach in.

It’s a cassette tape.

Old. Beat up. The label on the front half-peeled, the ink faded like it’s been thumbed over a dozen times. Someone’s handwriting still clings to it—smudged and slightly tilted.

The Cranberries – Everybody Else Is Doing It, So Why Can’t We?

No note.

No explanation.

Just the music.

You turn it over in your hand, wondering when she even could’ve slipped it in there. Maybe the night before. Maybe at dinner. Maybe while you were talking about something else, your hands too close together on the table, your eyes everywhere but on her.

You don’t even remember telling her you liked The Cranberries.

Maybe you didn’t.

Maybe she just knew.

You ask around quietly until you can borrow an old Walkman from Joel—told him you needed to check on some inventory tapes. He looked skeptical but didn’t press. Just handed it over with a grunt and a warning to rewind it when you’re done.

And then you go. Not far—just behind the greenhouse, where the sun spills in crooked beams through the broken glass and the air smells like mint and tomato vines and damp earth. No one really goes there unless it’s planting season.

It’s quiet.

You sit in the dirt.

You press play.

The first track starts—slow, a little dreamy, a little sad in that way that doesn’t ask for pity. Just wants to be felt.

Your chest aches before the chorus even hits.

By the second song, you’re not blinking as much as you should be.

The third track plays like it knows your name. Like someone cracked your ribs open just enough to slide it in there, leave it humming behind your heart.

It’s dumb. You know that.

It’s just a tape.

Just music.

But this—this is the closest thing to a love letter either of you have ever given. Or maybe received.

And just as the next song clicks in, you hear it:

Boots in the dirt.

Your pulse stutters.

You don’t turn around.

You don’t breathe.

The steps stop behind you.

Then—quietly—Ellie sits down beside you, close enough that the edges of your sleeves catch when the wind shifts. She doesn’t say anything.

You don’t either. Not right away.

The music keeps playing. The Walkman hums gently in your lap. You can feel her, there beside you, like static in your bones.

“This is a weird way to flirt,” you murmur, still staring ahead.

Ellie scoffs under her breath. “I’m not flirting.”

You glance sideways, trying not to smile. “You gave me sad girl music.”

“You said you liked sad girls with guitars.”

A pause.

You’re not sure why you say it, only that it tumbles out before you can stop it.

“I like you.”

It’s not loud. Not dramatic. Just honest.

Ellie blinks. The faintest hitch in her breath. Then she looks away, out toward the greenhouse, lips pressed together like she’s trying not to bite them.

It happens maybe a week later.

You’d just finished helping unload some supplies, arms aching and smelling like old wood and diesel. She found you near the mess hall, hair frizzed from the wind, dirt smudged across her cheek.

“Wanna ditch?” she said, half a smirk on her face, like she already knew your answer.

So you did. Followed her across the back fences, up the rusted fire escape of the old building by the east wall—one of the quietest spots in Jackson. No guards. No foot traffic. Just peeling brick and a half-collapsed roof where the stars come out clearer than anywhere else.

The climb up to the roof wasn’t exactly safe—half-rotted boards, rusted metal rungs, one narrow ledge that made your stomach drop when you looked down. But Ellie had done it before, and when she offered her hand without saying a word, you took it without thinking.

The air up there was colder, sharper. Windy. You pulled your coat tighter and tucked your chin down as you stepped out onto the flat part of the roof, your boots scuffing against gravel and ash. She’d already set up the usual spot—a half-dead blanket she kept hidden in a dry metal box, two dented mugs for whatever sad drink she’d brought, and a lighter with a chipped Firefly logo on the side.

She was sitting with her back to the roof’s edge, legs out in front of her, a blunt already half-rolled between her fingers.

“You ever fall off this thing?” you asked, settling beside her.

She smirked without looking at you. “Once. Broke my ass. Joel was pissed.”

You smiled at that, your gaze trailing out over Jackson. It looked different from up here. Softer. The flickering porch lights. The warm yellow glow from the rec hall windows. Someone had a fire going—you could smell it, faint but smoky, riding the breeze. It made the whole town feel small. Far away.

Ellie sparked the lighter, cupped it in her palm, and lit the blunt like she’d done it a thousand times. Which, honestly, she probably had. She took a slow hit, the ember flaring, her eyes squinting slightly as she exhaled. Then she held it out to you.

You froze.

“C’mon,” she said, brow raised. “Don’t make me smoke the whole thing.”

You looked at it like it might bite you.

“I’ve never—”

“That’s the point,” she said, soft. “First time’s with me.”

Your fingers brushed hers as you took it. You tried not to make a big deal out of it. Tried not to seem like you cared. But your pulse was in your throat.

You took a hit, choked almost instantly, and doubled over coughing.

Ellie just laughed. Loud and mean in that affectionate way she had. “Jesus. You’re such a baby.”

You glared at her between coughs, but your eyes were watering too much to make it effective. “This sucks.”

“No, you suck. Give it back.”

You passed it to her and wiped your mouth with your sleeve, feeling your heartbeat skip a little too fast. After a minute or two, though, the edge of it dulled. Warmth crept up your chest. Your limbs got heavy in a nice way. The town lights started to blur a little.

“Okay,” you murmured, leaning back on your palms. “Maybe not that bad.”

Ellie grinned and took another hit. “Told you.”

Silence settled between you again, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Just... weightless. Safe.

Your legs dangled off the edge of the roof. Hers did too.

The stars were out—more than usual. Jackson’s lights didn’t reach this far, so the sky looked bigger. Like you could fall into it. Like it might fall into you.

“You ever think about leaving?” she asked suddenly, voice low, rough from smoke and cold and maybe something heavier.

You didn’t answer right away. Just watched your breath curl in front of you.

“Sometimes,” you said. “Not for good. Just... for a while.”

Ellie was quiet for a second. Then:

“Where would you go?”

You shrugged. “Nowhere. Everywhere. Maybe west.”

“West,” she repeated. Not mocking. Just thoughtful.

Then she said it.

“Take me with you.”

You turned to look at her.

But she wasn’t looking at you. She was staring up at the sky again, her profile sharp against the starlight, eyes reflecting nothing.

“I would,” you said.

Too soft. Too fast. It slipped out like it had been waiting at the back of your throat forever.

And she must’ve heard it. Really heard it. Because after a second, she looked over.

And something flickered behind her eyes.

Like maybe she knew.

Like maybe she was about to lean in, just slightly, just enough. Like she felt it too.

But then she blinked.

And whatever was there—it was gone.

She passed the blunt back without a word, eyes already turned away.

You didn’t say anything else.

Just smoked in silence, and told yourself the chill on your skin was from the wind.

Another week passes.

It’s late when she shows up.

You’re already in pajamas, curled on your bed with a half-read book and the radio whispering something low and folky. Rain taps at the windows, steady as a metronome. Everything smells like wet earth and lavender—you forgot to blow out the candle on your shelf.

There’s a knock.

Soft. Hesitant.

You open the door and she’s standing there, hoodie damp from the walk over, hair pulled back messily, eyes flicking past you like maybe she’s reconsidering.

“You busy?” she asks.

You shake your head. “Nah. Just reading.”

She steps inside.

Drops her boots by the door, shrugs off her hoodie, walks up the stairs to your bedroom and settles herself by the headboard of your bed. Like this is her space too. Her sketchbook is under one arm.

You toss her a blanket. She catches it without looking.

The room is quiet except for the rain and the occasional flip of a page—your book, her sketchpad. You don’t ask what she’s drawing. You’ve stopped asking.

Eventually, you shift. Lay your book on your chest and close your eyes, just for a second.

Just to rest.

You don’t mean to fall asleep.

But you do.

The blankets are warm. The candle burns low. And Ellie is close enough to hear breathing. So you drift.

You’re not sure how long you’re out—twenty minutes? an hour?—but when you stir, it’s still raining. The candle’s gone out. And she’s still sitting there.

Cross-legged on your floor. Sketchbook in her lap. Eyes flicking between the paper and—

You.

You blink. Groggy. Voice scratchy. “Are you… drawing me?”

She looks up.

Doesn’t deny it. Just chews the inside of her cheek, then shrugs. “You make a good subject.”

You roll onto your side, burying your face half into the pillow. “You’re a creep.”

She grins. “You like it.”

You do. God, you do.

You don’t say anything, but your cheeks burn, and that’s answer enough.

She doesn’t leave that night.

She stays until the candle smoke fades and the rain stops and your breath evens out again.

And you don’t even realize she slipped something into your coat pocket until a week later—when you're on patrol, digging for gloves in the early cold.

Your fingers brush paper.

You pull it out.

It’s the sketch.

Charcoal and pencil on torn notebook paper—creased from folding, smudged at the corners. But it’s you. Not just how you look, but how you were. Curled up, soft and half-asleep. Mouth parted. Hands tucked under your chin like you were dreaming of something sweet. Like you weren’t carrying so much.

She made you look kind. Gentle.

Loved.

You stare at it for a long time.

And then fold it back up, press it against your chest like a secret.

Because that’s what it is.

She never mentioned it. Never asked if you saw it.

But sometimes, when you pass her in the mess hall or catch her sharpening her knife outside the barracks, she’ll look at you a little too long.

Like she’s still drawing you.

Like you’re still the most interesting thing she’s ever seen.

She comes by your house again.

It’s late.

Later than either of you meant to stay up. The kind of late where the silence starts to hum. Where the lamps buzz faintly and the edges of everything feel a little blurred.

You’re both on your bed, backs against the wall, legs stretched out, a bowl of stale popcorn between you. Some shitty cassette tape hums low in the background—something folksy and quiet Ellie brought over weeks ago that never made its way back to her place.

You’ve been talking for hours.

Not about anything important. Just… stuff.

“Okay,” she says, voice thick with sleep. ��Worst food you ever ate. Go.”

You snort. “The canned tuna Joel tried to make tacos with. That shit was criminal.”

Ellie hums, almost a laugh. Her head tips back against the wall.

You keep going.

“Or—wait—no, the beans at the winter festival last year. They tasted like dirt and broken dreams.”

That makes her grin, but it’s a slow one. Fading around the edges. Her eyes are half-lidded, lashes low. You can see how heavy her body’s getting, the way her shoulders slump just a little more every few minutes. The way her head sways when she laughs too long.

She’s tired. You know she’s tired.

But she doesn’t move to leave.

So you just… keep talking.

Low and rambling now. About dumb things. The book you found in the library about edible weeds. The guy in the stables who swears by talking to horses like they’re people. That time Jesse slipped on ice and pretended he meant to break his ankle because it got him out of patrol.

You feel her shift beside you.

Then a weight.

Slow and soft—her head, slipping down from the wall, finding your shoulder like gravity pulled her there.

You stop mid-sentence.

And don’t move.

Her breath is warm against your collarbone. Steady. Even.

She’s out.

Fully asleep.

You freeze—your whole body electric with stillness, afraid to even breathe. Her weight settles into you, solid and real, like something fragile you’re terrified to disturb. One of her hands brushes your leg, curled loosely like she meant to hold onto something and missed.

And god, you want to kiss her.

Right there, in the quiet. While the music hums and her fingers twitch slightly and she looks so impossibly soft and yours that it hurts.

But you don’t.

You just shift a little, careful, and lean your head against hers. Let your eyes close. Let yourself have this.

Just for now.

You wake up an hour later.

The tape’s stopped.

The popcorn’s cold.

She’s still there.

And she doesn’t move when you reach for the blanket and pull it over both of you.

Just sighs in her sleep.

Like she’s safe here.

Like you are, too.

The hangouts continue—quiet, unspoken, intimate in a way neither of you dares to name.

Two weeks pass.

Normally, you’d be paired with Ellie on patrol. You always were. But the day before, Maria handed out the assignments, and your name landed next to Jesse’s.

You frowned but didn’t argue.

Now, it’s still dark when you show up at the gates. Cold, too—your breath curls in the air like smoke. Gravel crunches beneath your boots as you shift your weight, rubbing your hands together to keep them warm. The town sleeps behind you, quiet and still, the sun not yet bleeding into the sky.

You go through the usual routine. Check your pack—rifle, water, rations, bandages.

Then your fingers close around something unexpected.

A switchblade.

Not yours.

Yours is back home—half-dull and chipped from too many close calls. But this one?

This one’s clean. Balanced. The blade shines faint in the pre-dawn light. The handle’s worn just enough to feel like it belonged to someone else first.

You turn it over.

There, on the hilt, a tiny scratch.

You’ve seen it before.

Ellie’s.

Something twists in your chest.

You glance up—and she’s there. Leaning against the fencepost a few feet away, hoodie half-zipped, hands in her pockets. Watching you.

She nods toward the knife. “Just in case I’m not there to save your ass.”

You try to play it cool, try not to let the heat crawl up your neck. “You worried about me?”

She shrugs. “I don’t like it when people die stupid.”

You grin. Quiet. “I’ll treasure that.”

She pushes off the post and walks past you like it’s nothing. Like she didn’t just give you something you’ll probably sleep next to for the rest of the week.

You tuck the blade into your belt and try not to feel too much.

Jesse shows up a minute later, mid-yawn, chewing on half a protein bar. He clocks the switchblade, then glances at Ellie’s retreating back.

“Well,” he says, smirking. “That wasn’t subtle.”

You blink. “What?”

He nods at the knife. “She give you that?”

“…Maybe.”

Jesse lifts his brows like he already knows the answer. “That’s, like… romantic. In Elliespeak.”

You roll your eyes, though your pulse is still a little too loud. “Shut up.”

He falls in step beside you as you start toward the trail. “I’m just saying. The girl’s stitched you up, lent you her tapes, sketched you—”

“She didn’t sketch me.”

“She did.”

“She just said I was a good subject.”

“She said it with the dumbest look on her face. You’ve got her wrapped around your knife-gifted little finger.”

You shake your head. “It’s not like that.”

Jesse kicks a rock off the path. “Sure. But do you wish it was?”

You don’t answer.

Not because you don’t know.

But because you do.

The day stretches long.

You and Jesse move along the outer edge of Jackson, horses in hand, checking the usual spots. Routine stuff. Peaceful, at first. Too peaceful. The kind of stillness that sets your teeth on edge if you think about it too long.

You make small talk—nothing important. It’s easy with Jesse. It always has been. Comfortable in the way old friendships are.

Just past noon, you make it to the north trail.

The air is crisp, sweet with pine. Hooves clop steadily over damp earth. No broken branches, no overturned tracks. You like patrols like this. Quiet. Familiar. Almost enough to forget what the world’s become.

“Y’know,” Jesse says, breaking the lull, “I was sure Tommy was gonna stick me with the new guy. I’ve got a streak going.”

You smirk. “Guess your luck’s finally turning around.”

“Or maybe he just didn’t want you scaring another recruit off.”

You kick a clump of snow toward him. “I’m delightful.”

“You’re something.”

The rhythm’s easy. The kind that only comes from years of knowing someone. Jesse’s always had a way of grounding you—pulling you back to yourself. Maybe because he never pushes too hard. Maybe because he doesn’t have to.

The trail narrows, and you both dismount. The horses plod behind as you lead them into a hollow—low, sloping, shadows spilling between snow-patched trees. Brown earth peeks through the frost like spring’s trying to fight its way in.

You adjust your pack and walk beside Jesse in silence until he slings his rifle over his shoulder and speaks.

“So,” he says casually. “You and Ellie. That’s… new.”

You don’t meet his eyes. “There’s no ‘me and Ellie.’”

“Right,” he says, dragging the word out. “You’re just attached at the hip for fun. Totally platonic.”

You roll your eyes. “We’re just friends.”

“Uh-huh. And I herd horses because I enjoy the smell.”

You kick a rock off the trail. “What are you getting at?”

Jesse shrugs. “Nothing. Just—you’ve been through a lot. And you seem… lighter, lately. Like something’s finally clicking back into place.”

You don’t respond at first. Just watch the sunlight breaking in fractured beams through the trees.

“It’s not like that,” you say eventually. “She just… gets it. That’s all.”

He gives you a long look, like he’s reading a sentence you didn’t mean to write out loud. “Well. Whatever it is—just don’t screw it up.”

You let out a snort. “Is that the official Jackson policy?”

“That’s the friend policy,” he says, bumping your arm with his elbow. “Don’t look at me like that. I’m being emotionally available.”

“Emotionally available with side-eyes and judgment.”

“It’s a package deal.”

You’re just about to laugh—really laugh—when the sound cuts through the air.

Not sharp. Not loud. Just wrong.

You both freeze.

Then it comes again.

Wet. Guttural. Clicking.

Your hand flies to your belt. Ellie’s switchblade presses into your palm—cold, familiar. Jesse’s already raised his rifle, eyes scanning the trees.

“Shit,” he mutters. “How the hell did one get this close?”

You don’t get the chance to answer.

It crashes from the tree line—snarling, fast, all teeth and rot and bone.

Jesse fires. The shot hits—but the infected doesn’t stop.

Your body moves before your brain catches up. You shove Jesse aside, bring the blade up—

Too late.

It catches your side with a swipe of its claws—white-hot pain ripping through your ribs. You stagger, gasping.

But you’re still standing.

Jesse gets a second shot off.

The clicker drops.

You drop with it.

Your knees hit the ground. Then your side. Blood seeps through your coat, warm and terrifying. You press your hands to the wound, instinctive, useless.

“Fuck,” Jesse breathes, already at your side. “Hey. Hey—look at me. We’ve got this. You’re okay.”

You nod. Try to. The world’s blurring at the edges.

Your horse is still there. So is Jesse’s.

Somehow, he gets you into the saddle. Somehow, you stay upright.

The ride back is a blur—half-shadow, half-pain.

You don’t remember much. Just the thudding of hooves beneath you, the steady burn in your ribs, the way Jesse’s hand stays braced on your back like it could hold you together. You focus on the rhythm of it. One-two. One-two. Like if you keep count, you won’t pass out.

But the world starts pulling sideways anyway. Everything going soft at the edges.

Until it doesn’t.

Until you hear Jesse shouting.

And you lift your head, just barely, and see the gates of Jackson coming into view.

And her.

Ellie.

She’s leaning against the fencepost just beyond the stables, a little crumpled daisy held between her fingers like some stupid inside joke. Her hoodie’s half-zipped, hair tucked behind one ear, eyes scanning the trail like she’s waiting for something—waiting for you.

You see it hit her in real-time.

She straightens. The flower falls. And then she’s running.

“Move!” she yells, shoving past the people near the gates, boots skidding on gravel. “Move—fuck—what happened?”

You’re not even off the horse before her hands are on you.

“She’s losing blood,” Jesse says breathlessly, dismounting fast. “Clicker got her. Not a bite—just a gash, but it’s deep.”

Ellie doesn’t say anything. She just loops your arm over her shoulder and pulls you down from the saddle like you weigh nothing, like panic makes her stronger.

Your knees give. Her grip tightens.

“I’ve got you,” she murmurs. “I’ve got you.”

You try to speak. Maybe say her name. Maybe say sorry. All that comes out is a breath.

Then she’s moving—hauling you through the gates with people scattering out of her way. The infirmary’s not far, but it feels like another lifetime before she’s through the door, barking orders like she owns the place.

“I need a table! Gauze, sutures—now.”

Someone moves to help. She snaps without looking, “Don’t touch her. I’ve got it.”

Jesse’s still behind her, shadowing every step. His face is pale. He doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t need to.

Ellie lays you on the table with terrifying gentleness. She’s breathing hard, eyes flicking between your face and your ribs. Her hands hover over your coat before she finally tears it open.

Blood’s already soaked through your shirt.

“Shit,” she breathes. Her voice cracks. “Okay. Okay.”

You want to tell her it’s not that bad, but your body’s gone heavy, useless. Your head lolls to the side, vision doubling. All you can really do is feel the way her hands work—pulling off your shirt, swabbing the wound, pressing down with shaking fingers.

“Ellie,” you rasp, barely above a whisper.

Her head snaps up. “Hey. Hey. Look at me.”

You try. Her face wavers, but you catch enough—her jaw clenched, jaw tight, eyes glassy with something she’s trying very hard not to let fall.

“I’m gonna fix it,” she says. “Okay? You’re not gonna die over some dumb clicker. Not like this.”

She moves fast. Efficient. Her hands shake, but the stitches are clean, tight. You feel every pull of the thread. It grounds you—just enough.

“Almost done,” she says, even though she’s not.

And then, quieter: “Don’t do this again. Please.”

You try to smile. It’s barely there. “You gave me the knife, remember?”

She laughs, breathless, more of a tremble than anything real. “Yeah. So you could not die with it.”

You feel her finishing the last stitch, the bandage going down over your ribs. She tapes it with shaking hands, presses her palm over it like she can will it to heal faster.

You reach out. Fingertips barely graze her wrist.

“Ellie.”

She looks at you.

And this time, she doesn’t hide it. The fear. The ache. All of it.

“I’m okay,” you whisper.

“No,” she says, voice low. “You’re not. But you’re gonna be.”

You try to nod. She leans closer instead—forehead almost brushing yours. Her fingers still wrapped around your wrist like she’s afraid you’ll slip away if she lets go.

And she stays like that. Even when the others finally come in. Even when Jesse’s voice floats from the doorway. Even when everything else starts moving again.

She stays with you.

You don’t remember falling asleep.

One second, Ellie’s bent over you, hands stained with your blood, breath coming fast like she’s been holding it since the gates opened.

The next, it’s quiet.

Dim light filters through the infirmary window. Outside, Jackson murmurs with its usual distant hum—boots on wood, a horse whinnying, someone shouting about feed. Life going on.

But here, in this room, everything’s still.

You blink groggily. Your ribs throb with each breath, the sting of stitches tugging at your skin. Your mouth is dry. Head fuzzy.

Ellie’s in the chair beside your bed.

She’s pulled it close—knees almost touching the mattress. Her hoodie’s half-off one shoulder, sleeves pushed up, knuckles scabbed from where she must’ve scraped them carrying you in.

She’s asleep.

Or close to it.

One hand rests on her thigh, fingers curled like she forgot to relax them. The other is on the edge of the bed, just barely touching yours. Like she meant to hold your hand and changed her mind halfway through.

There’s a smear of your blood on her cheek.

She didn’t clean herself up. Didn’t change. Just sat down and… stayed.

You shift slightly, wincing at the sharp tug under your ribs.

Her eyes open instantly.

She straightens, alert in an instant. “Hey—hey, don’t move too much. You’re still fucked up.”

You try to smile. “Technical term?”

She doesn’t laugh. Just leans forward, elbows on her knees, eyes scanning your face like she’s checking for damage all over again.

“You scared the shit out of me.”

“Jesse got me back.”

Her jaw ticks. “I know. But I should’ve been there.”

“Ellie…”

“No, just—” she sits back, swipes a hand down her face. “I knew something felt off this morning. I fucking knew. And instead of saying something, I gave you a knife and walked away.”

You look down at your belt. The switchblade’s still there, tucked beside your hip.

“You kept it,” she says softly.

You nod. “Didn’t wanna lose it.”

Her expression falters—like maybe she wasn’t expecting that answer.

“Good,” she says after a moment. “It’s yours.”

Silence settles in again. Heavy, but not bad.

Then you whisper, “I thought I was gonna die out there.”

Ellie’s face crumples just slightly. “Don’t say that.”

“But I did. Just for a second.”

She swallows hard, then leans in again. This time she doesn’t stop herself—just reaches out and lets her hand rest over yours. The contact is warm. Solid. A tether.

“You didn’t, though,” she says. “You didn’t. You’re here. With me.”

You don’t say anything. Just turn your hand so your fingers lace with hers.

Her shoulders sag like she’s been holding up too much.

And for a little while, neither of you talk.

You just stay like that. Breathing together. One steady beat at a time.

***

You end up staying with Ellie and Joel.

Not because anyone says you should—but because the night after you’re stitched up, Joel just sort of… picks you up and carries you.

“No point in your tryin’ to do stairs,” he mutters, pretending not to notice the way you bite your lip against the pain. “You’ll be safer with us for a bit.”

Ellie barely lets you get through the door before she’d set up a space on the couch—blankets, pillows, water, one of Joel’s flannels she swears she’s not emotionally attached to but won’t let you give back either.

It’s quieter than you expect.

No big gestures. No fuss.

Just Ellie sitting beside you every night, sketchbook in hand, music playing low from the older speaker she scavenged with Joel forever ago. Sometimes she reads. Sometimes she doodles. Sometimes you talk about nothing at all.

Joel brings you food, and doesn’t say much, but he checks your bandages with a gentleness that makes you wonder how long it’s been since he let himself care like this again.

There’s a comfort in it. A kind of peace you didn’t realize you were missing.

And somewhere in the middle of all that—not loud, not sudden—Ellie starts staying.

She doesn’t go back to her room most nights. Just ends up half-asleep next to you, her feet tucked under your blanket, fingers brushing your arm as she nods off. She doesn’t talk about it. Doesn’t make it a thing. But you start brushing teeth together. You start sharing her hoodies. You start knowing which socks she steals from Joel and which mugs are her favorites.

Days pass like that. Easy. Close. Warmer.

They your birthday comes.

You don’t make a big deal out of it. You never do.

But when you come downstairs that morning, Ellie’s already waiting—leaning against the kitchen counter with something small in her hands.

“Morning, old lady,” she says, grinning. “Made you something.”

You blink. “You made something?”

“Okay, Joel helped. But I did, like most of the thinking part.”

She hands it over—it’s a little carved figure. A horse. A little lopsided, a little burnt on one side, but clearly painstakingly made. Yours.

You don’t even know what to say. So you just hug her.

***

The kitchen smells like spice cake and melting wax.

You lean against the counter, picking at the edge of the plate in front of you while Ellie wrestles with a crooked candle in the middle of the cake she somehow baked without setting the house on fire. There’s flour on her cheek and a smudge of chocolate near her thumb. She hasn’t noticed either.

“You’re gonna burn the house down with that thing.” you say, nudging a second matchbox toward her.

She shoots you a look. “I’m being careful.”

“You’re being stubborn.”

“Same thing.”

You smile despite yourself watching her fuss over the tiny, flickering candle like it matters more than anything else in the world. It kind of does.

The party’s supposed to start soon—Jesse and Dina are bringing the drinks, Joel and Tommy said they’d stop by. You’re not sure how everyone managed to organize it without tipping you off, but Ellie’s never been good at hiding when she's planning something. Her nervous energy practically buzzes through the room.

“Hey,” so say after a beat, quieter now. “Can I tell you something?”

She looks up immediately, all that snark draining out of her expression like a switch flipped. “Yeah. Always.”

You shift, eyes on the candle. “I’ve just been thinking a lot. After… everything. With the attack. Getting patched up. Lying around Joel’s house like a lump for a week.”

“You weren’t a lump,” she mutters.

“Kind of was.” You smile, but then it fades. “You didn’t have to take care of me like that. My sister could’ve stayed to help me. But you did. You and Joel. And I don’t know if I ever really said thank you.”

Ellie’s face softens. She shakes her head. “You don’t have to thank me.”

“I think I do,” you say, voice catching a little. “Because it mattered. More than I know how to explain.”

There’s a pause. Ellie watches you like she’s afraid you might vanish if she blinks too hard.

You open your mouth. The rest is right there—on your tongue, ready to tumble out. I care about you. I think I’ve cared for a while. I feel safer when you’re around. Like I’m breathing easier.

You want to say something. You almost do.

The words get stuck behind your teeth, caught somewhere between the fear of saying too much and the fear of saying nothing at all.

Ellie turns back to the counter, and grabs the cake, fixing the candles like it matters.

“C’mon,” she says, voice softer now. “Everyone’s waiting.”

You follow her out of the kitchen, holding the screen door open for her as she walks out, cake in hand.

“You sure you won’t trip on the way over?” you murmur as you walk down the steps of Joel’s porch.

Ellie huffs a sarcastic laugh and rolls her eyes. “I’ll manage.”

At your house, the lights are low, the music’s soft, and the air inside smells like smoke, cake, and someone's overly enthusiastic cologne (probably Jesse).

Jesse’s already halfway through a drink, deep in a dramatic retelling of some patrol disaster to Tommy and Joel, who are both pretending not to bed amused. A few of your other friends are clustered near the record player, arguing over what to play next.

You settle carefully onto the couch, back against the cushions with a sigh that’s half relief, half ache. The stitches still tug a little when you breathe too deep. Ellie’s only a few steps away, fussing with the drinks she brought out, her flicking to you now and then like she’s making sure you haven't collapsed when she wasn’t looking.

There’s a knock at the door.

You move like you’re going to stand, out of instinct more than anything—but the pull in your side flares sharp and immediate. You wince, halfway up.

“Hey,” Ellie says, already stepping toward you. “Sit. I got it.”

You sink back down, grateful.

She crosses the room, pulling open the front door—and then pauses.

The girl on the other side of the door is bundled in a jacket and holding a lopsided little box, curls tucked messily into her beanie. Her cheeks are flushed from the cold. She looks up—her smile blooms, crooked and immediate.

“Hey,” the girl says. “I’m looking for—uh, sorry. I’m Dina.”

Ellie blinks. “...Oh.”

They look at each other for a second too long.

Not awkward. Not confused.

Just—still.

Like they’ve both just walked into something unexpected and kind of strange and kind of… good.

You hear her voice from where you’re sitting, and your heart lifts without thinking.

You push up from the couch, ignoring the way your ribs bark in protest.

“D?”

Dina steps around Ellie just in time to catch you coming down the hall. Her face lights up.

“Shit—look at you,” she says, half-laughing, half-crying as she pulls you into a hug. “You dumbass.”

“I missed you too,” you murmur into her shoulder. She smells like cedar and rain.

You’re aware—just barely—of Ellie still by the door.

She hasn’t moved. Still watching. Still quiet.

Dina pulls back, brushing her knuckle under her eye with a laugh. “Sorry, I got held up. Patrol’s been hell. But I brought your favorite cake.”

You glance at the box, then at Ellie.

“This is Ellie,” you say.

Dina turns—and for the first time, really looks.

Ellie gives her a small, lopsided smile. “Hey.”

Dina matches it. “Hey.”

It's nothing, on the surface. Just a hello. Just a new face.

But there’s a flicker between them—quickly, subtle, almost unnoticeable if you weren’t standing right there. A glance that lingers just long enough to feel different.

You feel it before you understand it. A change.

Like something small just clicked into place.

You don’t know what it means yet, so for now, you pretend not to notice.

You’re curled on the couch now, Dina beside you, a blanket thrown over both your legs like old times. She’s half-talking, half-scolding—about how she would’ve never let you go out on patrol if she’d been around, how you're lucky she loves you too much to throttle you.

You grin through it. Let her fuss. Let her care.

“I swear,” she’s saying, hand on your arm, “you attract trouble like it's a job. Is that a Jackson patrol requirement now? ‘Must be proficient in chaos’?”

“First of all,” you say, nudging her lightly, “I’m very responsible. Mostly. Jesse was there too, y’know.”

“Yeah, and Jesse didn’t get ripped open, so.”

Behind you, Ellie makes a sound—almost a laugh, but sharper. You glance over your shoulder.

She’s leaning against the wall now, arms crossed, listening in.

“Pretty sure she got the knife after the rip,” Ellie says. “Not exactly her best moment.”

Dina grins. “So, you’re Ellie.”

Ellie raises a brow. “Me?”

“Well,” Dina says, “you’re the only person I’ve heard about more than twice in every letter.”

You feel your face heat. “Dina.”

“What? I’m just saying. Ellie this, Ellie that. Ellie drew me, Ellie saved my ass, Ellie made me soup—”

Ellie’s mouth twitches. “It was bad soup.”

Dina laughs, and it’s easy and bright. “I feel like I should be jealous.”

“Maybe you should be,” Ellie fires back, and it comes out fast, almost automatic.

There's a second of silence.

Then Dina laughs again, brushing it off. “Alright, soup queen. Duly noted.”

It’s a short exchange. Barely anything, really.

But something about it sticks with you. The way Dina’s posture shifts slightly toward Ellie, open and relaxed. The way Ellie—who usually hesitates with strangers—doesn’t, not this time.

You shake it off. You’re overthinking. It’s just your two favorite people finally meeting. It should feel good.

And it does.

Mostly.

this was so long but i needed to write it so bad AHH

#ellie x reader #ellie the last of us #ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie tlou #ellie x fem reader #tlou ellie #tlou2 #ellie x female reader #ellie williams x female reader

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slimyalienfreak · 8 months ago

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Hiya, i saw ur requests are open and that you write for sonic series, so i was wondering if you could write sonic boom!shadow x fem!hedgehog reader? You can make up the story, and what happens! But i have to ask if it can be fluff. I read a little to much angst today cant handle more😭

I looove shadow sm, all and any shadow😆

Thanks! Drink,eat , sleep, shower

-Monty 🦔

Boom!Shadow Fluff HC’s With Fem!Hedgehog Reader

Hey there! Thanks for the ask!

I don’t know why but as soon as I saw this request was to have Shadow be in a hugging session with reader. Don’t know why but that was the first thought I had when I saw that you wanted fluff (by the way I kind of wrote this to at least be platonic but some views can be considered romantic in a way. You can view it as whatever). Plus that boy does deserve a hug, regardless of which Shadow it is. Also sorry if this is a bit shorter than my regular ones. Anyways, hope you like this. ~Blaze/Dawn

Pronouns: She/Her (Or At Least Fem Intended Since I Only Used She/Her Once)

Warning: ❌

Requested: Yes/No

Characters: Shadow + Mentions Of The Other Sonic Crew

Proofread: ❌

Credits: Icon by punkmp4 on Pinterest + Banner by emiljjj (Edited By Me) on Pinterest

———————————

- ‘God today has been overwhelming’ Shadow thought to himself, his face clearly showing annoyance. Honestly he wasn't sure how long he could deal with another presence. The only thing that was currently on his mind and the only reason he even bothered to put up with the others was seeing you. A while ago he found himself becoming fond of you in his own brooding way. Normally he wouldn’t consider himself getting close with anyone especially since he’s known for being a loner but as he manages to spot you more often due to you often hanging out with that stupid hedgehog sonic and his friends he couldn’t help but get drawn towards you. It’s like you had some sort of aura about you that made him drawn to you. So he decided to hang out with you much to your surprise at him wanting to be around you but you weren’t going to complain.

- You’re the only person he actually tolerates out of everyone he knows. To him Sonic is too annoying, Tails is alright in a way but still isn’t too fond of him, Knuckles isn’t that smart, Amy is also alright he just doesn’t hang out with her too much so he doesn’t have that much of a bond with her and he just finds Sticks batshit crazy. So with you it’s like he’s getting some fresh air after being stuck in a room for hours. He actually enjoys being around you, you won’t get him to outright admit it but in a way you can tell he does because he treats you way differently compared to the others which doesn’t go unnoticed by them.

- Some of them actually find it cute (Mostly Amy) and some of them like to tease Shadow about (Most probably either Sonic or Knuckles) but you don’t mind it. You actually find it cute in a way as well. Managing to break his standoffish persona. Undeniably he kind of has a soft spot for. Often he finds himself getting defensive when someone like Sonic teases him for his said soft spot. Like Sonic could be saying stuff like “You really like her don’t you Shadow” which causes Shadow to tell him to shut up.

- Everytime he has a shit day or just wants to decompress he finds himself thinking of you. He could just be in a grumpy mood then he just sighs to himself and thinks to himself ‘I’m going to see [Name]’. It’s like his brain just automatically thinks of going to you as soon as he experiences a single bad emotion. He knows that you won’t judge which admittedly makes him happy inside. Honestly after having others getting on his nerves he rather have someone who knows how to calm him down. Honestly, this dude has so much built in anger it’s unbelievable.

- Eventually, after enough walking he managed to arrive at your place and immediately felt some sort of weight being lifted off of his shoulders. He knocked on the door crossing his arms waiting for you to open the door. He then saw the door crack open and saw the familiar hedgehog he actually likes. “Oh hey Shadow!” You said, happy to see your buddy again “what are you doing here?” You asked before he answered “apologies for interrupting you but is it alright if I stay here for a bit?” He asked to which you happily let him in.

- As soon as you sat down you found him following you before plopping himself head down into your lap “had another one of those days huh?” You asked slightly chuckling before placing a hand on his head “you have no idea. I swear that damn hedgehog is out to purposely ruin my day.” He grumbled as he felt himself softening while having your hands running through his quills “oh come on he’s not that bad you know?” You could hear Shadow slightly snorting to himself before replying “you hang out with him, your used to his idiocy” you chuckled at his answer before continuing to play with his quills, occasionally seeing him nuzzle his head in your lap even letting out some noises indicating that he was enjoying the attention he was getting from you “your weird you know that Shadow?” You joked with him “no I’m not” he retorted back even starting to hug you loosely around your waist “yeah whatever you say” you smiled to yourself hearing Shadow scoffing to himself as the two of you enjoy each other's company. “thanks for being there for me [Name]” he quietly said but you could hear him very well “no problem Shadow”.

———————————

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yukioos · 7 days ago

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Competitive bakugo over a nonchalant y/n😏😏😏😏

competitive katsuki trying to win over nonchalant reader

everyone knew bakugo was competitive, always trying his best and fighting the hardest, no matter who he was against or what situation he was in. he always gave it his all. however, he thought he could do nearly everything on his own, he was incredibly independent, even hating it when people tried to help him with something, not wanting others to see him as weak.

but he did what he had done since middle school; put other people down to make himself feel better. unfortunately, you and midoriya were victims of it, but the two of you had very different reactions.

midoriya was always nervous to stand up for himself until a few months ago, when he became more confident in his abilities, which you applauded him for. bakugo, on the other hand, also made fun of you for god knows what. it was never for a specific reason, just picking on you because he didn’t know how to deal with his feelings for you.

but he was always frustrated with how you’d react. normally, after he would laugh and point a finger at you, you would just shrug and walk over to your friend, talking to them with an emotionless tone. he’d follow you, yell at you, just for you to do it all over again. he hated how you didn’t react in any sort of way.

so when the two of you sparred, and he won a match, he would yell and brag about it, calling you a sore loser and smirking in your face. you responded, looking at a nearby wall for a second, “good job, i guess.”

he frowned, “you guess? what the hell do you mean ‘i guess?’ you lost fair and square, y/n!”

you hummed and shrugged, causing him to march up to you with a scowl. he asked, “why do you always act so damn calm? cry or smile or feel emotions for once! you’re acting like icy hot!”

“i do feel emotions, bakugo, i just don’t show them that well. you should learn from me and be calmer, it especially helps in fights.” you almost smirked at the end, teasing him.

he grumbled, “teach me then.”

you raised your eyebrow and hesitantly asked, “really?” you didn’t believe him, assuming it was a trick.

“yes, dumbass. and call me katsuki or whatever, i don’t care.”

“seems like you do care if you’re correcting me.” you retorted, tilting your head and looking up at him.

the tips of his ears pinkened, and his face felt warmer than usual. he grumbled, “shut the hell up,” and used a small explosion near your feet, causing the ground to rumble underneath you.

of course, katsuki didn’t realize his reactions were very readable, and how dark his cheeks became once you teased him.

hope you liked this, it was fun to write!

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invincidick · 2 months ago

Text

+18

Varient invinsible x F!Reader

Warnings: Smut, Dubious consent, Varient invinsible

Varient invincible follows you onto your train ride home.

an alternate universe where your earth's invincible is one the variants

this is my first ever fic... beware.

If you like this lmk i could totally continue it and if its ass PLS LMK

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

Sure, things had been a lot different since the Viltrimites took over earth, but after a few years things sort of went back to normal.

Slowly people rebuilt, got the courage to go back to work, tried to go outside and push back the fear of somehow running into a Viltrimite having a bad day.

You had just gotten off work and headed down to the subway, Your legs ached from standing all day, all you wanted to do was lie at home and relax, you boarded the packed train. As you squeezed in between other passengers, you found a spot against the wall to the left of the train cart. With your headphones in you pulled out your phone to distract yourself from the long, uncomfortable journey back home.

You had just began to get some semblance of relaxation when you heard a string of hushed gasps throughout the train, you glanced up, but didn't see anything out of the ordinary, so you went back to scrolling on your phone.

In the corner of your eye you saw someone pushing past people to your side of the train car. You didn't mind it and just kept scrolling. They continued heading your way until they stopped, directly in front of you.

You glanced in front of you, your heart skipped a beat. A broad muscular chest covered in a black and yellow suit. No you thought to yourself, you squeezed your eyes tight, this isn't happening, this can't be happening. After what felt like a century you finally got the courage to open your eyes again. It wasn't a dream.

For whatever reason you decided to look up, you caught his gaze, a giant smirk plastered on his face.

You never thought you would see him up close again, but it was different this time, this was not the same man who had saved you. After everything he had done there was no way he was the same. He was a killer. That realization made your heart race even faster.

"Miss me babe?" he said snapping you away from your thoughts, you glanced around for help and realized everyone was avoiding looking at the two of you. He placed a firm hand on your jaw and forced you to look at him "Hey, i asked you a question." You opened your mouth to speak but nothing came out, your eyes darting back to the other passengers.

"what? they're not gonna save you, you, and everyone else here are completely at my mercy, so i suggest you keep me entertained." The hand around your jaw traced fingers across your pulse, your breath hitched, he really was nothing like the man who saved you years ag.

You needed to say something, anything, "sorry." was all you managed to get out. He laughed "god, you humans are pathetic, but that's what i like about you, it's fun." he said in a cocky tone, his smile never wavering.

Placing his forearm above your head, he leaned in and spoke "you still haven't answered my question." He felt your pulse quicken beneath his fingers.

You felt his breath against your ear and shivered, instinctively your head went to pull away he felt you struggle and tightened his grip. Your arm shot up to grasp his wrist, trying to pull it off of you. "Wow trying to run away already? but the fun was just getting started." Your eyes squeezed shut, he was strong, way too strong, even using every last ounce of strength you had, he didn't even have to try.

His other arm started to move and you thought he had finally got bored of you, when you felt it trace down your side and land on your hip. Your eyes shot open at the touch and your face immediately flushed.

"Huh. Didn't think you'd be that sensitive." He teased. This was getting way too weird, you just weren't used to being manhandled that's it, especially not on a crowded train, and especially not by an attractive, crazy superhero.

There's no way you found him attractive right now.

"No, please" was all you managed to squeak out.

"Really?" he asked sarcastically, his grin getting even wider.

"Even when your body is practically begging for it?" His thumb massaging circles into your hip, dangerously close to the hem of your pants.

Just as a finger started to dip below your waist band the train stopped, and so did he.

The doors next to you opened and you let out a sigh of relief, its finally over. "Welp guess this is our stop." He exclaimed with an innocent smile, grabbing you by the wrist and dragging you out.

Once you were off the train he immediately lifted you into his arms ignoring your protests and began to fly you both out of the subway and into the sky. You let out a small cry before hiding your face away in his shoulder and clinging to his neck for dear life, your body pressing hard against his firm chest.

"I Didn't know you liked to move this fast" He said gripping your ass. You squeezed him harder in response, just praying he would enjoy toying with you enough not to drop you.

Once you had finally landed you were completely exhausted from stress, you looked around and realized he had brought you to a giant mansion, his giant mansion. He took over earth for this shit.

"here we are sweetheart" he said as he walked past you towards the door, with nowhere else to go you followed him in. It was pretty trashed all around, empty bottles, takeout lying around, as if somehow had been throwing a nonstop party for the past 2 years.

Before you even realized where exactly you were being led you were in his bedroom with the door shutting behind you

"Seriously, you humans amaze me, one second your begging me to stop and the next you're following me to my room." He said, his voice getting deeper, as he strode towards you like a predator ready to eat its next meal.

"You don't want me to stop."

Grabbing your throat he licked a stripe up the side of your neck and pulled away relishing your bewildered and flushed expression.

"Oh, this is gonna be so much fun"

#invincible smut #mark grayson #mark grayson x reader #invincible x reader #mohawk mark #viltrumite mark #sinister mark #omni mark #mark grayson smut #invincible fanfic #mark grayson invincible

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maiamore · 3 months ago

Text

STAR-STRUCK

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Rating: 18+ | W/C: 5k

Summary: You’re a fresh-faced production assistant for known action star Joel Miller. He’s not quite what you expected–but neither are you.

Tags: actor!joel x production assist reader, action film set, no use of y/n, rough/dom Joel, use of the word ‘kid��, mirror sex, rough sex, unprotected pinv, mentions of injuries & violence, Joel does his own stunts, public sex, bdj (big-dicked-Joel), Joel is not nice in this fic, more untagged read at your own discretion A/N: oof this a long one. also! i swear i've seen something similar relating to the mandalorian reference. if anyone knows the fic, pleaaaase let me know

READER’S TATT/PIERCINGS-SPO | MASTERLIST

This wasn’t what you’d imagined your life to look like.

For the majority of your adult life, you’d clung to a glittering, idealistic vision of your future. You’d blame it on those countless movie marathons with your dad–the late nights, the worn-out couch and the satisfying click of the DVD player setting the stage for your ambitions. You’d dreamed of being a part of the magic. The glitz, the glamour, the art of it all.

Directors like Ridley Scott, Martin Scorsese, John McTiernan captured your adolescent heart, fanning the flames of your Hollywood dreams.

You knew coming into this that it was going to be far from easy. God knows you’d paid your dues living in NYC after having moved from your small town–sharing a tiny shoebox of an apartment with three others, taking multiple part-time gigs, hustling to finally land a Production Assistant (PA) role.

And now here you were. Accommodations comped, flown to Atlanta for the shoot of some action movie you weren’t even allowed to know the title of thanks to the NDA you’d signed.

It was suspenseful, sure, but not in the sexy, thrilling way you’d imagined. More like in the “what fresh hell did I sign up for” sort of way.

“So you’ll be handling scheduling, coordinating, and helping the stylists. And making sure his overall well-being is met.”

You shuffled behind Jonah, the PA you were supposedly replacing. It was nearly overwhelming. Already built streets, custom housings, all wrapped up in a larger than life sound stage. Everyone was in their own world, working on their own tasks.

Normal people might have felt small and unseen. But you? You were still star-struck. You could be a part of something so much bigger than you, and that thought excited you.

“7am every morning. You’ll need to be on standby to help Joel with everything he needs. So here’s the schedule.”

More papers were being shoved to you, your arms slowly vanishing beneath an ever-growing stack. You scanned it, eyes twitching in dread.

Every fifteen damned minutes had its own designation. Was this a movie or a military operation?

“Right! Got that. So…who exactly am I…” You squint at the bolded text on freshly printed paper, still warm to touch. “Wiping sweat at 16:45…for?”

Jonah halts mid-strut, turning back to you like you’d just insulted his entire bloodline. “What…do you mean? You don’t know who you’re working for?”

“I do.” You shoot back defensively. “Well–okay. No. Not really. I was given an NDA, so I’m–”

“It was a yes or no question, hun.”

Suddenly, you were grateful to J-hole leaving. Not so much of replacing his long ass list of endless tasks, though.

He stops before the stylist’s station, gesturing to a cluttered board, displaying headshots and costume references for your apparent “boss.” As you step closer, your breath catches in your throat.

No way. No fucking way.

“Joel fucking Miller?”

Your fingers, almost acting on their own, plucked one of the profile shots from the board. Joel’s broad frame was practically sculpted. His Special Forces uniform taut over his muscles, probably for the character he was playing. Another close-up featured his face smudged with faux grime and fake injuries, his expression hardened and grim.

And then…there were the less clothed test shots. Your gaze betrayed you, dipping to the dark trail of neatly trimmed curls disappearing beneath his belt.

Your head snapped up so fast it was a miracle you didn’t pull a muscle, as though the sheer force of willpower could exorcise the horny demon possessing you.

Jonah grins at your obvious surprise. Sighing dreamily at the profile shots of him, side views and costume shots.“Yep. Now. It isn’t going to be a problem with you now is it? We had to fire the old girl cuz’ she attempted to–nevermind. Don’t wanna get into that. It was a whole debacle. You can look it up in the files under the Miller versus Nancy lawsuit.”

You glanced at Jonah, confusion knitting your brow before returning the photo to the desk. Honestly? You probably wouldn’t have blamed this Nancy. Joel had been the blueprint for your sexual awakening.

As fucked as it was. Considering he was closer in age to your dad than your own.

Watching him star in films by the greats back in high school had left you fantasizing, his smoldering intensity seared into your brain. God. You were going to need the entire night to mentally prepare for this.

“You tellin’ that story again?” The voice behind you sent a shiver up your spine–it was the kind of voice that wrapped around you like a thick yarned blanket on a cold night. And the kind of voice you fantasized about when you were grinding against your pillow.

You froze, every damned nerve on high alert. Turning slowly.

Joel Miller stands there. Resurrected from the photos itself.

He was dressed like he’d just walked off a lazy Sunday pickup game. Grey athletic shorts that hung low on his hips, revealing sturdy, hairy legs that somehow made him seem even more rugged. A black t-shirt clung to his frame, dampened at the collar with sweat. Navy cap sitting snug on his head.

You couldn’t stop yourself from shamelessly dragging your eyes from the damp curls peeking out at the nape of his neck to his thighs.

He scratches his stubbled jaw, his eyes sweeping the room before landing on you. They paused, and you realized–a little too late–that he’d caught you gawking.

Joel nudges his head towards you. “This her?”

Jonah nods, handing Joel a call sheet. “All new and sparkly.”

He looks you over–not in a predatory way, but like he was cataloging every detail. Dark and steady. And it lands on your shirt. For a split second his brows lifted, just barely.

“You watch that one?”

Your brain stutters and you look down, realizing you’d stupidly worn your Mandalorian graphic tee. His face–or well, Din Djarin's helmeted face, was plastered across your chest along with the iconic Star Wars logo.

“Oh! Um. yeah,” you stammer, tugging the hem of the cotton as if the ink would magically disappear.

Great. You meet the man you had dozens of posters of and you were stuttering like a fucking idiot.

“Big fan. Of the show. And, um, the movies. And, you know, your–” Joel holds up a palm, silencing your rambling. “Right.” He sounded amused, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “...‘preciate it.”

Joel never liked change. It was ironic, given his line of work. An actor, in its nature, had him slipping into new roles and personas on a constant basis. But no matter how many characters he played, he'd preferred the familiarity of a constant crew.

So the news that Jonah was leaving and that his replacement was a fresh out of film school rookie had Joel grumbling for days.

Then he saw you.

Maybe it was the way you looked at him, like you were seconds away from fainting. Or maybe it was the shirt. That damn shirt.

You clearly hadn’t gotten the memo about dressing for long hours on set. Instead of the usual hoodie and less than glamorous foam sneakers combo, you were rocking a cropped baby tee stretched taut across your chest.

His gaze dipped, almost involuntarily, taking in the rest of you. The way your bootcut jeans sat low and snug on your hips—to the bunch of keys and a juicy grape chapstick hung on a carabiner attached to your belt loop.

When you shifted nervously, the movement sent a glint of light flickering from your stomach. A silver charm, shaped like a star, dangled from your belly button. He caught himself mid-thought, forcing his eyes back to your face, but the damage was done.

You weren’t as innocent as you looked. He’d figured out that much.

Your fuck-ups hadn’t gotten you fired. Not yet, at least. Somehow, you were still here. Holding onto your job by a thread.

It still felt surreal, working for Joel Miller. You’d spent years watching this man on screen. All his works & press interviews. It seemed pretty fucking unreal to think that you now had his name saved to your phone like no big deal.

Given you weren’t able to tell anyone about it, though the purple vibrator that sat in your bedside drawer was pretty much the only thing that knew his name by now.

In the weeks that followed, you’d fallen into a rhythm with him. There were rules–unspoken ones. You didn’t ask too many questions, didn’t hover too close, and didn’t take it personally when he barked orders or dismissed you with a grunt. Joel wasn’t an easy man to work for.

What was even worse, was that in Joel's eyes, you were probably the least sexual entity to have ever existed. It stung, especially when you considered how much of your mind he occupied.

“Give me a…second. Dunno how these things work.”

You’d shifted uncomfortably, dropping to your knees to Joel’s horror. You sat on your thighs with a huff. Attempting to gather the hem of Joel’s pants to tuck into the army garters.

“Christ. You don’t hafta…” Joel’s throat tightened as he fought the sudden, unwelcome heat pooling low in his gut.

“Huh?”

It was distracting, the sight of you so close. On your fuckin’ knees no less. Joel tugs around his belt. He snaps his fingers to catch your attention and you look up at him, with wide eyes.

His thumbs twisting around the two metal hooks of the thin garter until it connects. “Just hook em’ together, kid.”

You nodded at his words. Finally managing to neatly tuck it into his boots.

Though from his vantage point, something else catches his eye–a small mark etched into your skin. Black ink at the nape of your neck, a star, delicate like the charm that hung from your belly button.

“Ya got a thing for stars?”

You blinked a few times before the words finally registered. Was he really starting a conversation when you were on the ground like this? You notice the slight nudge of his head towards your left.

Instinctively, you cupped around the back of your neck. “Oh..yeah. I mean…it’s pretty and all.” You had to admit, Joel’s childlike curiosity over the ink on your body all of a sudden caught you off guard.

He raises a brow at your admission. “What’s the point of puttin’ it at a place you can’t see. Seems pretty pointless.”

“Didn’t put it there for me to see.” You say with a shrug.

Joel’s jaw ticks when he realises the insinuation behind your words. He drags his hand down his face, opting to finally keep his mouth shut when the images conjured in his mind couldn’t be held back anymore.

You didn’t quite notice his distress till you looked up after the lengthy silence that settled.

The imperceptible twitch in his crotch area catches your attention. Your lips parted to stifle a gasp of surprise.

Was he— “Jus’ get the hell up, kid.”

The respectable thing to do was to go on about his job. It was humiliating enough that you’d caught him in a painfully embarrassing position.

But Joel Miller learned two new things about himself.

First, he didn’t quite mind the soft, lingering scent of strawberries and vanilla you seemed to carry. A quiet, comforting sweetness that seemed to cling to the air whenever you were near.

The second? Well, the second was far more troublesome.

The thoughts that plagued him at night when he was fucking his fist, or someone else for that matter. It didn’t help that he was aware of such vivid and intimate details of you. It fucked with his head how desperately he wanted to draw pleasure out of you and stain that pretty little dainty star you had on your belly with ropes of his cum.

The culmination of it all was taxing. But somehow? He managed to keep those thoughts at bay.

When the director finally called cut for the day, Joel stepped off set, muscles aching and shirt damp with sweat. He scans the area out of habit.

Jonah would’ve been there by now–towel, water & phone in hand, ready for the usual barrage of calls and texts he needed to deal with.

Instead, it was you.

Joel exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face as the realization hit him again. Right. Jonah was gone.

“You don’t have to look like the world’s ended, Joel.”

He doesn’t answer you, not at first.

“It’s not like I’m going to tell people that you—“

Joel seats himself in his chair loudly. A silent warning for you to not go there. He lets out a long, drawn out exhale. Folding his arms tightly. “Kid. Don’t know whatcha think you saw–”

That again. Kid. Was that how he saw you? You had half the mind to admit what the idea of it did to you—the idea that he might’ve gotten hard at the thought of you.

“Hate that I even have to ask.” You begin, not letting him finish his thought. “You realize I’m not.” You were dabbing a little harder now, tossing out the used makeup wipes in the trash beside you.

“Y’are when I’ve got a decade over ya.” He says simply. Wincing at your harsh gestures. “Don’t need the complications.” He pushes your hand away, his deep brown eyes stayed locked on you, searching, warning.

“Leave well enough alone, got that?”

The following weeks on set proved to be grueling, even by Joel’s standards. His reputation preceded him. A stubborn, self-reliant actor who insisted on doing his own stunts. For the studio, it was a nightmare. Higher insurance premiums, a ballooning budget, and his manager losing sleep over the what-ifs.

For Joel, it was just how he’d always worked.

But his body wasn’t what it used to be. He could feel the aftermath of his aching limbs with every roll, leap, and landing. By the end of each day, he was a drained man.

The tension on set that evening was suffocating, the kind that made every sound sharper, every movement feel urgent.

Joel’s stunt wasn’t supposed to go wrong. It rarely did. But today was different.

You’d seen the way his jaw tightened with every take, the exhaustion etched into the lines of his face. Monitoring him from the sidelines when the cameras were still rolling.

Then it happened.

A sickening crunch, the unmistakable sound of something gone wrong. Joel hit the ground hard, and the set erupted in chaos. The director’s voice echoed through the sound stage, “Cut! Jesus. Check on Joel. Now!” as the crew scrambled toward him.

You froze, the towel and water bottle in your hands suddenly feeling useless. Your feet moved on instinct, but the crowd around Joel was essentially a wall. Blocking you out.

You couldn’t get through.

“Back off. M’fine.” Joel’s voice cuts through the commotion, frustration dripping from every word. He swatted away helping hands, gaze darting through the crowd. His face twisted in anger, not from pain but from the lack of order.

“Where the hell is she?” he grumbled.

You hesitated, your stomach knotting. His eyes finally locked onto you, and his expression darkened. “You. Get over here.”

The weight of his command pulled you forward, even as your gut screamed to stay back, letting someone more qualified deal with it. You shuffled behind him as you’d maneuvered out of the crowd and back into his trailer. Eyes widening at the sight of blood seeping through a tear in his shirt.

“Joel, I–…shouldn’t we call–”

“Don’t need someone else,” he interrupted, his tone biting but strained. “Just. I’ll tell ya what to do. Kits in the left drawer.”

“Okay,” you murmured, trying to keep your voice steady, wracking your brain for memories of those first aid videos you’d seen on YouTube. Film school did not prep you for this.

As you grabbed the first aid kit, you watched Joel slump against the trailer walls. You stood there, awkwardly, watching the scarlet blossom against his abdomen.

He looks at you for a moment before exhaling. “Y’know, you can ask n’ not jus’ stand there like a mute, darlin’.”

The witty remark dies in your throat when he yanks his shirt off. Effectively shutting your brain down entirely. You stare down at his body in its’ full glory. Damp with sweat and streaked with dirt. Blood smeared in jagged trails down his arm to his abdomen, mingling with grime from the fall. Joel pulls out the antiseptic wipes from the first aid kit, handing it to you.

“Shit, Joel. That looks fucking bad.” You hissed out, as though you were the one with a darkened gash on your midriff when you attempted to wipe the first streak off.

“Why…” Fuck. Your voice was cracking. “Why didn’t you just let someone else help you?”

He huffed, his dark eyes flicking to yours for a moment in amusement before looking away. “Ain’t worth makin’ a scene over somethin’ small.”

“This isn’t small, Joel,” you protested, frowning as you uncovered a deeper gash on his side. “You should’ve let the medics handle it.”

“Don’t need all that fuss.” His tone was clipped, defensive. “Been doin’ my own stunts for years. Ain’t stoppin’ now ‘cause of a scratch.”

“This isn’t a scratch.”

Joel’s gaze flicked to yours again, a flash of something unreadable in his expression. “Look, I get it, alright? But I don’t need everyone actin’ like I’m fallin’ apart. I’m fine.”

He knew deep down that his ego was far too big to admit that he actually needed help.

“Stubborn,” you murmured under your breath, shaking your head as you pressed a clean pad against the wound.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.”

Joel’s patience was paper thin, but he bit back whatever comment was forming on his tongue. “Enough of that. Just…tie it up” He sighs, strained, handing you a roll.

You nodded, fumbling with the bandage as your heart pounded in your ears. The wound was deeper than you’d thought now that it was clean, and the sight of it made your stomach churn.

“C’mon, darlin’. Ain’t got all day.”

You secured the bandage, tying it off with a bunny-eared bow before sitting back on your heels. Fingertips drumming on your knees, seemingly proud of yourself.

Joel glanced down, his brows furrowing as he took in your work. “What the hell is that?”

“What?” you say defensively. “You told me to tie it.”

“Looks like ya wrapped a damn present,” he muttered.

“Fine, I’ll redo it–”

“Don’t bother.” He caught your hands before you could move, holding them in place. “It’ll hold.”

The silence that followed proved to further intensify the air between the two of you. His grip on your wrist was firm but not harsh, his eyes locked on yours. You didn’t dare to move.

The curve of his nose grazed your cheeks, the faintest touch sent a shiver down your spine, but he had enough sense to move away.

You however, didn’t think, didn’t hesitate when you leaned in, capturing his lips in a quick, tentative kiss.

It seemed to have caught the both of you off guard.

Joel froze, the kiss barely lasting a second before he pulls back, his expression unreadable. For a moment, you thought he’d tell you off.

But instead, he leans forward. Kissing you harder, deeper. A palm slips to the back of your neck to anchor you in place.

With nowhere else to put your hands, you placed them on his thighs, gripping them tightly.

The kiss wasn’t gentle. It was desperate. His lips moved against yours with an urgency that made your head spin. His other hand gripped your waist, drags you closer until your knees pressed against the side of his hips.

But just as quickly as it started, Joel stops. He pulls back with a bated breath. His hands slip from where he held your neck. “Shit,” he mutters, his jaw clenching as he looks away. “Shit.”

You blinked, your heart racing as you tried to catch up. Trying not to let the disappointment show in your voice. “Joel–”

“Stop. I shouldn’t have.” The curtness in his tone startled you. But you frowned. Trailing behind him as he gets up.

“Well you did.” You blocked his path towards the door of his trailer. Eyes filled with a burning persistence of him once again denying you.

“Don’t push it, kid.”

You’d practically stepped up to him confrontationally. “—Or better yet, you gonna tell me that I imagined it?”

“You can’t do all of that and then just back off.”

It frustrated you to no end when he stonewalled you like this. Like you were some irrational kid who couldn’t read between the lines.

When Joel finally does speak, he merely says your name. With a finality you couldn’t quite refute. You bite the inside of your cheeks. Feeling humiliated at being shot down when you’d thrown yourself onto someone like this.

“Fucking coward.”

This time, you didn’t mumble.

Joel visibly grimaces at that. You feel his hand grip painfully around your wrist, stopping you from leaving the trailer.

You let out a choked gasp when his hands shoot out to grip around your throat before you could even react. Forcing you backwards at every step. Instinctively, you grab around his wrists to loosen his grip.

“Hey!”

He leans down to your level, lips grazing against your ears in a deep whisper. “Fuckin’ coward, huh?” You'd pushed all the right buttons. He'd held back for so damned long and he didn't have it in him to hold back. Not after you'd run your mouth.

You let out a shaky exhale. Teeth grit painfully. You should’ve felt scared. Horrified, really. But the tenderness in his hold makes you feel conflicted about what you should’ve felt.

Joel’s grip held you firm. Tipping your head up. “Y’want me to fuck you that bad?”

A soft whimper leaves your lips when his back presses against you. The hardness rubbed up against your core. You shudder at the sensation, nodding weakly.

His rough palms circle around your waist, turning you over the dressing table until your pelvis sat flush against it. The grip around your throat swiftly turns to a vice grip around your jaw.

He tugs at your jaw. “Words, sweetheart.”

“Ugh—yes.…need you..tofuckme.” You manage through gritted teeth. It irked you to say it, but you had a feeling he wouldn’t have let up.

Joel tugs you to look up into your own reflection. Your gaze immediately sours, attempting to look away.

“C’mon now. S’a pretty sight.” He tuts. His other palm drags the fabric of your top up harshly, pulling it up along with your bra. Your tits spilling at the notion. A gasp slips from your lips.

“Joel!” Your palms tightens into fists on the table at the obscene sight.

So much for someone who didn’t want to give in.

It doesn’t faze Joel, merely letting out a low whistle. Kneading them in his palms. “Perfect fuckin’ tits.”

He presses a kiss down the sides of your neck. Twisting around your nipples till they hardened between his fingers. You let out a pathetic whine at the sensation. Holding his arms firmly, you squirm as he nips your shoulder.

“Could you just—“ Your protests don't stop him in the slightest. Nudging your head a little to give him room. He takes it as a sign to bite down on your neck, bruising you with hickeys all over.

Joel seems to catch your nervous flickers towards the doors. He shifts your hair over one side of your shoulder. Thumbing over the ink on the nape of your neck. You hear the sound of the zipper, briefly catching sight of him shucking his pants down. He winces slightly at the dull pain shooting across his abdomen, but the desperation of needing you was far greater than the pain.

Somehow, the idea of not being able to see it made it so much worse. And as though he reads your mind, he presses his jaw against the side of your head. “Relax.” The tenderness in his tone through the roughness does manage to soothe your nerves. You nod slowly.

Your hips jolt as the cold air hits your body when Joel dips a finger under the waistband of your sweats. He teasingly brushes his fingers lightly against your skin before swiftly tugging them down to your thighs along with the flimsy cotton panties you had on. “A little warning would help.” You bite back, finally losing patience at his tactless gestures.

Joel meets your gaze through the mirror. A lopsided smirk quirking up his lips. “Right. My bad.” You could feel the disingenuity in his tone before he taps the length of his cock against your lower back. The gesture almost mocking.

A shudder runs down your spine. He was big, unlike anything you’ve experienced before.

He hikes your hip backwards and flush against him. Your palms instinctively clutches around the edge of the table. Joel takes his time, sliding his hard cock between the softness of your thighs. The sensation nearly sends you doubling over. Watching the weeping tip poke through in the reflection, slightly smearing his precum on your clit.

You squeeze your legs together subconsciously, earning a wince from him. He was certain he could come just from fucking your thighs like this. The pace he took now bordered on torturous. Teasing you with everything but giving you nothing.

You took it upon yourself to stretch your hands between your thighs in an attempt to notch him in you. You were aching. Badly.

Joel lets out a grunt of disapproval, yanking your wrist to pin it behind your back. Leaving you to steady your body weight onto your other hand. “Eager little thing. Daddy ain’t ever teachya patience?”

His snark burned in your cheeks. It was a futile effort. He could see every single expression you were making from your reflection and he fucking thrived on it. Joel takes a hold of his cock, lining it up against your soaked cunt, he slowly drags your slick over his length. You were soaking him before he even started.

Your head dips, clinging onto the fleeting pleasure every time the tip of his cock bumped against your clit.

“Joel–please just fuck me...”

So he does.

Before you could even catch your breath, he snaps his hips into you. “Deep breath f’me, sweetheart.” If not for his grip around your wrist, you would’ve probably face planted into the dresser.

The sting from the intrusion of his thickness had your cunt tightening with every move he makes, squeezing the absolute life out of his dick.

Your hair falls in front of your face as he mercilessly fucks you. You swore you could feel him almost grazing the entrance of your cervix. “T-Too..too fucking...big.”

Joel tips his head at the sight of your pussy swallowing his cock, probably only halfway. He doesn’t say anything yet. Only humming at your whines. “I know baby.”

You look down shakily at where the both of you were connected, the lines between pain and pleasure blurring to the point you hadn’t registered the tears prickling the corner of your eyes. “Hurts…”

Joel seems to feel a tinge of empathy at the way you were struggling to take him, hiccuping through your whines. His gaze flickers to the way your pretty little face scrunched up, doing your fucking best like the good girl you were. A slight groan leaves his lips involuntarily.

All rationality be fucked.

His hand grips around your throat, forcing you to look up at the mirror.

As humiliating as it was, you couldn’t help but feel increasingly turned on at the sight of his cock fucked into your dripping pussy in squelches. “See that? Takin’ me so ’fuckin’ well.” He sighs into your shoulder.

The praise has you lifting your hips higher, on your tippy toes–forcing a deeper arch at your hips. With how slick your thighs were, you weren’t even sure yourself if you did come.

Nothing but the sounds of his pelvis snapping into your ass in rhythmic, hard slaps. He buries his head in the crook of your shoulder. And you hear him audibly grunt this time. Thrusting into you at a punishing pace.

Joel could feel the all familiar tightening in his sack, he knew he was close. The sheer suction your soft, slick walls were providing him was nothing he’d ever felt before. He lets go of your throat, both palms gripped around your hips, painful enough to leave a mark. The table rattles under your combined weights and Joel’s frantic thrusts, products rolling and clattering onto the ground. He noses your cheeks, stubble rubbing against your pulse point. “Perfect fuckin’ pussy…”

You offer a slight whimper at his words, meeting the intensity his thrusts weakly. You both still at the shuffle of footsteps approaching the trailer.

The sharp knocks against the trailer door has the both of you whipping your head towards it.

“Everything okay?”

Your heartbeat thuds in your ears loudly. The door wasn’t locked.

Joel doesn't answer, simply looking at you. Your expression twists in frustration. Mouthing the words ‘me?’. There wasn't time to deliberate. Your lips parts to speak, barely able to form coherent words. “Y..yeah. A-All good.”

“Right…productions cutting it close. So if Joel’s oookaaay…”

You cursed internally at how persistent whoever behind the doors was. But you nearly see white when Joel fully slams into you. Deeper than before. You couldn’t control the sharp cry that leaves your lips, but it is soon muffled by Joel’s rough palms covering your mouth.

“M’fine. Give us ten.”

Your tears pool around his hand. Gripping onto his wrists when he continues to pound into you at a faster intensity. You were whining by the time the crewmate finally left. Joel pulls you against his chest. Audibly groaning into your ears now. “Fuck. M’close.”

You nodded dumbly, not even sure just what at anymore. Shaky hands clinging onto him like a lifeline. With a final rut, his hips stutter, ropes of his cum painting the insides of your walls.

He held it there for a couple of seconds before pulling out. All messy and soaked with your arousal.

You let out a strained exhale at the feeling of loss as your pussy convulses around nothing, pearlescent liquid dripping from your reddened cunt.

Joel sighs wantonly at the sight. With the state of you, he was briefly worried that he might’ve gone too hard. And then he sees it. Your smaller, manicured hands, pushing more of his dripping come into your folds. Yeah. Joel was fucked.

#pedro pascal #joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x y/n #joel x reader #pedro pascal smut #joel the last of us

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heyhoeudoin · 1 year ago

Text

LOYALTY BUILT FROM LOVE

"I will always be by your side."

pairing: senku ishigami x fem!reader

words: 5.4k

genre/s: fluff, mystery, storytelling in the third perspective (s1, s2)

warning/s: she/her, swearing, ambiguous/not direct ending

synopsis: there is always someone next to senku, all the time.

masterlist ; times senku talked about you (part 2)

a/n: i've been wanting to do something similar to my bakugo fanfic, "Indebted to you" for a while now, and i finally thought of one.

also woah, i posted... revolutionary!

ever since senku arrived at the newfound kingdom of science, he's always had someone next to him

that someone is you

you are never too far from senku

and senku is never too far away from you

when kohaku met senku under that log, that's when she saw you the first time

at first she didn't question it, thinking that you might've just not been there when she saw the fight, but after observing you and senku

she then changed her mind and thought it was strange that she didn't see you

the way the two of you worked together was mesmerizing; efficiently done in silence

she could see that the two of you have some sort of special relationship with that silent communication

you reminded her of her sister; almost princess like with the way you carry your knowledge and demeanor

that impression quickly changed when you flipped ginro and kinro to the ground when they tried to attack senku

it happened so fast that you were just a blur in the corner of her eye! you were faster than her and you took them both out with a single hand

at that moment she knew not to cross senku

she wasn't even sure if she could defeat you

she almost pities the long-haired man

when gen appeared, you didn't recognize him, but he had recognized you

of course he did

everyone in japan knows who you are and anyone who doesn't is living under a rock

he was confused on why a person of your caliber is acting like a servant

maybe for survival, but he's sure that you'd be able to survive on your own

but then he started observing the two of you and this master-servant relationship seemed normal on both end

it made him curious on just what exactly your relationship with senku is

his curiosity skyrocketed after he overheard a conversation between you and senku

gen stood at the bottom of the hut after you and senku climbed up. he was lucky enough that you didn't spot him (well, that's what he thinks).

"so," senku spoke. "do you know him?" then asked. there was a pause. gen thinks you might've gave a non-verbal answer. senku chuckles. "of course, i didn't think you would. he's just some tv show mentalist."

gen rolled his eyes at that, but agrees with what senku said. it would be very shocking to hear that you know of him. "so he's a psychologist?" the first words he heard from you.

"yeah," answered senku. "he wrote these magazines that some of the club talked about some times. it would have questions like "if you could only save one, would you rather save your mother or your partner?" how illogical is that?" he scoffs.

this time you chuckled at him. "but senku," you interrupted. "you do understand just how useful he is, right?" gen felt a chill run up his spine as his whole body tensed up. your light tone immediately changed to a more penetrating one. it almost feels like you're reminding senku of your authority.

"yeah, yeah, i know, and don't use that tone on me. you know that shit don't work," senku replies, dismissing your tone like it was nothing! and to which you giggled at in a playful manner. "so, your assessment of him?" he then asked.

"gen is like a stray cat; give him something to eat and he'll stay," you answered with smooth confidence. "sooner or later he'll ask you for something in exchange for his loyalty." you let out a chuckle. "isn't that right, gen?"

he quickly walked away and didn't look back

maybe you were the one to plant the seed in him

maybe it was senku with his fast-paced bringing back the modern world (and his charisma)

or maybe it was the both of you

but whatever it was, in the end you were right

gen became an important member of the the kingdom of science

although he still wants answers about the two of you

there's two stories that ruri likes out of all hundred tales

she loves sharing them the most

after all, it's the only two love stories from it

number ninety-eight: loyalty built from love there was once a girl who had everything everything but happiness the people around her always worshipped her like a god it made her feel lonely and dull but then she met a boy a boy who knew of everything everything except who she is she talked to him... she argued against him... she laughed alongside him she made him smile.... they were friends they were inseparable but then she felt love he didn't like love she was afraid he became distant she sought after him he stopped seeing her she went to him it was silent then she talked... then he shouted... then they confessed they were in love her love shined through the things she did for him loyalty knows no bounds when you're in love

number ninety-nine: learning to love there was once a boy who found everything interesting everything except love he thought it was illogical and he didn't want to feel it but then he met a girl a girl who can do everything everything except how to feel he talked to her... he fought her... he laughed with her... he smiled at her they were friends they were inseparable he felt different with her he didn't know what it was it scared him he tried to push her away she stayed he ignored her she confronted him it was silent then she spoke... then he screamed... then they confessed they were in love his love was seen from the way he treated her love wasn't so illogical than he thought he did

there was no names mentioned in the two love stories

ruri wished the founder of the village had included the names

maybe it did but was forgotten through time

kohaku didn't really care about her own romances

but if it's other's?

then that's when she's interested

she could never forget the scene she saw between you and senku after the grad bout ended

the placed turned quiet as the realization seeped in. the winner of the grand bout is senku which means... "the new village chief and the husband of the priestess is the winner of the grand bout, senku!"

"well, this is a pain in the ass," senku says as he stuck his pinky into his ear. "so i just have to marry ruri and the whole village is mine, right?" he approached ruri. "i'll do it then."

from the corner of kohaku's eye, she saw you hurriedly walk away with a tightly closed fist. you're actually walking away without senku. that's the first time she ever saw you go away from senku.

she turned back to senku who's staring at your retreating figure. he turned his head back and demanded, "wine! bring me wine!" then after that, it all happened so quickly. senku divorced her sister, took the wine, and ran back to the kingdom of science, dragging kaseki with him.

once they arrived, senku left towards the laboratory where you were, gathering the materials to make the sulfa drug. kohaku watched as you ignored senku. he reached up and flicked your forehead. the two of you talked, rather fast paced with how fast the two of you exchanged words.

senku gently reached out for you hand, bringing it up to his lay on his cheek. he turned his head and kissed your palm.

kohaku's eyes widen in shock.

it looked like you laughed and tackled him into a hug that almost caused you both to fall. you stepped back as you brought your hands up to cup his face. you spoke a few words, then brought your face down to his forehead, giving it a gentle yet light kiss.

kohaku's jaw slacked in shock.

she remembered being flustered, shocked, and confused from the sudden public display of affection the two of you showed

it changed the way she sees the two of you

she always thought that you were like a bodyguard for senku, but also good friends

but if that's how you two always act when you think no one's watching?

maybe the two of you aren't just friends

at first, homura went around spreading the fire to the village

then all she saw was black the next

when hyoga revealed that he was just a distraction, the fire wasn't as big as he planned it to be

in fact, he never planned for homura to be carried in bridal style by someone he didn't expect

did senku revive you? why would he revive you? wait, how did he even find you? your place is no where near where they are right now

it doesn't make any sense

but for now, he'll retreat

he'll surely be beaten by you in mere minutes

chrome admires you and senku, everyone could see that

senku taught him many things about being a sciencer and you'd teach him "life skills"

the two of you work so well together

there are times wherein he watches you and senku work in the lab and it would always leave him in awe

how can the two of you work that well and that fast without any talking?!

are you also a science user like him?

but senku said you weren't so that made him slightly confused

it became even more confusing when he saw you beat kohaku in a spar for the grand bout

just who are you?

and why are you so good at everything?

it reminds him of something but he can't remember what exactly

then he saw something between you and senku that he can't help but make assumptions from

senku turned away from the group after experimenting with the bamboo filaments. "damn it," he cursed out. "bamboo filaments are just fundamentally too weak for vacuum tubes." your shoulders dropped as you looked at senku in worry.

"i don't get science, but bamboo is too weak, is that right?" kohaku spoke up.

"what do we need?" chrome asked with desperation. "if we need something tougher, i'll go find it!"

"no..." senku turned around, showing his pained expression. "there's nothing better in this age."

kohaku and chrome gathered the baskets of rocks that he collected and placed them out in the open for anyone to look through. from the news that senku needed something other than bamboo, the villagers who were still awake gathered at the kingdom of science to help.

chrome turned to call for senku, but he hesitated.

you stood next to senku and gently placed a hand on his shoulder. he turned to you with eyes that chrome can't explain as he placed his hand on top of yours. you brought your other hand and took hold of his hand that was on top of your other one. you guided his hand to the side of your lips and placed a kiss on his palm.

chrome's bulged out of his sockets in shock. his face feeling a bit flustered.

you slowly went down his arm, leaving a trail of kisses. you stopped at his inner elbow and turned to his face. chrome thought you were going to kiss senku, but instead you left a peck on his cheek. you spoke a few words to him and he let out a small smile.

chrome knows that smile

it's the smile that he only gives to you

he never understood why that smile felt different from all the other smiles and smirks senku gives

but from what he just witnessed

maybe the two of you hold a special bond that he should've noticed sooner

it was senku's birthday

the entire village gathered at the kingdom of science

ruri stared at you from afar

you watched as senku was guided towards the newly built watch tower (observatory)

it was the first time she'd seen you not go after senku

after all, the two of you were inseparable

it reminds her about the two love stories from the hundred tales

you started walking away from her line of vision. ruri watched as you walked towards the watch tower as the main group of the kingdom of science left. she could see senku climbing down as well, then approached you. you immediately took his hand in yours and placed the other on his cheek. you spoke a few words then leaned down, giving him a tender yet short kiss on the lips.

on the lips.

AND HE DIDN'T PUSH YOU AWAY!111!1!!!

ruri doesn't remember what happened after that

she was too flustered over the sudden public display of affections the two of you shared that it was the only thing stuck in her head for a while

although, she now hopes that her two favorite stories were based off of the relationship you and senku hold with each other

if only

the first time kohaku, well, anyone, saw you cry was when senku's father relayed a message to you (instead of his own son)

"senku, it's you, isn't it?"

"—nah, you don't need that dramatic father-and-son crap, do you?" senku cackled from that. "but y/n better be there standing next to you like she always is." it was the first mention of you from the record. "i know rebuilding japan will be your priority, y/n, but i also know that you'll stay by senku's side to rebuild the world. take care of him for me, y/n!"

from the corner of kohaku's eye, she saw you raising your hands up to your face, covering it. she saw senku move his arm that lays on your lower back. it looks like he's comforting you.

something then happened that kohaku can never forget

it'll be embedded in her head for so long

kohaku walked towards senku about to call him out, but stopped mid walk. senku stood next to you; both of your backs facing her. he turned his head to look at you. you turned your head to look at him. a few words were exchanged. he raised his hand and gently held your chin. he pulled you towards him and gave a short peck, but then you took hold of his collar and smashed your lips back onto his.

...

kohaku paused for a second. "senku!" then decided to just call the scientist out and continued with what she was going to tell senku either way.

gen was about to go up the observatory when he heard you and senku having a talk

"hey, senku, how would you feel if i..." your question trailed off, hinting at something that seemed like only you and senku know about, or you did something non-verbal.

there was a pause; senku probably thinking over his reply. "but i thought you like playing this game?"

they were playing a game? at this time? gen thought to himself, confused.

"of course i do; it amuses me. this game can only be played a few times after all. i'm only asking because i thought it'd be my turn to do it," you clarified which didn't really make any sense to gen at all. what you said got rid of the image that you two are playing game. just what the hell are you two talking about up there?

there was another pause. "just come up already. what do you want?" it was senku calling him.

kohaku was never afraid of you

why would she be?

you're no enemy

"senku, let me make something clear," kohaku called out. "homura's movements are exceptional."

"gymnastics," says senku. "it's a skill that doesn't exist in your age. y/n can do them too." he jerked his head to your direction you.

"we won't be able to capture her unharmed, but i could behead her with my sword. am i free to kill her?" a serious question kohaku dropped. yours and senku's eyes narrowed at her.

"kohaku, have you ever killed a human being?" you asked kohaku, now standing in front of her. kohaku opened her mouth, but you raised your hand up. "of course you haven't—i know that—and you'll hesitate when the time comes, but, please, kohaku," you called her name with a shaky tone and a hint of guilt that she never heard from you. "never offer yourself to kill another human being. you need to keep that morality with you, it's what makes a person human."

kohaku understood what you said

but she was left with questions that hung in the air, afraid to be asked

were you surrounded by death through killing?

or were you the one killing?

she really wouldn't dare ask

gen knows just how formidable the people around tsukasa are

but the thing is the kingdom of science has you

and he kind of wants to brag about that

"i'm sure you guys know how strong tsukasa is, but it's not just him. the people around him are formidable as well," says nikki through the phone. she then revealed another of tsukasa's allies being someone of great hearing.

"ukyo?" senku asks, turning to gen.

"he was a sonar operator on a submarine," explained gen. "he's got insanely good hearing. that's why tsukasa woke him up."

"good hearing you say?" you piped up. "what a useful thing in certain situations. what are the chances we could get him to our side?" you asked senku with a carefree grin to which he just fondly smiles at.

it was then gen realized something after your comment. "y/n-chan, is it true that your family are...?" he trailed off, not sure how to ask and afraid that you'd be offended from him bringing up rumors about your family.

you understood what he was asking, but all you did was chuckle making senku sigh. gen smartly decided not to push any further. he also took your ominous chuckle as confirmation.

"wait," called nikki. "y/n?"

gen smirked. "yes, nikki! we have the l/n y/n on our side! tsukasa and his army may be formidable, but we have the most formidable on our side," he boasted proudly. "as everyone in japan knows, no one can ever beat a member of the l/n family."

you smiled knowingly, feeling a sense of control and pride at gen's comment making senku sigh once more. "can we stop feeding her ego?" he comments

"y/n!" screamed taiju, both as a calling out and a greeting. "are you taking care of senku?!"

"i am perfectly capable of taking care of myself," commented senku with a deadpan.

you howled out a laughter. "of course i am taiju. are you taking care of yuzuriha?" you asked back.

"yes i am!" he answered confidently to which you laughed fondly at.

gen's plan was to just brag about you

but he was not expecting to get something interesting out of this

he thought yuzuriha and taiju didn't know about you

but they do

which just brings him more questions than answers, honestly

when could they have met you?

actually now that he thinks about it, when did senku meet you?

when magma came back after escaping the hands of ukyo, he also relayed the message that chrome got abducted

kohaku immediately wanted to barge in and take chrome back

and she could never forget the humbling moment of when you instantly stopped her

"chrome's been captured by the tsukasa empire!" exclaimed suika in a fits of worry and panic.

"well, what's the plan, twig?" demanded magma towards senku.

a serious look on the scientist's face as you straightened your posture up, standing next to him. kohaku frowned then ran off with her sword in hand.

"kohaku?!" screamed ruri. "she's not going to help him by herself, is she?"

"she's so quick to act," commented kaseki.

"stop kohaku!" kokuyo commanded, pointing in the directed his daughter took off.

ginro looked at the former village chief in aghast. "but how?! there's no one in this village who can catch up to kohaku-chan!"

oh but there is someone.

"y/n." with one simple call from senku, you had already appeared in front of kohaku, disarmed her of her sword, and pushed her against the ground.

all in three seconds.

she was right from the start

she could never beat you

it really is a good thing you're on their side

of all the people he'd expect to be on the other side of this stone world call

he never would have expected you

in fact, ukyo never expected to to talk to you at all

but here he is

being reassured by you, of all people

"—if you promise to produce zero casualties, i'll cooperate with you. but if you kill even one person..."

senku starts cackling at his request. "sounds great! i'm in." gen shrieks at this. "no problem. we've said—" senku turned around to see your hand on his shoulder. he immediately moved away for you to stand in front of the microphone.

"i do not know what kind of person you are, ukyo, but you are naive to think that a war would not have any bloodshed." he freezes. he knows that voice... he knows it too well. everyone in japan knows it too well. "however, i know how senku is. i know that his plan from the beginning were to have zero casualties, and if that's the plan, then i assure you that there will be no bloodshed at all."

"that's gonna be a pretty tough battle!" exclaimed gen after your declaration.

ukyo believed you

he believed you immediately

he had no reason to doubt you... or senku

especially when you supported him that confidently

he feels relieved to know that you're not on tsukasa's side

if you were

then the ground would've been red

tsukasa never expected there to be a phone in the grave of senku

he never expected for some of his allies to turn against him

he also didn't believe hyoga when he said you were revived

but maybe he should've believed him

but at the same time, what good would it be if he had believed hyoga?

tsukasa is sure that no one can beat you

not even the strongest high school primate

"i can save everyone with this paper airplane dynamite," says senku as the nitroglycerin covered airplane exploded upon impact at a tree.

"what the hell was that?!" stammered ginro.

"anyone caught in that would be gone without a trace," commented kinro.

kohaku stared in awe at the leftover the explosion made, then smirked smugly. "human strength is laughable in comparison to the power of science."

senku laughs. "we made it just in time. you held out well, battle team."

"the kingdom of science has just completed dynamite! it has the power of ten billion megaton joules," gen boldly gave out a lie. senku glanced at him calling out for his bold ass lie to which gen defended that senku sucks at negotiating.

"whether i parry it or smack it down, it'll explode. there's no way to dodge a large blast." tsukasa hums. "yes, it's true that we're out of moves, but that would surely cause collateral damage and kill many people. senku, you're incapable of abandoning people. you would never sacrifice yourself either."

"well, well, it looks like we're both stuck. this isn't a victory; it's a stalemate," says senku. "in your eyes anyways." he moved forward and held onto another nitroglycerin covered airplane. "did you know nitroglycerin is y/n's favorite?"

tsukasa froze at the sudden information drop. so it was true? of all the people, why would you be on senku's side? in fact, why were you at this side of the country at all when the petrification happened?

"y/n, no bloodshed remember?"

tsukasa looked behind him to see you standing there with a knife against his throat. he didn't even hear you nor sensed your presence. is this the power you hold as a member of the l/n family? "are you going to take revenge, senku?" he asked.

"no, of course not," senku deadpans. "let's negotiate, tsukasa."

throughout the entire negotiation, you did not move one bit away from his neck

tsuksa knew of your abilities, but seeing it in person was a different experience

he had one question for you though

why do you let senku command you like that?

"what reason do i have to believe you?" he asked senku.

"all you have is my word. i don't lie when it comes to science," answered senku, cooly. "is that not enough?" tsukasa heard you softly squeal at the sight of senku. does senku really have you wrapped around his finger that quickly? no, that wouldn't make any sense. unless the two of you share some history together?

"no, that's plenty."

this would be chrome's first time watching someone get revived from petrification

instead, before that could happen, he revealed some information that he thought was common knowledge

it wasn't

as senku was about to pour the revival fluid, taiju stopped him. "wait senku! mirai-chan's naked," exclaimed taiju as he poked senku's eyes. "no! you can't revive her now!"

senku writhed on the ground in pain, covering his eyes. "here we go again with your absurd nonsense," he managed to let out. "we're in an emergency, in the stone world! who cares if you're buck naked or if your peepee's showing?" he raised his hand up, rubbing his eye to soothe the pain, then removed them showing his teary eyes. "you really like this plot twist, don't you? we'll figure it out once she wakes up—"

"but if it's y/n, would you be okay with it?" senku snapped his mouth shut at taiju's rebuttal. he turned over to you, who's standing next to him, to see a smirk growing on your face. he could already feel the headache coming from this small tease.

you raised your hand and casually revealed, "actually he revived me naked, so..." heads turned to senku who flinched at the sudden movement, all of them looking shocked (sans kohaku, she's actually mad).

"senku!" kohaku roared, drawing her dagger out.

"what's wrong with that?" asked chrome, breaking the tension. kohaku turned her head to glare at chrome who flinched at that hostility.

"chrome-chan, it's bad manners to see someone naked without their consent," informed gen, treating chrome as if he was an innocent child.

"no, i know that!" exclaimed chrome. "but they bathe together, so they see each other naked all the time," he then revealed. heads turned once again to senku, but this time to you as well to which senku sighs and you laugh at.

"and just how do you know that, chrome?" senku asks, then lets out a disgusted face. "don't tell me..."

"no!" denied chrome immediately. "i notice you guys heading towards the springs together a lot and y/n would be carrying a bamboo basket of like these cases and i also saw soap in it, so i assumed that you two would be taking a bath... together." he then realized the implications of what he revealed and turned red.

god bless yuzuriha on making a set of clothes for mirai, breaking the tension.

many things were revealed that night

under the curtesy of chrome

he never thought too deeply about the things he know, but saying it out loud made him realize some things

it made gen and tsuka understand just what of relationship you hold with senku as well (kind of)

and so the question changes

how did you and senku get to that point?

"senku..." chrome called out. "we're missing some dynamite," he shared with a serious tone.

upon hearing that you quickly scanned the area and noticed who are missing, and bolted off. a few minutes later, an explosion rang out, then you heard gen screaming out to the villagers to hurry up.

you snuck up on hyoga, bloodlust accidentally slipping which made him dodge, but barely. a line of blood forming across the back of his shoulder blades. he raised his spear and instead of aiming it at you, he aimed it at mirai. you moved forward, blocking the attack on hitting her. the spear pierced through you, but not as deep as hyoga wanted since you were able to stop it by holding onto it.

"so you're not impenetrable," he mused.

"go fuck yourself," you spat.

you broke the spear in half then pushed it through you, popping it out from the back. you spun around, catching the bloodied half of the spear, then turned right back around, using the momentum to throw it towards hyoga.

"get out of there! tsukasa! mirai!" you heard senku cry out from the distance. "y/n!" then you heard him let out this blood curdling scream.

you lost balance from the powerful throw causing you to slip and fall. tsukasa ran over. hyoga blocked the spear with the other half of it. tsukasa managed to catch you, holding onto your wrist. hyoga quickly picked up the bloodied upper half of the spear and aimed it at tsukasa. you swung yourself forward, your feet flat against the mountain wall and pushed yourself off, pulling tsukasa down with you. hyoga missed his stab, grazing the side of his torso instead. the sudden pull made mirai slip from the edge, but luckily senku caught up and pulled her away from the edge. however, hyoga then kicked senku off the mountain to which he jumped down afterwards.

senku's hands trembled as he held the wound, putting pressure on it. you could feel his fright against your skin, in fact, you're just as frightful as he is. the both of you can't lose each other. he can't lose you; and you don't wanna leave him. tsukasa kept himself busy as he fought against hyoga, but anyone with eyes could see that tsukasa is affected by the cut.

"you need to work with him, senku, i can survive for a few minutes," you managed to tell him as you reached towards your wound, holding it down with two hands. "you two can end this fight just as quickly as it started. we both know how bad water and blood is inside of a punctured lung." your breathing increased.

"save your breath! y/n, please..." senku lowered his head, laying it against your forehead.

"then go and help tsukasa already," you forcefully told him with gritted teeth.

hyoga managed to get his way over to where the two of you were. he kicked you away from senku. "y/n!" he screamed out.

anyone could tell that senku was distressed

it was the most obvious thing

you've been unconscious for barely a few hours and yet he's become restless

the people who know senku well enough are shocked at this newfound side of his

then again at the same time, they weren't shocked

everyone knows just how much you and senku care for each other despite not knowing just what exactly the relationship the two of you hold

(there was assumptions of it, but that's all they were: bold assumptions)

"senku, you need to rest," advised gen, looking worried. "you took a beating as well."

senku shook his head. "what's the point of sleeping when i need to think of a way to save y/n," he replied, pacing in the cave room you laid in.

taiju and yuzuhira glanced at each other, worried for their long time friend. this was not the first time this had happened. they hoped it would be the last, but here they are yet again, watching senku worry upon hours for an injured you.

"senku, do you want to sleep in here?" yuzuriha asked softly. senku looked up at her and nodded, no words to be said.

"i'll get a spare bed for you senku! no worries!" exclaimed taiju as he ran off.

"has he ever been like this before?" kohaku asked, going straight to the point. gen and chrome walked closer to kohaku and yuzuriha.

yuzuriha's lips drew into a thin line, unsure if she should share. she knew about the game you and senku liked to play, after all, she was one of the first victims. "only when y/n becomes reckless and injuries herself, but this time it's worse. it's hard to heal an injury as severe as that in the stone world."

"it's obvious," mentioned gen. "i may not know what relationship they have together, but if my assumptions are right, then it makes sense. usually senku would've thought of something by now, but he hasn't. his mind is being blocked by anxiousness, panic, and worry. he needs to calm down."

"senku..." you weakly called out which caught senku's attention immediately, and crouched down next to you. "get your ass to sleep." the others were taken aback at the first sentence you spoke after you woken up from a short coma.

senku let out a huff of amusement. "of course that's the first thing you say," he mentions.

"you know me so well, love." a weak smirk formed on your face. if anyone picked up on the sudden affectionate name, they didn't mention it. "but seriously though, how can you save me when you can't even think straight. you know me well, but i know you just as well, senku."

senku furrowed his brows.

"you need to accept what you need to do, senku."

masterlist ; times senku talked about you (part 2) a/n: it's not as ambiguous as i want it to be, but i thought the ending seemed fitting

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