#i'm remembering way more of the language than i anticipated

[vox-off]

so i started pokemon scarlet and i set the language to french just for laffs and it has really highlighted for me how little i remember pokemon names aside from the obvious or favorite ones

but also sorry psyduck you are now psykokwak forever

[sunaluv]

'IS SHE TAKEN?'

in which someone asks your man if you're single

feat: ran, gojo

RAN

the club setting was filled with more excitement tonight. don't get it twisted, any club or event hosted by the haitanis was guaranteed to be the event of the day, good vibes, hot people, and lots of money to be made. but when one of the brothers was actually present at the club? something about their aura seemed to bring out the vibes in people.

ran's hooded gaze watched adoringly at you across the club, the setting bringing nostalgia to the first time you met. ever the social butterfly you were, accepting another phone number from one of the girlfriends you made tonight. the other members of the roundtable looked at one another, wondering if the haitani brother was even present.

"no wonder you're so distracted, boss," the man next to him nudged him with his elbow, to which ran side-eyed him. "she's a looker, d'ya think she's single?"

your boyfriend appeared neutral as he let the guy ramble on about how hot you were, and what he would do to you given the chance. he missed the harsh roll of ran's eyes. if he didn't know you were spoken for, he would make sure this guy knew by the end of the night.

as if on queue, you waved bye to your new friends and started to make your way to the table. eyes followed your figure as you passed, but that was to be expected when the prettiest girl at the club walked past.

"hey, sweetheart," his soft lips pressed against the crown of your head. "you alright?"

"i'm good! a little tired though," you let out a deep sigh, melting into his arms. "these heels have been killing me..."

wordlessly, his large hands had your ankles in his lap, undoing the buckles on your heels and rubbing tender circles into the irritated skin.

he smirked at the relieved sigh that left your lips. "my buddy here has something to ask you, sweets."

the man next to you seemed to go silent since your arrival at the table, the consequences of his actions just hitting. a deep breath followed by a gulp as he wiped his damp hands against his slacks. he almost flinched when your hooded, yet dominating gaze met his own eyes, but after remembering who and where he was, he gained his composure almost as quickly as it left.

"nah 'ts nothin'," he waved his hand. "just a passing thought, is all..."

others both around the roundtable and those dancing near it tried not to make it obvious that they were watching the exchange going down. they found themselves pitying a character who would not deserve it, under different circumstances. but, as discussed, the haitani aura seems to throw things off of balance.

if he didn't want to talk, ran would do it for him. "he wants to know if your single, claims he could give you a lay better than your man could,"

your eyes left the man, instead looking over your boyfriends face in silent communication.

'you and i both know he can't'

'...i know, my love, just humor me every once in a while?'

'you're such a character sometimes, haitani'

'you love it though'

eyes darted between you, awaiting your response, thus his sentence in anticipation. he didn't know what telepathic language you were communicating in, but he was glad to not hear his fate get discussed right in front of him.

"i'm very flattered, but i have a boyfriend, sorry." your response was dry towards him, but the gaze you held with ran was anything but.

catching wind of what was about to happen, you excused yourself from the table, leaving a kiss on the corner of rans mouth, whispering a 'be good' in his ear before leaving.

whatever happened after your departure was not your business, after all.

GOJO

"hey man," a hand belonging to an unfamiliar man clasped on satorus shoulder. "do you know if the girl you came here with has a boyfriend?"

you had dragged your boyfriend to one of your friend's parties, much to his dismay. he's sworn off drinking after geto's blackmail folder started getting a bit thick, meaning there was nothing fun to do other than socialise, but he didn't want to after people flocked to him for the wrong reasons.

so now he was maybe the only sober one in this lively scene, which leads to the current events.

he spoke your name for clarity. "uhh, I'm not sure. you can go ask her if you want. ill even put in a good word for you."

has this man been a fraction more sober, he would've questioned why the blindfolded man's smile was so wide, or why he was so willing to help, but alas, this was a party and alcohol was supplied.

"thanks, dude! you're such a lifesaver."

satoru almost felt bad for the guy. he was practically buzzing whilst traversing through the sweaty bodies in search of you. he felt bad until he remembered how bored he was before this happened, he has to put himself first sometimes.

after a couple stumbles, reroutes and a rest break, they had finally found you in your angelic beauty, laughing with a group of girls he didn't know.

he thought it was quite cute how the guy seemed to become more shy at the sight of you, and satoru couldn't blame him. had he been someone more normal, he would act the same in your presence.

one of the girls caught sight of the pair by the entry and gestured you towards them. your face softened slightly at the sight of your six-foot-something boyfriend and his... friend?

"hey toru," you smiled, before looking at the other man. "who’s this?"

satoru said nothing, slapping the guy a little too harshly on the back before stepping back. the floor was his.

"hey," he breathed out, before introducing himself. "i saw you come in with your friend earlier, and just wanted to know if you were seeing anyone?"

your heart rate picked up, but not for the reason the guy was hoping. why was gojo like this? did he enjoy seeing you suffer?

he obviously did as when you looked over your shoulder to the said man, he gave you a big, encouraging grin with both thumbs up. the audacity.

he had thrown you to the wolves and left you to fend for yourself.

"uhm..." you breathed, trying not to shatter the poor guy's heart. "i have a boyfriend, unfortunately. sorry."

"what do you mean, unfortunately!" satoru mocked you from behind the guy. "I'm a total catch, right?" he turned to the guy. "right??"

though delayed, the guy had finally come to the realisation he had been punked by the man who egged him on the whole time. his face burst into a deep shade of red, apologising profusely before rushing back into the crowd.

"you're such an ass, gojo."

"the last name huh?" he scratched the back of his neck. "I'm in for it arent i?"

[secret-moonstruck]

WAKE ME UP | ENHYPEN

— Pairing: enhypen x fem!reader | (Masterlist)

— Synopsis: You decide to wake them up in a special way.

— Genre: smut

— Warnings: oral sex, praising, making out, begging, cum eating.

— Notes: I'm new to this writing thing, and English is not my first language. Sorry for not writing so well, I wish to improve and bring better and well-written stories.

Heeseung: It hadn't been long since you had gone to sleep when you woke up feeling Heeseung hard against you, for a moment you were surprised, then you remembered one of his fantasies so you couldn't help but smile.

Carefully not to wake him you turned to face him, then started pumping his member but then a better idea came into your mind when you heard him moan. Turning on top of him, mounting him, rubbing against his erection, you were startled when suddenly his hands grabbed your waist tightly and your body was thrown against the bed. Not long after, you were already a mess of moans and tears as he fiercely pushed himself inside you.

Jake: You heard that Jake went to practice earlier than the others so you decided to surprise him. But when you entered the room you saw him sleeping, he was so tired that instead of practicing he ended up sleeping while watching the choreography video. You decided to give him a gift to cheer him up. Sitting next to him you ran your hands down his body until you reached his pants, touching him slowly with gentle movements, feeling him get excited you moved closer to kiss his lips, he woke up confused, but soon let out a moan when he felt your hands.

- Please continue Y/N. - He said, laying his head back on the sofa. 

His hand now directly pumping his exposed member, bending over him using his mouth to finish the job, which didn't take long.

He was very happy with his gift, when the members arrived they were surprised that he was so excited and willing to rehearse.

Jay: It was quiet on the plane, everyone was asleep, but you were bored. As you watched Jay something popped into your mind. With a smile you slid your hand under the blanket that was on his lap, sneaking into his pants and boxers, before long he was already hard under your touches, but your little play didn't last long, soon you felt a tightness around you wrist, when he looked at your eyes, a shiver run through your body.. You rarely saw him with that expression, and when you did, you knew you were in trouble. 

- Again being dirty in public, you know very well what happens when you do that, don't you?

And yes you knew it, he would punish you until he made you cry. Your legs shook in anticipation as he dragged her to the back of the plane. Before being pushed into the bathroom you saw the flight attendant's irritated look, but you didn't have time to feel embarrassed. 

Sunghoon: You were going to spend the day together, so you went to the dorm early but he was still sleeping.

When you entered his room a smile appeared on your face, he was sleeping so fully that you felt a little guilty for the thought that invaded your mind, but he himself said he found it interesting, why not?

Silently you sat on the bed next to him, your hands sliding under the cover until you reached him, slowly you began to caress him, it didn't take long for him to be extremely hard in your hands, as he moaned in his sleep. You watched as his eyes slowly opened, how his shocked expression was soon replaced by a dirty smile.

- A good way to wake up. - He said pulling her for a kiss.

The way he seemed more wild and aggressive made you realize that you were going to pay dearly for your little joke.

Sunoo: When you woke up and heard a low moan you ignored it, but when you heard it again but this time your name you froze. 

When you turned around you saw your boyfriend still sleeping, his expression tense, then you heard another groan. Then a smile appeared on your face… was that perverted little boy having a dirty dream about you? As soon as the thought arose you were already under the covers, with him in your mouth, moans coming from him more frequently, even in his dream he moved wanting more, soon you felt him tense up and noticed that he was waking up. You looked at him as he removed the covers in surprise.

- Y/N...what are you...? - He tried to speak but instead another moan left his lips. 

It didn't take long for him to come in you mouth.

- Um… Thank you for breakfast. - You said after swallowing everything. His expression was priceless, but also dangerous.

Jungwon: The movie was halfway through when you noticed that Jungwon was sleeping, he insisted on watching and fell asleep, you rolled your eyes in annoyance. When you remembered him saying something about being woken up in a special way, you thought it might be a good way to get your “revenge”.

To confirm that he was sleeping you slowly began to touch him over his sweatpants, while massaging his member you smiled as he became hard under your touch, when you heard him moan you pulled his pants along with his boxers showing off his erection.

Your tongue running along his length, when you licked the tip you felt a hand on your head.

- Really a bitch. You didn't even wait for me to wake up.. - Before pushing himself into her mouth

Niki: You were on a trip to the beach with your friends. Apart from Jay who was driving everyone had slept. Your hands were intertwined with Niki's under a blanket you always took with you on trips. As he slept he ended up pulling his hand further up into his lap, a light went on in his head. Releasing his hand you began to slowly massage him still over his pants, you felt him getting excited and continued touching him, a moan left his lips and you froze when Heeseung who was on the bench in front of you looked back. You pretended to be distracted looking away, he ignored you and turned back.

Not long after, he let out another moan but this time louder, this time everyone turned to you, at the exact moment he woke up and groaned again. Pulling back your hand you wanted to disappear in embarrassment while they complained about you being dirty.

— Note2: Sorry if it's not good, I'll try to improve it.

[ghsface]

that damn mask - chris sturniolo

Sumary: You see Chris in the Ghostface costume and you can't control what seeing him like that makes you feel.

Warnings: smut +18 orgasm denial, teasing, sexual tension, explicit content, use of fingers, semi public sex, unprotected sex (don't do it), oral f receiving, dom!chris x fem!reader, I don't think I've forgotten anything, if I do, let me know.

A/n: I hope I'm not the only one who has a Fantasy with Ghostface, by the way I'm sorry if there are misspelled words or things that don't make sense, my first language is not English

⛧°。 ⋆༺ ✮ ༻⋆。 °⛧

The air was charged with energy at the costume party Tara Yummy had thrown for Halloween. Flashing lights and loud music made the floor vibrate as people laughed, drank, and moved around the room filled with creative costumes. But for you, nothing at this party compared to Chris’ presence.

They had both dressed up as Ghostface, the iconic black robes and masks adding a dark and dangerous air to the night. From the moment you saw Chris putting on the mask, something changed inside you. The way the shadow of his face was hidden behind that lifeless expression, the way his body moved with a commanding confidence, made you feel an intense and deep desire that you couldn’t control.

Your mind kept imagining him taking off his mask, leaning over you, his firm and strong hands running over every part of your skin. You felt yourself burning inside, every fiber of your being begging for more, wanting him to take you right there, in the middle of the crowd.

Chris noticed your discomfort almost instantly. He saw it in the way you bit your bottom lip, the way you pressed yourself against the bar, as if you were trying to hide the tension in your body. But he didn't say anything. Instead of confronting you, he decided to make the night more interesting. He knew exactly what he was doing.

Throughout the night, Chris kept teasing you. Every time he passed by, he would lightly brush against you, his fingers sliding down your lower back, his soft, dangerous voice whispering comments that further ignited your desire. He seemed to enjoy the silent torture he was putting you through, knowing that you wanted something he was more than willing to give you... but only when he decided.

You were on the verge of desperation when, in one swift movement, Chris took you by the arm and led you to one of the bathrooms in the house, away from the hustle and bustle of the party. The bathroom was dark, lit only by the dim light that filtered in from under the door, and Chris’s presence filled the small space, overwhelming you.

Without a word, he slowly removed his mask, his eyes meeting yours. His gaze was heavy with intent, dark and dominant. The air grew thicker as he knelt in front of you, his hands firmly placed on your thighs, parting them as he looked at you with that mix of control and desire.

“I want you to remember this when we’re home,” he whispered, his voice low and full of promise.

He didn’t give you time to respond. Without warning, Chris knelt in front of you, his gaze fixed on your intimacy with a mix of hunger and desire. With firm hands, he unbuttoned your pants and slid them down, leaving you vulnerable before him. “You’re perfect,” he said, his voice soft and heavy with desire as his eyes roamed over your exposed figure.

When his lips touched your thigh, a rush of anticipation ran through your body. Chris took his time, leaving a trail of kisses along your skin as he moved ever closer. Finally, his mouth found your clit, and when his tongue brushed against it, an uncontrollable moan escaped your lips. “Oh, God, Chris!” you exclaimed, feeling the pleasure begin to build.

He smirked and continued, his tongue sliding precisely over your clit. “You like it, don’t you?” he asked, enjoying your reaction as he played with your sensitivity.

With each stroke of his tongue, the outside world disappeared and there was only you and the fire he lit inside you.

Chris knew exactly how to touch you, how to make you move in time with his rhythm. His fingers, soft but firm, began to caress your entrance, one of them gently entering while his mouth worked on your clit. The combination of his tongue and finger brought you to a place where words faded away, and only moans and sighs of pleasure remained.

“Chris…” you could barely articulate his name, the feel of his movements filling you with an almost overwhelming need. But he stopped suddenly, his gaze fixed on you with a mix of amusement and dominance. “Do you want more?” he asked, his teasing tone making your body tremble.

“Yes, please,” you pleaded, feeling the pressure building inside you. But Chris was relentless. He stopped, relishing in your desperation. “Not until you beg me,” he said, his voice low and laden with defiance.

“Please, Chris, don’t stop…” your voice shook with need, and he smiled, relishing in the power he had over you. When he finally thrust his tongue and fingers back in, he did so with renewed strength, increasing the pace as they brought you to the edge once more.

With each stroke, his fingers delved deeper into you, while his tongue swirled and caressed your clit, driving your pleasure to new heights. “You’re so beautiful when you let yourself go,” he said, his voice echoing in your mind as you sank into pleasure. “I want you to tell me what you feel.”

“Chris, I’m so close…” you moaned, pressure building inside you, but he stopped again, leaving you on the brink of climax. “What are you going to do to make me let you cum?” he asked, relishing in the struggle between pleasure and frustration.

“I need you, please,” you begged, feeling the edge getting closer and closer. Finally, as your desperation became almost unbearable, he complied. “Tell me,” he demanded, looking at you with that mix of control and desire.

“I need you to let me cum,” you pleaded, and he smiled, satisfaction shining in his eyes. With one determined move, Chris increased the speed, his tongue and fingers working together to bring you to that explosion you had been craving.

The combination of his expert touch and his focused attention on your clit brought you to climax. When you finally let go, pleasure erupted within you, flooding you with a wave of sensations so intense it seemed like time stood still. Chris continued his pace, taking you to new heights as convulsions of pleasure coursed through your body.

“That’s it, good job,” he whispered, his deep voice filling the air as the world around you faded away. Finally, when you steadied yourself, Chris leaned in, his breath hot on your skin as he looked at you in satisfaction. "You're completely mine," he declared, and you knew that tonight had been just the beginning of what he had in store for you.

“This is just the beginning,” he murmured, standing up and putting his mask back on. “Now, enjoy the party.”

You tried to regain your composure, but your mind was flooded with thoughts of what awaited you when you finally got home.

The ride home was a whirlwind of sensations. Chris kept teasing you, his hands playing with you, leaving you completely exposed to his desires without anyone noticing. By the time you arrived, you could barely stand up from the sheer desire that consumed you.

The door closed behind you, and in the blink of an eye, Chris had you up against the wall. This time, there was no subtlety. His mouth claimed yours with an intensity that left you breathless, and his hands were quick to strip you of your clothes. Every touch was a reminder of who was in charge, of how he had made you beg in the bathroom, and how he was now going to fulfill every one of your fantasies.

“I told you you’d remember,” he growled against your ear, his hands gripping your hips as he let you know exactly what was coming.

And then he did, taking you beyond what you had imagined at that party, making you understand that tonight you weren’t going to forget who was in control.

The air in the room became almost unbearable as Chris finally took you completely. There were no more games, no more teases; just a raw, fierce need that raged between the two of you. His hands, strong and determined, held you firmly, guiding every movement as his lips moved down your neck, taking your breath away with each kiss.

The way he looked at you, even with the mask on at times, ignited something even darker inside you. Each thrust was more intense, deeper, as if both of you were releasing all the tension built up at that party, on that night. The sound of your heavy breathing, your gasps, and the echo of your bodies colliding filled the room, creating a thick, lust-filled atmosphere.

Chris kept reminding you who was in charge, his words full of authority and desire, whispering things in your ear that made you shiver.

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited to do this to you,” he murmured, his deep voice, raspy with lust. “Look at me… look at me as I take you the way you want.”

Your eyes met his, and just seeing the satisfaction on his face as he noticed how completely you were given to him made you lose control. Pleasure was building up inside you, a fire that spread throughout your body, threatening to make you explode.

Chris, with the same precision with which he had brought you to the edge in the bathroom, kept you right there, taking you to the edge again and again, but not letting you fall. He made you beg with every movement, with every thrust that seemed to have no end.

“Chris, please…” you gasped, your voice cracking with need.

“Please what?” he replied with a dark smile, not stopping, enjoying watching you squirm under his control.

You couldn’t think, you couldn’t speak, you just wanted more of him, to feel him deeper, to let yourself be carried away by the pleasure he offered you without reservation.

Finally, when you thought you couldn’t take it anymore, Chris took you even harder, taking you to the point of no return. You felt your whole body tense, the pleasure enveloping you, making the world around you disappear. There was nothing but Chris, his hands, his body, and the way he made you feel like you were losing control in his arms.

Each thrust brought you closer to the edge, your body shaking as Chris showed no signs of stopping. He was relentless, dominating you completely, and the feeling made you lose yourself in ecstasy. His strong hands on your hips guided you, taking you to a place where only pleasure existed, and his every move pushed you beyond what you thought possible.

Chris was completely in control, his heavy breathing mixing with you as he kept you right on the edge, not letting you fall completely. His words, whispered in a low tone filled with desire, made your body respond with each passing second.

“You're mine,” he grew, his husky voice as his eyes never left yours.

It was a statement, not a question. And you, lost in the intensity of it all, could do nothing but nod, letting yourself go completely. His hands roamed your body with that same precision, seeking out every spot that made you shudder, and when he finally let you fall over the edge, you did so with a gasp, your body shaking beneath his as the pleasure consumed you.

Chris, feeling you crumble, gave you no rest. He picked up the pace, taking you further, making sure you remembered every second, that you were completely lost in him.

When he finally reached his own climax, it was with a low growl, his body tensing as he spilled himself inside you, taking you with him in an explosion of sensations that left you breathless. You both stood there, breathing heavily, the room filled with the echo of what had just happened.

Slowly, Chris slid to the side, but he didn't pull away completely. His hands were still on your skin, caressing gently as you both tried to catch your breath.

“I told you I would make it unforgettable,” he finally murmured, his voice soft, but still full of that authority that had made you lose control all night.

You, still trembling, couldn't help but smile slightly. Chris had given you exactly what you wanted… and more.

⛧°。 ⋆༺ ✮ ༻⋆。 °⛧

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated dearly ✮

Tags... @strnlslut @matt-sturnioloo @cayleeuhithinknott @chrissexsuall @realqueenofpepsi @bsturnzmtt @slutforsturniolo @sophsturns @demisthings05 @inssanely @stvrnzwrld @kamskami @lovingregulusblack <3

[14dayswithyou]

The 14DWY brainrot is real... >_< were ypu planning on sharing koi ren's design here too or is it discord only for now? remember to drink lots n lots of water today 🐸☔️

i don't rmbr if i included this but can you share any koi crumbs too?

✦゜ANSWERED: aaaaa I'm 14 years late to this ask (/silly), but thank you for reminding me!! I'll add the new Mer Ren design to da queue >:3

I'll also put the Koi Ren (I'm rocking with this new name!!) crumbs under the cut!!

"Stop rocking the boat, Ren." Without sparing a glance in his direction, you continue to stare out into the vast, open lake. "You'll scare away all the fish."

Had you turned around, you would've seen the faux-deadpan look on his face as Ren takes in the irony of your words. As if to prove a point, he gently swishes his tail in the water, which causes small ripples to form and (eventually) disturb your bobber. "I don't think the boat is the problem here."

"Okay, how about this... One more fish, then we can go back." You finally look back at your scaley companion — who was still leaning against the edge of your tin boat with a lazy smile — and give him a resolute nod. "Promise."

"Sure," Ren casually reaches into the boat to pick and pluck at some of your live bait. "But you said that about the last three fish."

"This will be the last one. I swear."

"You... swear?" You try to ignore the way Ren swallows up one of your minnows as if you weren't using them for bait as he continues to speak, "Like... curse words? Humans sure are weird creatures."

As if realising his comment, Ren's ocean-blue eyes widen slightly and shift towards your form. "N-Not... Not you, though."

With a laugh, you playfully try to nudge him off of the boat. All it does is cause it to tip slightly, but Ren steadies it when you show signs of losing balance.

"Alright. One more fish, then?"

You nod and cast your attention back to your rod once more. You don't even notice the silence — nor Ren slipping away — until you suddenly feel a tug on your line and call out to your companion in excitement. "That was quick!"

Quickly reeling it in, you wonder what kind of fish you'd just caught — it's definitely stronger than you anticipated, given how the rod drastically bends and snaps at every movement from the fish. And just as you see the shadow from the murky depths get closer, the ripples get bigger and cause a stir underneath your tin boat. Standing up now, you try with all your might to reel it on board...

...Only for a mess of black hair to emerge from below and peer up at you with a smug look.

"Ren!"

"Looks like you got a big one."

"C'moooon." You practically whine, though you allow Ren to haul himself into your tiny boat and rest his head in your lap. You can still feel his body shake from underneath your touch, no doubt still laughing at his poor attempt at a joke. "This doesn't count."

A beat passes before your fishy companion responds. "...Hm? Fine then."

Another moment of silence follows before he slithers back into the water without another word. Half of you worries that you might've said something to offend him (there was still the tiniest hint of a language barrier between you two). Still, it ultimately leads to nothing as Ren soon emerges once more — only this time, he's hauling the biggest largemouth bass you'd ever seen into your boat.

"This good enough?" He looks at you with wide, blue eyes. "If not, I can probably find a sturgeon and—"

"It's bigger than my boat!"

"Is this what your kind calls... exaggeration? Because your boat is big enough even for me to—"

"—Arghh! It's getting water everywhere! Put it back!"

It was almost comical how Ren tossed the fish over his shoulder and back into the water without breaking eye contact with you.

Another wave of silence hits, yet neither of you seems to move or break the awkward staring contest you'd somehow started. It's then when you notice Ren's grin get bigger — most likely at your resignation and embarrassment — which causes you to fall back into your seat in defeat.

"Fine. Enough fishing for today. Let's head back." Busying yourself with the bucket of fish and tacklebox in front of you, you secure your gear and pack everything away. But it seems Ren had other plans, seeing as he took it upon himself to climb back into your boat and rest his arms on your legs. No longer able to move as freely, you have no choice but to indulge in his carefree whims.

"But you caught me. Aren't you going to bring me home too?"

"As much as I want to," Truly, you do. You've always wanted to show Ren the world outside of Lake Bluemoss. "There's no way I'm carrying you all the way down the mountain."

"You never know until you cry."

"Try." You correct him. "Until you try."

"Your kind sure are funny." Ren nuzzles himself closer. "Perhaps another time, then... Stay here tonight."

Your body pricks up at his words, and you spare a glance at the abandoned boathouse near the dock. Despite its rough and rugged exterior, you and Ren actually made it quite comfy. It had some of your old blankets and sheets thrown over one of the boats to make it comfortable to lounge in — alongside a giant empty tank that you and Ren filled with water for him to sit in as well. Despite the lack of human traction, the place still felt homey and well-loved.

"...I guess I could."

"Then what are we waiting shore?"

You had to roll your eyes at his attempt at a pun.

[librarycards]

Hello! I am trying to read “the right to maim” by jasbir k puar and I am getting almost nothing out of it, bc of the depth + breadth of academic concepts :( I’m particularly frustrated by it bc it seems to talk about subjects I think about, talk about and do daily, like disability, transness, and (anti)colonialism. I’m most of the way through the intro and it’s gone almost entirely over my head except for a couple isolated paragraphs that are meaningful.

Do you have any advice for how I can get the most out of this book? My main limiter is time, bc I got it out from the library and it is highly requested so I can’t have it for very long

Hi anon! First of all, in terms of time, I recommend piracy. I recommend it in general. I'm not going to post links here in order to protect the places I use, but dm me if you want them.

If you're having difficulty with the concepts (which makes sense - right to maim is a challenging book!) I recommend going back to basics with some background reading. You can get some of Puar's rec'd background reading from the bibliography, and from the keywords she uses in the preface of the text. a few that I see (i'm looking at the PDF now) include debility, rhizome/rhizomatic, soverignty, biopolitics, homonationalism, impairment [in the disability studies sense], precarity, and neoliberalism. if i was teaching this preface, i'd have students break down each of these terms (and probably others, this is just from a skim) using outside readings. it's totally normal to feel overwhelmed when jumping into a scholarly text w/o any context, and most people who use and cite this book have past experience reading Puar's interlocutors and existing familiarity with this language.

you can get up-to-date while reading using resources in tandem with this text. For example, you can read Puar's discussion of debility at that link to get a sense of the context. You can read a decent summary of Foucault (the coiner of the term "biopower") and his thought at Brittanica. I recommend using Google Scholar for terms you're not familiar with, and taking quick notes so that you don't have to google them all over again each time. if you think you have enough context with a new word but aren't 100%, keep reading and use other clues. think about academic reading like learning a new language. the strategies are very similar! because it basically is.

I recommend using the annotation strategies i just mentioned in this post (and/or developing your own). i also recommend looking up Puar's talks on youtube - she's a well-known scholar who does a lot of events, and has spoken extensively about this book and its genealogy (especially in relation to praxis / Palestinian liberation). You can also read her talk with the hosts of Death Panel, my absolute favorite podcast.

Below, I'm going to give you an example of how I close-read, annotate, and analyze a paragraph from Right to Maim (and, by extension, other academic texts. This strategy may not work for you 100%, but hopefully it gives you some solid suggestions. Overall, remember that learning to read scholarly work takes time. A long ass time. Even when it's about things you've experienced yourself! Academia has its own conventions, verbiage, knowledge base, etc, and it's a learning curve for everyone. Don't expect yourself to read as fast or get as much as someone more familiar with the conventions of academic writing - anticipate reading all of these works many, many times, and getting more with each reading. Progress is more important than perfection, and improvement, even if slow, *will* happen, as long as you don't give up. <3

Below is a quote from the preface to Right to Maim, where Puar lays out her argument. I recommend everyone highlight/remember paragraphs like these (pretty much every ac text will have something like this in the beginning as a roadmap) to anchor their reading practice and help them get the most from a book (emphasis mine):

In The Right to Maim, I focus less on an impor­tant proj­ect of disability rights and disability studies, which is to refute disability as lack, as inherently undesirable, and as the sign, evidence, or fetish of injustice and victimhood. I am not sidestepping this issue. Rather, I centralize the quest for justice to situate what material conditions of possibility are necessary for such positive reenvisionings of disability to flourish, and what happens when those conditions are not available. My goal ­here is to examine how disability is produced, how certain bodies and populations come into biopoliti­cal being through having greater risk to become disabled than ­others. The difference between disability and debility that I schematize is not derived from expounding upon and contrasting phenomenological experiences of corporeality, but from evaluating the vio­lences of biopo­liti­cal risk and metrics of health, fertility, longevity, education, and geography.

In the bolded part, Puar outlines what she's not doing: she's not taking a mainstream (white, colonial) disability studies approach, which is, in her words, to refute disability as "lack." She's stating that her goal isn't simply to prove disabled people as equal to able-bodied people, or to claim that disability can be good and liberating (though it is/can be!). Her point is to look at the conditions in which people become disabled, and stay disabled. Often, these conditions are violent and unjust. Acknowledging this injustice kinda throws a wrench into western models of disability pride.

So, if she's not interested in just arguing that disability ≠ badness, what is she arguing? she's looking, in the latter half of the paragraph, to how people become disabled in multiple ways. One, using the verbiage in the book, she's interested in how people become debilitated - physically incapacitated in a way that may not line up with the social category of "disability"). She's also interested in how "disability" as a social identity is constructed - that is, why do disability rights groups look at Palestinians maimed by the IOF and see an injured civilian, but not a disabled comrade? words and context matter immensely. she's looking at why, and what are the implications.

that last sentence sums up the distinction she's making: "The difference between disability and debility that I schematize is not derived from expounding upon and contrasting phenomenological experiences of corporeality, but from evaluating the vio­lences of biopo­liti­cal risk and metrics of health, fertility, longevity, education, and geography."

the difference, she argues, between disability as western disability studies sees it and debility as experienced by people under colonial occupation isn't because we experience our bodyminds differently, or because Palestinians (for example) magically aren't as hurt by occupation as their white/western counterparts would be. rather, the reason she's using debility over disability is because the category of disability isn't objective: it's informed by biopolitical forces such as the ones she listed. her meta-argument is that what we call "disability" can't be divorced from its settler colonial context, not because colonized peoples are immune to disabling violence, but because the category of disability (and health, and violence) is itself affected by settler colonialism.

in "right to maim," Puar is offering a major shift in the way we collectively discuss disability, because the category is not applied equally across sociopolitical, geographical context. it means Palestinians and others living under occupation are either left out entirely, or unsuccessfully co-opted into western-/colonizer-centric disability discourse that doesn't acknowledge the different conditions under which they live. ultimately, "right to maim" means to make that difference, and its implications, visible.

Let me know if this makes sense! it's wordy and tedious, but lots of academic texts are. i hope that breakdown helps you make some more sense of Puar's main argument/the architecture of the text, and maybe serves as a model for future engagement. :)

[official-cvntified-gay]

Hi, I'm new to this, I was wondering if you could make a Larissa × reader. where the reader is a married mother and her daughter attends Nevermore and Larissa falls in love with her one day she summons her to her office with the excuse of talking about the reader's daughter but it will all end in something obscene? although at first the reader resists.

You can make Larissa G!P or not, it's your decision, I'm sorry if something is not understood, English is not my main language😭

CLOSE masterlist

pairing: larissa weems x fem! reader

warnings: infidelity, smut

wc: 1300+

note: sorry anon this took way too long, life got in the way, do hope you enjoy this<3

❝How dare you assume I would accept something like that!❞

❝Well... the way you clench your pretty thighs said so.❞

Your heels clanked as you walked through the quad of Nevermore, its familiarity seeping into your mind, reminiscing about your time there. You had a soft little smile as your eyes examined the changes of the academy.

Your eyes lit up as you saw an old friend, your smile widening as you were about to walk to her when a rough hand on your waist stopped you. "This way," your husband said, not even waiting until you got a word out of your mouth before he was leading you toward the direction of the Principal’s office. You winced as you felt his calloused hand caress your skin against the fabric of your dress. You kept up appearances, knowing you had a reputation to uphold. You smiled at the other mothers who were trying to get on your good side, aware of your influence. Even after all these years, you still had to pretend for your parents’ sake.

"Please take your arm off me," you whispered with your practiced smile still etched on your face. He gave you a sharp glare, and you backed down, knowing this would end in an argument.

The office was grand, much like you remembered it from your own days at Nevermore. Principal Larissa Weems greeted you with her usual poised elegance, her tall frame commanding the room with ease. Her blue eyes sparkled with a mix of curiosity and admiration, a glint of something unspoken that sent a shiver down your spine as they lingered on you.

After a formal exchange about your daughter’s progress, Larissa’s gaze occasionally flicked toward you, her focus lingering a little too long on the way you crossed your legs or the softness in your voice. She addressed both you and your husband with politeness, but there was an undeniable tension in the room. You noticed the way her lips curled slightly whenever you spoke, as though she were holding back something unsaid.

When the meeting concluded, she rose to shake your husband’s hand, her expression neutral. But when she turned to you, her touch lingered a second longer than necessary, her eyes holding yours with an intensity that made your pulse quicken.

Over the following weeks, your paths crossed with Larissa more often. Whether it was at school events or casual encounters in town, she always found a reason to speak to you. Her comments were never overt, but there was a warmth and familiarity in her tone that left you unsettled—and intrigued.

It was during one such meeting, at a parent-teacher gathering, that she leaned in closer than necessary, her voice low as she said, "You look stunning tonight." The words sent a shiver down your spine, and for the first time in years, you felt truly seen.

When the next parent conference day came, you made the decision to attend without your husband. It wasn’t a deliberate act of defiance—it was simply easier that way, or so you told yourself. Yet, as you walked into Larissa’s office alone, you couldn’t ignore the flutter of anticipation in your chest.

She greeted you with a smile, her gaze softer than before but no less intense. As you discussed your daughter, the conversation gradually shifted, the professional tone giving way to something more personal.

"You’re an incredible mother," she said, her voice warm. "But I can’t help but wonder... do you ever take time for yourself?"

You hesitated, her words cutting deeper than you expected. "I—It’s complicated."

Larissa leaned back against her desk, studying you. "Is it? Or have you simply convinced yourself that it has to be?"

Her words stung, and you felt your defences rise. "How dare you assume I would accept something like that!" you snapped, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and vulnerability. A hint of denial washing through you even though from miles away anyone can see it.

Larissa’s lips curled into a knowing smile. "Well... the way you clench your pretty thighs said so."

Your breath hitched, her audacity leaving you momentarily speechless. The air between you crackled with tension, and for the first time, you didn’t move to deny the truth in her words.

"Larissa," you began, your voice faltering, "this isn’t... I’m married."

"To a man who doesn’t deserve you," she countered, stepping closer. "You deserve to be loved, cherished, wanted. And I see you, every part of you that you try so hard to hide. Let me show you what it feels like to be truly seen."

Her words unraveled something inside you, years of pretending and suppressing your own desires crashing down all at once. When her lips met yours, you didn’t pull away. The kiss was slow and deliberate, her hands cupping your face as if you were something precious.

Her lips moved against yours with a patience that unraveled your control. She guided you gently toward the couch, her hands exploring your waist and back with reverence. The soft rustle of fabric and the warmth of her body against yours sent a thrill through you, making it impossible to deny how deeply you wanted this.

"Tell me to stop," she murmured against your lips, her voice thick with restraint. Her blue eyes searched yours, giving you one final moment to back away.

But you didn’t. Instead, you leaned into her, a silent plea escaping your lips as her arms enveloped you.

Larissa’s hands slid up your sides, her touch igniting every nerve ending. Her lips trailed along your jawline, leaving a fiery path that melted away every hesitation. The way she whispered your name made you feel like the center of her universe, each syllable dripping with longing and adoration.

Her fingers grazed the sensitive skin of your arms before tangling in your hair. She kissed you deeply, her movements slow and deliberate, as if she wanted to memorize every curve and contour. You responded in kind, your hands finding their way to her shoulders, then her back, pulling her closer until there was no space left between you.

"You’re so beautiful," she breathed, her words sending a shiver down your spine. She pressed gentle kisses to your collarbone, her touch both reverent and electric. Her movements were unhurried, as though she wanted to savor every moment, every reaction.

Your breaths mingled as the room filled with the quiet hum of your shared passion. Time seemed to stand still, the outside world fading away until only the two of you remained. Her touch, her scent, her warmth—they consumed you entirely.

Her hands moved lower, sliding under the fabric of your dress, and you didn’t hesitate. You allowed her to pull you closer, to feel every inch of her against you. You felt every press of her body, the heat between you building with each passing moment, each movement. It was overwhelming, intoxicating.

"I want you," Larissa whispered, her voice thick with desire, her hands roaming your body with a sense of urgency, as though time was running out and she needed to savor every moment.

You responded in kind, your hands pressing against her back, pulling her closer as you lost yourself in the sensation of her body moving against yours. The way she kissed you, touched you, made you feel like you were the only thing in the world that mattered, was intoxicating. It was everything you had been searching for, everything you had been missing. The warmth, the passion, the freedom to finally let go.

When your bodies finally intertwined, when you were both gasping for breath, tangled together in the aftermath of your shared release, you realized something profound: you had let go of more than just the moment. You had let go of the years of fear, of pretending to be someone you were not. In her arms, you found the freedom to be yourself—raw, real, and completely alive.

As you lay there, wrapped in her arms, the weight of it all settled over you. “I can’t keep living like this,” you whispered, the words heavy with meaning.

Larissa’s arms tightened around you, her voice steady as she replied, “Then don’t. You don’t have to.”

And for the first time in years, you allowed yourself to believe it. There was hope now—hope for a future where you didn’t have to hide anymore, where you could finally be free.

[cybersugru]

❝ castaways ; 명재현

𖥻 pairing: loser!myung jaehyung x female reader

𖥻 contains: rockstar!au, childhood best friends to lovers

𖥻 warnings: inspired by 5sos' "try hard" + "heartbreak girl" / english is not my first language, and i also forgot to proofread so i'm sorry in advance everyone

word count — 2.4k

synopsis — you and jaehyun had been friends ever since you could remember, supporting and caring for each other. but little did you know that the boy you saw as the personification of a soulmate found in a friendship, saw you as the most perfect muse for all the songs he had ever written. you didn't know it yet, but jaehyun was doing his absolute best to make you see his true feelings.

🎀

IT was no secret that looking back to your whole life, you’d lived more years being friends with jaehyun than not. it was natural — for the both of you — to share memories, habits, tastes, experiences, or whatever it was with the other; more natural even than doing so with your families. myung had always been there for you and you had always been there for him. always.

however, for a little over two years now, the two of you have not been able to see each other as often as you used to in the past. between you getting into university and him chasing his dream in the music industry, the necessary sacrifices took more from your individual lives than your teenage fantasies could’ve ever predicted when you were in high school.

the weather that afternoon was warmer than the usual autumn days and you couldn’t help but smile thinking that perhaps even nature knew that two halves of the same soul were about to meet again for the first time in eight months or so and was happy that this encounter was going to take place. there was a light breeze running through the city, refreshing the anticipation inside of you and making your hair dance with movements worthy of the highest class of ballet as you opened the heavy dark-wood door before you.

your eyes wandered around the ambience, looking for those large round dark of his you could recognize anywhere, no matter how much time had passed. “sometimes i swear i can see stars reflecting on your eyes, hyun”, you said one time when you were younger right after your first ever heartbreak and your best friend came to your rescue on the parking lot where your former boyfriend left you; jaehyun picked up the tiny broken pieces of your crushed heart only to somehow find a way to glue them back together until you found the strength to heal by yourself, and the musician never asked for anything in return, because that was who he was in the end. it didn’t take long before you smiled from ear to ear at the sight of him.

“hi, jae!” the excitement in your voice was noticeable to anyone close to the table at the almost empty café you were supposed to meet. “you look different. what did you do?”

the boy, at least you thought it was still the same boy you’ve known since childhood, let out a faint laugh as he hugged you tightly against his body, a good amount of centimetres taller than yours. just like he always used to do, jaehyun cupped your face with his right hand — the soft hand, the only one that should touch you, in his mind — and caressed it before messing up your hair while laughing a little more. “you noticed, didn’t ya?”

before you could answer anything properly, your attention was immediately drawn not only to the edge of the brunette’s lips but also to his left ear, and a confused frown took over your face. “is that a lip ring? and you got an industrial! jaehyun, you cut your hair!”

“but do you like it?” he asked raising his eyebrows in a split second before focusing on the menu. the music lover didn’t have the courage to say the real reasons as to why he did all that, at least not at that moment, but the biggest parts of his heart were praying that you enjoyed the modifications to his appearance like his heart was telling him you would, simply because his heart knew you better than his conscious mind did.

“i mean, yeah i do… it makes you look even more of a rockstar now, hyun, you don’t look like the good mama’s boy you always looked like.” with a chuckle, you decided to copy his moves, and turn your gaze back to the menu, even though you already knew what you’d order anyways.

jaehyun opened a smirk but that kind of good humor didn’t reach his dark eyes. he was twenty years old, over fifteen years had passed since the first day he ever saw you before him and the agony of suppressing the deep and unique feelings the musician had towards his best friend had been eating him alive for the majority of those fifteen years; living twenty-four months without having you as close to him as before was the trigger to make the myung open his eyes to the reality he tried to ignore so badly. all he ever wanted was for you to actually pay attention to the lyrics he wrote, to understand that everything you needed to have your heart in a safe and respectful place was to give it to him; ever since he was fourteen years old, jaehyun’s birthday wish when blowing the candles was always the same: for you to love him the same way he loved you. despite the depth and complexity of his feelings, the singer decided to keep it cool for a little longer; the last thing he wanted at that moment was to unconsciously push you away by bombarding you with all the words bottled up inside his heart since the very first day.

“so how’s school?” he asked once the waiter left you two alone after taking your orders. genuine concern and interest filled every word that came out of your best friend’s mouth, as there was no scenario in this world where jaehyun wouldn’t be worried about you.

you shrugged, looking away. “could be better, to be honest. the classes this last semester were three times harder than the previous one… it caught me off-guard.”

the kind-eyed man offered comfort with his speech, which warmed your heart a little bit more: no matter how much time passed or how much jaehyun changed his appearance, he was still the clumsy kid you met at kindergarten and defended from the other mean boys. in an attempt to take your mind off the stress that tool such a heavy tool on you, he playfully asked if at least there was anyone interesting in that fancy university you got yourself into — even though there was also shy and scared anticipation of his part towards your answer, as the thought of you, his muse, his best friend, his soulmate, being in love with someone who didn’t know you nearly as well as he did or that was willing to go the extra mile for you like he was, made his heart sink. even more so when you nodded.

“i mean, yeah… but it’s not going well. at least not like it used to. i haven’t talked to him in over a week or so, since we had this major argument and i needed to catch a break from that behaviour.”

myung watched uneasily when you played with your fingers, trying to escape his gaze. “why didn’t you tell me that, dove?”

“i didn’t want to trouble you with my petty problems, jaehyun. you need to focus on the band and making it out of here.”

when finally your eyes met his dark ones, the musician felt his blood freeze for a second. there was something different in the way you were looking at him, something he wasn’t used to suddenly was making those marvellous eyes of yours look a thousand times more special than normal. myung jaehyun couldn’t tell right there and then — because he was petrified by his own tornado of thoughts and feelings — but your cheeks were burning with a pink shade of embarrassment, only it was because you didn’t really know what to say or do as this was the first time you met your best friend after admitting to yourself that those feelings of care and affection towards him were due to something a lot stronger than just friendship.

“c’mon, y/n… you could never trouble me, dove.” jaehyun chuckled and took your hands between his with such gentleness that your heart began to race faster than any race car. “i’m here for you, okay?”

the following couple of hours went flying by like those leaves in the wind outside the café. your mind was blank and your thoughts, numb, as you tried as hard as you could to not let it show just how confused you were with everything taking over your judgement towards that friendship. you were scared to ruin it and you were terrified of the idea of not having jaehyun around anymore because of something dumb or did or said; but at the same time, much like him although you didn’t know it, your heart ached just from imagining what it would be like if you jumped off that cliff and confessed your feelings.

before you even realised it, the both of you were outside. the hot coffee from before didn’t really do much to keep you from feeling a shiver down your spine as a stronger breeze hit you colder than the ones from before; instead, jaehyun’s embrace felt like a personal fireplace. you couldn’t help but smile with that comparison, but even more so when he asked if would like to see what the studio looked like — with such invitation, the myung hoped it would create a nice setting for him to show you the newest song he wrote. if destiny decided that was the last melody jaehyun were to play to you, then he would do so with an undying smile.

the place was a little dark: deeper shades of brown and grey all around the walls and furniture but the acoustic panels were black and the only form of lighting came either from the computer screens and mixing consoles or from the few led lights on the ceiling above you. it smelled like cigarettes and scented candles in there, but you were too mesmerized by the fact of being in a recording studio for the first time in your life to pay attention to such details. as for jaehyun, he thought the studio was too small, too simple for you to be this enchanted by it, but your excitement brought joy to his heart and it felt like this was heaven for him; you with him in the one place he worked so hard to make his dream come true was what life should be like. this felt natural, and he only prayed that after that night, it would truly be like that forever.

“do you like it, dove?” the brunette asked, biting his lower lip while playing with his ear piercings.

“it’s so cool, hyun! look at all this stuff! what does this button do?” with sparkling eyes, you sat by the mixing consoles and bombarded your friend with a thousand questions per second. laughing, he only shrugged and rested his weight on the headrest above you.

“i don’t really know. taesan knows more about this than i do, i just stick with the guitar.” liar. jaehyun loved to produce as well, but he didn’t want to sound cocky to you so he decided to hold his tongue.

before the boy could say anything to keep you from pressing any buttons you didn’t know what they were for, your finger gently hit one of those and it triggered a recording from the night before. jaehyun had forgotten about it, but before leaving the studio, he didn’t delete the recording of him playing the acoustic guitar and singing the first song he had ever written about you; as the words came out on the speakers, the shame and fear paralyzed him so badly the guitarist couldn’t even stop it from playing anymore. his eyes were closed shut and he didn’t see how a smile took over your lips, that grew with every note because your mind was interpreting the lyrics and you understood what the song was about.

butterflies started a rampage on your stomach and your hands covered your face out of shyness, but the reality was that you felt like the teen version of yourself all over again in a matter of minutes.

“it’s beautiful, jae” you whispered by the time the song ended and you tried as hard as you could not to cry. “tell me about it”

those big, brown eyes you knew like the palm of your hand now stared at you with a feeling you had never seen before. you could feel every breath that escaped your lungs, every beat of your heart pounding against your chest, and every droplet of sweat that ran down your temples like a mustang crossing the grasslands. the entire universe had stopped for that brief moment to watch what would become of these two best friends who were exhausted of hiding their true feelings for one another; with jaehyun’s eyes tracing every little inch of your angel-like face, the repeating recording in the background was nothing compared to the symphony of two unaware hearts colliding into each other. how could you know he felt this way? how come jaehyun never did anything to show you the love prints engraved inside his heart god knew how long? worse than that: why didn’t you see your own feelings before?

“i can’t… i’ve waited too long to say this and now i can’t. i can’t say it with you looking at me like that, dove.” he whispered back and with a trembling hand, touched your face with just his thumb, scared that the roughness on the skin of his hand could scar a perfect face like yours. tears were forming in his eyes as the frustration of being incapable of confessing everything to the love of his life consumed jaehyun on the inside.

“then i’ll say it first: i love you, myung jaehyun.”

caressing his puffy red cheeks, the loving words slipped out of your mouth with such ease it scared you for a quick moment but as you repeated them back to him like a mantra, bringing his face closer to yours every time you did, the weight that had been destroying your shoulders and crushing your heart for the past year was finally gone and all you could think of was how gentle of a soul the boy you fell in love with had.

“i’ve loved you since the very first day, dove… i’ve waited fifteen years to be honoured with the privilege of being the one holding your heart. i swear i won’t ever drop it. your heart is safe with me, your love is safe with me.”

[raspberryera]

The Fall | 3

Pairing: Vanessa Shelly x Reader

Warnings: Smut, fingering, and oral

Summary: Vanessa drives you home.

Word Count: 3.8k

Authors Note: Thank you so much for 100 likes! This is my first time writing smut so it's pretty short so please let me know if I should make another part!

Several hours had passed since Vanessa's arrival, and as you kept watch on the cameras, she quietly worked on some leftover paperwork. Her presence in the room was silent yet undeniable, her body language professional and composed but with a hint of flirtatiousness that filled you with anticipation as you waited for the shift to finish. As you continued to monitor the cameras, you couldn't help but notice her occasional glances at you, your eyes often shifting towards hers.

The clock on your desk read 4:47 am and you could feel the fatigue slowly creeping up on you, the tiredness slowly overpowering your desire to spend your shift in Vanessa's company. Despite your desire to be at home and rest, something inside you was drawn back to her, and you found yourself unable to peel your eyes away from her. You were aware that your gaze towards Vanessa was bordering on inappropriate given the context of your relationship, though something about her presence and flirtatious mannerisms made it difficult to look away. You knew you probably shouldn't be gawking at a "friend" the way you were, but you couldn't help it anyway, your eyes unwillingly drifting back towards her at every opportunity.

Vanessa saw your glances out of the corner of her eye, and she couldn't help but smile at the fact that you had your eyes on her. She enjoyed the attention that you were giving her.

A bit more time had passed and you checked the clock, which now read 5:58 am as your shift was almost over. You let out a sigh of relief at the realization.

You had unexpectedly remembered that you didn't have a ride home, and with your shift coming to an end very soon, you decided to approach Vanessa and ask her for a ride home, hoping that she would willingly oblige.

"Hey," you said, breaking the momentary standstill between you two.

"Hm?" she hummed at your gentle interruption, her tone somewhat inquisitive.

"Umm... my friend had dropped me off at work," you said, pausing momentarily as you thought about how to phrase your question. "He can't drive me home, so I was wondering if it would be possible for you to drive me home instead?"

"Ah, I see," Vanessa said, her tone mildly amused. She gave you a small grin before responding, "Of course I can give you a ride home. I'm heading that way anyway, and I wouldn't want you stuck here after your long shift." She then paused and gently added, "I guess I have an excuse to spend some more time with you now, do I?"

"I suppose so," you replied, a tinge of embarrassment mixing with the anticipation of spending more time with her.

Vanessa pushed her chair back and stood up, grabbing the stack of paperwork in front of her. "Let's go," she said, you could make out the excitement in her tone when she added, "I can't wait to get home and finally rest."

"Same here," you replied, laughing slightly, standing up from your seat as well. A small blush formed on your face, although it was more due to their growing anticipation of spending more time with Vanessa than to her sudden standing up.

As you both exited the building, the late night air hit you and the silence between you two became more noticeable, but in it, the tension and excitement of the moment was palpable, the prospect of spending more time with Vanessa giving way to a growing anticipation of spending the ride back with her as you walked side by side across the deserted parking lot.

"Do you think I can ride shotgun?" you joked playfully, causing Vanessa to giggle at your humorous response. "I don't think my ego could handle riding in the back of a cop car," you added with a teasing grin.

Vanessa let out a small giggle at your playful banter. As you both continued towards her patrol car, she gave you a playful smile before responding, "Of course you can ride shotgun.” She gave you another cheeky grin as she added, "I don't blame you for avoiding the backseat."

You both made it to the car, Vanessa leading the way towards the passenger side. She reached out for the passenger door to open it for you. You quickly got into the car nodding, silently thanking her. Your hands accidentally brushing against Vanessa's for a short moment before you settled into the seat, your body suddenly heated up at the brief physical contact.

She made her way around the vehicle, slowly circling around to the driver's side. You felt your heart skip a beat as she finally entered into the driver's side, your eyes following her every movement as your body tingled with excitement at the sudden proximity you found yourself in with her.

Vanessa shot you a soft smile as she turned on the engine and put the car into reverse, her eyes meeting yours as she backed out of her parking space. "So," she spoke up, attempting to start a conversation to lessen the tension of the closed space. Vanessa's nervousness at the closeness between the two of you was evident. "What do you usually do after you get off your shift?" she asked, hoping her question would break the awkwardness.

"Well, the obvious answer would be sleep, but sometimes that just doesn't work out," you replied with a light laugh, trying downplay your nervousness. You shrugged and looked over her way as you asked, "How about you?" You shifted slightly in your seat, the closeness between the two of you starting to affect your nerves.

She gave you a small smile. Each passing second she was becoming conscious of the closeness between the two of you. She let out a soft sigh of exasperation as she replied, "I guess that makes two of us, huh? My sleep schedule's all out of wack; I hardly feel tired after my shift at all."

"Really? You're not tired after your long shift?" You asked slightly shocked.

Her head shook back and forth. "Nope, I'm not, surprisingly." A small smile grew on her lips, making it obvious that she wasn't tired in the slightest, which caused you to tilt your head slightly.

"Honestly, I'm not that tired either," you confessed after giving Vanessa a brief glance, your gaze then moving to the road before you. She responded with a light chuckle and a small shrug as she continued to drive, the slight tension from earlier now relieved, the both of you now feeling a bit more relaxed and comfortable.

"Well, that makes two of us, then," Vanessa responded, her teasing glance towards you shifting into a seductive smirk as she continued to drive. "I can think of some ways we can spend our time together." She says teasing you, her eyes remaining fixed on the road.

"I'm sure you can," you responded in a lighthearted tone, teasing Vanessa right back with your reply before your gaze turned back towards the road.

"Oh, you have no idea," Vanessa replied, a smirk growing on her lips. Blush creeped onto your face shocked by her words. She seemed to thrive on your continued response to her teasing.

As you glanced at the road, you noticed that you were nearing your house, Vanessa pulling into your street as she drove on.

She pulled up in front of your house, parking the car before shifting her gaze towards you and speaking, "Want me to walk you to your door?" Her voice was soft yet playful as she gave you a knowing smirk, her words filled with an underlying layer of flirtation as she waited for your response, her eyes remaining fixed on you as she awaited your next move.

"I'd actually like that," you responded, your gaze fixated on Vanessa, your heart beating slightly faster as you took in her knowing smirk.

There was an unspoken tension between the two of you, your mind now filled with the anticipation of what exactly would happen next, if anything would.

You and Vanessa both exit the car, walking side by side up the pathway leading to your front door, the two of you remaining close together as your heart rate begins to increase. The two of you now mere inches apart, your mind flooding with thoughts and images of what exactly might happen once you set foot in the threshold of your front door.

You quickly shook your head away from your thoughts as you reached the front door. Your fingers grasped the handle and turned it, slightly opening it while returning your focus to Vanessa.

There was a moment of silence that lingered in the air, the tension between you two growing thicker with each passing second. You held the door open, your gaze meeting hers and your heart beating rapidly as you looked into her eyes. The desire to jump into Vanessa's arms and kiss her was nearly overwhelming.

You had opened your mouth to speak, to thank her, but Vanessa unexpectedly took control by placing her hands on your face and pulling you in close, her lips crashing fiercely against yours as she fulfilled both of your desires. The kiss was passionate, the pent-up feelings and emotions being released like a dam bursting open. There was no holding back, the overwhelming confirmation that Vanessa had felt the same for you, her lips soft and tasting of blueberry chapstick, her body heat rising with a feverish passion at the intensity of your kiss.

You were intoxicated by the kiss, and Vanessa's expertise in kissing proved to be almost overwhelming, her lips and mannerisms almost too good to be true. As your hands moved from the door to her hips, she pulled slightly back from the kiss to catch her breath and rested her forehead against yours, the two of you locked in a haze of passion as your head swirled with the intensity of the kiss and the closeness of Vanessa.

“I can’t tell you how long I’ve wanted to do that,” Vanessa says, practically panting out, due to being out a breath.

Her words catch you off guard, your face flushed and pulse racing at Vanessa's confession. You weren't sure what to say, your body still recovering from the shock of the kiss and your stomach full of butterflies at the boldness of Vanessa's words. Her panting breaths a sign of her own excitement and arousal. Her bold confession only made the butterflies in your stomach even flap harder.

Her playful demeanor was evident as she leaned back in towards you, her lips connecting forcefully with yours. The kiss became more intense and sloppy - and wet, which now wasn’t the only wet thing.

Vanessa pulled her body closer to yours, her movements becoming more deliberate as she drew you further backward and deeper into the confines of the doorway. Her lips pressed more forcefully against yours, the intimacy and closeness causing the heat to rise rapidly between the two of you. You felt the flood of passion start to overtake your senses, Vanessa's actions leading the way as she pulled you backward towards her, your mind becoming more fuzzy and disoriented due to the intoxicating aroma of her kiss.

As you stumbled backwards into your entryway, she smoothly shut the door behind the both of you with one hand, never taking her lips off yours. She momentarily pulled back to catch her breath. She breathed in heavily to compensate for her rapid breathing and the rise in her heart rate, while maintaining a firm grip on you, her strong hands now clutching your body close, you let out a gasp as she presses you against the door.

As the passion continues to build between the two of you, Vanessa's actions become more deliberate and intense, her hold on you growing tighter and her kisses becoming more forceful as your body begins to react with the sensations of her touch. Her lips press against your own in a fierce display of lust and her tongue begins to enter your mouth, the heat and tension steadily rising as you both lose control. Your breaths becoming louder and more intense as her hands roam your body.

Her hand slowly found its way to your chest, her long fingers gently circling your skin and caressing your tit though your shirt. Her touch was light and tentative at first, but you could feel it growing in fervor and intensity as she moved upwards, her fingers starting to probe and caress your tits as your arms found their way around her neck, leaning into her touch. The intensity of your actions matching the growing heat between the both of you.

The kisses shared between the both of you became more, and more desperate. Your desire for her growing immensely.

You dragged Vanessa, still in the heat of the moment, towards your bedroom, your bodies stumbling a bit as you both kissed, but neither of you cared at this point. It had felt like you had waited for this moment your whole life, and you couldn’t believe it was happening.

As you entered your bedroom, Vanessa pushed you onto the bed, climbing on top of you and smirking down at you. Her newfound position at the forefront of your shared intimate moment giving her control. You had let out a gasp at her movements as you looked up at her.

Vanessa leaned down and gave your lips another lingering kiss, she softly spoke to you, "Hmm, I can’t tell you have many times I've imagined this; you below me," she whispered with a hint of seduction in her voice. She hoped her words would get a reaction out of you.

“Yeah? What exactly did you think about?” You asked, trying to fake your confidence, while deep down you were nervous. Your face heating up slightly, awaiting her response.

She leaned in towards you again, as she whispered, "I thought about how many ways I could please you."

Your eyes widened as you heard her words, and your voice grew thick with lust and desire as you whispered back, "Well, shall we try them out?" Vanessa nodded, as she leaned in further and began leaving wet and sloppy kisses down your neck, you let out a sigh of pleasure.

Vanessa's hands slowly traveled down to the hem of your shirt, her hands gripping it gently as she looked back at you, silently asking for permission to remove it. Your face flushed as you nodded your head, perhaps a bit too enthusiastically.

She pulled your shirt up slowly, her hands slipping between the fabric and your body as you sat up slightly to allow her to pull the shirt over your head.

Vanessa tossed your shirt into a corner of the room, unconcerned on where it would end up, leaving you in your bra. She took time to admire your chest and how it moved up and down as you breathed.

"God, you're so hot," Vanessa breathed out, still admiring you as she let your figure and shape sink into her mind.

You felt your body grow slightly flush at her words, and you responded saying, "You're not too bad yourself."

Vanessa leaned back in, gently kissing you at first. Her hands freely roamed your body, desiring to touch every last inch of it, both of your bodies now heating up (even more) as you responded with the same passion, your fingers running through Vanessa's hair. Your breaths becoming heavier, and the tempo of the kisses slowly growing in intensity, your body beginning to melt with pleasure and excitement as Vanessa's lips met yours.

You moaned into the kiss, the feeling of Vanessa's pink, soft lips on yours causing another wave of pleasure to wash over you. Your desire for her grew more and more intense than ever before. Never before would you think you’d even want, need a woman as much as you needed her.

As the kiss became more intense, you couldn't control yourself anymore. You grabbed the hem of her shirt, your fingers gripping the fabric as you lifted it up higher.

As you lifted Vanessa's shirt off, she held her arms over her head to help you, and her body was exposed to you as her shirt was lifted over her head. As the shirt was removed, her dark, lacy bra revealed itself, highlighting her beauty. A smirk was drawn on your face in response as you tossed Vanessa's shirt near yours.

You only had a moment to take in the sight of Vanessa, as she took no time leaning back into kiss you once more, her lips gently yet vigorously meeting yours. Vanessa slowly allowing her body to lean back as she gently spread your legs, pressing the entirety of her body against yours, her knee now rubbing against your heat.

The feeling was intoxicating, it drove you wild, your body craving more, your hips involuntarily lifting as you sought for more friction. Your hips moved in a rhythmic motion as your body begged for more contact, the intensity of the feeling overtaking you and your senses as Vanessa continued to kiss you, her knees digging deeper into your as the motions of your hips grew more intense.

Vanessa's hand quickly darted behind you, her fingers handling the clasp of your bra and unclipping it with swift motion, as you stood motionless for a second, stunned at the ease and quickness of Vanessa's actions. Vanessa then tossed your bra somewhere into the room, exposing your upper body to the open air and creating a feeling of vulnerability before her, watching your reaction to her movements with a half-smirk.

She leaned down and began to leave open mouth kisses on your collarbone, slowly making her way down to your breasts. As she reached your tits she took a nipple into her mouth and rolled the other between her thumb and pointer finger. The sudden contact almost overwhelming, you arched your back at the feeling.

Her motions alternated between swirling her tongue around and sucking on your nipple. Your soft whimpers and panting noises only encouraging her to do more. Vanessa switched sides now paying attention to your other nipple.

Your body had grown even hotter at the feeling of her hands and hot mouth on you. She began her decent down your body. Leaving soft, gentle kisses down your body. Her kisses got sloppier as she reached your naval.

Vanessa looked up at you and smirked as she began to unbutton your pants teasingly slow. As she finally unbuttoned your jeans, Vanessa began to tug downwards on the waistline - a clear sign for you to help her by lifting your hips. The anticipation was almost maddening.

She pulled off your jeans painfully slow, obviously teasing you. At this point you weren't sure if you could handle much more teasing.

Finally your jeans were off and discarded somewhere, God knows where, in the room. She leaned back in, continuing where she had left off, just below your naval. Slowly and teasingly she lowered her way down. Both of her hands found each one of your thighs, parting them a bit wider than before.

Vanessa began to leave light kisses all over your thighs and inner thighs. You were becoming restless at this point as you spoke up, "Please, Vanessa."

You were desperate for her to relieve the ache and tension between your thighs. "Please what?" She asked, although she already knew the answer she wanted to hear you say it.

"Touch me please," you begged her. You should've been embarrassed of how needy you were, but all you could focus on is how much you needed her.

"But I am touching you?" She teased, smirking slightly. But she gave in as soon as she glanced at your face.

Vanessa slowly rubbed your clit through the fabric of your underwear. You let out a sigh of relief at the sudden pleasure. She could immediately feel how wet you were, even though there was a barrier between her thumb and your heat.

Leaning down she took the waistline of your panties between her teeth she looked you directly in your eyes she pulled it down. It honestly was the hottest thing you had ever witnessed. She pulled it the rest of the way down with her hands and tossed it behind her, not giving a care where it would end up. All of her attention right now was on you.

She didn’t waste any time as she began kissing your inner thighs as she made her way closer and closer to where you had desired her most. You squirmed, waiting for something, anything to happen. As she reached your center she tested the waters by licking your clit softly. You gasped at the contact.

She had began slowly, licking you but as soon as she heard just what those gentle touches could do to you, it fueled her. She applied more pressure with her tongue, which drove you insane. Your hands made its way to her hair which you now gripped.

Testing the waters once more, she began to suck on your clit which brought out an explicit moan out of your lips.

She began to eat you out like you were her last meal. You were shocked by how good she was at.

Vanessa brought her middle finger up to you entrance as she slowly pushed it in, still paying attention to your bundle of nerves. She slowly trusted her finger in you, once in a while curling it in a ‘come-hither’ motion.

After a while she pushed in her ring finger as well, it took you a second to adjust to the stretch of her fingers but once you did your senses were overwhelmed with pleasure.

“Fuck,” you moaned out. That fueled her even farther as she sped up her movements. You were already embarrassing close to coming - but in your position who wouldn’t?

Your moans became closer and closer together, Vanessa knew exactly what that meant. She kept her movements at the same pace and her fingers kept brushing and curling against the spot the made you see stars. You were sure that the neighbors would make a noise complaint due to your noises.

Your back arched as the coil in you abdomen snapped, your orgasm hitting you like a truck. You panted as Vanessa worked you through your high as your legs shaked softly. She stopped her movements and removed her fingers.

You took a moment to recover as you looked up at her. “God, you’re amazing.” You said looking at her with your eyes half-lidded. She let out a soft laugh.

Now all you could think of was returning the favor and how hard you were falling for the blonde.

[penvisions]

by the grit of sandpaper {chapter 5}

Pairing: Jackson! Joel Miller x Patrol Partner! Reader

Chapter Summary: Another overnight patrol, an asked favor, a miscommunication, a fleeting moment of pleasure and it all comes crumbling down. Even worse than you had anticipated, the allure of being a part of something bigger than yourself blinding you into believing it was finally within reach.

Word Count: 10.3k (!!)

Warnings: canon typical violence, canon typical language, illusions to past death, illusions to past trauma, blood, mild injuries, hurtful language, town gossip, rumors, negative feelings, pining, heart of gold joel, carpenter joel, woodworking joel, artisan joel, patrol partnership, lots of feelings, angst, hurt and comfort, joel miller's hands need their own warning, intentional flirting, unintentional flirting, casual intimacy, urges to kiss joel miller get their own warning, adult content, teasing, yearning, protective joel, fluff, this is so unbelievably soft, size kink unlocked in reader, (girl, i feel you), reader is described as smaller than joel (bc c'mon), reader has a commonly used nickname but no assigned name, joel and reader pov

A/N: holy shit, i am so sorry for the mix up with the original content. i'm so emotionally drained from today that i didn't realize it wasn't the final version of the chapter that i uploaded. but it's fixed, all scenes are complete and as they should be.

ao3 link || series masterlist || main masterlist || ko-fi

It was your fault, you realized. As you set about searching for something you remembered seeing in the house when you had first been assigned to it and moved in with Aiden. It had been one of those things that you stared at in disbelief, startling manic, nearly hysterical laughter that had turned into tears and uneven breaths. So ridiculous to have come across it over a decade after the end of the world.

A pack of index cards.

Index cards. Who needed index cards at the end of the world, when language was all people had. Skills like writing, reading, all faded away and dormant reflexes that could be called upon if and when needed.

It hadn’t mattered if you could write, had the ability to write or read when you were running for your life from Infected and humans, crashing through the remains of what was once a town or city, crashing through snapping and unforgiving forests, crashing through unforgiving open land in the hopes that you weren’t spotted a mile away by someone trying to protect what was theirs or looking for targets.

It was your fault he had pulled away to the point of beginning his…thing with Marsha. The way you had run from him, run from what you had both shared. But it didn’t mean anything, he was...Joel was…an important part of the settlement. Integrated far better than you ever had the chance to and you would just ruin it for him. He had to understand that because he too, hadn’t tried to bring it up.

Gathering them and a few of the cookbooks you had, you settled at the kitchen table. Taking the time to flip through the recipes to find simple ones that could be adapted to the more limited means the settlement could produce. Eager to find ones that Joel wouldn’t find too challenging and would like the end result of.

Just as your pen hit the paper, a knock sounded on your door. Sighing, you set it down and made your way across the front of your home to find Tommy with a crying bundle in his hands.

“Maria left me with ‘im for the day to handle some council business and he won’t stop cryin’.” He looked like he was about to burst into tears himself, but you didn’t say as much. Knowing firsthand how draining it was to look after a newborn.

“Well, good morning to you too.” You said as the man shouldered his way past you and took up half of the couch, an old backpack swinging from his elbow.

“You said to come to you for anything we needed, and I need your help.”

“How do you know I’m not bad with babies, huh? Maybe they hate me and I’m one of those women who don’t like them?”

“But you’re not. Right?” His curls were a frizzled mess, his eyes telling of his sleepless night as they widened and regarded you almost desperately. Rocking the bundle in his arms gently, holding it close, But his arms looked angled weird, totally not in a natural hold. “Joel always said I was too anxious around Sarah when she was super little and that’s why she cried for him for hours until she tired herself out. But he’s busy workin’ on finishing up that new roof before the snow really starts to come down.”

You did know who Sarah was. It had been a rather slow and somber conversation between you and Joel one day in the middle of summer. You had only been going out on patrols with him for a few months at that point. Him and Tommy focusing on getting as much done around the town upon his return, taking longer than usual to add a newcomer to the roster.

He had asked after you, if you lived alone. You had answered yes, saying you lost everyone in the initial chaos of the outbreak. Your city too densely packed for a chance to return home, the only chance at survival had been to immediately flee. He had told you something similar, that he had lost everything but his brother in the wake of the virus. You hadn’t asked after who, but he had told you of his daughter. His biological daughter with a wet chuckle at how she was too kind for this world anyway. You had looked away from his tears, knowing even back then that he needed to speak otherwise it would eat him from the inside out. To think of her constantly and not be able to talk about her must’ve hurt just as much as losing her. Mentions of her sprinkled future conversations and you were glad he trusted you with that part of himself.

 But you weren’t sure if Tommy knew you did beyond her name as chalk on a blackboard memorial in his living room.

“I’m good with babies,” You assured the man beside you. Slipping a full bottle from the side of the pack and asked him to dap it to your wrist. You licked up the milky liquid, immediately pinpointing the issue.

“It’s too bland, a little sugar mixed in won’t do any harm. But I prefer maple since it’s got the same qualities of honey but less of the local pollen. Both will help build immunity to the blooms come spring time.” Standing up, you carefully moved the baby to rest along your front, head on your shoulder and moved into the kitchen. The cap had been unscrewed by a watching Tommy and you stirred in a bit of maple syrup that had been collected outside the gates.

The bundle in your arms was still crying, though not as high a volume as when Tommy had first entered the house. Softly hushing and cooing to try and calm him. The second you touched the bottle of sweetened milk to his little lips, he quieted down and began to sip.

“Oh, thank god.” Tommy’s head was in his hands, elbows atop his knees. You settled beside him once again, smiling over at the older man. “Olive, if this is too much, I promise-“

“It’s okay, really.” You let him rest a wide palm on your knee, his fingers caressing the bare skin there as your dress skirt allowed for them to show. His eyes wide and beseeching, making sure you were really okay before he sunk into the cushions. “I’ve made peace with it a long time ago…”

It was his fault. The thought consumed him as he inspected the planks of olive wood, having brought them into the house after the first heavy coat of frost that covered the whole town after a particularly chilly night. He recalled having woken up, shivering as he yanked on a pair of thick socks and searched through the closets in the house for a spare blanket to throw over his bed. How he wondered if you were warm enough in your own bed as he donned his boots unlaced and jacket unzipped to drape another blanket he had taken from the closet over a passed out Ellie in her little studio.

And then he had wondered what type of clothing you wore to bed. When you had answered the door in your robe, it hadn’t looked like you had anything on underneath it aside from maybe underwear and a tank top. Not enough to keep your skin from the chill that tended to seep in through the panes of the windows all around Jackson, despite the blessing of functioning heaters.

He hadn’t gone after you, his attention being called away. You had run off, too startled by being interrupted and most likely embarrassed at being caught in such an intimate moment. But…it had been such a good moment until it had been shattered.

You had shown up at his door in a long dress, the skirt flowing down to your knees, thick fabric around your legs to combat the ever-present chill in the air. There was a whicker basket, handle draped over your forearm. That paired with your worn boots and wide brimmed had had been such a lovely image to open his front door to.

It had been hard not to stare at you and you talked and guided Ellie through dinner, faint music drifting into the kitchen from the living room as he set about cleaning up after each step and setting the table. It was all so domestic and he wanted for more nights like it. Just you and him and Ellie.

Sighing, you made sure to lock the front door behind you. Apron bundled up beneath your armpit and thrown in the general direction of the laundry room door on the other side of the kitchen. Filling and setting a kettle over the stove, you stood and looked out your kitchen window for a moment, taking in the fluffy snow that had attempted to stick as the dark, moody sky brought it over the town. It was still early, the sunrise more than likely about to occur, but it hidden in the overcast.

You shifted your gaze over the counters, logging the ingredients you had on hand for a possible breakfast even if you weren’t terribly hungry at the moment. When they landed on the broken mixing spoon that had decided to crack and splinter last night under your soapy hands as you cleaned up over dinner, you moved to rummage in the hall closet. The scrape of untreated wood along the floor sent a chill up your spine as your fingers closed around what you were searching for.

The thick slab of wood is covered with an old flat sheet. It had been from a tree last year, one that had lost a main branch in the same winds that had taken a whole one from your collection.

It was beautiful. Rich in color, the grain so detailed and curling in beautiful swirls. Burl added layers and looking pretty as it was set just so in the cut. You had kept it, unable to burn it for the soil. The thought of asking Joel to make you a set of cooking utensils had been in the back of your mind for nearly the entire time he had been here. But now with the crop of cutting boards artfully crafted, you were tempted to ask him to make of those from the hefty source in your hands.

But he hadn’t offered you one, hadn’t so much as mentioned that he had begun to make more and more ever since that first one he had been ‘trying out the idea’ in Tommy’s kitchen. You were hesitant to bring it up, but with the holidays only a couple weeks away…you were curious to see his reaction to the request.

You didn’t ask anything of anyone. Not even when you first got here, had taken the time to acclimate to the way life was led here within the settlement. Community, social circles, job detail, patrol. All of it had been taken in stride, and you worked for everything in your possession. Joel did too. You admired him for it.

A few moments later, you were rapping your knuckles against the man’s front door.

Ellie comes around the side, hearing it from her separate garage. She had looked frustrated, then curious, then excited.

“Hey, Olive,” She walks up to you, noticing the wood in your hands. “The old man’s not home, he went to help out with the lil guy.”

“O-oh, okay. I’ll just come back, I guess.” But when you began to inch closer to the porch steps, she ascended them with a small smile.

“Nah, come hang with me until he gets back.” She brushed past you with a soft touch to your arm. A key slid into the lock and then you were hesitantly following her into the house. “Feel free to make some of that god awful coffee you two enjoy so much, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.”

You saw her dip off down the hall, the sound of her rustling through something behind an open door allowing you the privacy to make up your mind on the offer of coffee as you stood on the threshold to the kitchen. With a determined push, you set about to search for the coffee grounds and mugs. He had only two, one with a detailed owl and another more simple one. It was a plain white one that was hefty and looked like it belonged in the full hands of diner waitress. 

It transported you back to late nights and early mornings surrounded by ruckus laughter and inside jokes, the scent of pancakes and bacon cooking on a flattop and the jingle of a bell to signal overflowing plates were ready to be dug into.

“What’s that in the cloth?” Ellie’s curiosity piqued by the bundle you had set down atop the kitchen table, her long thin fingers slowly unwrapping it. With a nod from you, she did so completely. Her eyebrows shot up, thoughts swirling behind her keen eyes. They flicked to the back room just on the other side of the kitchen wall. Her bottom lip was taken between her teeth and she looked like she was trying not to laugh.

“I know it’s silly, but…” You couldn’t help but feel nervous admitting it out loud, that you wanted to ask Joel to take some of his sparse free time for a personal project. You poured yourself a steaming cup of the finished coffee, searching for the sugar cannister. “This has been drying for nearly a year and I was gonna ask Joel-“

“Gonna ask Joel what?” His voice sounded from the doorway into the kitchen, startling you both. You rushed to put yourself between him and the table, a poor attempt to hide the plank of wood from his curious eyes. He looked tired, no doubt having been up more than resting all last night if he had been over at Tommy and Maria’s.

Taking that as her queue to leave, Ellie bolted out the back door with a hollered goodbye.

“Oh, um. Hi,” You waved slightly at him, unsure of how he would take to coming home to his house and finding you in his kitchen. Even if Ellie had said it would be okay. You were nervous, knowing that asking for something was a tricky thing. Even if he was so willing to give to others; his time, his attention, his skills. “I ha-have this.”

Moving out of the way as he crept closer on heavy feet, you allowed him to see the olive wood you had hauled over here.

“I-I was wondering i-if you’d be able to make a set of cooking utensils out of this? But I understand if you’re too busy, or don’t want to work with the dense wood, or don’t have the time-“

"Of course, sweetheart. I’ll try my best for you." And just like that he melted all your worries away and a smile pulled at your lips.

He easily moved the chunk of wood from the kitchen to his workspace. The muscles of his arms bulging beneath his flannel, the muscles of his shoulders straining at the fabric over his broad shoulders. All for your viewing pleasure as you followed behind him. The room was smaller than you expected, on his ground floor, just down the hall from the kitchen. But it was such a reflection on who he was.

The main desk had a comfortable looking chair, thick cushion on the seat. Atop it was an open book, propped up on a few stacked behind it and open to a stunning photograph of a deer. In the center was a partially carved figurine of the deer in the photo, shavings around it and tools lined up in a half circle around the back of it.

“How many pieces did you want?” He carefully bent his knees and lowered the wood to the ground, atop a tarp that several long pieces of lumber were set on and leaning against the wall. Blocks of wood beside them and lined up against the wall almost like bricks.

“Oh, um, just however many you can manage.” The crack of his knees as he straightened worried you, but it happened to you more and more so you understood it wasn’t really painful so much as uncomfortable most of the time. 

"The cutting boards all around town...” Trailing off as a familiar scent caught your attention through the general smell of lumber, you moved toward the pile of wooden planks lined up along the wall like books atop a work table. There were many shades and types of wood, all different steps of being sanded down or stained, shavings nestled in a waste bucket beneath. Tools scattered over the surface and small cannisters of sealant and paint stacked neatly beside them. Two of the planks of wood were light, ashy and your attention honed in on them as you moved toward the table. “It was kinda my idea and I was wondering if-"

"Sweetheart, I can't make you one." You startled at the boom of his voice so close, blocking your view from the stack of them as he moved to stand in front of you. The hand that had been reaching out with the intention of caressing them fell back to your side.

"Oh, um, okay." You cast your eyes down, taking in the worn leather of his boots. Of yours. There were so many of them, easily two handfuls and yet he wasn’t willing to share one with you. But everyone else around town seemed to be worthy and you couldn’t help but wonder why you weren’t. You were friends, he had said it himself. But then…but then you had kissed him and fled.

No question as to why flowed from you. You were used to not being included, but you had to admit that it stung coming from him. In an attempt to mask it you tried to smile but you weren’t sure if it actually showed. Your chest ached, body feeling like it wasn’t yours. Like you were looking down on it as it stood in that workspace with the man who sought solace within it. Like you had intruded, and shame bubbled up for having made yourself comfortable where you shouldn’t have.

"Can't find a sealant that would hold up to those knives we found. You'd just cause damage to it."

"Okay, but-“ You tried to backtrack, to apologize for being so curious.

"No, Olive. I don't have one for you, so please quit askin'."

You didn’t say anything, your voice stuck in your throat. Turning and walking away from him without looking up, afraid to see his expression. You faintly heard his voice calling after you, but you ignored it, it was far away. It was as if you were down in a tunnel, like you had tipped over and fell down into one the second Joel had turned you down.

You wanted to move past it, to gloss over it, to stay and enjoy in the time he had been willing to give you on his one day free from responsibilities. But you couldn’t, your chest felt like it had caved in, like you were hollow, like you would never be able to break into the social graces of the settlement. Marked with the death of someone who had, someone who kept messing up and making it easy for people to turn you away.

He thinks about how hurt you looked when he tried to ward you off from the stack of cutting boards he had practiced designs on and different shapes. berating himself for being so harsh when he had been scared you would see the wood he had taken from you without your knowledge. You had been reaching for the planks made from it, drawn to them as if they were magnetized.

The way in which you had shut down, his soothing words after denying you falling on deaf ears as you turned and simply walked away from him. He had been under the impression you wanted to spend the day with him. You had been an unexpected guest but not an unwelcome one. It had been nice to return to his home to find you there, comfortable enough to have put on a pot of coffee and the errant scent of that woodsy, floral perfume that seemed to be a part of your skin from tending to the trees in your yard.

But you had just turned and walked away.

He watched you go, not liking the way you had shrunk into yourself at his denial. He had tried to be soft with it, you couldn’t know that you had been asking after the one thing he wanted to keep a secret from you. That you had given him the idea and he was practicing and making so many different prototypes all to ensure that when it came time to craft yours, that he would be able to do so easily.

He scrubbed a hand roughly over his face, sighing out as he dressed for patrol. His alarm had gone off an hour ago but he had already been awake, sleep evading him as the moment from the other day played in his mind’s eye over and over again.

Settling on the musty cushions beside you, the memory of the last time he had done so puffed up along with a cloud of dust. It had been a long day. Clearing the village and finding a place to hole up in for the night.

“I’ll take the first watch, try ‘n get some rest.” He murmured low, taking in the way you were already curling your legs up underneath your body on the other end of the couch. The scarf around your neck pulled up for you to bury your face into it, hands in their gloves and secure in the pockets of your coat.

You didn’t think you even responded, the cold of the day draining you and making sleep too alluring a respite even with the broad man beside you and all alone for the first time in a while.

Bird calls woke you up hours later, signaling the start of a new day. The warmth of sleeping was a lull to the chill you knew awaited outside, but you pressed into the bed further, burrowing even more into the lump of blankets you tended to scrunch up beside you.

But the lump shifted and your eyes flew open to find a different setting than you dark bedroom. You weren’t asleep in your bed, you were sunk into a decrepit couch and pressed into Joel’s right side, having sought out his warmth in the cold house. He was asleep too, his eyes closed despite his body still seated up with his feet resting on the ground.

You couldn’t help but rest your cheek on his shoulder, taking comfort in how close and warm he was, even if it had been an instinctual move to begin with.

He was so handsome. Beautiful. From the scar across the bridge of his nose, the one at his temple, to the freckles that littered his tan skin. Wrinkles relaxed as he slept, his plush lips parted slightly. His body sunk into the fabric where he had settled last night, long and lean. His mass so large you had shifted in your sleep to press up against him, partially on him to share the small couch and steal his warmth. His neck bent back a little as his head lulled onto the back cushions.

Your eyes roved down the strong column of his neck, catching on the way his adam’s apple jutted out and you resisted the urge to lean in and nip at it.

His hands, dear god, his hands. They were slack in his lap, his entire body completely lax as he slept slumped beside you. Veins and freckles decorated the skin, mind running with the idea of them tight around different parts of your body. How they would feel wrapped around your hips, your breasts, your neck…

You couldn’t help but reach out and lay a hand atop one of his, your palm over the back of his. Your stomach fluttered, the heat settling low. Your own hand looked so small, atop his. The difference so startling.

“Mm, good mornin’,” Joel’s gravelly rumble made you jump, realizing you had gripped two of his fingers in your hand. He jostled the hand in your grip and you felt heat flood your cheeks at being caught touching him. When you moved to take it back, he curled his fingers, catching your hand and pulling it up to his lips where he pressed his lips to the back of it. “Don’t act all shy now, sweetheart.”

You throb.

The gusset of your underwear suddenly dampens as you clench around nothing.

“I-I don’t know what came over me, you were sleeping and I shouldn’t ha-have-“ Trying to tamp down your less than friendly thoughts, the allure you felt wash over you at his sleepy timbre, to backtrack away from what could end up being another thing to have him avoiding you around the settlement.

But he surprised you, emboldened by the hazy thoughts displayed in the parting of your own lips, the heat he could feel rolling off of you, the pressure you tried to relieve between your legs with a clench of your thighs together. And then his thick, sleep coated words turned sultry, pitched low and velvet.

“Thinkin’ about my hands on ya, huh? Sweet little thing, what was it?” He guided your hand to cup his cheek and then rest against his neck. “Thinkin’ about my hands here?”

When he squeezed your hand around it, you felt faint for the way your blood was rushing and thundering loud in your ears.

“N- no.” You swallowed, voice breathy and pitched low as you struggled to find words.

“No? What about…” He moved your hand to his chest, right in the middle of his ribcage. His heart was thundering beneath the flannel, mirroring your own. “Here?”

Your breath hitched as he moved it further, not giving you the chance to answer this time. Down ,down, down past the hem of his shirt beneath his jacket to the denim of his jeans. Pressing your palm down atop the zipper, you could feel the long line of him, hot and semi-hard. It twitched at the pressure, and you couldn’t help the whimper that fell from your lips. Eyes having been dragged down along with your clasped hands.

“What about here?” His lips grazed the shell of your ear as his question was pressed close, nose brushing sensitive skin just behind it. Mustache and beard lightly scraping against you, causing you to shiver and press down your hand more firmly. He groaned out, the sound burrowing deep into you. He twitched again beneath your palm and all the air in your lungs whooshed out.

And then he was dipping his head to capture your lips in a hard kiss. His tongue trailed over the seam of your lips, and you let him in without a thought. Pleasure flared from the heat that had taken hold of your entire body, the air crackling with the need for him to be closer, to be pressed to you completely, pressed inside of you completely. Body buzzing, needing more more more from him you shift to cup his cheek with your other hand.

When he speaks next, his voice is all soft. Southern twang breathy and so close as his lips graze yours, his forehead pressed to your own. The press of hot skin only a prelude to what you hoped was more…

“Sweetheart, I-“

The sudden creak of the back door opening cut the tension of the room and your stomach filled with dread. Joel’s hands became almost painful on you as both your heads whipped around to stare at the kitchen threshold, waiting with bated breath for the intruding source to walk through it.

He was up off the couch in a second, his handgun in his palm and he stalked silently toward the kitchen, leaving you on the couch to reach for your own. But your attention was pulled to the front door of the house just as he disappeared through the threshold.

Two shadows crept into the house and your ducked down to avoid being seen immediately.

There were sounds of a scuffle in the kitchen and you took the opportunity to sneak around the couch in a crouch and stand with the gun trained on the larger figure of the two just on the other side of it.

“Drop your gun or I shoot.” You kicked his legs apart, hand patting him down as he listened to your command. He didn’t have any other weapons on him and the woman a few feet away didn’t visibly have any, her clothing tight around her middle, large jacket draping over her to keep her swollen middle warm.

You took your eyes off of her for one second to kick the gun away and behind you when she lunged. A shiny piece of something glinted in her hand and you shouted out as it cut across your own middle.

Grunting, you elbowed the man in the ribs, winding him and sending him to crumple to the ground in pain. You kicked out and wrapped your foot around one of the woman’s legs and tugged her close, ignoring the sensation of that same piece of whatever it was in her grip as it tore into your jacket sleeve.

You smacked her hand against the wall behind her, being mindful of her stomach and was about to wrap your hands around her neck when the man wheezed out a pleading cry.

“Don’t hurt her, please!” He tired to catch is breath, but you didn’t break your focus away from the woman you had pinned down. A wave of nausea rose over you, the only indication before you collapsed, blood soaking the front of your shirt in a dark, wet patch.

“Shit, I think you cut her too deep.” The man crawled over to you, his hands pressing down to try and staunch the flow. The woman fell to her knees beside him, her hands reaching out to grip one of your arms. The clatter of the weapon she had used was loud and you looked over to it. It was a piece of dirty glass.

“I-I didn’t me-mean to hurt you so badly! I’m so sorry.”

“Fuck, okay, go to my pack.” They shared a confused look, but the fact that they hadn’t run off with yours and Joel’s supplies to their remorse at hurting you told you they were good people. “Go! There’s a spare shirt, we need it to put over the wound.”

Just as she bent to dig into the pack by the couch, Joel’s quiet steps and low threat called as he entered the room.

“Get your hands off of her and step back.”

“Wait! They aren’t Infected!” You panted, voice sharp despite the effort it was taking to breath as your middle burned, knowing the man’s instincts had taken over completely. His steps measured. His gun raised. His reasoning marred by the sight of you bleeding on the floor.

“They hurt you.” His honeyed drawl gone, replaced with an air of authority that demanded attention, all dark, rich molasses sticking everyone in place.

“It was an accident, Joel, please. They…they have a baby on the way. We have to take them back.”

“That true?” He kept the shot gun aimed at the man hovering over you, the blood shining on his hands making his nerves twitch. But his eyes landed on the woman who had been rummaging through your bag for first aid supplies. She slowly stood from her crouch, revealing her swollen belly.

He ordered them both to take a seat on the couch, telling them he would deal with them once he tended to you, letting them know that he wouldn’t hesitate to shoot if they tried something. He then kneeled down on the ground beside you, one of his large hands going over yours holding the wad of fabric to your middle, the other going to cup your cheek.

“Sweetheart, are you okay?” His eyes bore into you, stern edge to them. You were visibly shaking, skin looking sallow and sweat beading at your temple. He carefully moved your hands aside, eyes flicking from your pained expression to the injury as he slowly lifted the fabric you had pressed to it. And then the hem of your sweater and tank top underneath.

Lips a grim line and eyes dark as he took in the still bleeding injury. His brow furrowed deeper as a thick rivulet ran down your side to spill onto the floor and Joel cursed under his breath. The gash was a few inches long across your stomach, to the left of your belly button, rimmed and irritated red. Angry and no doubt already infected if the shard of dirtied glass abandoned beside you was any indication. Your blood stained it, the woman’s fingertips pressed into it in smeared, red marks.

“Shit, it’s already starting to get infected.”

You managed a weak nod, both in response to his question and muttered worries fighting off the tears as he pressed around the wound, trying to get a gauge of how deep it was. You held back a whimper at the prodding, bottom lip firmly between your teeth.

“Joel, there’s gau-gauze in my pack.”

“Find it and toss it to me, quick.” He raised a threatening look to the pair on the couch, their heads turned and watching everything play out. Worried that if you were to bleed out, the man wouldn’t hesitate to retaliate or leave them here to their own devices.

The woman rushed to dig into your pack once more, fingers finding the crinkling plastic wrapped around the sterile gauze. She tossed it to Joel, the hand that had moved down from your cheek to rest over your heart on your chest reached out to snag it from the air. He ripped it open with his teeth and urged your hands to hold it down atop the wound.

You could only watch through hazy eyes as he shucked off his jacket and then his flannel. With a smooth motion he removed his t-shirt, his most base layer. With his chest on full display, the dark hair over his chest and trailing down from his belly button you startled at the sound of ripping fabric. The knife he kept holstered on the back of his waist out of is sheath as he used it to cut a thick strip from the hem of his shirt. He gently urged you to lift up from the ground for him to wind it around your back and tie it securely over the wound.

Slipping two fingers below it to ensure it was tight enough to keep pressure but not overly so as to cause more problems. It felt a thousand times better already, your nausea waning as the blood stopped flowing from your body. But you would definitely need stitches and antibiotics once back inside the gates. Once he was sure the wound was okay for the moment, he took both your hands in his, a slight tremor to them. His thumbs rubbing soothingly across the backs of them.

“Okay, you’re okay,” He murmured. He leaned down to press his forehead to yours. Breathing in deep and your lashes fluttered as he sighed out. His eyes were clenched shut and he took a moment to ground himself before he pulled back and peppered chaste kisses over your face. Your forehead, each of your cheeks, the tip of your nose. The edges of your mouth.

“I’m okay,” You promised, unable to ignore how shaky his breathing was so close. A nervous giggle sounded from you, unable to tamp it down as your head swam. “But maybe you should put your clothes back on before you freeze.”

“Can’t lose you, sweetheart.” The whispered sentiment washed over you, leaving you warm and light in the chest for a completely different reason. Only when you nodded in understanding, did he reach over for his flannel and shrug it back over his broad shoulders. The buttons closed up with deft fingers as he watched you take a mental stock of your body and how it felt. You said up just as his jacket was pulled back into place over the flannel.

“Good thing ‘m not goin’ anywhere then, huh?” His wet chuckle was the only response you got before he helped you to stand. He guided you over the couch with an arm around your shoulders, silently demanding that the pair move from the cushions to make room for you. Making sure you were comfortable with both packs beside you before he turned his attention to the people who had injured you.

A nurse took you in quickly, insisting someone else would do a thorough check on the brother and sister you and Joel had brought to them once leaving the horses at the stables. The backup shirt you had taken along with you in your pack tied to your abdomen with a scrap of fabric from the bottom of Joel’s undershirt. It was better than nothing, better than bleeding out.

You had insisted that the woman, Callie carefully got up on Lowry for the trip back. Joel had been worried about them sharing a horse together, the very real possibility of them taking off on it at the forefront of his mind. But you had assured him that they could be trusted. That they could’ve taken both your packs and left you to bleed out on the floor.

That was how you had found yourself once again sharing a horse with Joel for an entire day. The feel of his body pressed close to your back so different from when he had tried to keep his distance. His hands secure around your waist and resting atop the saddle horn. You tried not to let it distract you, carrying on casual conversation with them to get a feel for who they were. Every so often, when you grunted at particularly hard hoofbeats or a rough jostle, his right hand would press against your roughly patched wound.

Stitches, the nurse had said. At least four of them.

Joel was outside the hall, waiting for you to be released. He looked up from the notepad in his hands when you exited the room, brown eyes tired. You couldn’t read his thoughts, though you were too tired to begin to think what that could mean.

“Hey, what’d they say?” He surged up, the notebook going back into his pocket, the worn fabric snug around it. He retrieved the coat and sweater he had kept for you when the nurse had asked you to remove all outer layers.

You lifted the torn tank top, allowing him to see the clean, bright white bandage that had been taped over the injury. The fait outline of stitches could be seen through it. Two of his fingers brushed against it, almost tenderly.

“No painkillers, those are only for serious cases.” You let him help you put the sweater back on, his hands holding the head opening side for you to slid it on, gently tugging the fabric into place around your sore arms. “They gave me a shot of antibiotics and a pack of fresh gauze. Gotta come in next week to get the stitches looked at.”

“I’m so sorry.” He murmured as he held the coat up for your to slip your arms into. When you turned around to face him again, he pulled you to him in a loose embrace. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”

“Joel, it’s okay. We’re okay. I promise.” You leaned up, mindful of the new pull on your middle, and pressed your lips to his cheek. Sighing at the soft pressure, he walked alongside you out of the building.

Since there wasn’t anything they could give you for the pain,  you just wanted to lay in bed and rest. But you also wanted to try and find a reason to get out of the house later. Swallowing down your fear of rejection, knowing he was the one person who wouldn’t do that to you, you asked him for a drink later in the evening.

But he didn’t look up from the paper in his hands as he walked out the front door with you, scribbling something down on a page that only had two previous lines of script. The chill of the wind breezing past you both as you repeated your question in slightly louder volume, sure he just hadn’t heard you. You knew he was hard of hearing in his right ear and that was the side you were on. But what you didn’t expect was his haphazard response. So at odds with the tenderness and care he had shown you throughout the day.

"Huh? Oh uh, I can't tonight. Sorry, I'll see ya, Olive." And then he's off without so much as a glance your way, leaving you standing outside the infirmary. It left you more than a little concerned, whiplash at the sudden shift from intimate, to protective, to nothing so much as a glance all from the same man.

It’s early, the sun not even showing signs of rising. Snow drifted down, a perfect morning. You were humming to yourself, mentally planning out the meals you could make. A breakfast casserole that would allow for the use of root vegetables, eggs, some of the goat cheese that had been made perhaps. You were minding your own business, enjoying the walk to the mess hall and the kitchen that would allow you to work and forget the hollow feeling that hadn’t left you all last night. It was easier feeling nothing other than the faint pull of stitches on your abdomen.

You catch a figure walking out of a front door further down the street. The figure broad but their steps light as they descended the porch to Marsha’s house.

Oh.

It was Joel.

He didn’t have a utility belt, he didn’t have a toolbox, he didn’t have anything that indicated he had been there to repair something.

It was Joel Miller, leaving Marsha’s house. Far too early to mean anything other than the fact that he had spent the night inside, with her. Guess that's why he had turned down your offer for an evening with you. He already had someone to share drinks with, someone to spend his time with.

Turning, you tried not to follow his figure as he began to walk down the street, facing away from you.

You could only think that it was because of the way you had run the other night. Because of the way you two kept giving into yearning touches only for the moment to be yanked away. Three times now, far too much trouble for someone as busy as him. Someone with a life like he led as he cared for his family and the repairs that were needed around the settlement. You were desperate, for company, for attention, for him. It must’ve not settled well with him to realize how much you wanted him and that it never seemed to work out in his favor, only friend or not.

Deep down, you knew that wasn’t the reason. He was such an understanding man, and he wouldn’t put the blame on you. But the fact of the matter was that he was willingly spending his time with Marsha.

He wasn’t sure where you had disappeared to, your house dark safe for the light over the stoop light up in a warm tone. He had a box in his hands, something he had rifled through his, Ellie’s, and Tommy’s homes for to fit the finished set of wooden utensils you had asked him to make.

He had taken his time, sneaking glances at the ones in your kitchen when he dropped you off after patrol one morning and you offered him a light lunch. You had made grilled sandwiches, pairing them with some steamed vegetables that were beginning to wilt in the cold air of the house. You ran the heat on a good middle range, to ensure it didn’t get too stuffy and begin to take a toll on the record collection in the living room or the books you kept on every surface and crammed lovingly into the many bookshelves you had.

You seemed to favor spoons, though he did catch sight of a few rather flat spatulas. He had inspected the wood thoroughly before he even thought of measuring it. Admiring the way the dried wood looked and taking notes down on the pad of paper he kept on him at all times. Compared it to the two planks he had, noting the different feel and heft of them versus the completely dry specimen you had brought to him.

He let his thoughts wander as he took a seat on the cold concrete steps of your stoop. Opting to wait for your return for a few moments, hoping that you would return soon as evening had fallen, the set having set a few hours ago. He didn’t recall you mentioned evening shifts at the mess hall, opting for the mornings that you enjoyed. Something about the quiet of the town, less lonely than the nights, had been a quiet admittance. He had been too shocked to respond, you must’ve taken his silence as the end of the conversation. You had turned quiet alongside him, the only sound for the rest of the route back to the gates had been the hooves along the ground.

It struck him now, that you had been admitting even early on how lonely you were. How the town choosing to not interact with you had hurt, had been hurting you. A warning even then, that you were sensitive to the dynamic and went along with it even if you didn’t agree with it. You were such a lovely person. Kind hearted, giving, caring, and he loathed that people like Marsha perpetuated the agenda against you.

She was relentless in her attention on him and he was getting a little annoyed with it. But he was being cordial, the exact word you had used to describe the woman. He had finished the last of her shelving the other day. He had worked overnight to get it fitted and fastened to the wall. Securing it with bolts and weight holding supports, wanting to be done with the project that had been more of a coercion of his skills. She was a manipulator and he had played into her hands just like she had wanted.

He felt like a fool, knowing he had agreed to do it for your sake and out of a need to protect you.

Then he realized there were two people who allowed you into their lives. That spoke fondly of you, invited you to dinner, allowed you shares of what they could get the last of in down on main street.

Standing, he hoped to find you among his family. Making his way his way to Tommy’s, Maria was the one to answer the door. A finger to her lips to signal him to keep quiet as she slipped out the door to join him on the porch.

“They’re both sleeping, it took an hour to get him down and then of course Tommy slumped over.” She didn’t seem upset, but the news allowed for Joel to realize you weren’t here either. Clocking his silence and the box in his hand, she cocked her head up a little to examine his features. “Everything okay, Joel? Olive didn’t pull her stitches already, did she?”

“Yeah, everythin’ is okay. I’m actually looking for her. Have you seen her today?” He shuffled on his feet, aware of how they ached as the cold settled in to stay for the season.

“She’s at the bar, came by with dinner for us on her way out.” Maria explained, watching his closely. Able to pick up on his agitation. It was odd when she compared it to the almost forces nonchalance you had exhibited earlier.

“Can you hold onto this for me, I’ll be back to get it tomorrow.” He thrusted the box into the woman’s hands and was making off down the street before she could even respond.

The bar is a cacophony of sounds, of laughter, of conversation, the clink of glasses being lifted and then placed back on tables. The gurgle of more drinks being poured, of ice tinkling in glasses, all of it was so nice to just sit in and enjoy. Even if you were alone on your stool.

"Another round?" You disguised the clenching of your hand around your empty glass, the voice right behind you. His voice, the charming drawl pitched low and so so close.

“I don’t think we should be drinking with each other.” You shifted away from him, not wanting him to think you were open to spending time with him after his rejection, after his secret of seeing Marsha was exposed to you in the form of his leaving her house far too early for any reason than having stayed the night, for the way you had wanted to say yes to spending time with him but it hurt too much. For the way that it was getting harder and harder to resist the urge to lean up and kiss him, to run your hand down his arm or back in a soothing caress. “I’m waiting for someone.”

His brow furrowed as he regarded you, lifting his drink to his lips and taking a deep pull from the amber liquid inside. He sat down atop the stool beside you despite your words. His glass settled on the bar top, now empty. Your eyes were focused on the melting ice, not able to look at the man who was giving you his attention.

“What’s that?” He huffed, almost chuckled as he believed you were just joking, teasing him like you tended to do sometimes while out on patrol. But you weren’t, both of you seated at the long bar of the Tipsy Bison on the main street in town. When you still didn’t raise your eyes to him, he realized you weren’t, that you were turning him down and away.

“Tell me the real reason,” He leaned close, pivoting the seat of the stool so you faced him. Your insides whooshed with the movement. With the way he demanded your attention, with the entirety of his focus on you almost breaking your resolve to remain professional. Aware of all the eyes constantly watching you, judging you; all the eyes on him constantly watching for entirely different reasons, fawning over him.

“Because I like you.” You admitted, unable to deny him the truth. You could only lift your eyes as high as his lips, which was a mistake as you recalled the feel of them. They were so soft, so plush and you never had the chance to gently nip at his bottom one…

“Well, I like you too, Olive.” His nose brushed your cheek, moving impossibly close, his thumbs digging into your thighs as he held to the stool.

“No, I like you, Joel. And this isn’t a good idea.” You pulled back, aware that you were both in a very public place. That the looks focused on you both, your intimacy, combined with soft murmurs of voices that could be saying anything. Making notions in their minds that he was associated with you, that he spent time with you enough to feel comfortable engaging in this type of behavior. And that was bad, it was so bad for people to associate him with you. It would cause people to question him after everything he did for the town. It would begin to erase all the good he had provided.  “Joel, people are looking.”

“Don’t worry about them, just focus on me.” Your eyes snapped to his, taking in the way the brown of them was alight from the sconces around the bar. There was no hesitancy in them, no remorse. Only adoration and your stomach swooped, your heart fluttered. But you tried your best to resist.

“That’s not a good idea either.” You whispered.

“You thinkin’ of doin’ somthin’ to me?”

“M-maybe.” The admittance rolls off your tongue, his lips close enough that he can taste it.

“Sweetheart, I’d let ya if that’s what you wanted.”

“N-no.” It took everything in you to deny him, to deny the tension that pulled your muscles tight in every part of your body.

“No?” He leaned back, taking your words and heeding them, sensing that you meant them, even if it was a stuttered, breathy response.

“I don’t want to, I mean I do, but- this” You motioned between the two of you, how little space there was between your bodies. His body pivoted toward you and his hands still partially around the denim of your thighs. “Isn’t a good idea.”

His eyes roamed over you, seeing the nerves and truth of your demeanor. You did like him, and it was becoming a problem. He didn’t need a younger woman fawning over him, the friendly rapport riddled with holes. Of temptations that were tamped down by his unwillingness to share his craft with you, the time he had been spending with Marsha, the pull of his attention in so many directions, especially with the holiday hurtling toward the town tomorrow.

“We’re hardly friends, Miller. You barely started acknowledging me outside of patrol.” You reached for your drink so you’d be less likely to cup his face in your hands and throw caution to the wind.

“What makes you think I haven’t been tryin’ to keep my hands to myself, bein’ around you?” His voice tipped low, to avoid being overheard despite the closeness he had initiated. Closing your eyes at the visual, you shook you head as your throat bobbed with the sip you had taken from your drink.

“Because you don’t like me that way.” You scoffed, beginning to lean away from him. “You didn’t even get me anything for the holiday…You’re with Marsha.”

“Didn’t get your name in swap.”

“Oh.” And all the fight you had in you crumbled at his simple words. The reassurance in his voice that drowned out the hum of the environment all around you.

“But I thought - Ellie was asking so many questions I figured she was doin’ the work for you.”

“Maybe she got you?” He tapped the lip of his glass as the bartender wandered close, signaling for another when the man got the chance. His hand going back to your leg in a second.

“N-no. She got Jesse. Whoever got me most likely tossed the scrap of paper and picked another.”

“Marsha and I are just friendly, it’s nothing beyond that. Olive, I swear to –“

Someone cleared their throat unnervingly close. You both turned away from each other to face the person who had decided to break the currents flowing between your bodies, tension thick in the air with their approach.

Marsha. With a wrapped gift in her hand and a yearning look for Joel. Her attention solely on him.

“So much for just being friendly, huh, Miller?” You set your drink down, glass nearly empty and pushed off from your stool. The drag of his large hands over the tops of your thighs not registering as you quickly took off. Leaving him to the woman who seemed to be a constant companion as of late. Better company for him, you though begrudgingly as you made your way through the snow-covered streets and back to the safety of your home.

Sighing, you picked up the wrapped bundle of recipe cards. Joel’s gift.

The one you had spent hours pouring over, making sure your writing was neat and legible, the cursive loops delicately over the lines on the thick cardstock. You had debated whether or not he would be able to read the script, knowing how he squinted at certain things. No doubt needing glasses in his older age, an item you always kept a keen eye out for should it end up being a perfect match for him.

Your heart panged, the fleeting image of him tucked in bed beside you with a book or manual in his hands and a pair of reading glasses perched on his aquiline nose. His scruff catching the light of a soft bedside lamp and the silver sparkling. His curls damp from an evening shower, the scent of him so clean and pure beside you as you lay tucked in the other side. It hurt. It hurt to think you would never get to experience that, experience him in every simple, mundane way.

With a long-suffering huff, you reached for some of the dried leaves you kept from the trees when you last preened them. Fastening it to the top of the bundle with a piece of twine. You don’t write Joel’s nor yours. He would know it was from you from the writing inside, from the olive twig. A parting gift, you guessed.

This would be the last thing you would offer him before drawing back to your solemn life. He had brought color and life and laughter into it, but the hurt wasn’t worth it. Your heart and body aching for a man who had too much to lose.

You faintly heard soft voices trailing along the dark streets, the light fixtures doing their best to illuminate the way for any one who was out at the late hour. The sky dark with the added overcast that hadn’t waned during the day. Making everything feel pressed down and low, condensing the world to make it feel almost suffocating. Snow soft as it descended. Maybe it was just you, sensitive to the weather and things around you in your anxiety as you turned down the street Joel’s house was nestled on. Just as you turned the corner, feet scuffing on the weathered gravel packed down to create solid paths in the broken asphalt you collided with something hard and lost your balance. The built up snow making it hard to catch yourself.

The scrunch of paper you had wrapped the gift in was loud, ripping at the drag of thick fabric that made up someone’s coat. The index cards fly up into the air as you landed heavily on your side. Through the sounds of the fluttering paper, there was a gasp pitched high that gave way to delirious giggles and a grunt pitched low. Your own indignant noise floating amidst it all, the pull of your stitches uncomfortable.

“My apologies, didn’t see you the- Olive?”

You had run into Joel’s broad back, his front now facing you as the cards rained down to scatter all over the corner. Snow dampening them instantly upon contact, blurring the ink you had taken the time to put down to them.

Behind him was a bright-eyed Marsha, her hands holding tight to one of his. She looked flushed, no doubt from the drinks she had indulged in, leaning heavily into him. And Joel…he looked shocked as he stared down at your fallen form. Either unaware or uncaring of how the woman he was with tried to burrow into his side.

They had been the ones whose voices you heard. But what had they been doing just standing still in the middle of the street….and then it hit you. They had probably been kissing or sharing in casual touches as they walked back from the bar to one of their homes for the evening and your stomach lurched, dropping out from under you.

Joel detached from her, intending to reach down and help you back up. But you didn’t want him touching you with the same hands that had been soft just an hour ago, the same hands that had been touching her with the same intent.

“Don’t!”

“Just tryin’ to help you up,” He backed off immediately, his eyes alert, not used to you raising your voice nor the heat behind your tone. Especially toward him, the hurt making you unable to tamp it down to a polite tone. Tears burned behind your own eyes, in your throat. The perfect match to your insides feeling like they have just been set in a mixer.

“Don’t need your help,” You pushed up from the ground, legs tingling as you fought the urge to run from the awkward and tense scene. And then you realized you could. You did.

Leaving the two alone in the middle of the street, surrounded by white spots of paper all around, the wrapping that had been around them crumpled on the ground. The dried olive leaves that had been fastened to it with twine lay abandoned at their feet.

You ran all the way back to your house, the front door slamming behind you and the lock loud in the silence that followed. Your back thumped against the wood of it, sliding down until your bottom hit the floor.

And you let yourself break down, crying into your hands. Hating how you had begun to believe that your life was going to change, that Joel was going to be something good in your life. And deep down, underneath all the hurt and anger, you still believed he was. Even if he wasn’t meant to be anything other than a patrol partner.

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dividers by the lovely @saradika-graphics and @cafekitsune

taglist: @merz-8 @morning-star-joy @joelsgreys @orcasoul @sawymredfox @sabmat @dreamingofleon @keylimebeag @pascalpvnk @picassopedro @tuquoquebrute @alejaa-a @jessthebaker @littlemisspascal @joeloverture @joelscruff @swiftispunk @tightjeansjavi @undercoverpena @idontknowyou-12345 @corazondebeskar @honeyedmiller @novas-dreamworld @slugz-writes-shit @fluff-lover @hiroikegawa @dugiioh @persephone-girl @furiousmushroom @communism-bitches @formulafun @copperhalfcent @lizlil @hiddenbabynyc @ohhellotherebumblebee

[scuderiasundays]

happy wife, happy life

summary: flights on air verstappen, a game of padel, and declarations of love + a little insta au at the end 💌

words: 919

a/n: here’s part two to better together. i’m considering making this a multi-part story so let me know if that’s something you’d want! hugs and kisses 🫶🏼

"Austin, Mexico City, São Paulo, Las Vegas, Abu Dhabi. Any preference?"

Lando’s voice was drowned out by the celebratory air coursing through McLaren Hospitality. He was calling from his driver room in Lusail, still soaked in champagne after a phenomenal comeback drive.

“I think you’ve earned the right to pick. My God, three podiums in a row, Lando!”

You squealed, as if you weren’t speaking to the very man who had accomplished this feat.

After a quick pause, he replied, “Vegas, it is then. I think I can secure seats on Air Verstappen if I use my charm.”

-

Max, the first of Lando's friends you’d been introduced to, extended his hand as you stepped onboard.

"So, this is 'airport girl.' I've heard quite a bit about you," he said, stealing glances at a blushing Lando.

You shook his hand. "Only good things, I hope."

The setting sun painted the cabin a soft orange as dinner was served, seamlessly shifting the conversation toward plans for the weekend. "Are we still up for padel on Friday?" Max asked, the anticipation evident in his voice.

"We're short a player. Jon busted his shoulder last week, so I'm in need of an alternate," Lando replied.

Max gestured towards you. "She's right next to you, mate."

Mid-bite, you wagged your finger at both Max and Lando. Racket sports weren’t your forte, and the idea of padel with ragingly competitive Formula 1 drivers made you queasy.

-

You’d assumed the 12-hour flight had been long enough for Lando to let go of the whole idea. He, however, promptly proved you wrong as he lifted your bags into the back of a blacked-out Escalade.

“Remember that book you were reading? The one about love languages?” You nodded, climbing into the car.

“Well, I figure my love language is quality time. And what better way to spend our time than with a game of padel?”

You hesitated, jokingly glaring at him. "I never thought that book was going to come back and bite me in the ass.”

“Karma is your boyfriend,” he whispered as he laced his fingers around yours.

The casual mention of "boyfriend" (and his general knowledge of Taylor Swift lyrics) caught you off guard and, as your heart raced, you made a desperate effort to maintain composure. You couldn’t possibly say no to his desperate gaze and, so with a loud sigh, you caved.

-

The days that followed felt more like a haze. DJ Lando stole the show at Omnia, carrying a wasted Oscar home in the aftermath. Golfer Lando took you to glow-in-the-dark mini-golf, subsequently blaming his loss on a lack of practice (“You should see me at my best”). F1 Lando gave you a little peck before disappearing into the media pen. You’d been so engrossed in it all that you were on the padel court before you knew it.

As the points went back and forth, you and Lando found yourselves in a playful dispute over who was the rightful owner of the five dollars you’d won at the slots. Lando had paid but you had pushed the button that had brought you sweet victory.

Max quickly interjected, "Maybe you two should save the bickering for the post-game press conference."

George, echoing Max, teased, "He’s got a point. Beware or you’ll be immortalized as a sassy TikTok sound.”

“You know, I’m here to fight. I’m here to win.” Lando said, taunting George as he prepared to serve.

Much to everyone’s surprise, you and Lando turned out to be a stellar team, securing a hard-fought win. Instead of the traditional champagne spray, you spritzed a sweaty Lando with your perfume.

"I smell like you now," he said with a smirk.

You caught your breath on a bench as George strutted over, towering over you.

"You’re already on his mind 24/7. Now, you want to linger on his clothes too? Greedy!"

As you and Lando were about to head back to the car, a few fans hurried over, their elation palpable.

“We’re huge fans, Lando. Could we get a quick photo before you go?”

Lando was quick to oblige and asked you to hold their gifts (a snapback and a handful of bracelets). You offered to take photos of him with the girls, his aura radiant as he took his time to thank each of them.

Little did either of you know, the photos of you and him at the padel courts would soon be circulating all over social media, your phones blowing up with notifications from countless F1 gossip accounts.

-

In the dim glow of the car's interior, you caught a glimpse of him, jaw clenched and a hint of vulnerability in his eyes. The not-so-soft hum of the engine roared as you cut through the tension.

"Hey, what’s on your mind?"

"I just never want you to feel suffocated by all the noise that comes with being my girlfriend."

"Your girlfriend?" you teased, masking your anticipation with feigned innocence.

He sighed, his hands momentarily tightening on the steering wheel. The car smoothly veered into an old gas station, its solitary lights flickering in the night.

He turned to face you, his eyes searching yours. "Will you be my girlfriend?"

A smile lit up your face. "I thought I already was.”

He shook his head, a mixture of exasperation and affection on his face. "You truly are impossible, y’know."

"Snap a picture of your girl then, Mr. JPG," you quipped.

His hands searched the backseat for his Leica.

"Happy wife, happy life.”

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

liked by martingarrix, yourusername, and 41,414 others 

landonorris: on a roll! two more to go 👊🏼

ciscanorris: couldn’t be more proud. i sense a mclaren 1-2 coming!

mclaren: mother knows best ✨

fan1: king of the soft launch

oscarpiastri: let’s finish the season off strong!

maxverstappen1: some of the line calls made by your doubles partner were questionable 🤨 

max_fewtrell: a partner other than i? whoever could it be?

landonorris: i’m starting to doubt my friendships with guys named max

fan2: i’m all for it so long as mystery girl gives us the boyfriend content we deserve 🫶🏼

tags 📝

@silverstonesainz @monzabee @sainzcaleruega @vamossainz55 @0-atmilklatte @aacherrylips @merchelsea @al-luvx @itsjustkhaos @allenajade-ite @simp4f1 @strawberrysainz @avenger122 @405rry @lpab @thebrccoliwasdone @antiheroleclerc

[chaostudee]

the secret of us, chapter two.

warnings : abuse, language.

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

thursday, media day in the paddock, the highlight of the race weekend for aspiring journalists. a smile adorned your face as you strolled through the paddock, filled with fans galore and mechanics preparing the cars for the race weekend.

with your lanyard around your neck fellow journalist nodded at you in greeting to which you did the same. today claire had assigned you to interview some drivers and sure you were nervous but confident with what experience you had from yesterdays encounter. a blush creeps up your neck when you remember how his piercing hazel eyes latched onto yours and how his smile had enraptured you.

from the moment you walked into the paddock in the early hours of the morning you had been keeping a lookout for him, just to catch a glimpse. would he acknowledge you or had he forgotten you even existed?

"hey y/n you are here finally" claire sighs in relief upon seeing you walking towards her. she looked exhausted yet her makeup and outfit were on point, you could hardly notice which made you question your own clothing choice. she effortlessly always looked flawless.

"sorry am i late?

"no no i just wanted to give you some time to prepare before they come" she adds as she flicks through her briefcase for something.

"em well can you tell me who it is......"

"oh yes um george and lewis i believe".

you chuckle to yourself. of course it is.

claire was not in the dark about george being your brother but she understood that being in the public eye was not your cup of tea and she didn't feel the need to advertise your personal business. and for that you trusted her.

"okay so mercedes reached out and they just briefly want you to ask them personal questions like what they do to relax or like favourite food you know stuff like that, you get me?"

you nod in understanding. just as you are about to open your mouth you see lewis and george walk into the room. air catches in your throat once you clock lewis. he was known to convey his own style during media day and today was no exception. you admired his adventurous clothing style.

george gives you a subtle nod and you smile back. you couldn't believe you had made it to this position. you were finally interviewing drivers and although it was all still on a trial basis you were proud of this accomplishment.

the cameramen came in to set up their equipment which increased your nerves as you shuffled through your notes and fiddled with your hair.

a few metres away george was conversing with lewis about the strategy for the weekend and to avoid suspicion he nodded and said yeah because his eyes kept drifting to you. he was aware that you were nervous because you had the same mannerisms as last night. he wanted nothing more than to assure you that there was nothing to be worried about but instead he vowed to make you feel as comfortable as possible.

"action!"

that call causes you to sit up straight and clear your throat.

"hi i'm y/n and i'm here with....." you extend your arms to the boys anticipating their introduction.

"hi i'm george russel"

"and i'm lewis hamilton"

the two wave at the camera before turning their attention back to you.

"okay by the way all these questions are by fans so please don't cancel me for any of these, these are their word not mine"

this earns a laugh from george and a small smirk from lewis.

"okay this first question is for george, everyone wants to know your hair care routine". you try to hold back a giggle knowing damn well that your brother uses the cheapest shampoo and showers like 2 or 3 times in a week.

george claps his hands together clearly eager to answer this question. "okay well truthfully anyone who knows me i acc don't use a lot of products so ig its's my genetics" he answers proudly. lewis looks at george weirdly causing george to start laughing. "mate what it's the truth". lewis hands up his hands in defense.

"okay moving on," you giggle "um lewis what is a before race ritual for you?"

lewis smiles at you and brings a hand to rest underneath his chin. "um honestly i just like to listen to some music or something and a couple of stretches or what not"

"what kind of music?".

lewis is surprised you continued the conversation but is happy to oblige. he sits back in the chair and hesitates. "well you know it honestly depends on the day butat the moment hip hop and rap have been dominating my playlist".

the way he is looking at you as he as his arms crossed makes you feel flustered and you hope no one can tell but you are sure they can because you feel heat rising to your cheeks.

"c'mon ask me another question" george whines which causes everyone to laugh and makes you totally forget about lewis. as requested you ask george another question and repeat the process until you find yourself at the end.

"okay thank you everyone for watching the video hope you enjoy byeee"

you sigh in satisfaction as the camera switches off and everyone starts clapping. you are happy with how today went and especially when claire embraces you and admits she is proud of you.

"hey you did amazing today"

you turn to find george in front of you. "thanks idiot". he holds his arms open waiting for an embrace and in george's hold you look up to see lewis walking out with his team, only to your dismay.

you and george pull apart and he ruffles your hair and in response you give him a light tap on the shoulder. george consults his watch and when he notices the time he frowns. "okay sorry i got to go to another interview but good luck with rest of today"

"okay bye see you later"

he gives you a small side hug before running off in the same direction lewis went.

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

just as you are finishing up your last few bits before heading home you are greeted by a familiar face. "hey y/n how's it going?" charles comes up to you gives you a hug and you reciprocate.

"i actually haven't seen you much around the paddock where have you been?

"i've actually been doing a couple of interviews" you say with a smile as you sling your bag over your shoulder.

his eyes widen. "omg no wayyy i'm so happy for you". charles had always been there for you to support you throughout college when getting your degree and now throughout the motorsport industry.

"thanks charles"

there is a silence as charles debates whether to bring up the topic or not. "i heard you and lewis were talking yesterday"

this catches your attention. "oh". you try not to sound too intrigued to where this conversation is going.

"i told lewis to stay away from you"

by those words you feel slightly hurt. i mean you did know that nothing could happen between you two but the fact that charles went out of his way to prevent it felt like a stab in the back.

"i'm just trying to protect you" charles says placing a hand on your shouldler.

"yeah yeah i know"

"it has only been a couple of months since ian......". at the mention of his name you shudder and charles notices.

"i'm sorry for bringing it up"

"it's okay but i know what you mean about the whole lewis thing and i get it it's fine"

charles nods and hugs you into his side.

you smile feeling comfort in his embrace. ever since george and charles had become friends you fell into the friendship also and would now consider charles one of your closest friends.

a ping from your phone causes you to pull away from him. your mouth goes dry and your breath hitches when you see the text message. ian had tried to reach out to you before but he had never threatened you before.

charles looked at you worried when he was aware of your shocked expression. "you okay?"

"um yeah yeah i'm fine but i should probably get going now"

charles is not sure if he should just let you go because he can tell something is bothering you. "um yeah okay"

you give charles one final hug. "see you tomorrow". you manage to throw him an uncertain wave and a half smile.

as charles watches you walk off he can't help but feel that you were lying top him but maybe he was just being superstitious.

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

lewis is packing the last few bits into the boot of his car, feeling satisfied with todays outcome. just as he slams the boot closed he hears a noise that causes him to pause in his action.

it seems it is only coming from a few mere metres away. cautiously he walks closer to the noises, it sounds like screaming which put him on high alert. he wasn't prepared for what he would see in front of him.

you were holding a palm to your cheek as tears spilled down your face. a man held you by the collar shouting in your face.

lewis stood there in shock for a moment but it only took a matter of seconds for him to act.

"hey get the fuck off her what the fuck do you think you are doing?!"

the man turns once he hears the voice and pushes you away from him causing you to stumble and fall onto the ground.

lewis runs to stand in front of you protectively.

the man chuckles. "is this your new boy toy y/n?" he chuckles. "i always knew you were a slut like god we've only just broken up and you're onto the next guy".

lewis was trying to restrain himself, his fists in a ball, but that was his last straw. he brings his balled fist to meet the man's cheek causing him to stumble back and hold his injured face.

"i said get the fuck out of here" lewis repeats now through gritted teeth. this time the man doesn't argue and trudges away not even taking a glance back.

lewis immediately kneels down to check on you. "y/n are you okay?". he hated to see you like this and if he could he wouldn't beaten that guy to death. who the fuck would ever want to do that to someone, especially you.

you look up at him your cheeks tear stained and one bright red. you hiccup through the crying. "i'm um i'm fine t-thanks for that but you really didn't have to".

lewis helps you up and then wipes a stray tear from your face. "i did have to, i couldn't just let you get hurt".

"did you know this guy?"

you sigh and cross your arms around your body. "he was my ex"

at those words lewis puffs out a blow of air and brings his hands to his head. "why the fuck would he do that to you?" he points to your face.

you don't respond.

lewis bites on his lip unsure what to say to you as it is clear you are hurting. you still seemed pretty unsure around him but he wanted nothing more than to just hold you and wipe your tears until you had stopped crying.

"okay well there is no way you are driving home in your state so i'll give you a lift" lewis grabs the keys from your grasp.

"no"

"what do you mean no, this isn't an offer" lewis counteracts.

"i can drive myself home" you say bluntly.

"y/n please just let me-"

"no lewis you have already done enough stop trying to get involved an leave me alone" you couldn't let him get close to you, like ian had. you wouldn't let yourself get hurt again. ian had said he would always protect you so why should you believe a word lewis had to say you grab your keys from him and quickly hop in the drivers seat and before lewis can intervene you hit the gas.

lewis stands there in disbelief his hands over his head. he didn't know what to do. part of him wanted to report this to the police and to hope that the guy ended up behind bars but hell he didn't even know your last name. but you even so he cared. he cared so much that he picked up the phone and called charles.

taglist ⭑.ᐟ

@lottalove4evelyn

@sweetestgirlintown111

@rafeyybabyy

[waight-gain]

Chapter 4: Discovery

Mike and Sam

This whole story is filled with more NSFW scenes than my previous

Mike stood in the doorway, a cup of coffee in his hand, as he watched Sam take a deep breath and step onto the scale. The morning sunlight streaming through the window highlighted the slightest curve of Sam's belly, and Mike couldn't help but feel a thrill of excitement.

The number on the scale seemed to freeze for a moment, before Sam's eyes widened, and a small smile played on his lips. "Looks like I've put on a few pounds," he said, trying to sound casual, but not quite succeeding.

Mike feigned surprise, his eyebrows shooting up. "Oh no, babe! You're going to turn into a sumo wrestler! We need to work off a few calories." He winked at Sam, the glint in his eye implying that he had a far more enjoyable form of "exercise" in mind.

Sam chuckled, still looking pleased with himself as he hopped off the scale. "I don't know, Mike. I kind of like the way I look. And it's not like I'm unhealthy or anything."

Mike snorted, taking a sip of his coffee. "You're looking good, and that's all that matters. Besides, who needs a six-pack when you can have a keg?" He winked again, enjoying the way Sam's eyes sparkled with amusement.

"Shut up," Sam responded, trying to hide his own enjoyment and arousal at the teasing.

Mike leaned against the doorway, watching as Sam sifted through his wardrobe, finally pulling out an old college t-shirt. The shirt was a faded band logo, and Mike remembered Sam wearing it all the time back in school. But as Sam pulled it over his head, Mike couldn't help but notice the way it stretched across his broader chest, accentuating every new curve of his body.

Sam grinned, catching Mike's eye in the mirror. "See, my college clothes still fit," he said, sucking in a breath as he worked to get the shirt to cooperate.

Mike's eyes were glued to the sight, his arousal growing as he took in the way the shirt hugged Sam's body. As Sam turned to head for the closet, Mike's gaze fell on the tight line of his underwear, highlighting the thickness of his thighs and the gentle swell of his butt. Mike's mind already racing with all the ways he could help Sam indulge and grow even more.

He was so caught up in the sight that he almost missed Sam's muttered comment about maybe needing to try a different laundry detergent, most of his clothes seemed to be shrinking. Mike just chuckled, knowing that was the furthest thing from the truth.

Mike's eyes sparkled with mischievous intent as he watched Sam walk out of the room, oblivious to the changes that were about to take place. He smiled to himself, thinking about the little "adjustments" he had been making to Sam's diet over the past few days. But it was time to take things to the next level.

Having already upgraded from 2% to whole milk, he opted to escalate further, replacing it with heavy cream, aware that this switch would significantly amplify the caloric content of Sam's daily diet. Specifically, incorporating heavy cream into an array of baked delights that Sam had persistently devoured in Mike's absence at the bakery. Mike continued to deliberately leave an assortment of calorie-rich treats, strategically positioned for Sam to discover and indulge in.

Feeling a sense of excitement and anticipation, Mike began to prep for the day's meals, using exclusively gainer recipes he had been experimenting with. He was making a mental note to pick up some of Sam's favorite snacks later that day, the ones that were notoriously high in calories.

As he busied himself in the kitchen, the aroma of freshly baked cookies wafted through the air, enticing Sam's senses and building his anticipation for the meal to come. Mike had never been much of a chef, but he had quickly become an expert in creating dishes that were both delicious and calorie-dense.

Sam walked back into the kitchen, his eyes lighting up at the sight of the cookies cooling on the counter. "Mmm, cookies? You're speaking my language now," he said, his eyes gleaming with excitement.

Mike grinned, knowing that he had set the stage for a day of indulgence and overeating. "Just a little something I whipped up," he said, handing Sam a still-warm cookie. "I figured you could use a treat to tide you over until lunch."

Sam took a bite of the cookie, his eyes widening in delight as the flavors and textures exploded in his mouth. As Sam savored the cookie, Mike began to prepare lunch, expertly juggling multiple pots and pans on the stovetop. The aroma of sizzling meat and steaming vegetables filled the air, making Sam's stomach growl with anticipation. He took another bite of the cookie, feeling the crumbs dissolve in his mouth, and then reached for a glass of heavy cream to wash it down.

The cream was rich and velvety, coating Sam's tongue and the roof of his mouth. He closed his eyes, letting out a contented sigh as the flavors mingled on his palate. Mike smiled, watching Sam indulge in the creamy treat.

With lunch almost ready, Mike called out to Sam, "Hey, why don't you take a seat at the table? I've got a special surprise for you." Sam's eyes lit up, and he eagerly made his way to the table, his stomach rumbling with anticipation. Mike had carefully set the table, placing a large, ornate plate in the center. On the plate was a feast of gainer-friendly dishes, each one designed to tantalize Sam's senses and fuel his weight gain.

Sam's eyes widened as he took in the sight before him. "Wow, Mike. This is…incredible," he stammered, his voice filled with awe.

Mike grinned, feeling a surge of pride at Sam's reaction. "I thought you might like it. I've been working on some new recipes, and I wanted to try them out on you."

Sam's eyes darted between the dishes, each one more enticing than the last. "You've really outdone yourself," he said, his voice filled with genuine admiration.

Mike beamed, feeling a sense of satisfaction wash over him. "I'm glad you like it. Now, let's eat," he said, gesturing for Sam to take a seat.

Sam eagerly sat down, his eyes never leaving the food. Mike served each dish with care, explaining the ingredients and the preparation process. Sam listened attentively, his stomach growling with anticipation. As they ate, Mike watched Sam's body respond to the food, his belly expanding slightly with each bite. Sam's eyes sparkled with pleasure, and he moaned softly as he savored each mouthful.

Mike's heart swelled with love and desire as he watched Sam indulge in the meal. He reached out, gently tracing the curve of Sam's expanding waistline with his fingers. Sam leaned into the touch, a soft sigh escaping his lips. As they finished their meal, Mike leaned back in his chair, feeling a sense of contentment wash over him. He had always loved watching Sam eat, but today had been something special. He had seen the pleasure in Sam's eyes, the way his body responded to the food, and he knew that this was what they both wanted.

With every bite, Sam's eyes rolled back in sheer pleasure, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he savored the flavors. Mike watched with an unspoken intensity, his heart beating faster in response to the sight. He could see the effect his cooking was having on Sam, and it fueled his own desire.

"More?" Sam murmured, his eyes pleading. Mike simply nodded, as he brought out a platter of assorted pastries, their glossy icing and flaky crusts beckoning Sam like sirens.

Sam's hands shook slightly as he reached for a pastry, his eyes fixed on the desserts as if they were the key to a hidden treasure. He took a bite, moaning softly as the sugary sweetness coated his tongue. Mike smiled, watching the way Sam's eyes fluttered closed in delight, his body responding to the sensations.

As the meal continued, the room filled with the sounds of soft moans and the rustling of food wrappers. The air was thick with desire, the scent of pastry and cream heavy in the air. Mike couldn't help but reach out, his hand hovering over Sam's thigh, his fingers itching to trace the expanding curves.

Sam leaned into the touch, his eyes fluttering open to meet Mike's. "More, Mike," he repeated, his voice barely a whisper. Mike's eyes darkened, his lips curling into a hungry smile.

With a swift motion, Mike stood and moved to the kitchen, returning with a tray laden with an assortment of ice creams and chocolates. Sam's eyes widened as he took in the sight, his breath hitching in anticipation. Mike set the tray on the table, his fingers tracing the curve of Sam's waist as he moved past him.

Sam's eyes followed Mike's every movement, his body trembling with desire. Mike poured a generous scoop of ice cream into a bowl, the sound of it hitting the ceramic causing Sam to shiver. Mike brought the bowl to Sam, his eyes locked with Sam's as he fed him the first bite.

Sam moaned softly, his eyes fluttering closed as he savored the rich, creamy texture of the ice cream. Mike watched, his heart pounding in his chest as he fed Sam another spoonful. This continued for what felt like hours, the room filled with the sounds of soft moans and the clinking of spoons against the bowls.

As the meal came to an end, Sam's body was a mass of soft curves, his belly round and full. His eyes were heavy with satisfaction, his body sated but still craving more. Mike leaned in, his lips brushing against Sam's ear as he whispered, "Next time, I'll make more pastries for dessert."

Sam's eyes fluttered open, his gaze locking with Mike's. "I can't wait," he murmured, his voice thick with desire.

Without a word, Mike stepped closer, pressing his body against Sam's. The weight differential was significant, but Mike's height and lean muscle dominated Sam. He wrapped his arms around Sam's back, their bodies melded together in a dance born of intimacy and love. Mike's heart pounded in his chest, his breath hitching in his throat as he whispered, "I love you, Sam. I love every inch of you."

Sam's breath hitched as Mike's fingers trailed along his skin, tracing the paths of his recent weight gain. Mike gently caressed Sam's stomach, his fingers working their way lower, before finally finding the zipper of Sam's shorts. He unzipped them with deliberate intent, pushing them down and off Sam's hips, exposing the ripe expanse of Sam's thighs and the firm, round cheeks of his ass.

Sam's moans grew louder, his body trembling as Mike continued his exploration, his hands roaming every inch of Sam's expanded form. Mike nuzzled against Sam, his breath hot against his skin.

Sam's eyes closed, his breath hitching as he nodded in agreement. The anticipation was almost unbearable, the pressure building with each passing second.

As they sat there, wrapped in each other's arms, Sam's eyes began to narrow, a hint of curiosity sparking within them. "Mike, can I ask you something?" he said, his voice low and shaky.

Mike's fingers continued to trace the curves of Sam's belly, his touch gentle and soothing. "Of course, baby. What's on your mind?"

Sam's gaze drifted away, his eyes focusing on some point in the distance. "When did you…I mean, how did you know about my…. Thing? About wanting to gain weight?"

Mike's smile was slow and seductive, his eyes glinting with amusement. "Oh, Sam. You're so adorable when you're oblivious. I've been encouraging you to eat more and more for weeks now. I've been bringing home your favorite pastries, making you those decadent desserts…I've even been experimenting with new recipes to tempt your sweet tooth."

Sam's eyes snapped back to Mike's, a look of surprise and realization dawning on his face. "You mean…you've been doing it on purpose? You've been encouraging it?"

Mike's laughter was low and husky, his chest vibrating with the sound. "Oh, baby. I want to see you grow. I want to see you happy and content, with a belly full of sweets and a heart full of joy. You're so beautiful to me, Sam. Every curve, every inch of you is perfect."

Sam's face flushed, his eyes dropping to his lap. "But…but are you sure? I mean, I'm getting pretty big. Are you sure you're okay with that?"

Mike's fingers tightened around Sam's waist, his touch possessive and reassuring. "I'm more than okay with it, Sam. I'm thrilled. I love watching you eat, watching you indulge in your desires. I love seeing the way your body changes, the way your skin stretches and your curves grow."

Sam's eyes fluttered back to Mike's, a look of wonder and adoration on his face. "But… it's so weird… I…" he whispered, his voice barely audible.

Mike's smile was radiant, his eyes shining with love and desire. "I love you, Sam. And I'll keep feeding you, keep encouraging you to grow, as long as you want me to."

"So, are you happy? Does this turn you on?" Mike asked, sliding closer to Sam and running his hand over his growing belly.

Sam gasped at the sensation, his eyes fluttering closed. He could feel the heat emanating from Mike's fingers, and it was almost too much to handle. "Yes," he whimpered, pressing his body against Mike's.

Mike's laughter was low and seductive. "Oh, I know how to push your buttons, all right," he purred, nipping gently at Sam's neck. "And I plan to continue doing so. Just keep pretending like you're oblivious, and let me take care of the rest."

Sam shivered, his whole body tingling at Mike's touch. He couldn't believe how turned on he was by this newfound power dynamic. It was as if Mike had unlocked a part of him he didn't even know existed. With a contented sigh, Sam leaned into Mike, ready for whatever came next.

Mike leaned in, his lips brushing against Sam's ear, his voice coming out deep and passionate, "Oh, Sam you've really outdone yourself tonight," Mike whispered, as he traced the curves of Sam's bloated belly. "I can't believe you managed to finish that entire cake all by yourself."

Sam's breath hitched, his body trembling with a mix of pleasure and embarrassment. "I…I couldn't help myself," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "It was just so delicious."

Mike's fingers traced the soft, plump flesh, his touch gentle yet firm. "You've always had a sweet tooth, my little gainer," he teased, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Remember when you used to be a twink, all skin and bones? Now look at you, all soft and round." Sam's arms wrapped around Mike's neck, his body pressing against him.

Mike's hands roamed, tracing the landscape of Sam's belly. The soft, plump curves under his fingers were a symphony of sensations, each touch eliciting a soft moan from Sam, his body arching into Mike's touch with a fervor that spoke volumes of his desire.

Mike's fingers danced lower, his touch lingering at the waistband of Sam's pants, teasing the skin just above the elastic of his underwear. Sam's breath hitched, his body trembling with anticipation, with a gentle tug, Mike pulled Sam's shirt off, revealing a rounded, bloated belly, the skin stretched taut over the swelling contours. The sight was a feast for Mike's eyes, his gaze lingering on the soft, jiggling flesh, the creases that had begun to form.

Mike's fingers traced these lines, his touch gentle yet firm, as if he were mapping out the terrain of a new world. The sight of Sam's body, the evidence of his dedication to his desires, filled Mike with a sense of pride and admiration.

Mike's touch became more insistent, his hands squeezing the soft, plump flesh of Sam's thighs, his breath hot against Sam's ear as he whispered words of encouragement, of desire, of love as he thrust his hips against Sam.

Sam's breath was coming in shallow, gasping breaths, his body trembling with desire, and Mike couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction as he watched Sam respond to his touch. Ripping Sam's underwear off, his lips trailed down, his tongue traced the indentation they too small underwear had left on the gentle curve of his belly. Sam's body arched, a soft moan escaping his lips as Mike's tongue

Mike's lips trailed lower, his tongue darting out to taste the sweetness of Sam's skin, his touch sending a shiver of pleasure through Sam's body.

Sam's body arched, his back bowing as Mike's tongue explored the sensitive flesh, his tongue sending waves of pleasure through Sam's body. Mike's fingers continued to tease Sam's body, squeezing the now soft flesh.

Mike's tongue danced along the plush folds of Sam's belly, savoring the taste of his skin as it rippled under his touch. Sam's body quivered with pleasure, his moans a symphony of desire that filled the room. Mike's exploration continued, his tongue tracing the contours of Sam's expansive form, each curve and crevice a testament to the transformation they both cherished.

As Sam's moans grew louder, Mike's fingers traced the sensitive skin of Sam's lower belly, teasing the soft, hanging flesh that had grown so lush over time. The sight of it, the feel of it, was a source of immense pleasure for Mike, a testament to the power exchange they had embraced.

With a gentle command, Mike leaned Sam over the table, his hands caressing the soft, round mound of Sam's belly as he entered him from behind. The feeling of Sam's body enveloping him was overwhelming, Sam's hips bucked, his body responding to Mike's touch.

Mike's hands tightened on Sam's belly, his fingers digging in as he began to move with a rhythm that matched the pounding of his heart. The sight of Sam's body, now so much larger than it had been, was a source of immense pleasure for Mike. He reveled in the feeling of his own power, the way he could control Sam's movements, the way he could make Sam's body respond to his touch.

With each thrust, Sam's belly jiggled, the soft flesh quivering under Mike's touch. Mike's eyes were fixed on the sight, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he lost himself in the moment. He could feel the tension building, the pressure growing, and he knew that he was close.

Sam's moans filled the room, his body arching as he reached his climax. Mike followed close behind, his body shuddering as he came. He leaned forward, his forehead resting against Sam's back as they both caught their breath.

As they lay there, Mike's heart still pounding in his chest, he couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment wash over him.

He gently traced the curve of Sam's waist, his fingers lingering on the soft, plump flesh. "I love you, Sam," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

Sam's body trembled, his voice hoarse as he replied, "I love you too, Mike. Are there anymore cookies left?"

[aithusarosekiller]

An Extensive List Of Ouizzy Hcs

Frenchie is a cuddler. If he gets the opportunity to latch on like a koala you know damn well that he will do it. This is often paired with soft kisses to wherever is closest to his face. He and Izzy were initially very casual with very little intimacy, until one day Frenchie just decided to cuddle up and Izzy had the realisation of 'oh shit, this is actually really nice'

Izzy's response to the first 'I love you' was a very panicked 'fuck off' until he remembered how similarly Ed had responded to his confession and freaked the fuck out because he didn't want Frenchie to feel that way. He was too emotionally constipated to apologise so he just left the room. It took two days for him to approach Frenchie and manage an apology, which was accepted a lot quicker than he anticipated.

Frenchie is so proud that he managed to pull the Izzy Hands and will not fail to mention it to EVERYBODY he comes across. He is very much the 'Well, yesterday, my husband said...' 'According to Iz- that's my boyfriend btw-' 'hey, this is Izzy, he's my beautiful boyfriend' 'I'm so lucky to have a husband like Iz' 'I have a partner too, his name is Izzy and-' 'sorry, I've got a date with my darling Izzy today' type of partner

Frenchie smiles in his sleep. It's adorable.

Jim is their no.1 supporter. They gave Frenchie the shovel talk, which he genuinely did not see coming. They think their relationship is 'cute', which made Izzy particularly grumpy and reluctant to talk to them for a week.

Izzy is a sub

Izzy always falls asleep first but he's a super light sleeper so Frenchie is careful to not move or even breathe too loud because he is terrified of waking him

Stede knew they were dating before Izzy did

Izzy will usually shut down Frenchie's superstitious theories but will occasionally indulge him if he's particularly adamant and it won't cause any harm bc at least it makes Frenchie happy to be believed.

The room they choose to hide Izzy in when he gets shot is the room the two of them had been secretly meeting up in for several weeks before the canon s2 timeline picks up. Frenchie just panicked and took him right there, having to come up with an excuse to give to Archie when she asked why he wanted to drag Izzy behind a dusty shelf.

Frenchie gives neck hugs, Izzy goes for the arms around the waist + face in shoulder hug. Occasionally Izzy will come up and hug him from behind but he finds it more intimate for some inexplicable reason so he rarely does it, especially in the company of others.

They can't go anywhere without walking into some big, scary guy Izzy once hooked up with. But Frenchie quickly grew to not mind because out of all of them, Iz still chose to stick the superstitious barely-pirate with no survival skills whatsoever so are any of them really that cool after all?

Lucius takes every opportunity to tease Izzy about their relationship. He will not stop until he gets a satisfying reaction. Or until he gets bored enough to make up an excuse for leaving...

Frenchie is a biter. No further information.

They don't usually do anniversaries but they DO frequently pretend that it's their anniversary when they want to get out of doing something for somebody else

In S1E4, Frenchie is the one that left the prosthetic at Izzy's door. He's also the one that told Lucius what to put on the note.

Izzy sometimes sings when he's really focused on something but he'll deny it to the end of time. Frenchie hears sometimes and just quietly listens. He'll switch between languages when he sings depending on his mood and Frenchie loses all human cognitive abilities when he brings out the French.

One day, Frenchie 'adopts' a rat he found onboard and calls it Maddy, Izzy hates it but still manages to convince Roach not to skin it and feed it to a seagull, all bc it made Frenchie happy. Ofc if you asked him, he'd say he had nothing to do with the thing being kept.

Frenchie manages to somehow slip the word 'babe' into every conversation

Izzy's a hand kisser. Especially the palms.

They both go to Wee John when they're stressing about gifts or smth and it gets to a point where he knows more about their relationship than they do

Izzy accidentally let the words 'my love' slip ONCE and is not allowed to forget it

There is nothing Frenchie wouldn't do to hear that man laugh. He'll do absolutely anything just to see him smile or laugh, which initially proves to be quite difficult.

They are girl dads idec

Izzy occasionally smokes, and it's one of the key ways Frenchie can tell if he is in pain or stressed out

They make bets about everyone else on the ship constantly. About almost anything.

Izzy tried to teach Frenchie how to read but his reading skills are relatively limited so it really didn't go well. They end up going to Ed for help because Izzy banned him from asking Lucius.

Frenchie knows a lot about flowers. He never says how but he'll go on about them for ages. Izzy secretly gives it endearing.

The black jacket Frenchie wears in s2 was given to him by Izzy. He made some adjustments and added the cat to the back and then started to wear it constantly; he quite liked wearing it because it felt like a comforting layer of protection and familiarity from the horrors around them

[hesbuckcompton-baby]

I'm Your Man - Robert 'Rosie' Rosenthal x OFC - Chapter 5

Masterlist | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 |-| Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 | Chapter 19

AO3

Summary: Egan's first mission since Cleven's disappearance proves disastrous, leaving Frankie to clean up the damage he left behind

Warnings: Language, vomit, this one's angsty guys

Word Count: 4k

Tags: @mads-weasley @xxluckystrike @curaheehee @footprintsinthesxnd @dcyllom @storysimp @latibvles @love-studying58

The smell of cigarette smoke stung Bucky's nose, his warm breath fogging up the inside of the cockpit windows as he stared aimlessly at the early morning sky, dull grey gradually giving way to a vivid blue as the sun crept above the horizon. He had no idea how long he'd been sitting there, glaring at nothing, but this certainly wasn't his first cigarette, a pair of burnt-out butts on the floor by his feet a testament to this. It could have been sadness or anger that had driven him up here, but when the two combined it felt awfully more like numbness than anything else.

A sudden hammering against the glass broke his train of thought, dropping his cigarette in surprise as if left a small scorch mark on the inside of his trousers. Turning to his left, expression contorted in shock, he came face to face with Frankie, her furrowed brow only inches from the window after somehow managing to clamber up onto the wing without him noticing.

"What the- get down!" Egan cried, stomping out his cigarette before it could become a fire hazard.

"If that cockpit's full of cigarette butts now, I'm gonna beat your ass," She warned, her voice slightly muffled by the glass.

"...No," He shook his head, attempting to covertly use his uniform cap as a makeshift dustpan to clean up his mess, but when he looked back up at Frankie her eyes had narrowed at him. "What do you want?"

"Colonel Harding's looking for you. Personally, I just didn't want to deal with the smell after you drink and smoke yourself to death in here. I'd much rather you do it somewhere else, please."

A flicker of a smile crossed Egan's face, perhaps the first he could remember since he'd heard the news about Cleven. Half-empty flask tucked in his pocket, a hat full of ashes in his hand, he clambered out of the pilot's seat, weaving his way through the plane's interior to drop down out of the door. Frankie was waiting on the tarmac for him as his feet touched the ground, peering discerningly up at him. She swiped the flask from his pocket and took a swig for herself, giving a shrug of almost-approval at his choice of drink as she handed it back.

"I'm not gonna ask if you're ok," She frowned, yanking the cap from his hand and upturning its contents.

"Good," Bucky nodded, slinging an arm around her shoulder as they wandered back towards the jeep she had come in. "Weather report?"

Frankie glared up at him. He knew she objected to his participating in the next mission - it was only a matter of time before she actually tried to argue about it. Really, it was more a question of whether she was going to fight him, or try and take on the general. "Clearing up. D'you need me to drive you back?"

"If it was anyone else I might have said yes, but you... you're really bad at driving," Evidently she had anticipated this response, for her bike was already sticking out of the trunk, waiting for her to surrender the vehicle to him.

"Alright, one sec," Frankie gestured for him to turn and face her, surveying his appearance like she was a mother about to send her son off to the school dance. Reaching up, she tugged his tie straight, brushing a few flakes of ash from his jacket with the back of her hand. "Open," She demanded, and he opened his mouth without question, fighting the urge to roll his eyes. Taking a whiff of the alcohol on his breath, Frankie frowned, and Egan found himself unable to utter a word before she shoved a couple of breath mints into his mouth with such force he almost choked.

"Gee, thanks," He spluttered, coughing. "Might choke to death, but at least I'm not gonna smell."

"I can't do everything," She shrugged, stepping away to grab her bike out of the jeep.

"I don't know what I'd do without you," Bucky drawled sarcastically, clearing his throat one last time as he slid into the driver's seat, the engine starting with a roar as he watched Frankie begin to cycle away in the rearview mirror.

It was barely beginning to rain, spots of cold water striking Frankie's face as she pedalled relentlessly, taking it at a somewhat leisurely pace for once, too distracted to sprint the way she usually would. They were running a mission today. They had run one yesterday. They had run one the day before. She was losing track of the last time she'd slept more than a couple of hours in a night, the constant missions meaning tougher, tighter deadlines for all her work. The fixes needed to be completed twice as fast, and it was becoming physically impossible to keep all the buses air-worthy as needed.

Lemmons and the others were already on site and working away as she arrived, a fact that lessened her anxiety ever-so-slightly. In the months since they'd arrived, her begrudging acceptance of the American mechanics had grown more and more willing - they'd proved their worth, their dedication, and she couldn't ask more than that.

"How many can fly today?" She called, abandoning her bike in the grass as she jogged over to the hardstand where Ken was working away.

"Still only seventeen," He sighed. "A couple need fixes to the return lines, but we just don't have time for any big repairs."

"I know," Frankie nodded grimly. "Daily missions are a nightmare, just pull through with what you can, they can't blame us for any of this."

His expression was tense, tainted with guilt. She could tell he was thinking of Cleven again. "Hey," Frankie urged, pressing a reassuring hand to his shoulder. "None of this is our fault." Lemmons nodded after a moment's pause, tilting his head to let his chin rest upon the spot where her hand gripped his shoulder.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

By the time the flight crews began rolling in in their jeeps, Frankie had grown so irritable that she swore her teeth would shatter if her jaw clenched itself any harder. The constant frustration of never being able to carry out the repairs she wanted, the ever-present worry that burrowed into her stomach whenever the pilots left, and the anger she felt at Egan for going with them, were all colliding in an explosive combination. And her fellow mechanics seemed to feel it - even Ken was keeping his distance.

Bucky's car slowed to a halt behind her as she finished up, and she turned to glare at him, a look he was sure he'd never seen crease her face before. "Now, Frankie," He approached with a plastered-on grin, seizing her by the shoulders as he tried to alleviate her mood with his own false joyfulness. "Why is it that we're only flying seventeen buses this morning? I hope Lemmons over there hasn't been screwing with your excellent work."

He had touched a nerve. Unfortunately for Egan, this realisation came a split-second too late. Before he knew it, there was a spanner jammed under his chin, as if she held a knife to his throat, her expression only made harsher by the remark. "Maybe if some people didn't force themselves in where they aren't needed we wouldn't have to pull everything together in such a fucking hurry, eh?"

"Ok, Frank, tough morning, I get it," He nodded, releasing her shoulders and taking a full step back. But he wasn't going to pretend her statement about him being unneeded hadn't sparked his own anger. "But don't take that out on me, I'll pass your concern on to Harding, and we'll see what he can-"

"The only thing I want Harding to get is a smack up the fucking head for letting you fly."

"This is war, Frankie, you think I'm gonna sit out because of what happened? I've never wanted this more than I do now!"

Without fully realising, their voices had begun to rise, argument audible to the other ground and flight crews nearby as they attempted to awkwardly go about their business.

"We both know you're not fit to fly - oh, or does a breakfast of whisky and cigarettes pass the military standard these days? You're burning the candle at both ends and you won't talk to me about it because you're embarrassed by how obvious it's become, John!"

"You really wanna go there? How 'bout we talk about how you spend every fucking night up here working until you drop, and the only times you don't is when you're drinking yourself to the same effect? How many hours did you sleep last night - or the night before, huh? Two? Three? Don't stand there and fucking lecture me about 'burning the candle at both ends'-" He lifted his hands in quotation marks, mockingly mimicking her accent. "- when I'm just following your example!"

Frankie didn't speak for a moment, but as Bucky tried to walk past her, she swivelled on her heel, yelling at him with such force that it was a miracle the entire bomb squad didn't hear. "Why do I have to lose my friend just because you lost yours?!"

He stopped dead in his tracks, stone-cold expression cracking for a second. "Frankie-"

Raising a hand to silence him, she shook her head. "No- you know what? Just fuck off. Get in your death trap and fuck off. At least I'll have one less mess to clean up when you don't come back. I'm sure Cleven will be so proud that his legacy amounted to that."

Frankie could tell she'd hurt him. His glare didn't falter, but she saw the way he flinched when she mentioned Cleven. If she'd been in a more forgiving mood, she might have apologised on the spot - taken it all back, promised she wanted nothing more than for him to return safe and in one piece. But she was tired and she was angry, and apologising was the last thing on her agenda. Hot tears were welling in her eyes as she stomped off, the clanging weight of her toolbox accentuating every step as she officially declared whatever happened next as Not Her Problem.

'Royal Flush' was the next plane along the runway, close enough so that every shouted word of Egan and Frankie's exchange had carried on the wind, the flight crew exchanging embarrassed glances as they tried to ignore the conversation they had suddenly found themselves privy to. Rosie had been about to climb in, but the sudden shouts had given him pause, waiting by the hatch as he watched on with a furrowed brow. Her boots thumped hard against the tarmac as she marched up to them, tools weighing her down on one side.

"Everything looks good?" She demanded, stopping in front of the plane, her usually jovial tone gone.

He frowned, concern twisting his expression. "Everything is - yeah - are you ok?"

Frankie's lip jutted out for a moment, and Rosie grew suddenly worried that she was about to burst into tears. Taking a sharp, shaky inhale, she nodded firmly. "Everything's great."

He slammed the hatch shut, gesturing for her to step underneath the plane's belly so that they were out of both sight and earshot of the rest of Rosie's Riveters. She did so, putting her toolbox down at her feet so that she could wipe away the tears that were forming with the heels of her palms. "I'm really tired."

Rosie almost laughed, a huff escaping him as she confirmed every suspicion he'd harboured about her unorthodox work hours. Lifting a hand to her cheek, he brushed her hair away from where it had stuck to half-dried tears. "Oh, honey," He uttered before he'd had a chance to actually consider the words, the pair of them brushing past the term of endearment without a second thought, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. "He's gonna be fine. Egan'll come back in a couple hours, and you can both apologise to each other, and everything'll be fine."

She sniffed sharply, nodding, and he chuckled as she reached up to tug the zipper on his jacket all the way up past his collar, the sheepskin brushing against his chin. "Don't get... like... shot, or anything."

He grinned, nodding affirmatively. "Duly noted. Nice pep talk."

Frankie smiled then too, thumping him in the shoulder like she always did when he teased her. "I'm not kidding," She chuckled. "If every person I'm seen talking to before a flight fucking dies people will start thinking I'm bad luck."

Rosie raised a brow at this, flicking away another stray strand of hair that had gotten caught on her eyelash. "Well... of all the ways to go, I'll take your weird bad-luck-magic any day."

She sniffed again, her eyes still red from almost crying. "Thank you," She nodded earnestly.

"Alright. I'll see you later?"

"You hope," Frankie joked, smile flickering for a moment as she realised the remark may have been in bad taste, but he chuckled nonetheless, opening the hatch and climbing up into 'Royal Flush'. As his head popped up in the belly of the machine, Rosie noticed his co-pilot crouched on the floor beside him, eyeing him with a raised brow.

"... What?"

"Jesus Christ," Pappy muttered, pushing himself to his feet and worming his way through to the cockpit.

"Pappy, what?" Rosie insisted, close behind him. The man batted him away, and he threw up his hands in frustration, sliding into the pilot's seat.

"This thing ain't as sound-proof as you think it is, that's all I'm sayin'."

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Frankie squinted in the midday sun as she lay in the grass beside the runway, the tall grass blowing in and out of her peripherals on the cool breeze. The wait was always agony - the uncertainty, the sense of powerlessness, the surety that some of the men who had left were never coming back. It seemed word of her public argument with Major Egan had travelled fast, for as soon as lunchtime rolled around, there was George. She never bothered to walk all the way to the airstrip from the command centre, but today she had made the hike, a paper bag full of cheese and cucumber sandwiches in tow.

Lemmons sat silently, cross-legged in the grass as he enjoyed his lunch. "Thanks for this, ma'am, it was real nice of you," He nodded appreciatively, making up for his and George's lack of familiarity with polite flattery.

"Yeah," Frankie agreed, speaking with a mouth full of cheese. "Much better than the shit coffee and stale crackers we keep in the hut."

George furrowed her brow, frowning questioningly over at Ken. "No refrigerator," He shrugged, offering no further explanation.

Frankie ate with one hand, a difficult task when lying down, half of the sandwich filling falling out onto her chest. But her other hand was draped across George's leg as she painted her nails a subtle shade of mauve, scolding her whenever she twitched. When she was stressed, she smoked too much, and George had long since realised that the best way to curb the bad habit was to distract her with food, or to ensure her hands were indisposed. On a particularly stressful afternoon such as this one, it seemed combined efforts were in order.

"... You don't think Bucky hates me now, do you?" Frankie asked quietly, her two companions frowning down at her.

"What are you, twelve?" George snorted, carefully finishing off the edges of her thumbnail. "He'll get over it. Grown-ups fight, dear."

"You're both having a hard time," Ken added. "He's just blowing off steam, I don't think he meant any of it."

"I meant what I said. When I said it, that is."

"Once you got drunk and told me you wanted to rip my eyes out because I was too pretty - I haven't held it against you," George shrugged. "You definitely meant that at the time."

"I'm easily frustrated."

"Yeah, no shit."

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George's watch ticked steadily past the time they had expected the planes to return. She didn't return to work - didn't leave Frankie's side - sitting beside her in the grass, a deathly silence hanging over them as she began to pick and chip away at her freshly dried nail polish.

"They should have been back by-"

"Shh." Frankie interrupted sharply, an utterly dreadful sense of foreboding hollowing out her gut. She didn't realise how thoroughly she'd picked at her hand until her finger came away bloody. Where were they?

The sound of an engine rattling above made their ears prick, gazes locked on the same spot on the great blue horizon as a single plane came into view.

Just one.

Before she even realised she was nauseous, Frankie had vomited the contents of her stomach onto the grass in front of her. If none of them had returned, it could have meant any number of things. She knew exactly what one plane meant. She didn't even watch it land, just stared down at the stinking puddle before her as it soaked into the dirt.

In her mind, she had a choice now. When the time came to head over, she had to decide on who she was praying would climb out.

Bucky or Rosie.

Even if it was neither, it couldn't be both.

But then a second rumble sounded, and before she'd had time to look up and track its movements, another plane was pulling in, its wings jagged and torn, engines sputtering as it slowly descended.

'Royal Flush'.

A terrible, ragged noise escaped Frankie's throat, something between a sob and a sigh of relief. Scrambling to her feet, George thrust her half-empty flask of lukewarm coffee into her hand, and she downed the whole thing, the bitterness mixing with the acidic tang in her mouth, masking the smell of sickness as best she could.

Rosie hadn't even had time to register her approach. No sooner had he slipped out of the hatch did he feel the sudden crush of another body against his, her arms thrown around his neck, her hand in his hair, holding him steady. Suddenly he was breathing again.

He wasn't sure he'd ever held anybody so tight, relishing the feeling of solid ground beneath his feet as he wrapped his arms around her back, hands pressed so firmly against her skin that he could feel her rapid heartbeat beneath it, a desperate tether to life. She was breathing in his ear, his curls waving back and forth with it, and without thinking he reached up to pluck a piece of grass away that had gotten stuck in her hair.

Her breath didn't come easy - he could hear the laboured way she pulled in each inhale, as if a weight were pressing on her chest, keeping her lungs empty. When she spoke it was barely a whisper.

"Egan?"

Rosie shook his head ever so slightly, the guilt of what he knew he had to say eating away at him. "I gotta wait until after interrogation, I can't-"

Suddenly Frankie pulled out of the embrace, hands clutching either side of his face, forcing him to look at her. Her hands were gentle in the way they pressed against his cheeks, but in that moment it felt like a vice grip. That warmth he had become so fond of was gone, her eyes merciless, and Rosie knew in that moment that if he didn't tell her now she would never forgive him.

"He went down Frankie, they all- ... They all went down."

A horrible, agonising sound tore free from her throat, half whimper, half choke, and immediately she was blinded by the tears that filled her eyes. His fingers found hers, ever so gently prying her palms away from his face so that he could hold her again, pressing his lips briefly to her sweat-soaked temple. If he could, he would have stayed there for hours, for as long as she needed someone to be there whilst she wept. But he couldn't. For someone he'd known only weeks, walking away from her was suddenly the hardest thing he'd ever had to do.

Frankie didn't turn to watch him go, didn't spare a glance to the surviving Riveters as they climbed into the back of one of the trucks, whisked away to interrogation.

What the fuck could they say that wasn't already obvious?

She felt a hand press against her shoulder, and turned her head to meet Ken's gaze, his expression twisted with fear.

"Bucky?" He asked. The simple question was enough to undo her, and all at once Frankie burst into tears, accepting his embrace as he offered it.

Just fuck off. Get in your death trap and fuck off.

At least I'll have one less mess to clean up when you don't come back.

She couldn't breathe. Couldn't feel anything but a terrible, harrowing guilt, so heavy that it made her very bones ache. If she hadn't already upturned the contents of her stomach, she would have done so now, the desperate feeling of nausea left with nothing to cling to within her.

Frankie Bevan had lost people to war before. She had loved people and sent them away, and they had never returned. But not once in her life had she let them leave without them knowing she loved them. Not until now.

"He forgave you," She heard Lemmons murmur, his hand stroking her hair in that way her father used to soothe her when she got too mad - when the world got too heavy, too weighty for her hands alone. "He knew you didn't mean it."

She sniffed loudly, clutching at the dirty fabric of his coveralls. "He loved me, didn't he?"

"Oh yeah."

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Rosie sat on one of the benches outside the interrogation hut, staring down at the cup of Red Cross coffee that warmed his hands. They had made too many cups. He had walked in and seen them, laid out row by row, and taken the first of the front row like he was supposed to - leave the rest for the others. But there were no others. And suddenly the bitter liquid was the least appetising thing in the world.

The bench's wooden slats creaked as someone sat down beside him. Frankie was sitting on her hands, staring blankly at a fixed spot in the grass ahead. Wordlessly, he held the coffee out to her, and she took it, the hot liquid scalding her tongue as she took a sip.

"Jesus," She sputtered, grimacing at the sudden pain.

"Still hot," Rosie said.

"Yeah, I noticed," Frankie huffed, sucking in cool air through her teeth to soothe the burn.

"Hey, I'm really sorry about-"

"Don't," She interrupted, shaking her head. "You don't have to do that, it's okay."

At some point during their flight, Rosie had sliced the skin along his hairline, droplets of blood drying and encrusting his forehead. Frankie put the still-hot coffee down, reaching up to brush his curls out of the way with her thumb. Her hand was still warm from holding the cup, and he felt the urge to lean closer.

"That hurt?"

"Nah. It's just a scratch - I don't even know how I got it."

She nodded, hand falling back down at her side. Neither of them moved for a moment, but when Rosie lifted his arm she seemed to get the message, leaning into his side, arms wrapped around his torso. His chin rested atop Frankie's head, the smell of her hair filling his lungs with each slow inhale.

"I don't know what we're supposed to do now."

[ash-whimsicalfanfic]

Jealousy, Jealousy

Leroy Jethro Gibbs X Fem OC/Reader

Word Count: 3884

Warning: Mild Language, Fluff, Angst, Possessiveness, Jealousy…

Prompt: Gibbs pulled a stunt and you decided to get your revenge—by making him jealous…

Y/N Gibbs POV

I woke up today and had the most brilliant idea. I knew exactly how to get my husband back. I shake my head, still unable to believe that Jethro could do such a thing—especially at work!

FLASHBACK

I hum a tune as I step out of the bathroom with a big, fluffy towel wrapped around my. I found myself sifting through my work clothes when my eyes catch a silver gift bag. I grab it, pulling the card off it.

Y/N/N, be a good girl and wear this to work, will you? -Jet

I open the bag and pull out a beautiful dark red lingerie set. I was trying to think of what the occasion was and why Jethro would be giving me a gift. My heart beats with anticipation at the thought of us having sex. We haven't done anything intimate for weeks besides a quick kiss here and there. We've both put our focus on work and we've come home, immediately crashing is bed.

I drop the towel, sliding on the lingerie set and hum in approval. I loved the feeling of lingerie against my skin. Something about it made me feel confident and sexy. I go back to my dresser and pull on a baggy pair of black cargo pants. I pull on a white baggy t-shirt and a black blazer.

Jethro was possessive and I loved it. I joined the team seven years ago and I may be the baby of the team, slightly younger than Ziva, Tim and Tony, but I worked my ass off. I was the "heart" of the team as they put it. I was a profound profiler and negotiator. We all were great investigators, but I also brought our little team closer together.

When I first joined, I could give a care less about the dress code. Some days, I'd follow it, but my clothes were snug to my figure. I was confident and didn't mind showing a bit more cleavage than needed. Some days, I liked to wear short skater skirts like Abby, to show off my legs. I'd show the occasional stomach here and there.

But, I enjoyed the way Jethro's eyes would roam over me. I chuckle, thinking about the day he asked me over to his house. It was our first kiss and our first time together. We were friends with benefits briefly before I had enough and outed how I felt. Then we dated before marrying. All of which I stopped dressing the way I use to, noticing how possessive he got over me once we were officially together. He's a man who gets jealous easy, not appreciating others staring at "his woman" as he puts it.

I leave my red hair down, grabbing my bag before leaving our home. It was time for work and it seems Jethro left me to sleep in. I was thankful and disappointed. I knew I needed the sleep, but I also enjoy our car rides to work together. I can't remember the last time I drove to work on my own.

It was a quiet drive, mostly filled with humming before I hum my way into the building and up to the bullpen. I saw the FBI here and roll my eyes. Oh, what a case this will be.

"Hon, we are working alongside the FBI on this case. Show them the conference room." Jethro says.

"Well, good morning to you as well husband. Yeah, my morning has been wonderful, thanks for asking. Oh, how's yours? Wonderful too. It was strange coming into work without you. Oh, and I got your gift. And yes, I listened. Oh, your tired of my rambling. Right, don't forget I'm your wife, Jet. Agents, follow me." I say, mocking at Jethro.

He had a small amused smile on his face. I was slightly moody he was acting strange with me today. I lead the agents away, ignoring Tony's grin at my one-on-one conversation with myself.

I leave the Agents to set up and head back to my desk. I could feel his eyes on me and I glance up, meeting those piercing blue eyes. I quirk a brow.

"Yes, Jethro?" I ask.

"Wondering if you woke up on the wrong side of the bed." He murmurs, smirking slightly.

"Asshole! You didn't even say good morning, we didn't ride together, I haven't even had a good morning kiss or hug, I haven't had coffee nor breakfast, and the first thing you do when you see me is put me to work." I hiss and he snorts.

"I think you woke up with your hair on fire, hon." He says.

I clench my jaw, narrowing my eyes at him. I shake my head as the elevators open and Fornell walks off.

"Y/N! Any chance your divorcing Jethro yet?" Fornell asks with a grin.

"I might just be his fifth ex-wife after this morning!" You tease, sending a glare at a grumpy Jethro who was glaring daggers at the both of you.

Fornell talks to Gibbs, but your eyes widen as you bite your tongue to silence any noise from you as you clench your thighs at the sudden vibrations you felt. It clicked. The lingerie bottoms weren't an ordinary bottoms. They were meant for teasing. In your case, punishment. You glare up at Jethro who's lips twitches as he amps it up higher. You nearly jumped out of your chair, trying to suppress the moan.

END OF FLASHBACK

Oh, how he pushed the wrong buttons. He had left earlier once again much to my displeasure, but today was the day to get him back. Make him jealous and then make him have the bluest balls he's ever going to have.

I walk out of the bathroom, dropping the towel. I put on a lingerie set. I grab my black skirt that ended at mid-thigh—and that’s if I was being generous on that.

It was tight, hugging my ass and my legs. It really brought out my legs and I grin. It has a little slit, but it was cute. Not to mention the designer belt I add to it—a gift from Jethro. I had been talking about it with Abby for months and he got it as a birthday present.

I grab a white top that was like a tank-top with the wider straps. It was clinging to my body, the deep plunge neckline showed off more cleave than I've shown in years. A little bit of my belly was peaking through and I grin. Perfect. I slide on a black blazer before grabbing my black high heels.

This was going to be perfect.

I go to the bathroom, brushing my wavy red hair. I go for a slightly edgy, but neutral makeup look with a slightly dark red lipstick.

I hum, grabbing my purse and begin making my way to the Navy yard. I decided a pit stop was necessary and I grabbed drinks for the team. I get there and decided to go to Autopsy where I leave their drinks on the table as they were out getting a body. I leave a little note, humming as I head back to the elevator and head to Abby's lab.

She had her music going and I walk in, as she spins, she sees me. She turns the music off and looks at me in awe.

"You look so pretty!" She exclaims.

"Thank you, Abs! I brought you a gift." I say, handing her Caf-Pow.

"Your the best! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!" She exclaims and I chuckle.

"Of course." I say.

I head to the elevator, feeling slightly nervous for Jethro's reaction. I walk off the elevator and Tony whistles.

"I brought you a coffee with loads of cream and sugar." I say, winking at him and he grins.

"Thanks!" He says.

I head to Ziva, pulling a tea free.

"A tea for you, it was a new one on the menu I thought you'd like to try." I say.

"Thank you, Y/N/N. You look gorgeous by the way." She says, smirking slightly and I smile.

"Thanks, Ziva. I felt like dressing up a bit today. I felt like I deserved it after the hell Jethro put my through last week." I say.

"Fornell can be a real pain in the ass." She chuckles and I grin.

"That he can be." I say, even though that wasn't what I was referring too.

I walk to McGee, handing him a black coffee which he quietly thanks me for as he is on the phone. I walk to Jethro, handing him a coffee.

"My office." He grumbles.

"Oh, Jethro. Take that stick out of your ass. Who's looking anyway. It's an outfit and it's cute." I say.

He was silent, staring at me with dark, narrowed blue eyes. I could see the lust in them just as I could see the possessiveness in them...the jealousy coming to the surface.

I turn, walking to my desk, throwing the carton away once I pulled my coffee free. I hum softly as the elevator doors open.

"Fornell! If you like us so much, come join the team!" I say, winking at him.

"FBI is more my forte...although, your always welcome to join my team." He says, his eyes on my chest.

Jethro clears his throat and I look at him to see him glaring daggers at Fornell.

"Eyes off my wife, Fornell." He warns.

That sent a strange sensation to my core. I knew why and I was eager for the day to go on, wanting to press more buttons.

"I don't know how you managed to settle down with this grumpy bastard, Y/N." Fornell says and I giggle, rolling my eyes.

"Y/N, my office. Now." Jethro snaps, standing up as he storms towards the elevator.

I grin which stopped the team from looking so concerned. It was their turn to chuckle.

"You planned this out." Tony says.

"That I did. Revenge is a bitch." I say and he chuckles as I walk toward the elevator that Jethro was waiting on.

The doors close and he hits the button harshly. I purse my lips, swatting his arm.

"Easy there, macho man." I say.

"What the hell are you wearing?" He snaps, glaring down at me.

"Well this is my skirt. Look! It even has a little slit right here. It's so cute. And this top...you know that though." I say, grinning.

"I don't want people ogling my wife. I have some extra clothes of yours at my desk." He sighs.

"I'm not changing, Jet." I say.

"Why the hell not?" He asks, turning back to me.

"Because, I like this outfit. And you'd like it to if you investigated a little more." I say.

"You didn't." He grits out.

"Oh, I did. Your favorite set too." I say and I gasp as he pushes me up against a wall.

"It's one thing wearing this outfit to work, knowing men will stare, but then lingerie. Your asking for your ass to be red." He growls.

His hand twitches on my hip and I smile softly, putting my hand over it as I slide it under my skirt. His eyes were locked with mine and I make his fingers brush the lace bottoms.

"I just woke up feeling really good about today, Jet. I wanted an outfit to suit my mood and confidence." I say, shrugging.

"Your changing. I can't have you on my mind all damn day as we work a case, worrying about someone looking up your skirt." He says and I roll my eyes.

I push him back, smoothing my outfit out.

"I'm not changing, Jet. I'm your wife, not some...dog you can control." I say.

"Your my bitch in bed, aren't you?" He says and my jaw drops.

"Leroy Jethro Gibbs! That is so crude and so...s-so unlike you!" I exclaim.

"I thought you liked it when I called you my bitch. Are you not? What happened to being daddy's whore?" He asks and I gulp.

I could feel my skin flush as my panties dampen. Maybe I didn't think this all the way through. He smirks, that stupid lopsided smirk, his eyes twinkling. He knew damn well what he was doing to me.

Two can play this game.

"Well daddy...I do like it when you call me those names. But, I'm not in the mood right now." I say.

"W-What? You just called me daddy. Your doing that thing with your eyes and you wore this outfit. You want my attention. Well, you have it." He says.

Oh, I have it alright and I'll have it the rest of the day, whilst leaving you hanging for that crap you pulled last week.

"I think your profiling skills are a bit off, hon." I say, feigning an apologetic smile.

I pat his arm before moving out from the wall and hitting the emergency stop button. He goes to hit again, but I swat his hand away and the doors open. We walk off and he grabs my wrist. I stop, looking at him.

"Please change...I'll do whatever you want." He murmurs.

"I like my outfit, Jethro." I say, pulling away and going to my desk.

"Gibbs! I brought the file you asked for!" Palmer says before all the papers fall out.

He looks at Jethro wide eyed and I stand, bending over to help. I was well aware what I was going and I heard Fornell and Tony whistle as Jethro curses and I hear his chair.

I feel him press against me from behind, a hand on my hip as he leans down behind me to grab a paper.

"Sit your ass down right now, Y/N or else I'll carry your ass out of here kicking and screaming." He warns quietly.

"I'm trying to help Palmer. Leave me alone, Jethro. Your being moody today." I say.

He grunts, but I finish picking up the papers before standing. I take the papers from Palmer as Jethro tugs my skirt down as it did ride up a bit. I walk back to my desk, working on reorganizing the papers before standing and handing it to Jethro.

I sit and Jethro soon was giving out orders when he realized Tony was alone. I stand.

"I'll go with Tony! It's been awhile since I've been out baiting a suspect." I say.

"Not dressed in that." Jethro says gruffly.

"Oh get over yourself, Jet. I look fine. Come on, Tony!" I exclaim.

"We'll be watching!" Fornell says before he grunts.

"Stop staring at my wife's ass." Jethro warns.

We all get on the elevator and I hum softly as Tony hands me the keys. The keys...to his very nice car that I've been dying to drive.

"You dressed to impress and it's a simple and quick undercover op where you get his attention. So, get his attention tigress." He says, winking at me and I grin.

I follow Tony to his car, more than eager to drive his baby. I glance at Jethro to see his brooding face and fiery eyes. I knew he was growing more pissed off. My eyes were on his slightly growing bulge.

The drive to the nice bar was short. Tony and I made our way to the bar with our earpieces in.

"Look a little more like a couple." McGee says.

"Boss is going to kill me." Tony grumbles before sliding his hand from my lower back to ass.

"I'll protect you." I say.

"Will you?" Jethro's gruff voice comes through.

"If you don't want the bluest balls in history, Jethro, I'd comply a bit." I murmur, looking over the menu of drinks as Tony tries to stifle his laughter.

"I don't know what to get, babe!" I exclaim, moving so I was in front of Tony.

Our chests were pressed together, his hand on my ass and I move my hand to his. His eyes widen before going back to normal. I catch a man staring and I did a brief study before looking back up into Tony's eyes.

"Blue jeans. Hawaiian shirt. Ten o'clock." I say.

"See him." Jethro grunts.

"Why don't you get yourself a martini?" Tony asks.

"I don't like girly drinks, you know that." I say and he chuckles.

"Get her a Black Russian." Jethro says and I smile sweetly up at Tony.

"Hey, can I get a Black Russian and a bourbon over ice?" Tony asks.

I giggle as he lifts me up onto the bar, both of us level almost. I was still slightly short.

"Boss, you got to get some food in her. She's as light as a feather." Tony says.

"Oh stop!" I giggle, smacking his chest.

"Black Russian and bourbon over ice." The bartender says.

Tony hands me my drink and grabs his, both of us clinking our glasses together. He took a sip, but I down mine.

"Easy there, tigress." Tony chides.

"Give me yours." I say.

He hands me his, which solves the problem of his drink and not looking suspicious. I downed his, grinning.

"Want to go out back?" He asks.

"Does either of you have a sidearm?" Fornell questions.

"Inner thigh." I say.

"DiNozzo...if I find out that your hands go up my wife's skirt, you won't have to worry about a funeral." Jethro grunts.

"Come!" I exclaim, jumping off the bar and grabbing his hand.

We walk out the back, and I glanced back at Tony to catch the unsub following us.

"He'll be right behind us." I say.

"I ain't grabbing your sidearm. Gibbs will kill me." He says.

I reach a hand under my skirt, pulling my gun out of the holster before handing it to him which he shoved inside his jacket before he picks me up and pins me against the wall.

"Alright. Couples who drink and go to the back alley do what?" McGee asks.

I could see the eye roll. Tony looked nervous and I roll my eyes, pulling him in for a kiss. He kisses back as the backdoor opens. We pull away when we hear a click and see the unsub pointing a gun at us. Tony had my red lipstick all over his mouth and he slowly sat me down.

"Back away and give me that whore. God! Why can't you guys stop! Your constantly wrecking families. He came in here the other night with a girl. His wife." He snaps.

Ziva and Tony did go undercover the other night. For todays purposes. I reach my hand under Tony's jacket, my hand on the gun before I aim it at him.

"Only one person can call me a whore, and that's for pleasure purposes. Drop the weapon. Your coming with us." I say.

"Y/N! Didn't need to know that!" McGee groans.

"Dirty girl, for real. Jeesh. I didn't expect boss to be that way." Tony says, looking confused.

I could hear Jethro and Fornell chuckling on the other side as Ziva snickers.

"Always knew you were a dirty minded woman, Y/N/N." Ziva teases.

"He calls me other names and I call him some delightful names too." I say, grinning.

Tony cuffs the unsub who finally decided to drop his weapon. Jethro and Fornell walk out the back door and Jethro looks at me with a small smile and an amused expression.

"Really had to keep running your mouth, didn't you hon?" He asks.

"He called me a whore. I didn't like it. It's not like when you call me a whore." I tease.

"Alright. Coms off." McGee says quickly and I laugh.

Jethro puts his hand on my back and we begin walking out of the alleyway. Ziva was helping Tony wipe my lipstick off and I decided to touch up my lipstick. I hum, bobbing my head slightly.

"Hey, is she single?" I hear.

"Do you not see that man's hand on her back? And the wedding ring on her finger. She's happily married. I'd keep a distance if you don't want that man to shoot you in the ass. He's very possessive over her. And I think of her as a sister so get lost asshole." Tony snaps.

I smile, looking up at Jethro who also caught the conversation. He had a small smirk on his face and I walk away from him. Eager to get home.

I walk in, Jethro not far behind me. I walk to the kitchen, grabbing two beers. I glance up when I see him hovering in the doorway with clenched fists and an unreadable expression.

"What the hell was your problem today?" He asks.

"I have no idea what you are talking about." I say, shrugging with an innocent smile.

"The outfit. Teasing me. Flirting with people. The undercover op with Tony." He says.

"Jethro, tell me you didn't forget." I chide, walking towards him.

He watches me with those intense blue eyes and I stop in front of him, looping my arms around his neck.

"Elaborate." He demands and I huff.

"Last week. You stepped on my toes, Jet. And you thought I could let you get away with it...you thought." I say.

"Your one hell of a woman. You could of found another approach to seeking your revenge, hon. You flashed your ass today more times than I can count." He says.

"Thankfully I have a nice ass, Jethro." I say.

"My point exactly, besides I don't appreciate people staring at my woman." He says, his hands settling on my hips.

The tingles I felt were unreal. This man stirred a side I didn't know I had.

"Oh, Jethro. Green isn't your color. Who knew you could get jealous over little things." I tease.

"You are not a little thing. Your the most important part of my life. And I'm not ashamed I'm jealous. I have a smart, beautiful and feisty wife that everyone seems to want and I'm not very keen on the thought of losing you." He says.

"I love you, Jet." I murmur.

"I love you too, hon. But, get your ass upstairs. I'm going to get the coffee pot ready for tomorrow. We aren't getting much sleep tonight." He says and my heart speeds up.

"Really?" I ask excitedly.

He smirks, pulling away and walking towards the coffee pot. I push the skirt down while he's turned around pull the shirt off, left in my lingerie and heels before throwing the skirt and shirt at him.

I didn't miss the way he tensed before slowly turning to me. I grin slyly at him, loving how his eyes slowly roam over me. I loved the way they darkened and narrowed. His gaze was intense.

"Upstairs, now." He says.

"You better hurry, Jethro. I might get impatient." I tease before running out of the room.

I didn't miss his low chuckle and I knew that tonight was going to be a long one. But, I knew it was going to be a good night. It's been weeks, a few months, since we've been intimate.