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almostempty · 29 days ago

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right kind of dream (joel miller x f!reader) part two

wc: 9k | other fics | rating: 18+ | read on ao3 | PART ONE HERE summary: part two of 'right kind of dream': rebuilding your life, chasing, cans, and hitchin' a ride to the rodeo with team roper joel

a/n: i battled five million error messages to deliver this bad boy so if something is weird or it seems like paragraphs are missing... they might be. i think some formatting got lost. i'll put the whole thing on ao3 asap. i am unsure what i've done to anger the tumblr hq but i apologize

@katiexpunk : here is part two, thank you for being patient, i hope the wait was worth it <3 tags: modern cowboy joel au/ team roper joel and tommy, no sarah, enemies to lovers, dbf lite, choose your own age gap, small town romance, city girl returns to the country, miscommunication, horsegirl!joel, smut, ridin' that cowboy bareback as the good lord intended, no beta-mistakes are my fault for writing at 4am and for spending the afternoon fighting god to get this website to accept me thanks to: @syd-djarin, @auteurdelabre, and @lovely-vamp-princess for support, eyes, and ideas, etc.

Joel wakes you up while it’s still dark, pulling your shirt over your head and pressing a kiss to your temple. “Sleep,” he mutters in a gravelly whisper.

The ache in your body is a stark reminder of everything Joel did to you. Every movement as you roll over sends a sharp jolt through your muscles, and the hollow soreness deep inside you leaves you raw.

For a moment, you lie still, staring at the ceiling, replaying every moment—the way he touched you, the way he looked at you. You can still feel him, the shape he carved out inside of you.

He said nothing. He didn’t gloat, didn’t tease, didn’t even try to explain. The silence felt heavier than any of his words ever could.

You can hear him outside, feeding the horses. You give in, curling up under the blanket for another hour until you figure you might miss your chance for fresh coffee from the visitor tent.

You pull on clothes, feeling hungover with anxiety twisting in your gut. Your head spins and your chest feels tight, but you march toward the picnic tables and get yourself coffee and breakfast.

You aren’t sure what the fuck you’re supposed to do now. You sit at a table, a cup of coffee cradled in your hands, your head pounding as though you’d downed a bottle of whiskey the night before. The anxiety sits heavy in your chest, each sip of coffee doing little to loosen its grip.

You thought you understood what last night was—anger, frustration, both of you taking it out on each other. But the way Joel touched you, the way he kissed you, the way he stayed silent afterward… none of it fits the narrative you’ve been telling yourself.

You glance across the grounds, your eyes catching on Joel’s familiar silhouette near the fence. He’s leaning against the rail, his dark eyes scanning the crowd, but the moment his gaze lands on you, something shifts.

Your breath catches, the air between you thick and suffocating even from across the distance. Joel tips his head slightly, a subtle acknowledgment, but it only tightens the knot in your chest.

You tear your eyes away, focusing on the coffee in your hands, but the weight of his gaze lingers, pressing into you like a brand.

You keep your distance, avoiding Joel as you move through the motions of the morning ignoring the questions and confusion gnawing at you.

The sun climbs higher, the dry heat pressing down like a heavy blanket, but the rodeo grounds are alive with movement. Dust clings to the back of your throat, blending with the faint, bitter taste of coffee as you linger near the edge of the action, pretending to watch.

You’re halfway to convincing yourself Joel’s not even here when you hear Tommy’s voice. He’s leaning on the fence, one boot propped on the bottom rail, his arm resting loosely on the top. A beautiful woman stands beside him, gorgeous with bold makeup and tight jeans, her dark hair catching the light. She laughs at something Tommy says, swatting at his chest, and he grins down at her like she’s the only person in the world.

You almost keep walking, but Tommy glances up and catches your eye, his grin widening as he waves you over. He calls your name in an easy, smooth tone.

“Morning,” you say stiffly, stopping a few paces away.

The woman glances between you and Tommy, murmuring something to him before she wanders off toward the trailers. Tommy doesn’t miss a beat, tipping his hat to you with that same infuriating grin.

“You sleep alright?”

“What?” you gape at him before rushing to fix your face.

“Joel’s snoring didn’t keep you up all night?”

“Oh.” You shake your head. “No, slept fine. Thanks.”

He gives you another smile, and you move to lean on the fence watching the arena with him. He cocks his head, his eyes still on you.

“You worried about runnin’ Blue?” His voice is warm and light. His dark eyes sparkle with his natural charm, but it’s a genuine question.

You peel the edge of the paper coffee cup, looking past Tommy toward the warmup pen. “Yeah, I guess.” You give him a half smile. “We aren’t gunning for the NFR or anything, though.”

“Somethin’ else weighing on you, darlin’?”

You shake your head. Not willing to reveal anything else. “Heard you were up late partying with the roughstock boys and their fan club,” you accuse in a joking tone, attempting to redirect the conversation. “You aren’t worried about your own round?”

He laughs deeply at that. “Nah, that’s what a heeler’s for,” he says. “I just gotta be in the box on time. Joel’s the one that keeps us winnin’.”

“He’s not a partier?” You didn’t mean to dig, but the question slipped out anyway.

Tommy turns his head towards you, but you keep staring out at the arena, watching the crew setting up the barrels for the first division.

He studies you for a long moment, his grin softening into something closer to curiosity. “Joel’s not like me. Not really.” Your brow furrows. The words twist in your chest, setting your thoughts spinning. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Tommy chuckles again, but there’s something unreadable in his eyes. “Let’s just say, Joel’s always had his head screwed on tighter than mine. Even when he didn’t.” You stare at him, trying to unravel the meaning behind his words, but Tommy just grins. “Joel’s a loyal kinda guy, y’know? Don’t mean he’s blind, though.” He gives you a wink and you feel heat flooding your face. “Just means he wrestles with it longer than the rest of us would.” You scowl at him for that. “And what the hell is that supposed to mean?” Did Joel tell him? Does he know what happened? He shrugs. “Just means you’re a hell of a distraction,” Tommy says, tipping his hat. You laugh it off, but his words linger, your mind racing with questions you’re not ready to ask. You whip your head away again as if staring at the tractor raking the arena can save you from the conversation. But Tommy notices.

He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t tease or prod, but you can feel the weight of his gaze as you swallow hard, your thoughts spiraling. Before you can respond, someone calls his name from across the grounds. Tommy tips his hat one last time. “Good luck out there, neighbor,” he says, his voice light but laced with something heavier. “Don’t let that head of yours get in the way.”

And then he’s gone, leaving you standing alone, your thoughts spinning, your chest burning. You push off the fence and find yourself a spot on the bleachers. They’re dusty and worn. The boards creak as you settle into a spot near the edge. You watch the first few runs.

The riders move with precision, their horses cut through the dirt with sharp, clean turns. The announcer’s voice booms over the speakers, calling names and times, but it fades into the background as you watch.

Everywhere you look, there’s something that reminds you of Joel.

The set of someone’s shoulders as they lean against the fence, the low timbre of a voice nearby, a black felt hat in the corner of your eye. You try to banish the worry and the panic creeping in.

You remember the way he watched you train with Blue. The way he offered advice that sounded more like a challenge. The way his voice cut through the air like he knew more than you. The way he looked at you last night. The raw unguarded expression you’ve never seen before.

You hate the way he makes you feel small and uncertain. You hate the way you can’t stop thinking about him.

You can’t stop remembering the way his hands felt on your skin or his tongue. The heat in his voice and the way he saw through every lie you told.

The sound of someone hitting the dirt makes you snap your head up just as the crowd around you gasps.

In the arena, a horse stands, saddle hanging nearly sideways off of it. A rider scrambles to their feet, brushing dirt from their jeans with a wave. They lead their horse out of the arena and you can hear folks around you murmuring that their latigo broke and their saddle slipped as they turned for home. The horse and the rider are both fine, but your nerves flare.

You know the risks of the sport. But it makes you head back to the trailer early to inspect all of your tack closely for anything faulty. From across the grounds, Joel watches you. He stands near the holding pen, arms crossed over his chest. You haven’t seen him yet. Not really. Not in the way he sees you.

He can feel the tension in your shoulders as you walk, the way you crush the paper coffee cup in your hand.

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t call out to you.

He doesn’t trust himself to. He shouldn’t have touched you last night. Shouldn’t have let his jealousy boil over. Shouldn’t have taken it that far. But now, standing here, all he could think about was the way you felt underneath him. The way you said his name like he was the only thing holding you together. And the way he needs to hear it again.

By the time your division gets called to warm up, you’ve eased your worries about your tack but you’re still swimming in Joel thoughts until you swing your leg over the saddle and settle on Blue’s back.

Then the rest of the world disappears. Your ride starts off smooth, but Blue’s sensitivity is a curse and a blessing. You figure he must be picking up on some anxiety as he gets a little hot, tossing his head and pulling on the reins when you try to bring him down to a jog.

You work out most of the kinks, circling and working on transitions until he feels supple and responsive to your seat and legs. Your nerves and the energy of the other horses still have his ears swiveling and his head perked up as you wait for the rider ahead of you to be called.

You can see most of their run, it’s smooth and they put up a good time. You squeeze your calves asking Blue to head toward the alleyway, but he’s springloaded.

You hold him back as he crow hops sideways for a beat before you’re backing him up. You try making a slow circle before heading in but he’s still jigging with short, bouncy steps like he’s ready to explode.

You’re tense, holding him back and trying to stay calm, making one more circle when he starts hopping again. You can feel eyes on you from the people standing near the gate. Before you can make another circle Joel is striding towards you with swift long steps.

He grabs Blue by the bridle, speaking directly to him in a calming, low voice. You glare at him reactively, but the words die before you can formulate them.

Blue’s jittering slows and Joel leads you up the alley toward the arena. His steps are sure and confident as he guides you. You bit your lip, fighting the urge to snap at him and tell him you don’t need his help. The truth is you do.

“Go get ‘em,” he says quietly, turning to you.

You gather your reins, giving him a tight nod to signal you’re ready. He lets go and steps back. Your heart pounds as you encourage Blue to push off into a lope.

The moment you cross the starting line, everything else fades.

The noise. The nerves. Even Joel. It all melts away. Just you and Blue and the rhythm of his hooves pounding against the soft dirt.

The first barrel comes fast. You guide him into a tight turn, pushing him to pick it up toward the next. His lead change is smooth as you shift your weight, leaning into the next tight turn. You’ve got your body facing the final barrel before Blue pushes off with his powerful hind legs.

You thunder toward the last barrel. His strides are strong and controlled. You’ve just gotta make this last turn without taking it too wide or knocking the barrel over.

Blue doesn’t forget his training, bending around your leg, picking up his shoulder, and you’ve got one stride left in the turn before you’re free to haul ass home.

You’ve got this.

You don’t got this.

The footing is deeper than the arena you run at on Thursday nights. Blue’s hooves slide in the loose dirt. His balance faltering. Time slows and you feel his weight tipping. There’s nothing to do but brace for the impact. His body hits the dirt in a controlled, almost graceful fall.

You hit the ground with a dull thud, the breath knocked out of you as you scramble back giving Blue room to pop back up. He shakes off the dirt, your stirrups slapping at his side and the reins nearly coming over his ears. His eyes are wide, but he stands waiting for your direction.

You catch your breath, chest still heaving from the shock. You dust the dirt off your jeans and wave off the grounds person jogging toward you. “I’m fine,” you call. “We’re fine.” Your voice is steady, but your chest feels like it’s caving in.

You pull his reins over his head and walk toward the end of the arena, keeping your head up and patting Blue on the neck. The crowd claps expressing support and relief that you’re both walking.

Hot, angry tears blur your vision by the time you get to the alley.

You don’t see Joel, staring at the ground as you walk, but you hear him hustling toward you calling your name. His boots crunch against the dirt as he matches your pace.

“You okay?” he asks, low and concerned.”

“Fine,” you snap, not looking at him as you speed up, pulling Blue along faster.

“It was a good-looking run you had going,” Joel says, his tone soft. “You two looked great, making good time. You can’t help the shitty footing—”

“I don’t need your pity,” you cut him off, sharp but trembling. “Not now.”

You don’t see the way his face tightens. The anger is spilling out, uncontrollable, and you don’t care if it cuts.

“I’d rather the ‘I told you so,’” you spit, hot and bitter. “Just say it. Whatever it is. You think I’m too young to know what I’m doing? Too soft? You think I’m a failure? Couldn’t handle the city, the job, the—”

“Hey, easy.” He tries to interrupt you gently, like a spooked horse. “Nothing like that.”

“You think I’m dumb, too?” You keep jabbing him with questions as you get closer to the trailer, not caring if anyone else hears. “Just another woman that fell into your bed at another rodeo.”

“Enough,” Joel says steady and low, but you don’t hear him.

“Yeah, I’ve heard the rumors,” you snap, your voice cracking. “Didn’t think they were true, to be honest. Didn’t seem like you. Guess I don’t really know you though, do I?”

Joel’s jaw tightens, his dark eyes flashing with hurt, but you’re too far gone to notice.

“You know, maybe I was stupid.” Your voice shakes as tie Blue at the trailer to untack. “But for a while, I thought I was finally starting to feel like myself out here. Like I was where I was supposed to be. And now—” Your words catch in your throat. Tears streaming down your face. You shake your head, stopping yourself from revealing anything else. You turn away from Joel and start running your hands along Blue’s legs to check for any swelling from the fall.

Joel doesn’t move for a long beat. He stands rigid, watching you wrestle with your emotions as you work. Finally, Joel exhales sharply, running a hand over his face. His voice is tight when he speaks. “I’ll leave you be.”

He walks away before you can respond, his footsteps heavy against the dirt. Your shoulders sag as the adrenaline starts to wear off, leaving behind the hollow ache of exhaustion. Your hands tremble as you finish untacking and brushing Blue, but you keep moving, your touch soft against his sweat-damp coat. “You did nothing wrong,” you murmur.

Fresh tears pool in your eyes. “You’re a good boy, Blue. You did exactly what we practiced.” Blue snorts softly, his ears flicking back toward you, and you lean into him, pressing your forehead against the warm curve of his neck. “I was the one who fucked up,” you admit, your words muffled against his dark coat. The truth spills out in quiet, broken pieces.

“I should’ve been watching the other riders closer this morning. Should’ve caught how deep the footing was at the far barrel.”

Your voice drops to a whisper. “Instead of thinking about how I could still feel his hands on me. Or wondering if he’s thinking about me.”

The confession hangs in the air, heavy and unspoken. Blue shifts beneath you, his weight leaning into your side like he knows you need the grounding.

You pull back, wiping at your face quickly before running your hands over Blue one more time, checking for any swelling or signs of injury. You move methodically, your touch steady despite the way your chest feels like it’s caving in.

When you’re satisfied he’s unhurt, you lead him into the pen and give him a scratch behind the ears. “You’re a good boy,” you whisper again, softly. “We’ll get it next time.”

The afternoon stretched on at the rodeo, the sun climbing high and unrelenting.

You do your best to avoid the temptation to look for Joel, though he somehow has a way of being everywhere and nowhere all at once. Mostly it was false alarms and your eyes playing tricks on you. But once or twice you saw him watching other events. He never seemed to notice you, or if he did he gave no indication.

You hadn’t decided if you were avoiding him out of anger, shame, or if it was because the thought of being near him again after last night still made your chest ache in a way you didn’t want to examine. You’re still burying that last thought somewhere deep when you catch the flash of Joel’s red mare striding through the arena.

You can see Joel and Tommy putting their horses through some practice just past the main arena.

Your lips press together into a thin line as you watch them. Joel has a different aura about him when he’s in the saddle. He seems lighter somehow. Relaxed, but with a quiet command. He guides his horse in a way that looks effortless. His body moving in perfect harmony with hers. Tommy’s horse was a little snappier, making quick sharp turns. The pair of riders worked together naturally, movements fluid and precise as they get their practice in.

It was mesmerizing. Infuriatingly so.

You leaned back, trying to tear your gaze away, but your eyes betrayed you, drawn back to continue admiring him. The longer you watch the more it stirs up something unwelcome in your chest. You can’t keep letting him occupy so much space in your mind or your memories.

He’s proven time and again that he doesn’t respect you. He didn’t even argue when you laid it all out in your outburst after your run. He just walked away from you.

But there’s something in the way he carries himself. Something in the way he rides, the way he works with his horse, that hints at something different than what you know. Something that makes you curious.

You blink, realizing Joel’s head was turned toward the bleachers. For a second you think his eyes are on you and you quickly look away. When you glance back he’s already turned his attention back to something else.

Embarrassment wraps around your throat. This is why you had to avoid him. His presence alone seems to demand every ounce of your attention without even trying.

Before you can drown in your own emotional turmoil, an unfamiliar voice calls your name.

You see Cody waving a few rows down and give him a polite smile before agreeing to join him and his friends. Spending the rest of the evening with them feels like a safety buffer.

You don’t see Joel or Tommy when you get dinner. You watch some of the evening events before splitting from the group to check on Blue.

It’s nearly dark as you walk through the grounds. Your chest feels tighter with every step you take as you approach.

You’re hoping you don’t run into Joel—or Tommy and his knowing eyes. You let yourself into the pen, the noise from the announcer and the crowd are muffled by the distance.

There was a stillness in the dusk and the horses were calm.

Blue’s head swivels toward you as you approach. You pause to untie the braid in his tail before stepping between him and Joel’s horse. It’s not until that moment that you realize you aren’t alone. You freeze when your eyes land on Joel. He’s standing between his horse and yours, posture relaxed. The external light on the horse trailer casts shadows over his face making it hard to read his eyes.

“Didn’t mean to interrupt,” you say softly. “I didn’t know you were here.”

He responds with a small shrug and shake of his head. “Nothing to interrupt.”

You still feel frozen, like concrete had been poured around your feet. You’ve been carrying the weight of your earlier outburst in your shoulders, and the rest of your muscles are still stiff from hitting the dirt earlier. Maybe that’s why your defenses feel lower, or maybe something else has shifted, but the next words come out before you have a real plan.

“Look, about earlier,” you start with more confidence than you feel. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that. It wasn’t fair.”

He doesn’t respond immediately, gaze fixed on Blue who huffs a warm breath out after nudging Joel’s pocket in search of a treat. When he finally speaks, it’s quiet but firm.

“You had every right to be upset.”

You frown at that, a line pulling between your brows in confusion, and you shake your head. “No, I didn’t. I was angry, frustrated with myself, and I took it out on you. You didn’t deserve that.”

He works his jaw like he’s mulling something over, before letting out a sigh. You move closer to give Blue a scratch under his jaw. The spot that always makes him wiggle his lip. You see Joel’s expression softening.

“I’ve been where you are,” he says finally. “Trying to rebuild somethin’ when it feels like the world’s stacked against you. Trying to remember who you are. What matters most.”

You tilt your head, curiosity pulling at you. His words sound familiar for a moment. That conversation you’d had after stacking hay. “When you bought the property from my dad?”

He nods. “Bought the place after my ex split. Had to sell the business. Start over. Build somethin’ from scratch while trying to figure out what the hell my life was supposed to look like.”

“It’s not as simple as it sounds,” you echo your past statement. He laughs a short, humorless sound.

“Sure ain’t. I know I made mistakes along the way.”

You stay quiet, letting the words hang in the air.

“It’s easy to get yourself a reputation in a small town,” he continues, tinged with regret. “I spent a while chasing somethin’ I couldn’t even name. Thought I could skip the pain with sex, drinking, and spending every weekend hauling to any rodeo I could afford the entrance fees for.”

His confession sinks over you, and you feel a pang of understanding.

“Took a while to figure it that it wasn’t working. Wasn’t who I was… or who I wanted to be.”

“I get that,” you say softly. You drop your gaze, not quite sure how to say it. “Not the same circumstances, but,” you take a slow breath, “I had a reputation back at my old job. It wasn’t true but it didn’t matter. Once people decide who you are, it’s like there’s nothing you can do to change it.

You feel his eyes on you. “That why you came out here?”

“Sort of.” You run your hand under Blue’s mane, feeling the warmth of his body grounding you.

“Hated the job. Spent a lot of time and money in school to get there, and I dreaded going to the office every day.” You swallow thickly, still not sure you can look Joel in the eye.

“Then my engagement fell apart. The more we tried to split up our lives the more I realized none of it was my life. None of it was me. I didn’t know myself anymore. I didn’t know what mattered.”

“Takes guts to start over,” Joel says with a current of finality about it. Like it’s a fact. “Most people wouldn’t have the nerve.”

His words warm something deep inside of you, but they also make your eyes well up. You blink away the tears before you look to Joel’s face. His eyes are steady on yours. You offer a small smile.

“Feels less like guts and more like desperation most of the time.”

Joel looks sincere, firm. “Desperation’s just another word for fightin’ for what you need.”

A heavy lump in your throat makes it difficult to respond, but you push yourself to be vulnerable. “I came out here to figure myself out and to do it on my own. I wanted to prove it to myself. But, then today, I got so caught up in my own head that I almost got us both hurt.”

“That wasn’t your fault,” he says quietly.

“I should’ve been paying better attention. Should’ve asked the other riders about the footing. Or—” your voice cracks and you pause to slow down your spiraling thoughts.

Joel moves closer, his presence solid. Anchoring. “You’re hard on yourself,” he says it soft, but firm. “You’ve got grit. You work your ass off. That’s what matters.”

You look up at him. Feeling exposed, like you’re holding the ugliest parts of you in your palms for him to see. “You think so?”

“I know so. I see you. The way you handle Blue, the balance you strike with your dad, the way you work twice as hard as most folks at a part-time job and still have time to learn the names of every old farmer in 50 miles that comes in once a month.”

You laugh at that, feeling something warm blooming in your chest. His eyes soften, and you’re drawn to the lines on his face.

“I’ve seen the way you push yourself even when you’re tired, the way you’re determined to bring out the best in yourself and others. Even those of us with a history.” He runs his hand along the scar tissue on Blue’s shoulder. The horse that broke a girl’s jaw.

“You’re tougher than most people I know. And contrary to what you think, I respect the hell outta you for it.”

His words hit harder than you expect, and you feel like your ribs have been pulled open, exposing your heart and soul in the moonlight.

You’ve spent so long chasing your own impossible standards.

Fighting for your dad’s stoic approval. Suffocating under the weight of other people’s judgment.

Hearing Joel’s praise feels like a warm blanket wrapping around your shoulders.

“Joel,” you start, but your voice falters. The way he’s looking at you feels intense. Almost too much. You can feel your heart beating against your chest.

He shifts, his hand brushing yours lightly, and the air between you feels thick. “Took me a long time to learn how to ask for help or accept it. Still ain’t perfect at it neither,” it comes out like a confession. “But there’s nothing weak about it. And there’s nothin’ more attractive than a woman who’s not afraid to try, fail, and try again.”

The slip in his voice–the raw, unguarded admiration–sends a flush of heat through you. Shit. The praise was already overwhelming, but the way he’s looking at you now—it’s too much. Or not enough.

His centering presence somehow has you rocked off balance.

Suddenly you’re closer, the space between you charged. Humming like one of the generators at the other campsites.

His hand brushes your cheek, gentle but deliberate. Your breath catches in your throat. Everything that has been simmering between you feels like it’s about to boil over.

The rest of the rodeo disappears. Standing there in the moonlight, the world around you dissolves into quiet, only his gravity pulling you closer.

Joel’s hand lingers just long enough on your cheek to make heat crawl up your neck and coil in your belly. Before you can close the distance he pulls back, clearing his throat and stepping away. He moves slowly and deliberately, giving you space to retreat if you want to.

But you don’t.

Instead, you follow him out of the pen, your feet carrying you toward the trailer without thought.

The silence between you is loud, not uncomfortable but full of unspoken words and feelings, each step drawing you toward something you haven’t named yet. When he opens the door and gestures for you to step inside, the creak of the hinges feels impossibly loud.

Inside, the trailer is layered in soft shadows from the glow of a warm lamp. Joel closes the door behind you, and the quiet feels delicate. He stands a few paces away, his hat in hand, his eyes scanning your face as though searching for any sign of doubt.

“You okay?” he asks, his voice low and careful.

When you find your voice, it’s softer than you expected. “Yeah.”

The corners of his mouth lift just slightly, and the warmth in his eyes eases some of the nervous energy bouncing around in your chest. He hangs his hat on the hook near the door. The image of him reaching past you to hang it on the same hook last night flares in your mind and buzzes through your skin.

His movements are unhurried. He steps closer to you. He’s so large in the small space. Not intimidating, but stabilizing.

“Earlier,” he begins, “when I said I respect the hell outta you… I meant it.”

He takes your hand in his, his fingers warm and solid. Your senses are heightened from the emotionally raw conversation, from his touch, and the warm, spiced scent of him wrapping around you. “I see how hard you’ve worked, how much you’ve sacrificed to be here. You don’t give yourself enough credit.”

He cups your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin with a tenderness that makes your heart ache.

“You’re incredible,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with awe.

“And you’ve got no idea how much I—”

He cuts himself off, searching your face. His breath is warm, so close to your face. His lips look soft, so close to yours.

You close the distance, your lips meeting his in a kiss that’s nothing like the night before. It’s tender. Slow. Sprawling. Unspoken affection passes between you with the slip of your tongues and the soft sounds in your throat.

Joel’s mind blanks for a moment, every thought and worry dissolving into the sensation of your lips on his. Softer than he ever let himself imagine, a sweetness he didn’t think he deserved. The warmth of you seeps into him, steadying him even as it sends electricity down his spine.

His hand settles on your waist, pulling you close as the kiss deepens. There’s no resistance. You’re pliable and willing. He moves with you naturally, like your mouths were always meant to find each other. He holds you like you’re a treasure, a prize, a wonder. Precious.

So soft, he thinks, his thumb grazing the curve of your waist. Every inch of you pressed against him feels like fire and solace all at once. His other hand roams over your back, the delicate shift of muscle beneath his palm grounding him in the reality that you’re here, with him.

Your fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt, tugging him closer, but there’s no space left between you. His palm glides down your spine, lighting you from within. When you break apart, softly breathing in each other’s air, his forehead rests against yours, eyes dark and soft as they hold your gaze.

“You have no idea how much I crave this. Crave you. In every way.” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. The reverence in his tone makes your cheeks flush with warmth, and you can’t help but smile.

“I might have some idea,” you reply, your voice just as quiet, but your smile grows wider.

Then he kisses you again, this time with more urgency, his hands moving to your hips and guiding you toward the bed. His touch is everywhere, his lips tracing a path from your mouth to your jaw, down the curve of your neck, each kiss making you feel lighter and warmer.

He continues to pour his confessions into your skin between each article of clothing he pulls off of you. "I thought I’d never have this. Never have you. But here you are, and you’re perfect." The words spill out of him unbidden, each one carrying a weight he’s carried for far too long. His hands tremble slightly as he leaves a wet trail of kisses down your clavicle, between the swell of your breasts, over the smooth fabric of your bra.

"I used to hate that I wanted you, that I thought about having you like this. But I don’t want to stop, sweetheart.” He unclasps your bra and slips the straps over your shoulders, replacing the cups with his palms, kneading your plush flesh. The warmth of your skin beneath his hands sends sparks through him, and he leans in, brushing his lips over the sensitive peaks.

“Don’t want you to stop,” you murmur back. He hums in response to you, rolling your nipples between his fingers before taking his time mouthing, sucking, licking at each of them until you moan and arch toward him.

“I spent too many nights trying not to think about you,” he confesses, his voice dipping lower. “And cursing myself for it.” He shifts down, between your legs to pull your jeans off. It feels like he’s just handed you a piece of himself you didn’t expect to see. The idea of him, alone and thinking about you, shifts something in your mind. It’s not just desire he carries for you. Is it something deeper?

He runs his hands along your bare legs, warm against your smooth skin. He already looks wrecked and he’s still fully clothed. You reach for him, but he shakes his head, dipping to line another path of kisses down your belly, to the sensitive skin inside the top of your thighs. His lips press against your skin, reverent, as if trying to memorize the feel of you beneath him.

“You’re so damn beautiful,” he murmurs against your skin, his voice rough with need. His admiration and desire are intense, making you feel stripped bare in an emotional way. He’s not just saying it; he means it in a way that feels different from casual compliments.

Everything you use to protect yourself falls away as you let his words soak in. You couldn’t hide from him if you wanted to. He’s not just taking—he’s giving, pouring every ounce of admiration and desire he feels for you into each moment. And for the first time in a long time, you let yourself take it in, let yourself believe it.

The heat of his touch and the need in his eyes have your core aching for attention. His breath ghosting over your swollen cunt makes you shudder with need.

When his lips press against the thin fabric still covering you, you arch into him. You feel him smile against you, breathing deeply before he slides his hands beneath your thighs, cupping your ass to tilt your hips before he descends again.

He kisses and sucks at your clit through your soaked panties without a care for the lewd sounds filling the small room. He doesn’t stop. It’s warm and wet, and the pressure makes you feel needy. You roll your hips seeking more contact, and he moans against you, the sound vibrating through you causing you to gasp and call out his name.

He looks up at you before pulling your underwear off and pausing to stare at your glistening cunt, before taking all of you in. His eyes dart to your face, all of your exposed skin, and back to your eyes.

“I never thought I’d actually get to touch you. To kiss you. Taste you like this.” His voice is hoarse, barely audible over the sound of your breath.

“Please, Joel.” He’s like a dream between your legs. His mouth, his tongue, his hands, his fingers. He uses everything with expert precision, bringing you closer and closer and erasing every worry, every stress.

You wonder if you should feel more vulnerable being naked beneath him while he’s still fully clothed. But instead, it feels empowering—like this moment belongs to you just as much as it does to him; like every touch and kiss is a promise steeped in devotion.

His hips press into the mattress involuntarily, seeking relief for his throbbing cock as he continues to worship you with his mouth. You thread your fingers through his hair as he dips his tongue inside of you. “Oh, fuck.” Your voice is hoarse and ragged already.

He knows exactly what you need next. Filling you with his fingers while he wraps his lips over your clit. The wet noises of his fingers pumping into you are obscene-–but they're nothing compared to the moan you make when you see the way his hips are desperately rutting into the mattress between your legs.

The sight of him losing control, his own need so evident and unrestrained, sends a fresh wave of heat through you. He’s giving so much of himself to you with every movement. It’s not just his mouth or his hands—it’s the way he wants you, completely and utterly, like he’s been holding it back for ages.

It tips you over the edge, chanting his name like a prayer as your release crashes through you. Your walls contract around his fingers and your muscles tense as he groans into your wet flesh before pulling back.

“That’s it,” he murmurs from between your legs, “you did good for me, baby. You’re so good for me.”

You’re boneless as the words melt into you. But you know you wanted to say something before he made your vision blur.

Your breath comes in slow, uneven waves as you blink at the ceiling, reality slowly settling back into your body. He’s watching you, his eyes dark and heavy with affection and need, and you realize the thought that had slipped away moments ago was this: you need to feel him, to see him.

“Joel,” you manage, your voice low and hoarse, your fingers brushing weakly at his forearm. He raises an eyebrow, a ghost of a smirk touching his lips as he leans closer.

“What is it, baby?”

You swallow hard, the words tangled in your throat as you try to gather your strength. “Off,” you rasp, fingers tugging weakly at the fabric of his shirt.

He chuckles softly, the sound vibrating against your skin as he leans down to kiss your temple. “Gimme a minute, sweetheart. Let me make sure you’re all right first.”

Your head shakes slightly, determination building even in your post-release haze. “Joel. Now.”

Something in your voice snaps the tension in him. His jaw tightens, his hands moving to the hem of his shirt in one smooth motion, tugging it over his head.

The sight of him leaves you breathless. Broad shoulders tapering to a firm waist, his skin golden and littered with scars and years of hard work. He looks wrecked, his chest rising and falling as though he’s been holding himself back for too long.

“Goddamn,” you whisper, as your mouth hangs open. Your gaze drops lower, taking in the soft lines of his abdomen, and the trail of dark hair leading to the waistband of his jeans.

And then, as he unbuttons them and pushes them down, his cock springs free, thick and flushed and so fucking perfect it sends a scalding wave of desire rolling through you.

Your expression fills Joel with pride. The hunger in your eyes makes his cock twitch, the intensity of your gaze threatening to knock him over right there.

You sit up slightly, your hand reaching for him, but he catches your wrist gently, shaking his head. “Not like that,” he murmurs, his voice rough as gravel. He eases you back onto the mattress, his hands warm and firm against your hips. “Not this time, baby.”

You whine softly, your need pulsing through every word. “Please, fuck, I need you.”

His pupils blow wide, his breathing uneven as he settles between your legs. “You need me?” he repeats, his tone darkening, the words laced with a feral edge that makes you dizzy.

“You’re gonna get me, baby. All of me. Gonna fill you so deep you’ll never forget it.”

The shift in his tone sends a fresh rush of slick between your thighs. His hand trails up your side, his thumb brushing the underside of your breast as he watches you.

“Gonna make you mine. Gonna keep you so full of me you’ll feel it in you every time you move.”

The possessiveness in his voice makes your body burn, your hips rocking up toward him involuntarily. “Joel, please,” you beg, your voice raw and edged with frustration as he drags the blunt head of his cock through your slick folds, teasing you.

“Fuck,” he pauses after barely pushing into you. His eyes slam shut for a moment before he inches deeper into you, slower than you thought possible. “You take me like it’s what you’re meant for.” His eyes stay locked on yours, watching every flicker of pleasure that crosses your face.

You gasp as he reaches the deepest part of you, his hips flush against yours, his cock filling you completely. “Look at you,” he coos. “Such a good girl for me.” The sensation is overwhelming, every nerve ending sparking to life as he stills for a moment, letting you adjust.

“Feel that?” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble. “Feel how deep I am? That’s where I’m gonna stay, sweetheart. Right here, fillin’ you up.”

Your walls flutter around him, your body already begging for more. “Joel,” you whisper, your nails digging into his shoulders. “Move. Please.”

He obliges, his hips pulling back before driving forward again, dragging out the intensity of every sensation. His forehead drops to yours, his breath hot against your lips as he whispers praise between each movement. “You’re so good for me, baby. So damn good.”

Your body writhes beneath him, the pleasure building with each heavy stroke. “More,” you whisper. “Please, Joel. I need more.”

The last of his restraint dissolves as he grips your hips and begins to move harder, faster, his cock hitting so deep you swear you can feel it everywhere. The pace steals the breath from your lungs, threatening to consume you.

“That’s it,” he growls, his voice rough and unrestrained. “Take it. All of me.”

Your cries fill the air, his name falling from your lips over and over. His hands hold you steady, keeping you exactly where he wants you as he claims you.

“Look at you,” he rasps, his gaze locked on the spot where your bodies meet, where his cock disappears every time he sinks into you. “So perfect, takin’ me so well. Made for this. Made for me.”

You watch, as he instructed, until you look back up to his face. He’s so vocal, so confident with every word—but his face is equal parts hungry and wrecked. Fucked out. Drunk on you.

Again it’s the deep satisfaction you get from his unrestrained desire that makes you come with a blinding intensity. You try to tell him how close you are before you’re violently sucked into the sensations.

Your walls clench around him, making him shudder and groan. You try to beg him to come too. To fill you up. You’re unsure if the words make it past your thoughts, but he’s pulled into it with you either way.

Moments later, a deep groan vibrates through his chest as he tenses and his hips jerk against you. It feels like bliss, the sensation of his cock pulsing within you, the heat of his release coating your walls as they flutter around him.

The room falls into a warm quiet, the only sounds are your ragged breaths and the faint sounds of people laughing and shouting at another campsite, reminding you the rest of the world still exists.

Joel’s weight presses into you, grounding you in the present. He doesn’t pull away, softening inside of you as you breathe through the aftershocks of your orgasms.

“Stay with me,” he murmurs, his voice barely audible as he presses a kiss to your temple. “Just stay with me.”

He shifts you both just enough to hold tight against his chest, his lips brushing your temple as his hand smooths down your side. “So good,” he murmurs, “so perfect,” voice rough but soft in a way that makes your chest ache.

The early morning sun stretches over the rodeo grounds, bathing everything in a wash of pink hues. You wake to the soft hum of voices outside the trailer and the thud of a bale of hay being dropped just outside the trailer.

Joel’s weight shifts beside you as he stirs, his arm tightening around your waist for a moment before he lets out a soft, sleepy grunt. The sound pulls a smile to your lips as you turn to face him. His eyes blink open slowly, still heavy with sleep, and he offers you a lazy smile that you mirror involuntarily.

“Mornin’, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his voice gravelly and low.

“Morning,” you whisper back, your fingers brushing over his stubbled jaw.

There’s a content silence between you before a loud knock rattles the trailer door, making you both jump. Tommy’s voice rings out cheerfully, "Y’all better get movin’ if you don’t wanna miss breakfast."

Joel groans, dropping his head back against the pillow with a dramatic sigh. "That boy’s got the worst damn timing."

You stifle a laugh, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek before sliding out of bed to get dressed. Joel watches you for a moment, his gaze warm and unguarded, before he stretches and follows suit.

The three of you sit at a picnic table near the cook tent, balancing plates of eggs, bacon, and biscuits as the camp buzzes with early morning energy. Joel sits across from you, his knee brushing yours under the table. You catch him watching you over the rim of his coffee cup, his lips twitching into a barely concealed smile when your eyes meet.

Tommy, oblivious as ever, chatters on about their schedule and the competition, occasionally tossing in jokes that have you laughing despite yourself. Joel leans back in his seat, his body language is relaxed but his eyes are constantly flicking to you.

When Tommy excuses himself to check on their horses, Joel leans forward, his voice low and teasing. “You’re not real subtle, you know.”

You shoot him a mock glare, your cheeks warming. “Says the man who’s been staring at me all morning.”

“Can’t help it.” Joel shrugs.

Later, you find yourself perched on the edge of a fence near the arena, watching Joel and Tommy warm up their horses. Their movements are fluid and synchronized; you openly admire their skill.

Tommy tips his hat to you with a grin as they pass, and you wave back, your gaze inevitably drifting back to Joel. He glances your way, his dark eyes meeting yours briefly, and the corner of his mouth lifts in a small, private smile that makes your heart skip.

The arena is alive with energy as their division gets underway. You lean against the rail, your fingers gripping the cool metal as you watch Joel and Tommy back their horses into the box.

The chute gate flies open, the steer bolting into the arena with Joel and Tommy in swift pursuit. Joel’s rope swings in a perfect arc, catching the steer cleanly around the horns as Tommy moves in to secure the heels. The crowd cheers as they pull the steer to a stop, their time flashing on the scoreboard.

The announcer calls their time and updates the standings. Joel and Tommy have the best time in their division so far.

You can’t help but cheer, your voice lost in the noise of the crowd as Joel and Tommy ride back toward the holding pen, their smiles wide and triumphant. Joel catches your eye as he passes, tipping his hat to you with a grin that makes your stomach flutter.

When they dismount near the gate, you meet them with a smile. "You two make that look way too easy."

Tommy laughs. "He’s the header," he tilts his head toward Joel. “I can’t do shit if he misses.”

Joel shakes his head, deflecting the comment.

“It’s a team event,” you counter. “Both of you are good at what you do.”

“We should bring her with us more often,” Tommy jokes.

Joel gives you another warm look with unspoken words.

“Your head wouldn’t fit in your damn hat if you had someone talking you up after every run,” Joel mocks. As they both swing their legs over the back of their saddles. You turn to watch as they lead their horses back to the trailer. You want to follow and stay close to Joel for the rest of the day, but you stay put.

Trying not to let Tommy in on whatever’s happening between the two of you until you figure it out for yourself. Instead, you head back to the fence to watch the next pair of team ropers. You’d rather be near him, but staying put feels safer—for now.

The afternoon sun dips lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the rodeo grounds. You sit beside Joel on the bleachers, the two of you a quiet bubble of calm amid the hum of spectators around you. The events continue below—tie-down ropers hopping into the dirt, saddle bronc riders gripping for dear life trying to stick it out for eight seconds, bareback riders up next.

Joel leans back, one arm draped across the bench behind you, his body close enough that the heat of him radiates against your side. He’s quiet, but his presence feels steady and grounding. Every so often, his knee brushes yours, the brief contact enough to send a subtle thrill through you.

“You doin’ all right?” Joel asks, his voice low and soft. His gaze lingers on you, dark eyes warm but searching.

“Yeah,” you say with a small smile. “This is nice. I didn’t think I’d enjoy just sitting and watching this much.”

“It’s better when you’ve got good company,” he says, the corner of his mouth quirking into a half-smile.

Your cheeks warm, but you’re spared from responding by the announcer introducing the next rider. Joel shifts beside you, his attention briefly pulled to the arena. You let yourself steal a glance at him—the sharp line of his jaw and the quiet confidence in his posture. He catches you looking and tips his hat, the subtle smirk that follows sending warmth blooming in your chest.

As the next rider lines up, Joel pulls his hat off, setting it on your lap. You blink, startled, and look at him.

“Put it on,” he says simply, his tone casual, but there’s something in his eyes—a quiet intensity that makes your breath hitch.

You hesitate for only a moment before lifting the Stetson and settling it on your head. It’s big, a little too big, but it smells faintly of leather and him. Joel’s gaze lingers on you, his lips curving into a soft smile that feels like it’s meant just for you.

“Looks good on you,” he murmurs, his voice low enough that only you can hear.

The weight of the gesture settles over you—the tradition, the meaning behind it. The thought that this wasn’t just a playful gesture but a quiet claim sends a flutter through your chest. You’re not sure what to say, so you lean into his side slightly, letting the moment and the warmth of him settle over you like a blanket.

Later, as the afternoon begins to mellow, Joel takes your hand and guides you to the cook tent for dinner. It feels almost natural to walk hand in hand, weaving through the crowd of people. The smell of barbecue wafts through the air, mingling with the sounds of quiet conversations and laughter from the other riders and their families.

Joel insists on getting your plate, waving you off with a playful, “Sit tight. I’ll take care of you.” You settle at a nearby table, watching as he weaves through the crowd with ease, stopping to exchange a word or two with acquaintances before returning with two heaping plates.

The two of you fall into an easy rhythm, sharing quiet conversation. Joel’s small acts of service don’t go unnoticed—handing you a napkin before you realize you need one, making sure your drink stays full, brushing crumbs off your sleeve with a casual intimacy that feels like it’s always been there.

For a moment, it’s easy to forget you’re at a rodeo. The noise and bustle fade into the background, leaving just the two of you in a comfortable bubble of companionship. Joel’s low chuckle as you tell him a story about your first job, the way his eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles, the warmth in his voice when he says your name—it all feels so natural, like this is exactly where you’re supposed to be.

As the sun begins to dip lower, casting a golden glow across the grounds, Joel stands and offers you his hand. “Come on,” he says, his voice soft but firm. “Let’s find a good spot for the bull riders. We can cheer for your new friend.”

You expect to see something flare in his eyes bringing up Cody, reminding you of the way he looked at you the first night you came back to the trailer. But, you take his hand and he’s only projecting pride and confidence. It makes you stand taller, knowing he’s a secure man.

He leads you back toward the bleachers. The two of you settle in as the crowd starts to gather, the energy of the evening event buzzing around you. Joel drapes his arm casually along the back of the bench again, his fingers brushing lightly against your shoulder. It’s a small gesture, but it grounds you, making you feel like you’re exactly where you belong.

Tommy and the woman you’ve seen him spending most of the weekend with join you to watch a few rounds. You tense as they come toward the steps, shifting to create space between you and Joel, trying to seem casual. You feel Joel’s eyes on you, but he doesn’t say anything about your move.

Tommy shoots you a wink before they take the seats next to you. It makes you squirm, but you tell yourself he’s always just playful like that. Too charming for his own good.

They stay and chat long enough to finish their drinks before heading back to watch the rest of the event with her group of friends.

Joel stays seated beside you, his arm still draped casually along the back of the bench, his other hand resting on his thigh. There’s a comfortable silence between you, the kind that feels like its own kind of conversation.

Finally, Joel clears his throat, turning slightly to face you. There’s a flicker of hesitation in his eyes, but it’s quickly replaced with something earnest and determined.

“I know this might be the wrong time to bring this up,” he begins, commanding your attention just with the timbre of his voice pulling at your heart, “but I don’t want there to be any misunderstanding about where I’m at.”

You tip your head, curiosity piqued. “Where you’re at?”

He nods, his gaze holding yours. “Look, I know your dad’s a good man, and I don’t want to cross any lines. But I also don’t want to miss my chance with you.” He pauses, his hand brushing against yours where it rests on your lap. “I don’t want this to be our only day together, and I won’t have you sneakin’ out your bedroom window and hoppin’ the fence to see me. S’just not the kind of man I am.”

Your heart stutters as his words sink in. There’s no wavering in his voice, no attempt to downplay what he’s saying. He’s laying it out plainly, his honesty disarming in a way you didn’t expect.

“So what are you saying?” you ask softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

He takes a deep breath, his hand shifting to fully cover yours. “I’m sayin’ I want something real with you. Not just sneakin’ moments or pretendin’ it don’t matter. I want to see where this goes.”

Your chest swells. You nod slowly, a small smile tugging at your lips. “I’d like that.” Relief washes over his face, and he leans close to you.

You laugh softly, shaking your head. “Well, if you’re such a true-blue cowboy, you’re gonna have to be the one to tell my dad.”

Joel nods. “I’ll handle it.” His voice is quieter, but honest. His gaze seems to look a little far away.

You squeeze his hand. “We’ll handle it.” You give him an encouraging smile. “Don’t have to do everything by ourselves right?”

He gives you a warm look. “Right.” He dips toward you for a chaste kiss. It’s sweet and playful. “Just don’t make me wait too long to take you out proper,” he rumbles as he pulls his head back.

You laugh airily, leaning into his side as he pulls you closer. The warmth of his arm around you, the weight of his hat still on your head, and the quiet promise of what’s to come settle over you, the world around you fading into a comfortable hum of possibilities for you and your cowboy Joel.

thank you for reading! pls let me know what you think <3

dividers by @/saradika-graphics tags for babes in case they want some cowboy joel: @lovely-vamp-princess @gothcsz @auteurdelabre @adoreyouusugar @swankyorange @itwasntimethatdidit40 @ivoryandflame @indiegirlunited @syd-djarin @harriedandharassed

@bbyanarchist @94namkooksworld

#pedrostories #pedrostoriesgift24 #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller smut #cowboy!joel miller

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alilobsessive · 1 month ago

Text

Dreaming of Teeth

When experiencing great trauma the human brain will do anything to keep itself functioning, even to the detriment of the other body parts. The harm to your body doesn’t matter, just that the brain feels safe. For every human this can function in many ways, over eating, under eating, over sleeping, daydreaming and in your case alcoholism. You aren’t unaware that your coping mechanisms are dangerous, especially in a city like Gotham. But you can’t bring yourself to care, you’ll take anything then the anger and sadness that courses through your brain when you have time to think. So you indulge in your vices, even if they will lead you to an early grave.

You have done a great job at it too, of course that is until coming home from a party you run into one of the many people you prayed you would never see again. One of your many, many siblings.

I just wanted to see a Batfam and Neglected! Reader fic we’re Reader had AWFUL coping mechanisms when dealing with their trauma.

Tw: Prominent OC usage, unreliable narrator but it’s not super obvious, Under aged drinking, Canon Typical Child Death (Jason), Canon Typical Child Undeath (Jason), Not Canon Typical Child Death (Unnamed Child OC), slight sexual content with unnamed character at the beginning, implied criminal activity, mention of organ harvesting, referenced underaged smoking, unspecified criminal activity, implied homelessness, references to drugs and sex but no actual drugs and sex, okay there is weed smoking, child abandonment, spousal abandonment, child neglect, spousal neglect, cheating, references to Red Hood typical murderers and the people who are usually his victims(rapist, traffickers you know the drill). Probably more things I haven’t realized count as tw or forgot to add. Idk I went into a fugue state at 10pm and when I came to it was 4am and I wrote a good chunk of this. Then spent like two weeks editing this, there might be some spelling and grammar errors, I am very dyslexic.

——————

Lights flashes around the room colorful and bright, your lips tangle with a strangers, back pressed against a wall. Arms wrapped around the neck of someone you have not met before today and someone who you will never see again after. Sitting next to you glancing over every few seconds is your roommate and while you would not call Phoebe your best she is your closest. The young woman isn’t as big of a fan of clubs and parties such as this one, but every night she dutifully comes. Just to make sure you’re safe in the dark Gotham streets. A sentiment you truly appreciate, a type of care and love you have never experienced before her.

You lightly moan as the stranger grinds against you, both your breaths smelling of alcohol. You’re brain muddled, only thinking about how good you feel. Dumb and giggling, not a worry to be had, just like you like it. But sadly before anything could go further, your phone's alarm went off, the most dreaded part of the night. A reminder that all this must be over, and responsibilities must come. With a wet pop as you separated from tonight’s partner and a whine of sorrow you reach into your jacket pocket for your phone, the drunken stranger takes this as an invitation to go for your neck. Leaving feather light kisses across it, with a small giggle you lightly push them back. They oblige with a whispered “aww come on baby” you feel nothing as they say this, but you desperately want to.

Turning off the alarm that normally is a loud blare, but with the mind numbing beat of the music, so loud you can feel it against the wall. With a pout and you whine out “I know” while looking up at them clearly disappointed. “I would love to stay with you longer” you would, you don’t want the buzz to go away. “But I have to go” reaching over next to yourself quietly, your roommate hands your glass over. It’s slightly warm from being lovingly guarded in her hands. You chug the rest of it down, the bitter sting as it goes down your throat a soothing balm to all your troubles, including leaving. “Aaw, at least call me later” they pout, with a drunken giggle and sweet voice “of course!” You say happily and once again press your lips against there’s. It’s a desperate thing, a reluctance to leave their grasp. But you pull away anyway, knowing that the second they put a hand back on your hips you’ll have to be pried off.

The alarm is a clear indication that that's not what sober you wanted. They wanted you out by 10, so you will be out by 10. Stumbling away and then turning back around to blow them another kiss, they wave back almost dreamily before being dragged away themselves by their own drunken friend. Neither of you have the other's phone number, let alone know each other’s name. Neither of you seem to notice or care. Phoebe is already at your side, quietly dragging you out of the club. Once you’re onto the sidewalk you slump onto her. “I wanted to spend more time there” you slur out with a pout, but she only rolls her eyes. The woman was definitely not dressed for clubbing of any kind. Clothing more like pajamas, not a speck of makeup on her face. Glasses perched against a crooked nose that never quite set right after something broke it. Despite Phoebe’s quiet and calm demeanor you can tell she’s anxious, just like you she has her own vices. Issues that she blocks away, but unlike you who drains your sorrows in booze, clubs and one night stands. The far more introverted women drains them in weed, blankets and porn.

“I know” she says softly ending it with your name and a sigh, “but we both have to be up by 6” responsibility, the thing you both hate. The two of you would rather be indulging, hiding from and blocking out the world. Doing nothing but having fun and pretending your issues don’t exist. But you can’t live without suffering, and suffer you must to keep a roof over your head’s, stomach’s full and wine flowing. She leads you to her car, a red mom van Phoebe’s had since before you became roommates two years ago.

But before you're even close enough to open it, you hear a voice, one you haven’t heard in years. He calls out the name of a dead man, almost surprised to see you. You turn to look at him, fear in your eyes at the name. The sight of him alone almost shocks you sober, if that’s even possible. Although it’s been several years since you saw him, you can instantly tell who you’re looking at. Phoebe looks at you confused, but says nothing, not recognizing the name, but understanding what your reaction means. Fear and dread curl up in your stomach, you want to cry, you want to scream. Why, why is one of them here, all you can do is stare at the man in front of you.

Your mother is a wealthy woman, married to an equally wealthy man. The Wayne family owned the biggest tech company in all of Gotham, making anything from cars to grappling hooks. Of course that’s not all they do, even before you were born they practically owned this city. Not just with there wealth, but with how many different types of pie’s they have there thumb in. Your mother loved your Father with all her heart, but Bruce Wayne didn’t love her back. It was well known he was a serial cheater, sleeping with and going out with as many other women as possible. He only married your mother because he needed to, it was to get the board of directors off his back. A wife was perfect to clean up his image, but that wasn’t what he desired. Instead of cleaning up his act and at least hiding his affairs he made them public. Your mother was left behind, neglected and humiliated every day. You were born a year into their marriage, how that even happened you don’t know, nor do you want to.

Neither of your parents loved you, even your mother, the person you were closest to, wanted as little to do with you as possible. The small sympathetic part of you thinks she might have had postpartum depression, but the rest of you doesn’t care why she treated you that way. What she did to you was inexcusable. In your eyes at least. One day when you were three, something inside her snapped. You don’t know exactly what happened, maybe she found out about his secret. She loved Bruce after all, not Batman, finding out that the man you love is nothing but a parsons. The real personality, completely different, both more willing to live in a cave than with you would break anyone. Why she would love Bruce at all given his treatment of her you will never know, never truly understand.

So, that cold winter day you watched as your mother put on her favorite fur coat. How she packed her leather suitcases and anything else she had that could be used as a storage container. She handed you a photo kept safe inside a frame, one that would lead you on a wild goose chase for the next 13 years. It was when you were a baby, just born and sitting inside an incubator, born 3 weeks too early and far too small. You’re Father, staring at you with eyes you have never seen on him before and never will, at least not directed at you. Eyes full of love and affection, a look you will chase for far too long. Then she gave you a pat on the head with her gloved hand, you would follow close behind as she carried her bags and suitcases outside, your small body sat right next to the door as it was too cold and you weren’t dressed for the weather. You watched as she got into a car

and dropped off the face of the fucking earth.

It was like she was retconned out of existence, no traces of where she might have gone was found. You bet Batman could have found her, if he tried. A part of you hates that he didn’t, that he let her pack up her things, take her money and vanish without a trace, took a week before she was declared missing. She’s still a hot topic in true crime podcasts even 20 years later. That woman left you all alone, with a Father you only saw in pictures and a butler that pitted you. There was never love in Alfreds eyes, only pity that you must exist. He looked at your mother with those same eyes, it’s a miracle she hadn’t left sooner. She left you to sit alone with a desperate desire for their affection, something they never gave to you, but so happily gave to others.

Why didn’t she take you? Why didn’t she bring you with her? WHY-

You were 5 when Dick was adopted and not long later became Robin. He didn’t know what to do with you, he spent the first 13 years of his life an only child. He didn’t know how to handle a random 5 year old coming up to him and asking him to play. Tie that in and all his grief and anger at losing his parents, he wasn’t able to be a big brother, he didn’t want to be a big brother. But Dick isn’t cruel, he was polite and kind, but as distant as they come. In a way that was even more cruel.

Bruce loves Dick, maybe not in the way of a Father, closer to that of a much younger brother that suddenly became your ward after the untimely death of your parents. But it is love nonetheless, he took him to gala’s that you would never catch a glimpse of. To patrols, and crime scenes and fights, teaching him the best he could. But Bruce could barely look at you at dinner, if he did it was through you, not at you. How his loving eyes in that photo turned so cold in just a few short months, maybe even days or hours, you don’t know.

That’s exactly the reason you hated Jason, the two of you are much closer in age. He was 14 and you were 11 when he was adopted. It was at a tumultuous time, Dick just left being Robin after a falling out with Bruce, and you had just learned that your Father and brother were Batman and Robin. At first you didn’t get why Dick hated Jason, Jason was the kindest boy you had ever met. No he was the kindest person you had ever met, dispute living an awful life and having to go through nicotine withdrawals when he first moved in he always had a smile on his face. He never let his trauma get him down, or at the very least he never showed it to you. In your eyes he was one of the strongest people you had ever met, you never looked up to Dick quite like how you looked up to Jason the first month he was there. He talked to you, he went along with your games and silly stories, even came to your figure skating competition, he was the closest thing to an older brother you ever had.

That all came crashing down, the day you finally got it, understood Dick’s hatred. For the first time all three of you were in the same room and Bruce gave Jason that look, the look you’ve been striving for your whole life. In hindsight it made sense, who wouldn’t love Jason? All smiles and playful banter and an unending desire to help. But in your little 11 year old brain it felt like the greatest betrayal. You wanted nothing to do with him from that point on, ignoring him no matter how desperately he tried to talk to you. It got so bad that one day, you yelled at him and threw the closet thing next to you at him. You couldn’t remember what you threw but it didn’t really matter, Jason caught it with ease, although he clearly wasn’t expecting it, and you ran. The two of you very rarely interact after that. From what you overheard Bruce talking to Alfred, Jason was getting more violent. Although you couldn’t see it yourself, Jason was just the same as usual, and that love never left Bruce's eyes. He should be happy, he got everything you ever wanted, he was happy, or so you thought.

Then one day he ran away, on some stupid quest to find his birth mother. Why would he even want that when he had people that loved him right here? So what if they weren’t his blood, they were still his family. What did that get him? Both him and his bio mom getting murdered that’s what. You were so angry at him, he wasn’t even there for a full year and he was already gone forever? Just like that? You didn’t even get to say goodbye! You hated Jason, and you miss him so much. To this day your greatest regret is that you couldn’t reconcile, not that you have the balls too. Not once in your several chances have you done so.

Tim was next, you never cared for Tim and he never cared for you. The boy showed up out of nowhere, he’s the same age as you. First going to Dick and begging him to be Robin again, Batman needs a Robin after all. Instead of asking you, he went straight to becoming Robin. Not that Bruce would let you become Robin, and not like you had the desire to become what killed your brother. Tim was technically not a part of the family, but he stayed around so often he practically was. It took a long time for Bruce to love Tim, but he grew on Bruce like a fungus. You didn’t care about Tim, you weren’t desperate for his approval. All you wanted was your Father’s love, that he so freely gave out to everyone else. The man who so freely hurt both you and your mother in the most humiliating of ways, not even acknowledging your relationship with him.

You met Cassandra after Gotham was safe to come back to, thankfully before No Man’s Land

your whole grade was on a week long field trip out of the city. Unthankfully the executive order to activate No Man’s Land came on the first day of the trip. No one could go back home after that, for months a whole high school class was stranded. Many of the school students were members of the elite so they were quickly brought back to their families when they fled. But yours didn’t, you struggled as one of the many Gotham refugees. But dispute this, for the first time in years you felt alive. Admittedly your 16 year old self didn’t make the best choices. You didn’t have a credit card, any identification outside of the school ID, no access to Wayne money. So you did whatever you could to get by. You made friends with people you shouldn’t have been friends with, very quickly falling into the mindset of doing anything to get a quick buck. But being completely cut off from your family for the first time. It made you realize how little you needed them. No, how little you needed him.

So coming back to Gotham after several months was strange.16 years old and suddenly seeing everything so differently, how much of a fool you were for wanting your father's approval and several bad habits you still haven’t beaten to this day. The fact that while you were gone, they had replaced you with Cassandra, pissed you the fuck off. Of course it did, who wouldn’t be angry! But not at her, not anymore, you were mad at Bruce. You hated everything about him, about being reminded of him. But you still loved him, still wanted him to look at you, tell you to your face that he didn’t want you instead of avoiding you and pretending you didn’t exist. Maybe then you could finally move on, or maybe not, you’ll never know. Cassandra was here, just like Dick she was polite but could care less about you. Just like everyone’s favorite hero Nightwing, puller of the Hero community! Who could do no wrong even when he did, all of this pissed you the fuck off

and made you so, so sad.

So you drank and went to parties full of people you barely knew, and drank some more. Getting a fake id in Gotham isn’t that hard, nore was finding clubs that wouldn’t look at it with more than a glance. The hard part was finding ones that also wouldn’t sell your organs. Buy that point you were barely at the manor, barely at school, only just passing most of your classes, sleeping in as many as possible for a variety of different reasons. No one at home cared, not Bruce, not Dick, not Alfred and his stupid pitying face. Every day he gave you that same fucking look, like he was sad for you. If he truly cared he would have tried to help ages ago before you were even born. You wanted to punch that old man in the face, but you didn’t because everyone loved Alfred. He was like a grandfather to everyone else in the maner, even a slightly threatening glare would set them off.

School was a different story altogether. People card there, but most only cared to look down on you or make fun of you. Thanks to your Father's past treatment of your mother and the fact that you're rarely seen in public with them. It’s clear to a lot of people you're not favored, that does mean you’re not kidnapped for ransom every other week like most of your classmates. But it also means all the high society types don’t like you that much, they ignore you at best, openly mock and belittle you at worst. But at this point, you didn’t give a shit, you had entered the dreaded, edgy 16 years old ‘I’m a lone wolf’ faze. Which you would be stuck in for an even more embarrassing amount of time.

Of course as the child of a ‘superhero’ the world's greatest detective, yada, yada, yada, life can never stay peaceful. Or as close to a form of peace Mr. Edgy Too-Cool-For-School 17 year old self could grasp onto. No, in fact there superherodum infected your everyday life, of course it did, there were villains left and right. Honestly your superseded Gotham isn’t a ghost town with how much shit goes down here. But an underrated part of being a superhero is how many times someone can be killed and then raised from the dead. To the point that every time a superhero dies you aren’t surprised when they come back from the dead anywhere from a few months to years later.

For the first time in a long time though, you were surprised. There was man you don’t recognize in the manor’s living room, sitting on the couch, gaze glued to the floor looking deep in thought. Tall, muscular, and covered in scars. He looked like someone you would have worked under during No Man’s Land. Right before you can turn heel and leave, he looks at you, you look back. Face morphing in a mix of shock and fear, his own going from neutrality to his signature sunny smile that’s burned into your brain. Jason calls out the name of a soon to be dead man, with the same glee he did all those years ago. His voice having changed so much over the years. Instead of going to the brother you so deeply missed, who you never stopped mourning, regretting, guilting over. You do what you always do, what you’ve been doing for years in fun different ways

You run

Just like your mother before you, on a cold winter’s day you put on a jacket. Pack as many bags as you can carry, take all the money you saved up and leave. Just like your mother before you, Batman, Bruce Wayne, the man you both desperately craved the love and affection of for so many years. Never comes looking for you, none of them do not even Jason. You’re a coward, same as your mother. You will always be a coward, you have come to accept that fact. That you will never be strong enough to confront them.

Yet you can’t leave this city, you don’t have the heart to.

In a place like Gotham, no one glances twice at a teenager carrying lots of bags in the cold. You don’t look twice at them either. As quickly as you can, you change your name. Not just your last name, your whole name, first, middle and last. With no remnants of your Father and mother left, the Wayne you once were is dead. You are now a new person entirely, at least in a legal sense. Now your name is just yours not there’s, if only you could change more on a deeper, visceral level.

Life was tough, but it wasn’t anything you couldn’t handle, got help, made friends. Eventually finding your way into the shabby apartment you live in with your roommate, your closest friend. Now you’re living comfortably, compared to before at least. Of course someone had to fuck it up. We’re-we’re he- Jason, he stands right in front of you, okay not right, he’s a good 5 or so feet away, but it wouldn’t be hard for him to just walk closer. Fuck you haven’t seen anyone in that good forsaken family in person in 6 years! Now that you finally have everything together, finally have a decent life of your own. You’re biggest regret and shame stands right before you.

Phoebe takes a step in front of you trying to protect you from Jason. Like she can protect you from a muscular man twice her size, a former Robin no less, even if it was a short stint, even the most basic of training is fucking brutal. Jason looks amused at her reaction, clearly having the exact same thought. He calls that god damn name again, if you were sober, you would have probably pretended to not know who that is and say he got the wrong person. But you’re not, you’re drunk and scared, and that’s a recipe for disaster. “That’s not my name” you say quickly, but not steadily. “Wa-“ he looks at you confused, then he really looks at you, with the eyes not of an older brother running into their estranged sibling on the street. But as a trained detective, “are you drunk?” Jason asks in a mix of shock and concern. “That’s not-that’s none of your fucknn bugisiness” you slur out, definitely drunk but also panicking. Walking closer Jason continues to speak “I’m your older brother! You getting drunk and running around the dark streets of Gotham is definitely my business!” Instead of responding like a sane and rational person. You grab Phoebe by the arm and yell “GET IN THE CAR!” Then booking it to the car with your best efforts, Jason just stands there watching you, baffled.

Opening the door and shoving Phoebe in the front seat, she awkwardly crawls over to the driver’s side. You then slide in and slam the door closed, already aggressively shaking her saying “drive! drive! drive!” Increasingly panicked, before she can even properly get seated. She lightly shoo’s your hands away as she gets seated and pulls out her keys. Turning the car on and speeding away, both of you unaware that as she pulls away from the sidewalk Jason takes out his phone and takes a picture of her license plate. He put it back in his pocket with a sigh, now Jason was planning on letting you come back home on your own terms. He completely understands the desire to brood away from your family for several years because you’re mad at them. But after seeing that? Well it’s clear to Jason that if he doesn’t force you to come back you never will

and we can’t have that now can we?

Your appointment is small, two bedrooms both just big enough for a twin and a dresser. An open living room and kitchen, with a single cramped bathroom that can’t even hold a tub. The few windows all open to an alleyway with a fire escape that is barely up to code. One of the windows is boarded up, having been broken recently during a Batman chase sequence. The guys your landlord hired to fix it won’t be able to come for another week. Your couch looks like a possum had given birth in it, which might be true seeing as Phoebe stole it off the street with her old roommate before you came into the picture. The tv is so old it’s still a box and doesn’t get Netflix, not like either of you are subscribed to a streaming service. Pirating all the way! Compared to Wayne manor this place is a dump.

It’s perfect

Really most places would be considered a dump by Wayne manor standards. This has been the second nicest apartment you lived in since you moved out. And you don’t even feel like you’re mooching off the kindness of a sweet single mother and her 8 year old brat with this one! Currently your face is shoved into a pillow as you lay on the stolen possum nest. Phoebe stands by one of the windows, having opened it and leaning on the sill. You can hear a lighter being flipped on and off from we’re she’s standing. Then the smell of weed smoke fills your nose.

“So..” she begins “what the actual fuck was that” “I don’t want to talk about it” came your muffled reply. “No seriously what the fuck?” She said, you could hear her footsteps walking towards you. “Out the window!” You point behind your back to the general direction of the window. “Listen I’m all for ignoring your problems and keeping your dark past to yourself” she ignores your previous statement, her voice much closer than before. “But as your roommate I need to know the basics of what I’m working with here. That guy who looks like he works for The Penguin or some shit-“ “Penguin?!” You almost laugh out. “Ya! Like gang shit!” “I know but why The Penguin?” She sputters at that “I don’t fuckin know! He’s like on the top of my Gotham gang leader’s tier list!” “You have a tear list?? The Penguin is on the top of it??” You’re voice filled with a mix of amusement and confusion “We live in Gotham!” Is her defense “Of course I have a tier list!” Phoebe huffs.

You squirm onto your back, face still covered by the pillow. “Hold on, what level is Red Hood?” “He’s not on it, he’s a superhero.” She says it like it’s a fact, “he’s literally not though? He kills people” “please the only people he kills are rapists, abusers and human traffickers. Hero in my book- the point is I’m giving him the benefit of the doubt that he’s not with the Joker-“ that sentence alone made you laugh for a minute straight. Phoebe stood there quietly smoking her cigarette as you cackled violently. Once calmed down you finally say “Jason would rather hunt him for sport then work for him. I can’t imagine any timeline where Jason works for the Joker. That would be so out of character for him.” She hums in acknowledgment. “So this guy- Jason- you’re brother- shows the fuck up out of nowhere, both of you shocked to see each other dead names you-“ “in his defense I changed my name after we cut contact” “right good on you Y/N” that statement made you lower the pillow from your face and onto yours chest. Staring at her from the other side of the couch like she’s crazy.

“Y/N?” You ask “ya, you know like, your name? Y/N” “no I get what you’re talking about” you cut her off. “But why the fuck did you just call me the name placement for an X Reader fic?” She shrugs and takes a drag of her cigarette. “Helped with calming you down, didn't it?” “What? Ugg” you put a hand up to your face, “your distracting me!” “And probing for answers!” She cheers out. “So what about him got you so freaked out, hmm girly pop?” You groan again, properly sitting up, feet on the floor, pillow in your lap. She slides into the now free spot next to you.

“It’s just- we have a super complicated relationship, and he’s the sibling I have the best relationship with, but with him still being in contact with the family… I don’t know, we… we got into a bad argument and before we could make up he… went missing for 5 years. Then he was suddenly found after being declared dead for so long- I… I panicked, ran… ended up here.” You look in the opposite direction of her almost shamefully. The both of you sit in silence for a bit, it’s quiet for a long time before with an almost defeated sigh she finally speaks. “When I graduated high school my grandparents went on a road trip to go to a family reunion in a different state.” She starts, and you turn to look at her “I stayed behind, my relationship with the family wasn’t the best to begin with and I didn’t want to spend several days in a cramped car with people I barely liked. My younger sister on the other hand went, the two of us had a pretty significant age gap, about 9 years. Just a day into the trip they got into a nasty car accident” She takes a stutery breath, and puts her cigarette back in her mouth, blowing on it. “Everyone else, my grandparents, aunts and cousins. They all lived, not her though, she was the only person in the car that wasn’t an adult, the others got serious injuries that needed surgery’s for. But her body was decimated, died instantly, and brutally mangled.” You just stare at her, horror clear on your face. Hers is almost completely blank, not even hear at the moment, mind far off and somewhere else.

“Why are you telling me this?” You ask her, she glances over to you before looking away. “You were telling me things you didn’t want to talk about, to remember. So I’m doing the same.” “but yours is way more detailed. I was being so vague! Now I feel bad” “don’t be, I was debating on if i should tell you this anyways. No pressure with going into more detail about your mysterious past.” with a sigh you look down at your feet. Not knowing what to say next, if you should even say something next. Finally after a bit of internal debate you say the first thing that comes to mind “this is not how I wanted the day to go”, Phoebe laughs “me neither”. “He probably won’t be an issue.” You continue fiddling with your hands, “the rest of my family never really cared about me, I was basically just a ghost in their house. Hell I don’t even know if my sister knows my name!” “Yeesh” “ya… he was the only one that really cared, so outside of him probably having already found where we live-“ “what” “we shouldn’t have to deal with the rest of my family” she opens her mouth to speak again. “Or worry about gangs” she closes it “most of my siblings work for are Dad’s tech company anyways. They have no reason to join a gang.” “A family business? In Gotham?” she chuckles “If it doesn’t have ties to some gang or isn’t like 3 generations old or both, I don’t see that place still standing.” now you laugh, if only she knew.

If only she knew.

——————

A/N time!

I have some more ideas for this AU but I admittedly don’t know much more of what to do with it. Like I have a lot of ideas for character relationships but not a lot of plot. I know at some point Reader is dragged back to the Wayne’s but I haven’t fully decided if it’s willing or not.

I do have a few ideas for what Reader’s name was before they became a Y/N L/N. But I didn’t want it to come off too much like the reader is an OC. I also don’t want to pick a name that someone reading this might have. Which is a slim but very there possibility, would be pretty fucking immersion, breaking if the character who canonically change their name to be yours/whatever OC you make already had yours/whatever OC you make is first name. So I’ll probably keep those ideas to myself.

Also if it isn’t clear, I have never once smoked in my life. I'm more of an edible girly myself, more powerful and you're not inhaling smoke! It’s a win win! Also I have no experience writing someone who is drunk or high, so there probably also written poorly. In fact I’ve never once gotten as drunk as the reader does in this. Admittedly I couldn’t figure out how to write the ending with them drunk.

Thinking about making the floor plan of the apartment in the sims, but idk it’s not going to be that important? If I do end up continuing this like I have planned. I’m already working on chapter two! Which expands on things mentioned here and hopefully shows even more how much of an unreliable narrator reader is. Idk I’ve only started the first few paragraphs.

I know not many X reader fics go into detail about the Reader is non from fandom relationships. Which makes sense, it’s called Batfam X Neglected Reader after all, not Reader and the OC gang. I honestly just felt like filling out the world with more non DC or other franchise characters. Don’t worry if I do continue this it won’t be a common trend, Phoebe will be the only commonly reoccurring named OC. If/when I add more they won’t be as prominent or fleshed out as her. She’s very important to the plot I’ve got cookin in my brain :).

Fun fact! Phoebe didn’t originally have a name! She was referred to solely as roommate up till the last minute!

#platonic batfam #batfam x reader #x gender neutral reader #x reader #Dreaming of teeth

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ma1dita · 10 months ago

Text

now that we're older

a 'partners in crime' installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader

words: 3.5k

summary: (established relationship) The one where he asks if you can stay the night even if all of cabin 11 makes fun of him. Luke is tired of the routine. He just needs his girl. (Luke Castellan x fem!Dionysus!reader)

a/n: its really something about me always posting at 4am.... listened to three songs on a loop while writing and they were all called ‘older’. 5sos-> gracie abrams-> lizzy mcalpine—this works for the trajectory of trouble & luke if you give it a listen; anyways you guys deserve the fluff. PLEASE TELL ME THIS IS HAPPY (ignore the...tinge of angst) BUT THIS IS HAPPY RIGHT? RIGHT? scream at me in the comments & enjoy <3

(posted 3/26/24, semi-edited)

—

Luke lets you love him in the nighttime.

It’s not to say that you don’t love him every second of the day and then some, but he’s much softer at night, weathered down and stripped of the many roles he carries. Maybe it’s the weight from the responsibility of being an all-star cabin counselor or the bone-deep ache of being camp’s best swordsman, perhaps even the ailment of being Hermes’ favorite forgotten son—but he endures until the night where he can lay it all down and be nothing but yours.

And you let him.

The mask usually starts to fall apart during dinner when he comes to sit at your table— besides the extra space, Luke likes intentionally knocking his knees against yours, the hand not holding his fork squeezing the inside of your thigh. He’s more open and receptive to your doting by the time the sun sets, fiddling with the hem of your camp shirt on the walks to the bonfire, letting you hang off his arm as you sidestep each other’s feet, hip to hip in hushed giggles. Whether it be chatty campers running through attempts at kisses, Chiron and Mr. D accidentally interrupting your loving glances, or occasional interference from the gods above, there’s only so many ways to be together in the in-between.

Tonight he’s yawning as he places his head on yours from behind, the both of you watching all your campers file out towards the amphitheater. A gentle smile graces your face and he’s warm all over, arms caging around your chest as you lightly sway against the summer breeze.

“You okay, angelface?”

Humming in response, he lowers his cheek to yours and whispers a proposition.

“Wanna skip the bonfire? Like how we used to…”

Turning to face him, your nose bumps against the scar on his cheek, and he feels the teeth of your smile on his skin as you mumble, “That was before cabin 7 needed an understudy for special requests, babe.”

“You could still sing for me. I’ll even clap if you want,” he muses before warbling out a few off-key notes to your favorite song until you’re a mess of giggles under him, fingers reaching up to cover his lips.

“That’s terrible,” you say between fits of laughter, until your eyes meet Percy and Grover’s wandering ones, “Hey! You two ready for your quest tomorrow?” Luke’s hold on you falters into an afterthought, fingers playing with your belt loops as the boys walk to the center of the clearing to meet you two.

He thinks about his little sister going on a quest to prove herself to her mother, even if it’s not her own cross to bear. He thinks about the satyr risking his life to protect another demigod who follows in his footsteps, and finally his dark eyes land on the sandy-haired boy destined to get caught in the crossfire. Luke’s feet feel heavy as if they’re cemented to the ground, and when you step away to greet the boys, he stays where he is. You misinterpret it for his fatigue, which is only part of what’s weighing on his mind.

“Luke? Go on ahead, I’ll cover for you. Get some rest.” But he can’t sleep without you; the times he’s tried are met with a touch of darkness only you can will away. He wants to hold on to you for as long as he can— Luke’s always been more vulnerable in the nighttime, with or without you.

Later he finds himself staring at the ceiling of his cabin, thrashing in the twin bed against the back wall as he rests his eyes and tries to get comfortable. There are reminders of you wherever he looks, gauzy white curtains strung up around his bed like swirling clouds, pictures of the both of you pinned to the worn walls of Hermes’ refuge for the unclaimed, and though he’s always known his heritage—the way he can pick out your voice through the sound of all the others that file in reminds him who his heart belongs to. Luke shuts his eyes until he feels your lips on his forehead, balmy from your berry chapstick with a hint of your smile. He murmurs your name sleepily, but your hands tickle his torso as you lift the hem of his shirt up.

“Woah there, keep it PG. There are children here!” Travis says mockingly, and the sound of giggles and shuffling sheets fills the room as everyone gets ready for bed. There’s a resounding thud that follows and that makes him open his eyes.

“Mind out of the gutter, Stoll! You know your brother overheats at night,” you mutter, and his hands are already ghosting your hip in silent confirmation. Tearing your lavender gaze from Travis who’s spitting out feathers from across the way, you look down at him and mumble, “Sleepy, angelface? They’ll do cabin checks soon and then it’s lights out.”

“Don’t wanna sleep without you. I can wait,” he slurs, saying your name slowly like he’s spelling it out. Luke looks at you blearily when he sits up, rubbing the drowsiness from his eyes as he pulls his shirt off from the nape of his neck. When the orange fibers lift from his vision, he sees you in sleepwear (all stolen from his closet, just the way he likes it) and your face shiny with skincare.

“Was gonna get you ready for bed, babe. Got Lee to cover for me tonight and Beck and Katie are on morning shift. Wanna go to mine?”

He knows he should. The both of you never play hooky, not since taking up your counselor positions 3 years ago. Luke doesn’t remember the last time either of you were in bed before midnight and up before 6 the next morning. Never on purpose at least—the surprise jolts him awake a little as he cocks his head at you curiously.

“Got off the hook, Trouble?”

The question makes you bite your lip, “You’re acting surprised. Something told me you needed it.” He flops back down on the worn mattress, far too soft with age that his back tweaks a little when he moves over for you and pats the space you’ll take up. It’s his though—even if it doesn’t have his name on it, and for once he just wants to sleep in here with his girl like everything is right in the world (and ignore that he’s about to tear it all up). He thinks he might actually miss this cabin, the sound of his scuffling siblings, the way things quickly disappear and reappear at the change of hands in this community of outcasts, but most of all, he’s going to miss you and how you can settle them down with a single hush.

“Can we stay here tonight? Too comfy. Never get to admire the little setup you made for me here since we’re in 12 so often.”

“M’not going anywhere, my love,” you whisper as you push back the curtains, climbing into his bed to cuddle against him, but he shifts so that his head is on your chest. Luke’s hugging you like he’s a weighted blanket, and he strings a garland of kisses along your collarbone leading up to the space over your heart. Running your hands through his hair, you sing to him quietly until lights out, not even noticing the change while you’re looking at each other eye to eye. No one laughs at your lullaby, the sound of your voice tucking the rest of the cabin to sleep.

Almost losing consciousness again, his cheek shakes with the giggle that rises from your chest as you whisper, “Didn’t know you put our camp prom photo up on your wall. We look like we hate each other.”

“You were so mad because I kept stepping on the bottom of your dress. Had to get your attention somehow,” he chuckles, before tightening his hold on you, “I knew I liked you already by then, too. Wasted too much time trying to get Chiron in a prom dress with the boys that I didn’t get the chance to ask you to dance.”

“Ended up on a bead though. Is that what that memory tells you, angelface?”

“You’re my favorite memory, Trouble,” he sighs, muscles relaxing at the feeling of your fingertips tracing stars into the planes of his back. Then hearts. A squiggle of something you tell him is obviously a centaur, which makes his brows furrow, before he kisses your chin when you spell out your name. Slowly, like you want him to remember it. He does.

“I’m still here, silly—pretty sure to be a memory, time has to take me away first. Not letting that happen. Me and you forever if I can help it,” you say breathily, voice tinged with sleep and so much love for him that feels like it chokes you, but that might just be the angle of your neck as you try to look down at him again. Dopamine lines your system at his words, and you let out a strained sigh—lovesick and heady with the feeling.

“I know but you’re in all my favorite ones too. When I think of you, everything’s better. Like I didn’t eternally fuck up my fate before I even turned 20,” he jokes, and like a lot of them, they fall flat. You hope that by wrapping your legs around him Luke will know how much you want to crawl into his skin and hold his heart to protect it. That with you, he won’t ever have to be alone. Words are never enough, after all. Even if you have nothing you need to prove, it won’t stop you from trying to show him.

“Still a few weeks off, so don’t try your luck. There are worse fates than falling in love with you, Luke Castellan.”

He turns from the wall at the sound of that, wanting to disagree, but you kiss him before he can protest.

“I’m the lucky one. Sometimes I think loving you was the only thing I did right,” he murmurs, before drifting off. You’re the last thing he looks at before he goes to sleep, the way he likes it—like a longstanding memory he gets to keep before he’s vulnerable again in his dreamstate. He’s the strongest when you’re with him, and his brain goes quiet. No one dares to break him when he’s with you like this.

Not a dream, nor a titan.

You can't imagine sleeping another night without this crick in your neck with his name on it, the shape of him pressed into your body. With only the moon as your witness, you whisper words of devotion, sneak featherlight kisses wherever you can reach, and hope that they get to your love, wherever his mind is right now.

“I love you, I love you, I love you…”

—

You let him love you in the mornings.

Even unknowingly, it seems. On a normal day, your alarm would ring and you’d sleepily pat Luke (his face, chest, whatever part of him you could reach with your eyes closed) so he could shut it off. He’d let you sleep in a couple extra minutes (somewhere between 5-10) before pulling you from unconsciousness with a hug.

This morning, with no alarms ringing in his ears Luke finds that he wakes up a little before you anyway. Down to his circadian rhythm, you’ve affected him, and he takes it with an upwards quirk of his lip as he squints at the sunlight through the sheer curtains that brush against your arms. He watches you delicately, even with the sounds of a lively morning filling the cabin—everyone up and ready for the day while you two are wrapped in your little bubble. It’s a stupid thought that crosses his mind, but a coherent one nonetheless; jealousy fills his chest at the sight of sunlight kissing every inch of your skin that he can only try to reach. He runs his hands from where they’re tucked underneath your waistband to the expanse of your back, and over your shoulders until you’re humming under your breath, midway out of a dream.

Luke takes an extra moment to admire the way you latch onto him and he finds it almost frustrating how everyone from the gods above to the demigods at Camp Half-Blood down to the powers that damn him to Tartarus know you’re his biggest weakness. It’s almost unfair how you’re his strength too— the sheath that reminds him not to cut, the control behind his unbridled rage that heats up the back of his neck like a brand but instead of feeling fire, he feels sunlight.

You search for him in every sunrise, light refracting through your irises until a smile settles on your cheeks like you want to say, “Yes, I’m here with you. ”

“Good morning, pretty girl.”

The both of you shifted during the night, almost as if in a dance of limbs and dreams, and somehow you’re nestled against his side and using his bicep as a pillow. It flexes as Luke raises his arm to brush the hair away from your face, when you kiss his scar and mumble, “Did we miss breakfast?”

“Almost over, but we can just grab something from the kitchens. Surprised everyone left us alone, actually,” he says thoughtfully, “the kids might’ve already left for their quest.” He likes watching you reorient yourself into the land of the living, before you step into your boots of being head counselor, before you put on the facade of being the perfect demigod—the protector and glue of Camp Half-Blood.

“Mmhm… was gonna offer my lighter to Percy and them last night for protection, but he was wearing your shoes. You gave them to him?”

Luke wipes drool from the side of your lip, watching you kiss his thumb in thanks with no thought as it was as easy as breathing. A half smile splits through the scar on his face as he says, “He’s gonna need them. For luck.” You lift your upper body up and look at him, hair forming a halo around your face and you sniff, “But you loved those shoes. Gift from your dad aside, I know they’re one of your prized possessions.”

He coaxes you back into his arms as he shifts up and leans against the wall. Prying eyes would think you’re hugging, sitting heart to heart on the small mattress.

“Annie didn’t take your lighter?”

He knows you’re rolling your eyes against his shoulder, feeling your fingers clutch at his curls to pull him away to look at you. You look at him knowingly and say, “Stop trying to change the subject. Anyways, Annie said if we help them anymore she’ll think we don’t trust them enough to come back alive.”

“I mean it when I say you’re all I care about. Shoes… None of it matters.”

“What I care about is how you used to love flying around in those things. Even if you pissed me off a lot with them too,” you say, and the both of you laugh. They were a consolation from his dad after his quest, probably the closest thing to an apology (or even a “hello, glad you’re alive!”) he’d ever gotten from Hermes. Though the scar on his cheek was more than enough of a reminder of that—he didn’t touch the shoes until a few months after, when you taught him how to drive. Luke propositioned you promising to take you out on a spin once, and you thought he meant the car…

“You loved them more than I did,” he grins, and you recoil and slap his chest.

“You flung me onto the roof of the dining pavilion, Luke.”

“It was an accident! Plus it did make cabin checks go faster…Once I got the hang of them,” he snorts, deciding to pull you to stand. Batting away the curtain, he’s sliding into his slippers and Luke helps you step onto his feet and you groan into his chest, “What are you doing? M’gonna break your toes, Lu—”

“Shhh…I’m the strongest guy you know. Can handle anything for ya.”

He backs the both of you up to the center of the cabin, spinning you in slow circles to an imaginary beat. One hand around your waist and the other interlaced with yours as your smile feels like sun beaming through a window as you ask, “How did I ever get so lucky to fall in love with you, Luke Castellan?”

You’ll never tell him, but that’s the only thing you’ll be ever grateful to Hermes for.

He shakes his head in astonishment as he whispers, “I love you, you know that?” It hurts his head if he thinks too hard—how does a love so intoxicating manifest as something so gentle? How can he be powered by your love but still fueled by hate? How can he be both damned and saved by you? Luke wonders if his thoughts even break the surface of how busy the mind of a daughter of Dionysus is—to know insanity in love, and still be able to welcome it with open arms.

“Beats prom, huh? Am I a good dance partner?”

You tilt your head, tongue in cheek as you gaze at your boy like he’s said something stupid, and though it’s been a year and change, you hope the fluttery feeling Luke gives you will never go away. With him, you never have to pretend—never needing to mince your words or soften the blow. You’ve never felt more yourself than how you feel hand in hand with him.

“We’ve always been good partners, me and you.”

He sways you in the momentary quiet of cabin 11 as you step away and hold the bottom of your (his) shirt out like the frills of a skirt, and Luke raises your arm overhead and then you’re spinning, spinning, spinning…

The front door swivels open, and Chris peeks his head in.

“Hey lovebirds, sorry to interrupt but Sword and Shield is starting soon, and Clarisse still has your names on the roster…”

You both sigh.

“You signed up for offense?”

“And you signed up for defense, so don’t look at me like that, Trouble…”

Instantly the two of you harden your stances, parrying at each other’s torsos with hands as your swords until you try to make a run for it and drag Chris behind you to use him as a human shield.

“Hey! Oof—”

Moving as quick as a bullet, Luke accidentally knocks the wind out of his brother who’s now hunched over as you laugh at him like a madwoman.

“You two are going to have weirdly violent children one day,” Chris huffs, before stepping back towards the door, “See ya in 30!”

Cheeks reddening at his brother’s comment, Luke crosses his arms and takes a good look at you, bathing in the light of the open doorway and looking like the rest of his life.

“Well, back to work. Bit too good to be true, huh babe?”

“For now,” he says thoughtfully, “Summer will be over soon though. Gonna get quieter around here for sure…”

You’re already stepping off the front porch walking backwards as you grin, throwing your arms up in the air as you make your way across the path to your cabin to get ready for the day. You’d hate to leave camp—it's as true as your love for performing, caring for others, and most especially, him. He knows it because he knows you, and unlike most things, that’s never going to change.

Not if he can help it.

“Summer doesn’t last forever. But we’ll still have the fall, the winter, and whatever’s next…me and you.”

You’re yelling to him over the railing of your porch and he nods his head at you, turning away before you speak again, “Maybe one day when we’re older!”

“What was that baby?”

Looking at Luke like you already have it all planned out in your head, you say softer, “Kids. If that’s what’s in the cards for us. Though I do like practicing…”

Instantly he cracks up but nods, because there’s no future he can conceive without you being in it. There’s a serious turn in his response and it makes your heart beat out of your chest.

“Anything you want. You know I don’t leave anything up to fate. Not glory, not you.”

Everything you touch turns into gold, and he hopes somehow he would too. Two sides of the same coin, striving for a good ending, one worth remembering—one to last forever.

You get to love each other in the in-between, when time can’t get in the way. The clock is always ticking though, rattling against his brain as a reminder.

Luke just wants to make sure there’ll come a day where there’ll be no more interruptions.

—

“When is a monster not a monster? Oh, when you love it. Oh, when you used to sing it to sleep.” Caitlyn Siehl

½ luke taglist: @kissingyourgrl @dorcas4meadowes @lorarri @andrewgarfldsgf @noodlesketchbook @10ava01@poppysrin@ashisabitgay @timhalamet @liv1104 @leeknows-wife @mxtokko @bugcuti3 @luvvfromme @midmourn @2hiigh2cry @yuminako @niktwazny303 @lukecastellandefender @intergalactic-padawan @iliketopgun @annybah @dangelnleif @thegrinningghost @alyssajunelle @obxstiles @m00ng4z3r@visndcaitswhore @b0ok-lover @elegant-face-tree @this-barbie-is-having-breakdowns @amortencjja @idonevenknow1359 @maliaaaa @targaryenluvs @sakyira @dhdjdjjdhsjdiri

#luke castellan x reader #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo x reader #trouble!verse #made by ma1dita ♥︎#luke castellan fluff

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beenbaanbuun · 9 months ago

Note

hii bunny! 🤍🤍

i was wondering if you maybe could write something angsty with mingi? like he’s had a long day and snaps at you a little after seeing your clothes on the floor or something.. like it would never bother him on a normal day but it’s just been a long day for him

it’s not too harsh but it’s the first time you’ve ever heard him have that tone with you so obviously it’s a lot for you 🫣 it doesn’t take him long to realize and regret it but by the time he does you’re already outside on the verge of tears and getting some fresh air.. he basically panics and texts you and calls you 😭 there’s no answer for around 10 minutes and just as he’s about to go outside and look for you, not even bothering throwing an hoodie on, he opens the door and sees you standing there with a little bag with his favorite snacks that you bought for him and he immediately starts apologising

sorry if this is quite specific i just hope it helps a little with your ideas! if you want to change anything you can! you can add smut and make it angsty or you can make it sweet and soft.. maybe even both 🤷‍♀️

i feel like he’s so gentle and definitely would love his partner too much, and just the thought of that he’s upset them could kill him

i cried writing this so i hope you enjoy it 🫡

——————————————————————————

to say that mingi’s day was hard would be an understatement. he barely slept the previous night, the constant beeping of the fire alarm begging for new batteries that they didn’t yet have keeping him awake into the early hours of the morning. he thinks it was sheer exhaustion that sent him to sleep at just gone 4am, and he was equally exhausted when san woke him two hours later for practice. he had half a mind to tell his friend to fuck off and just go back to sleep, but then he heard the beep of the fire alarm and decided he had no chance. he was going to have to stay awake.

then came practice, which was never easy, but for some reason was so much worse today. it started with yunho, who was being so much stricter than usual, jaw clenching and eyes filling with fire if anyone even dared to get a single step wrong. with mingi’s tired brain, he wasn’t afraid to admit that most of those glares were aimed at him; intricate footwork is more difficult when you can hardly string two thoughts together, it seems. annoyance doesn’t help with that either, yet with every pointed look at yunho gets him, he feels his blood boiling more and more.

then you have the troublemakers who seemed to make it their sole purpose today to annoy every single other person in that room. san and wooyoung were naturally loud people, but today they seemed to have the dial turned up to twelve. of course, yeosang was dragged into it too, offering quiet, but not unheard, snarky comments to go along with whatever nonsense the other pair were babbling about. mingi wasn’t sure how much more of that high-pitched cackle he could stand before it made his achy head explode.

and last, but certainly not least, there was hongjoong, perhaps mingi’s biggest issue out of his members. he too seemed to be in a bad mood, but unlike mingi who had yet to retaliate to any of the shit show going on around him, hongjoong just couldn’t seem to shut his mouth. someone misstepped? he’d yell at them. someone misspoke? he’d yell at them. it was just a constant wall of sound coming from his leader and mingi wasn’t sure just how much more he could take until…

“everyone just go,” hongjoong groans, anger and frustration laced through his features. “it’s clear no one is taking it seriously today so just go!”

a miracle.

mingi wastes no time in grabbing his bag and running out of the practice room without even a glance back at his members. perhaps later he’ll text them and let them know where he is, but for now he just needs you. he needs your arms to wrap around him and keep him warm as he sleeps. he needs your voice to float around his brain as he drifts away. he needs you.

he’s thankful that you live close because before he knows it, he’s at your door, fishing your key from his pocket. he fiddles with it excitedly, scraping it against the door a few times by accident before finally slipping it into the keyhole. he twists it and pushes it open, expecting to find you buzzing around your apartment like a cute little bumble bee.

instead he’s met with silence and darkness, curtains still drawn and your lively little self nowhere to be seen. there’s pots in the sink, mess strewn across the floor and the trash bag from last night still propped up by the door. mingi lets out a long sigh.

he knows it’s wrong of him to feel annoyed by all of this, and normally he wouldn’t. it’s just after the day he’s had, all he wanted was to cuddle up to you in a nice tidy, stress-free apartment. now he has to take your load on his shoulders as well. he has to pick up your pieces whilst he’s still desperately trying to hold all of his together. but this is it; this is his last straw, and the irritation and frustration he’s been barely holding back all day suddenly bursts free of its dam. he cant stop himself as he kicks off his shoes, not caring where they go (it’s not like it’ll make any difference with the state your apartment in is anyway) and storms his way down the hallway to your bedroom.

your door is already open, and through it he can see you still in bed. you’re curled up under the quilt, just like he has wanted to be all day. just like he hasn’t been able to because he has been busy. for some reason it only fills him with more annoyance, and he steps over the threshold into your room and slams the door behind him.

he can see that the sound startles you, but he can’t find it in him to care. he just stares down at you, a mixture of anger and disappointment twisting his features as you groggily sit up to look at him. your eyes are red, as are your cheeks, but mingi just brushes it off. the painful pang in his chest upon seeing you like that is hardly enough to outweigh everything else he feels.

“really?” he bends down to pick up a t-shirt before holding it up to show you. you stare at it blankly, not sure what he’s trying to get at.

“what’s wrong, mingi?” your voice is strained as if you’d been crying recently. if mingi wasn’t so blinded by everything, perhaps he would’ve noticed how fragile you seem to be. perhaps he’d be able to take a step back and see that you need him to comfort you, not berate you. it’s a shame his head is too full of his own feelings to even consider yours.

“what’s wrong?” he scoffs, throwing his arms up in exasperation, “this! everything!” he gestures wildly around your room as if it explains anything. “i don’t need to deal with this shit right now, baby! i can’t!”

he watches as your brows furrow in confusion, hurt washing over your features. there’s something in his that tells him that it’s enough, that he’s said and done too much already, but there’s still more on the tip of his tongue and he needs to get it out of him before he bursts.

“i have enough on my plate without having to take care of you, alright?” his voice comes out harsher than he means it to, more of a shout than anything else, and by the way your expression tightens, he can tell he’s hurt you.

that’s when it all sinks in for him, when you hum, nodding your head slowly as his words echo around your brain. your eyes look down at your hands, thumbs picking at one another awkwardly. he’s said too much, gone too far, he can understand that now. like, really understand it. he should’ve stayed silent. ignored the shit spewed across the floor and crawled into your bed like he’d been wanting to do all day.

well shit, he thinks to himself, he never meant to hurt you. he doesn’t know what he wanted to do by telling you those things, but this wasn’t it.

“sorry,” is all you say when you toss the comforter off your legs. you’re dressed in the same clothes that he saw you in yesterday; had you slept in them? “i, uh… i’ll get out of your hair for a little while, mingi. it seems like you need a little alone time… you’re stressed.” and with that you stand up. mingi lets you, unsure of what to say to you as you grab your wallet from your nightstand and push past him. your hand feels like a hot iron pressed against his shoulder as you side-step him, and he almost, almost, goes to catch it.

before he can, you’re gone, and all he does is stand there as he listens to you open the door and walk out of the apartment.

your apartment.

he sits on your bed, twisting his hands into the comforter as he tries to ground himself. he’d kicked you out of your own apartment because of what? he doesn’t even know himself. he can’t wrap his head around the sudden burst of anger that washed over him like a tsunami. there was no escape from it until it passed, and now he’s left with with aftermath; the pain of upsetting you.

he knew from the moment he stepped in your apartment that you weren’t doing well. the drawn blinds, the pots left over from last night; he’s seen it time and time again and he’s never been upset at you for it. there’s been no anger or frustration there. no cross words or disappointment. nothing except sympathy and the desire to make everything okay for you again.

so, what? he got jealous because you were allowed to sit and wallow in your bad mood and he wasn’t? he got mad that coming to your apartment wasn’t the perfect whirlwind of softness and affection that he’d hoped for? god, he feels pathetic for how he treated you. even more so at the fact that he still feels so desperate for your comfort. he knows he doesn’t deserve it, but holy fuck does he need it.

he lets himself sit there in the pain for just a little while longer. perhaps if he lets himself hurt enough, he might deserve to have you back in his arms. if he repents, everything might be okay again. you’ll forgive him for what he said to you and hold him gently like he needs. you’ll whisper sweet words and kiss his head like he wants. you’ll be kind to him despite the fact that he hasn’t been kind to you. you’ll let him rest…

when he feels enough time has passed, he slips a hand into his pocket to grab his phone. there’s a message or two from his members asking where he went, but he ignores them. they can wait, you can’t. he locates you contact, pressing his thumb against the call button and letting it ring. a few seconds pass before he hears it loud and clear; your phone in the other room. he perks up a little—maybe you’re still here! his legs carry him faster than he can process. he swings the door open with little care about the way it slams against your dresser, and tumbles into the kitchen… where your phone is abandoned… with you nowhere to be seen.

mingi’s heart plummets even further. you’re gone, and now he won’t even have a way to know that you’re safe. it’s still daylight outside but what if you get lost? what if you stay out too long and it gets dark? what if you need him? he lets out a cry of stress, hands flying up to grip his bleached locks tightly in his hands. he feels fucking useless.

for just a moment he lets himself play the blame game with himself. it’s his fault. all of it is. anything could be happening to you and it would be his fault. he upset you and he let you leave! it’s all him, him, him… that makes it his to fix too.

he doesn’t let himself think as he walks over to the door. he doesn’t bother with a jacket, his brain telling him it would take too much time to slip it onto his shoulders. hell, he barely bothers with his shoes! just slips his feet in, not sparing a single thought to the way his feet are currently crushing the backs down. that’s the least of his worries, anyway. he can buy new shoes, he can’t replace you.

his hand reaches out to grab the door handle. it’s just centimetres away, almost close enough to grab it. his fingers begin to curl around the metal, but someone else gets there first. the handle dips down, and the door creeks as it opens just the tiniest bit. mingi gasps, moving at the speed of lighting to pull the door even wider. he knows exactly who’s on the other side, and his desperation to see you can’t be contained. he barely even looks at you before scooping you up into his arms.

“ouch, mingi,” you squirm as he holds you tighter than you think you’ve ever been held before. “you’re trapping my hair! let go, you giant oaf.”

he doesn’t, but he does loosen his grasp just a touch. not enough to let you fully breathe again, but just so you can save your hair from being pulled from your head. you’re grateful for that, at least, but it doesn’t stop you from trying to wriggle free. “let me go,” you reiterate, body still moving as he holds you against his broad chest, “i need to give you something but i can’t when you have me trapped!”

“you don’t need to give me anything,” he pouts as he presses a wet kiss against your hairline. it’s all very sweet, but you can’t help but feel like now is not the time.

“yes i do!” you twist your body in a way that makes it impossible for mingi to keep hold of you, gasping in a dramatic fashion as if you’d been starved of oxygen completely. mingi can’t help but smile at your performance, even if his arms do feel a little too empty now you’re not in them. you are absolutely adorable, after all. “i need to give you this because it’ll melt otherwise.”

that’s when he notices the clear plastic bag in your hand. if he looks carefully, he can just about make out the pint of hazelnut ice cream and the bag of shrimp chips; his favourites. confused, he brings his gaze back up to your face, noticing the shy smile that rests on your lips as you raise the bag up for him to take. “for me?” he asks. you only give him a quick nod in response. “but… why?”

when he doesn’t take the bag, you roll your eyes and stomp past him to the kitchen. it hits the counter with a thud, and mingi flinches. are you angry with him? of course, you have every right to be but if he’s being honest, he’s rather that you weren’t. he really needs you right now. he slinks up behind you, watching as you busy yourself with taking the snacks out of the bag. his arms ache with the desire to be wrapped tightly around your waist, but he somehow manages to hold himself back.

“because you’re obviously not doing good,” you say as you yank the cutlery drawer open to grab two spoons. it doesn’t go unnoticed when you pull out the flat one with the thin handle alongside the deep one with the heavy handle; his and your favourite spoons, respectively. his chest aches with love as you, actually rather violently stab the container with both of them. he always has loved your silly little antics.

“yeah, well you’re not doing good either,” he tries to argue, but you shut him up with a glare.

“me not doing well doesn’t mean i can’t try to help you when you’re not doing well,” you shrug as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “my feelings don’t negate your feelings and i love you, so i want to try and help you.” whether it’s a loaded statement or not, mingi can’t help but understand the irony. either you’re trying to teach him a lesson or the universe is. judging by the look in your eyes, he thinks it’s safe to assume that it’s you.

“i get it,” he nods, “i’m sorry for being a dick, you don’t deserve that.”

“i don’t deserve it, but i do understand it and i’m not going to torture you for it when it’s obvious you’ve been torturing yourself,” you point a finger up to his messed up hair, “what i am going to do is get in bed with you and eat a shit ton of ice cream, capeesh?”

“yeah, baby,” he smiles, “capeesh…”

#ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez oneshot #ateez fluff #ateez scenarios #ateez fic #ateez angst #mingi fluff #mingi x reader #mingi angst

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angel-of-the-moons · 10 months ago

Text

A Benevolent Hand

Khonshu x Fem!Moon Knight!Reader

TW/CW: NSFW, Smut, masturbation (Fem), fingering, dirty talking, degradation(?), Khonshu wants to actually fuck you but won't admit it because he's a prideful shithead

MINORS DNI I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR CONTENT YOU CONSUME

A/N: did I stay up until ten last 4am to spit this shit out? Enjoy whatever horny poetry my sleep deprived brain supplies you. Be free, my horny little doves *yeets y'all into a field*

Also idk why but this gif does things to me

🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑

It was a dull, dead night. There were no evildoers to stop, no killers to send to the sands of the Duat.

Even Badr told you to go home and rest, you deserved it after your diligent work and devotion to your god.

But, of course... "settling in" for the night wasn't something you know how to do anymore.

You've been Moon Knight for so long you weren't even sure what normal people did during quiet nights at home, anymore.

You ate, showered, exercised in the cramped space of your seedy apartment, before sitting on the couch to idly flip through channels, clicking your tongue and reminding yourself to sign up for some streaming services or pirate some stuff at the local library.

You were so bored you settled on an old corny horror film from the 80s, R-Rated and strangely enough, uncensored. But then again, adult channels were still a thing apparently, so you settled in for some cheap blood and guts, stupid busty camp counselors and a masked killer.

But of course, the sex scenes were there, as well. It didn't show anything like porn would, but the actors did a good job of "having" sex beneath the covers, their bodies flushed and sweaty as they went at it like rabbits, panting and saying things to each other in shared breaths.

They were gonna die, that's how these things went. You have sex in a horror movie, you die. The psychos from Scream got that part right about the ole cliché.

But... The way they acted with each other, playing out the part of a couple very much in love and very horny had you... bothered.

You craved that kind of intimacy. Sure, you can go out and find someone to hook up with, have a forgettable one night stand with some idiot at a bar... but it didn't have the physical closeness that was acted out on the cheap flat screen in front of you.

Being a Fist of Khonshu was often lonely life. You couldn't engage in the seeming frivolity of a relationship that was seen every day you walked down the street. No bed warmed by another body, no good morning kisses, no... love?

You shoved those melancholy feelings aside for now, deciding to focus on the throbbing heat blossoming between your legs.

You bit your lip and slid your hand down your front, slipping it beneath the waistband of your pajamas and beneath your underwear, touching the slick wetness that began to coat and soak through the fabric covering you as the movie droned on.

Your fingers slowly started circling your clit as you breathed out a hot puff of air, eyes closing momentarily as you imagined it.

You, with a man who was head over heels with you, tangled up in the sheets.

Sweaty, groping hands pawing at slick skin, tongues dancing as you kissed like you were all the two of you needed to breathe--

Your fingers began to increase their movements, gathering your sweet juices on your fingers to lubricate your clit as you circled with more need.

You dropped your head onto the back of your couch with a pathetic groan, eyes closing as you let the mental image take a better shape, using the sounds from the TV to help mold the scene for you and your faceless, imaginary lover.

You grunted and kicked off your bottoms and underwear, discarding them on the floor as you spread your legs, one foot resting on the cushion to allow better access as your other hand groped at your breast over the fabric of your threadbare tank top.

"Fuck." You cursed aloud to yourself, falling back into your fantasy as your fingers played with your wet, puffed folds.

Your lover would slowly slink down your body, his lips and tongue pressing on your skin until his mouth reached your hip bones.

He would kiss your clit before licking up your slit, his tongue teasing your entrance, tracing it before he wrapped his lips around the bundle of nerves at the top.

You let out a heady moan, your toes curling as you held back the urge to plunge your fingers inside of you; for now settling on focusing your attention on your twitching clit.

You roll your hips in time with your hand, sliding your hand beneath your top to squeeze your breasts and roll your nipple between your fingertips.

Your lover would lick, kiss, nip, and tease you. He would rut his nose against your clit as his tongue--

Your mental fantasy bubble popped when you felt a very large, very warm, and very real hand slide down your torso, leaving a blazing trail beneath your skin in its wake.

"I sometimes forget how often mortals have these urges." The deep, raspy voice that the hand belonged to sighed out, his tone dripping with... disappointment? Boredom?

You snatch your hand away from your core and instinctively try to close your legs, to conceal your shame as the ancient being crowded around you, the dry smell of sand and spices assaulting your nose as his heat threatened to overwhelm you as he leaned over the back of the couch.

"K-Khonshu--!" You sputter, almost gawking as his bare hand slides to replace yours, his large, thick fingers spreading your lips and gathering your wetness on his digits.

"A rather needy thing, aren't you?" His voice murmured, almost a humored huff coming from him as his thumb circled your clit, sending bolts of pleasure jolt up your spine.

You bite your lip to stifle the whimper that wanted to come out; shame blending in an intoxicating cocktail as your very ethereal and otherworldly benefactor began to pick up where you left off.

"You were being so loud a moment ago." He chastised, his fingers moving very quickly over your clit, his mind focused on how the little nub was swollen and twitched beneath his grasp.

"Don't bother concealing it from me, now, you needy little thing. You're like a cat in heat, right now." You could feel his voice rumble through your, your bones trembling and the deep baritone vibrating your clit as your hand gripped weakly at his forearm.

Your stubborn pride told you not to, not to give in, that this was probably one of the most shameful things a god could catch their follower doing, but...

Most gods wouldn't participate, now would they? Surely, they would chastise you, or walk away and leave you alone to tend to yourself.

When you didn't comply, he grunted and pulled his hand away, your dripping cunt lamenting the loss of his warm touch; hips chasing him for more.

The characters in the movie long moved past the intense love-making between the protagonists. One of them screamed as they found the dead body of one of their friends.

"Disobedient little runt. I will not give you what you want so easily, especially not if you defy me."

The threat was cold, and... oh, fuck it.

"I--I'm sorry." You whimpered, your head dropping back once more, this time hitting the stiff bicep of his other arm he used to brace himself on the couch.

"Good girl." He purred, his hand once more resuming his cruel, blissful torture.

You hiccuped and moaned, rolling your hips once more, this time into the touch of another as heat bloomed low in your belly; molten lava creeping through your veins like thick molasses.

Your chest heaved as his other arm curled around you, his hand taking the soft weight of your breast into his palm, kneading the mound of flesh and pulling your nipple in perfect synchronicity with his other.

"Oh, ffuuuh--" You panted, your body caged from behind as the ancient deity whose age was beyond counting helped you rub one out on your dingey, shitty couch in the dead of night.

You felt your womb throb, wanting desperately to have something inside--

"Poor thing." Khonshu tsk'd. "Could you not find someone--something--to satisfy you? Here you are, rutting against my hand like it is all you know how to do. Pathetic."

You moaned louder this time, arching your back at the words he spat at you. You weren't one for this kind of dirty talk... but having it come from him had your head spinning like you had just gotten off of the tilt-a-whirl on Coney Island--but in a sinfully delicious way.

"Perhaps I should have left you alone. You seemed quite consumed by your little fantasy." He mused, his thumb pressing so hard against your clit that it had you seeing stars behind your eyelids.

"What were you imagining, little dove?" He rasped lowly, the dry, smooth side of his beak sweeping against you, feeling almost cool to your blazing cheek as you leaned into it.

"A nobody? Playing house with you? Laying you down in bed and devouring you like a banquet, perhaps?"

Oh, little did he know how close to the truth he actually was.

Or maybe he did know, and was using it to merely drive you over that mind-numbing precipice you wanted so desperately to fling yourself off of?

You could never tell with him, not when he was playing his mind games.

"I... Uh--ah--" You whine.

Khonshu's fingers pull up enough to slap your clit, the sudden feeling making your body jerk against him as the sound of your went cunt was heard even over the volume of your forgotten movie.

"I am reciting rhetoric. I will talk, and you will listen." He growls, his hand sliding down, his palm grinding against your clit as his fingers toy with your fluttering entrance.

Oh, you were so close, so fucking close. If he would just--

"I don't understand how mortals can function when urges like these are so strong." He sighed boredly, as if he wasn't currently fucking you with his hand, teasing your needy hole but not giving what you were truly craving...

"You are destined for more than a pathetic little house with a yard and a garden. You were meant to carry out my will."

That irked you, deep down. Yes, you knew attaining that very thing was highly unlikely for you, but he didn't have to insult you for fantasizing about being normal.

"F-fuck you." You managed to spit out, eyes crossing as they rolled back into your skull, your voice lacking the conviction and venom you wanted it to.

"You seem to be doing just that, my dear." He tipped his head to the side in a jerking motion.

He gave you not a moment to ponder his words as he hooked a thick finger inside of you, curving upwards and pressing hard against that textured spot inside your spongy walls, making you cry out and lift your hips off of the couch

"...In a manner of speaking." He sighed, pumping his finger in and out, paying extra attention to that oh so delicious spot within you, mapping out your very insides with methodical precision, quickly finding the method to get the best reactions out of you as your walls clenched down around him.

"Look at you, so desperate that you are letting me do this to you." Khonshu mocked softly, a chuckle coming from him as his fingers plucked your nipple and his palm ground hard onto your clit.

"Do you like this? Your god giving you such special attention?"

You keened, panting hard as your orgasm began to swell, each pulsing wave battering down the shores of pride and resolve you had struggled to build over the years of serving out the will of this... god.

"Ah... You are close, are you not?" He teased you, "Let's see..."

He managed to slip another finger inside of you, a groan actually rumbling out of him. You never thought you'd heard a sound like that from him.

But then again, you never expected him to finger-fuck you in your own couch before, either.

"You're tight, little bird." He growled, his voice strained as he scissored his fingers in and out of you, shoving you forcefully to the edge of the shores of your oblivion.

"When was the last time you bedded anyone other than your own hand? Months? Years?" He huffed, pumping them in and out of you rapidly, now.

You were so close you could feel the waters of sybaritism that you could taste the very petals of a lotus on the tip of your tongue.

"No wonder you have been so testy as of late."

Almost.

So close.

Just a bit more!

He leaned over, holding you to him almost like a child clutching a beloved toy; only it was far from something so innocent as you ride his hand like your life depended on it.

Your mouth open, your tongue just barely peaking over your bottom lip as you finally dove into the warm waters, silently waiting for the petals of a lotus to fall onto the wet, writhing muscle; drowning in each drop as your orgasm dragged you out to tide, drowning you as your god dabbled with your most intimate parts in such hedonistic fashion.

You were so lost in your post-coital haze that you didn't even register his hand leaving you until his body retracted; leaving you bereft of his warmth.

You turned your head in time, your eyes bleary, blood-shot and faraway as you watched him turn, toying with the sticky wetness coating his skin.

"Don't fall into this trap again, little dove." The god of the moon tells you over his shoulder, before disappearing in a cloud of mist.

But most certainly not before you had taken notice of the prominent bulge beneath his bandages and robes...

#moon knight #khonshu #khonshu x reader #khonshu x you #khonshu moon knight #moon knight khonshu #khonshu smut

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everyonewooeverywhere · 5 months ago

Text

MDNI 18+ BLOG -> ageless blogs and minors WILL BE BLOCKED

pairing ✭ bf!yunho x gn!reader

word count ✭ 0.8k

genre ✭ fluff

rating ✭ pg (but please still mdni. it's a personal preference.)

notes ✭ this is 1000% based on my ungodly work/sleep schedule. i'm a barista who works the morning shift, so like four times a week, i have to wake up at 4am to get to work at 5am. it's a blast 🙂👍

✭ ✭ ✭

The dread you felt when your alarm blared at four o’clock in the morning was always the same, but it was just as terrible every time. Sometimes the feeling was nullified by the presence of your boyfriend, who for some reason still wanted to stay the night despite knowing the terrors of your work schedule.

But even his soft, snoozing face, most of which was buried under your blankets anyway, couldn’t bring you enough comfort. Though you did have to admit he looked adorable underneath your puffy green duvet, and the pink floral pillow under his head was the cherry on top.

He barely stirred when you removed his arm that was draped gently over your waist and slipped out from under the cozy sheets and away from the warmth of Yunho’s body. You kissed him softly on the forehead before sliding off the bed completely.

Turning on the lamp across the room from your bed in an attempt to not wake your sleeping beauty, you sat down on the floor next to it to fix up your hair and apply as much makeup as you had the energy for.

Yunho, clearly unbeknownst to you, watched your every little move from under the covers. He watched your nose crinkle in the mirror when your concealer came out a bit patchy, and he had to stifle a giggle when you nearly stabbed your tired eye with your mascara wand.

He knew you hated these mornings, and, even though he hadn’t told you this, that’s why he was here. He wanted to be at least a presence for you when you left the house hours before the sun even came up. If he couldn’t remove the burden from you, he would at least be there to help you through it.

He watched you peacefully as you went through your little routine, and he did it all without you noticing for a good few minutes. Until you caught his eyes in the mirror. You turned around to face him. Only his messy brown hair and his eyes were visible, everything else buried by your covers.

“Go back to bed,” you spoke softly. He rolled over to the edge of the bed, certainly tempted by your demands. You watched as help slipped off the bed and approached you, still wrapped in one of your fluffy blankets. “Yun, what are you doing?” You asked as he sat down behind you, wrapping you in his arms (and the blanket that encased them).

He smiled when you leaned back into his chest. “What can I help you with, baby?”

“Hm? What do you mean?”

Chuckling and pinching your thigh, “Help. Do you need it?”

You pondered it for a second. It hadn’t ever occurred to you that he could assist you with something as simple as trying to leave for work in the morning.

“Did you eat?” he asked, resting his chin on top of your head. You shook your head. “Ok. Let me grab you something to eat, and I’ll make your coffee, alright?”

A protest bubbled up in your throat instinctively, but you resisted. Because god it would be nice to finally eat something before work. You just nodded, watching as he left your bedroom, keeping the blanket wrapped around his shoulders.

You hadn’t realized until you started dating Yunho a couple of months ago, how much you enjoyed being taken care of. You had spent so much of your life fighting to prove you were independent and self-sufficient. Trying to prove to the people around you that you didn’t need help because you were strong enough to do things on your own.

But something about the way Yunho cared for you without making you feel weak had been really freeing for you. He genuinely just wanted to make sure you were comfortable. And you never felt like a burden around him.

He came back in with your coffee in a travel mug, he added too much cream but the thought was there, and a muffin he’d found in your pantry. “Does this work?” He shook the muffin in his hand.

You smiled and nodded, “That’s perfect. Thank you.”

“Of course, baby,” he handed you the items before sitting down facing you with his back to the wall. He placed a hand on your thigh, “You want me to drive you?”

You shook your head, “Get your sleep. I’ll be okay driving myself.”

“You sure?” You nodded. “Okay. I’ll make us lunch when you get home, and then we can cuddle for the rest of the day, okay?”

“That sounds like a wonderful idea,” you said after applying the last bit of lipgloss. “Thank you, Yun. I really appreciate your help.”

He smiled, grabbing your hand and kissing your knuckles, “It’s no problem at all. I just wanna make sure you’re taken care of.”

The smile on your face made his heart swell in his chest, “I love you.”

“I love you, too, baby.”

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yournightmary · 20 days ago

Note

ellie headcanons about being best friends in college, ellie and reader are hopelessly in love and hopelessly clingy asf over text whenever they’re separated due to like winter/summer break or whatever 🤠

content warning:: literally nothing i don’t think so??

AN:: happy new year! except for all of the dumbasses on this app <33 I wanted to make some fake texts but the app I use is broken :/ Hope you enjoy it

⇢ ˗ˏˋ First of all, she’d be so sad about getting separated from you. Definitely insists on having a few days long sleepover before any kind of break (if you live off-campus)

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Also always invites you to spend the break at her house. Joel wouldn’t mind and she’d get to show you her actual bedroom!! how cool is that? (not that cool, but don’t tell her that)

⇢ ˗ˏˋ If the break is long enough she’ll send you little gifts, especially over christmas break. She wouldn’t even tell you, the package would just arrive at your door and she’d be like ‘Oh, yeah. Forgot I even sent that’… though she didn’t forget. She was on her toes everyday, waiting for you to receive it.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Makes you open it and react to everything on a video call. Literally everything. Most of the stuff would be handmade things or small trinkets she found and they reminded her of you. And a few things she accidentally brought home with her that are actually yours.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ I see her as the type of person that just spams messages. Not only she won’t write a message longer than a few words, she’ll also send thousands of them, not waiting for your reply.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Honestly, she treats her chat with you as a notes app that gives replies.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Kicks herself in the head everyday she’s away from you, regretting not telling you her true feelings before break. Every single time she’d be like ‘I’ll tell them as soon as I see them’ but then she pussies out and the cycle repeats.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ If you have an iphone she’s playing 8-ball pool and other games like that with you.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ If you’re friends with Dina and Jesse she’ll force you all to play things like gartic phone and cards against formality with her every night. (She’s just happy that you’re getting along with her friends)

⇢ ˗ˏˋ She wants to fall asleep on call with you, but it always ends up with her phone dying and getting hotter than the sun itself.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ She isn’t one to take photos of herself, so you’ll get tons of random pictures of the ‘cool’ stuff she sees. It can be anything from a photo of a stray cat she saw on the street to a photo of a burnt piece of bread she tried to toast.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Gets mad when you don’t watch the tik toks or reels she sends you. She will literally ghost you until you do.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Ironically uses emojis.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Chronic gif sender.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Sends you good morning and goodnight texts every day (ignore the fact that the good morning’s get sent at 2PM and goodnight’s at 4AM)

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Doesn’t really like to text when she actually wants to talk. She just doesn’t know how to convert her thoughts and emotions to messages. So she just calls you.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ The first time you went on a break after you two became friends she gave you a whole ass house tour on video call. Maybe even a town tour if she wasn’t lazy.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Loves to eat over video call. Just chat and laugh during meals, like you do when you’re together in person.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Genuinely gets jealous when you go out with your friends from your hometown. She just wishes you two could stay on call 24/7.

i’m rusty

#lesbian #wlw #the last of us #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams #ellie williams headcannons #ellie williams imagine #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams x you #ellie williams fluff

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nia-writes · 2 years ago

Text

How they wake you up in the mornings~

A/N: this is based on them being off duty~~

Warnings: Slight NSFW in Prices, mentions of reader panicking.

Ghosty~

Normally: This man is up at 5am every morning, even off duty. Doesn't matter what time he slept the night before, 1am, 3am, 4am, he's still up. That being said, he won't wake you until later. Wake me up at 5am and I will fight. Unless you asked for him to wake you, he won't. But, if you did, he'd be gentle. Shaking you very lightly, and when your eyes open and focus on him, he's got a soft smile specially for you. He’s so whipped for you.

To be sweet: Simon can be very sweet~ especially once you've broken down his many, hard walls. At first, he would be unsure how to show you he loves you, so he makes you breakfast. I believe he would be a decent cook, and he would try his very best to make your favorite dishes. He would set the tray of food down on the nightstand, with tea of course, and gently start to kiss you awake. He will tickle if you refuse to wake up.

In a emergency: He's already thrown you over his shoulder and out the door before you even woken up- Doesn't matter what the emergency is, you are always his first priority.

To be a pain: Please tell me why I believe this man would just... *flip* the mattress over. Like, he'd place something on the floor so you don't get hurt, but test his patience and well.. you'll end up on the floor. He would make sure you're ok though, he's not that mean.

FOAP~~

Normally: He would always wake you up in a chaotic way. Tickling, dragging you out of bed, wrapping you up in the blanket like a burrito and throwing you over this shoulder, he does it all. He's always very gentle with you, before he attacks you in affection.

To be sweet: Johnny would be the the sweetest. He'd first start off by kissing and cuddling you, then depending on your mood, would order food or cook for you. Mornings like these are his favorite, he's a huge ball of affection and will suffocate you with it. RIP in peace

In an emergency: Oh gosh.. if you have anxiety, good luck. same bestie. He doesn't mean to overreact, but in a situation where your safety is in danger, his brain is empty as he picks you up and runs. He is very apologetic after, and will crush you with his love.

To be a pain: *Scottish music intensifies* For real, if you've still haven't woken up yet and he's having withdrawal symptoms from your smile- he will be the biggest pain. Along with the blaring music, he can, and will, starting singing loudly. He would also open the curtains and hold your hand above your head so you can't block your eyes. Good luck to you, just wake up.

John Price~

Normally: Price is a very busy man. On days when he's in a rush, he'll place a sweet kiss, rubbing your arms affectionately. But if he's home, he'll take his time. Holding you close to him, kissing your face, neck and shoulders.

To be sweet: He's extra needy in the mornings. Wakes you by caressing your body, nipping your ear. Saying soft praises while he thrusts gently into you. Afterwards, he would be super doting. Cooking, running a bath, whatever you need he will get it.

In an emergency: Very calm. It's almost creepy how calm he can be, as he uses his military voice to wake you. You know something has happened at his tone, knowing he rarely uses it with you. He's comforting still, if you're still sleepy, he will pick you up.

To be a pain: *Sighs* you won't need a shower because he's already given you one. If you ignore his warnings to wake up, he'll get a bucket, fill it to the very brim, and dump it on you. Yes, its cold water, yes, he is smiling so smug. Don't even dare to be mad with him, he warned you.

Kyle Gaz Garrick~

Normally: He would be lazy in the mornings, when he's on a mission, he doesn't get the chance to sleep or rest. He always wakes up first, smiling as he cuddles you tight. He kisses you gently until you wake up, whispering in your ear: "Mornin', love." Definitely stays in bed for hours.

To be sweet: Ah hes such a caring boyfriend~ He'd gently kiss you awake, once you've had a little soft make out session, Kyle would grab you like a princess and place you on the couch. He'd make you breakfast while cracking jokes with you. Always compliments you each morning, he finds you heavenly.

In an emergency: Very protective. He would still let you stay asleep as he picks you up and gets you to safety.

To be a pain: Bangs pots and pans together. May or may not eat your favorite food in front of you if you refuse to get out of bed, and when you do leave, he doesn't give you any. (unless you threaten to not kiss him) Or if you're a gamer, he'd tease you by saying: "Love, I'm about to play!" that would get me up so quick-

Alejandro~

Normally: This romantic, smooth man god i want him so bad. He's sweet every morning, bet he would leave the house early to grab you fresh flowers each day. He's just so in love with you. Always has to wake you with kisses, he's holding you so close to his chest. Your bodies are intertwined as he whispers sweet nothings in your ear~

To be sweet: Ugh. He's always sweet, especially in the mornings. But when he's feeling extra affectionate he writes you a love letter. You have a box fulled of them. He has so much love for you that it overflows so he has to write it down. Ale would run a bath for you, lighting candles and adding in your favorite scent. He will join you if you let him. Also needy in the mornings, but now as sweet as Price. who needs legs?

In an emergency: He is so calm when he wakes you, you'd have no idea that something happened. He doesn't want to scare or cause you to panic you so he, gently but quickly, grabs you and leaves. If you do panic, he is quick to calm you, calmly smoothing your back while whispering reassuring words.

To be a pain: I can never see him being a pain. Except for when he hasn't had your affection for a long time and you refuse to wake up. He'd lightly grab your ankle and drag you from the bed. Good luck if you're ticklish, he won't spare you. i can take him-

König~

Normally: At first, he would be hesitant to wake you. Even if you had asked him to, he would still be very anxious. He would also be scared to hurt you, he's a big tall delicious man, in his eyes you are precious. He would start by gently caressing your leg, whispering your name. And when you wake up and smile at him, he swears his heart stops.

To be sweet: He would leave early morning to get your favorite breakfast and snacks. Since he's home, he wants to spend the whole day with you, watching movies and not leaving your side. When he's back, he smiles as he caresses your cheek, his face turning red as he watches you slowly wake up.

In an emergency: Panics. He quickly calms himself and lifts you up with such ease, gently holding you as he runs. He reassures you everything is fine, not wanting to panic you, but he deals with the situation swiftly. There’s not many moments where he can spend with you, and he won’t let anything get in the way.

To be a pain: Never. He's the most sweetest amongst the men here, I can see him never being a pain to you, even if you absolutely refuse to wake up in the mornings.

#modern warfare fluff #ghost x reader #soap x reader #price x reader #gaz x reader #simon ghost riley #alejandro x reader #konig x reader #modern war #modern warfare fanart #modern warfare ghost #modern warfare ii #modern warfare imagine #modern warfare fanfiction #modern warfare headcanons #modern warfare price #modern warfare 2 #cod imagine #call of duty

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glassartpeasants · 10 months ago

Text

How to Love .02

Eustass Kid/Trafalgar Law x F!Reader

Warnings: Angst, self-esteem issues, fluff, semi slow-burn, author writing this at 4am in the morning

A/N: here ya'll go. Sorry if i missed some @ there's just a lot of ya'll

prologue pt.1 pt.2 pt.3

music playlist

~~~

Laying on the couch in Law’s apartment, you couldn’t help but constantly stare at the clock. Watching time go by slowly felt like hell, but there was nothing else you could do. Nothing you had the energy to do. With it being 2:03 am, the whole city was dead, and everyone snuggled in their beds. Dreaming peacefully. Yet here you were, awake and unable to have anything other than nightmares.

Every single night since you caught your boyfriend cheating on you with your best friend, the same nightmare happens. A replay of what you walked into when you went to confront them. You’d wake up from the nightmare, and when you’d go back to sleep, you would be right back into the nightmare. It was almost mentally easier to just stay awake than go to sleep.

But the times when you wanted to sleep, you just couldn’t. You’ve gotten so used to Eustass’s heartbeat as a lullaby to help you sleep that now it's almost impossible to sleep without it. Or how sometimes he’d run his fingers through your hair when he thought you were asleep. Just the small things had such an effect on you that even after knowing what he’d done, it infuriated you.

How dare your heart demand his presence despite it being broken?

You don’t know if Eustass has tried to call or text you. As soon as you entered Law’s car, you blocked him on everything you could think of. It took everything inside you not to leave him unblocked on one thing, just to see what he had to say. Being so in love with him that even seeing the color red reminds you of him. His lipstick and the stains it’d leave behind when he kissed you. His beautiful red hair and how it was soft to the touch haunted your fingertips. The image of him laying his head on your chest, sleeping as you combed through his hair after a long day.

Your vision grew blurry as tears started to slip from your eyes. Pain and heartbreak fill each tear as it burns along your skin. Curling up in a ball the nest you could, you try your best to provide yourself comfort. You had no one’s shoulder to cry on. The two most influential people in your life betrayed you and left you all alone. You didn’t want to bother Law since he was suffering, too, and you didn’t want to overwhelm him. He already has so much on his plate, working nonstop, the initial betrayal of (.....), and no doubt other things he hasn’t expressed or that you’ve observed. He’s already been kind enough to let you stay at his apartment for a bit until you find someplace. You didn’t want to be even more of a burden by asking him to listen to you sob.

The whole situation was a mess. Never in your life have you felt more alone than you do now. You lay on a friend's couch, trying not to sob and wake them up. You couldn’t turn on the TV to watch something because Law was sleeping, and from what (.....) told you before all this happened, he was a light sleeper. Probably, even closing the refrigerator door would wake him up.

A memory from when you and Eustass would get midnight snacks before watching some sort of show. When grabbing a drink of water, you’d only come back and see him pouting like a child when he awoke to see you not in his arms. You used to love times like those. He was always so cuddly during those times.

“Why the long face, babe?” Setting a foot back into your room after grabbing some water, you return to see your lover with his arms crossed as he sits up to look at you.

“You're not in bed.”

“Yeah, 'cause I was getting water. Am I not allowed to be thirsty?” Giggles leave your lips as you make your way over to your side of the bed. Placing the water glass on your nightstand, you snuggled back under the covers. Not even seconds pass before you feel two hands grab your waist and pull you closer to the man beside you. Your body is wholly trapped as Eustass wraps his arms around you. Burying his face on the top of your head, you hear him let out a contempt sigh.

“I love it when you're all cuddly. It makes me feel so safe when you're next to me.” You feel him placing kisses on your head before making you face up so he can kiss your lips. You can still see the pink on his pale, freckled skin even in the dark. Placing your hands on his cheeks, you rub his cheekbones and look into his eyes.

“So glad you never gave up, and I’m so glad I said yes. I’ve never been happier.” As he groans in embarrassment, you begin to plant kisses all over Eustass's face.

“What are you doing?”

“Kissing the places the angels missed. You need to be covered in kisses 'cause I said so.” Eustass hides his face in your neck before kissing it.

“I love you.” While quiet, you can still hear his confession as he whispers against your skin.

“Love you more.” You heard him say no before repeating your words. Fake scoffing, you smile as you play his game.

The sound of your sniffling broke through your flashback as reality came back with a punch. Instead of laying in bed with two strong arms wrapped around you, you were sleeping on a couch with your pillow drenched in tears. The roll of toilet paper you stole in place of tissues was almost gone, as the garbage was filled to the brim. Suddenly, the familiar jingle of Bepo’s collar rang through your ears.

“Meow…” Through the darkness, you can see his beautiful while fur rubbing against the couch. You watch him lift his body so his paws are on the cushions before fully jumping onto the couch. The feeling of him lying by your chest made you sniffle yet smile. Moving your arm, you go to pet the animal lying peacefully beside you.

“Guess you know exactly when someone needs you, huh?” The sound of his purring made a shaky sigh leave your lips. The vibrations against your chest calmed you down slightly. But while the harsh tears subsided, the burning pain in your heart stayed the same.

“Why wasn’t I good enough? I did everything right. Is there something wrong with me?” Racking your brain, you struggle to think about Eustass without having the gnawing urge to sob into your pillow.

“Am I ugly? Did he just get sick of me? I don’t understand.” Swallowing the lump in your throat, you feel your fingers twitch.

“I wanted to marry him Bepo. I imagined the rest of my life with him. I’ve never loved someone as much as I loved him.” As the confession left your lips, the sound of Law’s bedroom door opening made you shut up altogether. Looking at the clock, you see that it’s precisely 4:30am. How time went by so quickly from your sobbing is unknown to you. Quick to rub your eyes, you listen carefully to Law’s footsteps approaching the living room. Despite your heart telling you to stay down and keep quiet, you ignored it and carefully moved your body up to see Law staring at you.

“Jesus Law! I heard you coming, and you still scared the shit outta me!” You hear him let out a small chuckle in the darkness.

“Why are you awake?” Pulling yourself up more, you try to sit up without kicking Bepo off the couch.

When you finally get a better look at Law, your heart skips a beat. There was Law, standing in front of an open window. The moonlight gave him a slight glow. Almost as if he were an angel. You could see a ‘Sora: Warrior of the Sea’ themed shirt hugging his frame along with grey sweatpants. The sound of your heart beating faster made you come back to the present.

“Oh! Well, I guess I’m just so used to sleeping beside someone that sleeping alone is hard. That and some other things.”

“Ah…”

“Also, I didn’t know you liked ‘Sora: Warrior of the Sea’!” Law’s face goes into shock as he looks down and remembers the shirt he wore to bed. A light pink dusted his cheeks, but he was thankful it was just dark enough for you not to see it.

“Oh…yeah.”

“What’s your favorite comic they’ve made? Mines volume 106.”

“You read the comics?”

“Of course! I have the whole collection in that storage garage down the street. It’s in there along with everything else I’ve gathered from my old apartment.”

“I guess my favorite is Volume 200. It’s been a while since I’ve read it, though.”

While you and Law hung out a lot during that semester in college, he wouldn’t have called you a close friend. A friend but not close enough for him to let you stay on his couch. So when he said that you could stay at his apartment the day everything happened, it shocked him when it slipped from his mouth. But now here, a week later, he’s glad he did. While neither of you spoke about the whole situation that had you sleeping on his couch in the first place, knowing he wasn’t totally alone was nice.

Especially when the person liked Sora just as much as he did.

“Do you work today? Is that why you're up so early?”

“Just couldn’t sleep.”

“Ah. Well, do you want to watch a movie? Like a Sora movie? I’m sure we can find one on Netflix or Hulu. We can even make popcorn so we can take our mind off, you know what.” Law stayed silent as he pondered your offer. Even though he’s not really a movie guy, he’s seen every Sora movie at least twice.

“Okay. But I don’t have any popcorn. I don’t like how it gets stuck in my teeth.”

“That’s fine! I think I bought some trail mix if that’s more to your liking. So which movie did you wanna watch? From what I remember, there's Sora: Warrior of the Sea vs. The Dark Depths. Sora-” Law fades out your voice as he feels a spark of joy when he hears you name off all the movies without missing a beat. A smile on your face the entire time you talked about it.

Somehow, even after catching Eustass cheating on you with your best friend, you still had a smile on your face. Yet, he could see the pain behind your eyes if he looked hard enough.

“The third one sounds fine.” Smiling at him, you pat the spot next to you on the couch.

“You need to tell me where you got that shirt. I want one.” Law watches you log into your Hulu account before searching for the movie.

Sitting down, Law relaxes on the cushion next to you. You grab one of the many blankets you have and hand him one. The warmth of the blanket held from being so close to you slightly soothes Law’s aching heart, if only for a bit.

“Alright! Movie on!” Law catches you, placing the remote between you before you turn your back to him.

“Can’t forget about my little marshmallow Bepo!” Law watched you grab Bepo and hold him close before giving him a little kiss.

“Since when did you two become so close?”

“Since he let me bawl into his fur. What? Jealous?” Law rolled his eyes, seeing you smirk.

“Not long ago, you said he needed a diet.”

“I still stand by that. Now, let’s appreciate the beauty of our favorite hero!” The situation Law found himself in was something he could’ve never foreseen. (.....) wasn’t interested much in Sora, so he never watched them with her or asked her to. But now, here you were with a big smile on your face as you watched his favorite movie with him, an obvious excitement coursing through your body as you hyped up the movie to the cat in your arms.

While Law wasn’t a movie guy, he thought a movie every now and then wouldn’t be so bad as long as it was with you.

~~~

“Thanks for coming to Skypeia Cafe! Have a good day!” Handing the freshly made latte to the lady on the other side of the counter, you receive a wave and a smile before she leaves. As soon as the door closes, you let out a heavy breath. The rush has finally gone down, and it feels like you can finally think straight.

“Don’t pass out on us now (Y/N). We still have the after-school rush.” Rubbing your eyes, you lean against the counter before turning your head to see who’s talking to you.

“Oh. It’s you, Killer. Haha, don’t remind me of it. The worst rush of the day.”

While it was awkward, you managed to get past the unease of working with your ex-boyfriend's best friend. It wasn’t fair to be mean to a man who had nothing to do with your ex-boyfriend's infidelity. Plus, he was pretty funny when he wanted to be.

You’ve known him for much longer before dating Eustass. The two of you have been co-workers from the start of college till now. While this was your only job, Killer worked at the cafe for some extra cash, but his real job was working at the mechanic’s shop about half a mile from your old place. He worked there with Eustass when he wasn’t at the cafe.

He didn’t talk much before Eustass properly introduced the two of you, but he got more talkative as time went on. It was nice talking to him despite everything that’s been going on outside of work—a breath of fresh air.

“How you holding up?”

“Best as I can. Thankful I have a place to stay until I can find another place to live that I can afford.”

“Well, that’s good to hear. Have you heard from Eustass?”

“No. I have him blocked on everything. Have for awhile now.”

“That’s good. You should keep it that way.” An itch formed in your head because of the way Killer responded to you. While it could just be normal advice, you felt like there was more to it.

“Hmm? Is he doing something stupid?”

“You're coping much better than he is, let’s just say.” Killer's words made your brows furrow as you became more dedicated to figuring out what he meant.

“What? What is he doing?” You hear him suck air through his teeth from behind his mask, and it has unease filling your gut.

“I’m guessing you’ve blocked him on snap too?”

“What is he doing, Killer?” Killer sighs before grabbing his phone from his pocket. You watch him tap on the screen before letting you see the photos on Eustass’s snap story. Looking down at it, you feel your mouth drop as you stare at it closely.

While you’ve been crying out your soul, that bastard was out partying. It was obvious by the way the picture showed him sucking on a random girl’s face. And another one of him with a girl on his lap. Squinting your eyes, your disturbed to see (.....) being the one sitting on his lap. Only then is when you feel a tear drop onto your hand.

“That bastard, I can’t believe him. It hasn’t even been a full month, and he’s acting like I was some fling. Did I really mean that little to him?” Standing up from the counter, you excuse yourself to the backroom so you can calm down.

“Sorry (Y/N), are you okay?”

“I guess it’s my own fault. I wanted to see the pictures, and I took the risk. It just still hurts—hurts a lot.” You laugh pathetically at your final words, trying to cheer yourself up.

“You know what? Let’s just continue working and pretend this never happened. Please?” Seeing Killer give you a nod, you let out a relieved sigh. Rubbing the tears from your eyes, you get ready to go back and do your job—just on time, too, as a familiar face walks through the door.

“Law! What a surprise! What brings you here? I thought you worked today.” Seeing your roommate’s face immediately brightened up your mood. You’d never seen him at the cafe before while you were working.

“They were Overstaffed, so they sent me home. I thought I’d come say hi.” Walking up to the counter, you see him looking at the board.

“Well, I appreciate your coming to see me. I just finished with the rush, so take your time.”

“Never been here before. Got any suggestions?”

“My favorite personally is (----), but the refresher Citrus Sunrise is a popular one. I’ve also noticed a lot of doctors like the Vanilla Cloud Cold Brew.”

“Cold brew? And what’s with all the sky names?”

“Well, the theme at the cafe is basically the multiple phases of the sky. But the cold brew is coffee that makes you see doubles. It keeps a person awake for much longer.”

“I’ll get that then.” You couldn’t help the laugh that escapes your throat when he orders.

“Should’ve bet money on it. Might have been a dollar richer.” The chuckle that left Law’s lips made a bigger smile appear on your face. You were thankful that there was a little mercy in the world.

“Ah, Law, haven’t seen you since college, it feels like.”

“Probably. I’ve been busy. How’s life going for you?”

“Good. What about you? How’s doctor life?”

“As good as it can be when the person sleeping on your couch snores.” Killer watches you whip your head around with an offended look on your face.

“I do not snore! Never have I in my life!” A content chuckle comes out from behind Killer's mask as he watches you and Law playfully bicker. It hits him that his place must be where you're staying. He supposes it makes sense. If what Eustass told him was true, then you both would be struggling with your partner's affair.

Before Law came through the cafe doors, he worried about how you were taking the breakout behind closed doors. But watching you and Law interact with one another let him know that you’ll be doing just fine, which might leave a bad taste in someone else's mouth.

~~~

“She’s still staying with Law?! That fucking-AH!” Killer watched as Eustass kicked a lone tire on the ground. It bounced away from them before hitting another tire and stopping. He ran his fingers through his red hair before hitting the wall with the side of his fist. The concrete bricks that made up the mechanic shop's wall stayed put even with how much force Eustass put into the hit.

“Eustass, you have to understand how you sound right now-”

“I know how I sound! Alright?!... I know how I sound.” His voice trails off as he stares at the ground. The burning in his heart feels wrong, as he knows he has no one to blame but himself.

He flew too close to the sun and let his ego get the best of him. Everything he could ever want was in his hands, and yet he still wasn’t satisfied, so he threw it all on the line simply for a circumstantial thrill. And the consequences came crashing all around him like an earthquake.

When you busted open that door, Eustass knew that no amount of bargaining would have you staying to talk to him that day. The heartbroken look on your face continues to haunt him every night. Not a day goes by where he didn’t feel disgust for himself after being the reason tears ran down your face.

If he could take it back just to have you in his arms again, he’d crawl out from hell itself.

“She’s also seen those party pictures from last Saturday.”

“What?! How’d she see them?!”

“A co-worker showed her. Apparently, she was at the party.” Eustass puts his face in his hands.

“Can’t even drink away my problems without having new ones show up.” Rubbing his face, Eustass lets out a sigh.

“I had it all. Had the girl, the job, all the works, and I managed to fuck it up. Now, no matter what I do, I’ll never get to wake up next to her.”

“If you even want her to look at you in a way that’s not disgust, I suggest you block (.....) if you haven’t already.” Killer watches Eustass sit down on some stacked tires before putting his head in his hands.

“I did that the day (Y/N) found out. Yet somehow, she keeps coming back into my life no matter where I go!”

“There’s always a retraining order?”

“It’s not that bad. It's just extremely aggravating.” The two men remained silent before Killer spoke.

“The best advice I can offer you is get your shit together before even making an attempt on contacting or acting civil with (Y/N).”

“Alright, I’ll keep that in mind.”

~~~

When you got home from work, you took a nap and a shower, then decided to go for a walk around Law’s neighborhood. You wanted to get some fresh air and check out some new places. There was a thrift store nearby that you really wanted to check out, so you grabbed your wallet/purse and put on your shoes. Yet before you walked out the door, you called out to Law.

“Hey, Law?” A few sounds of movement come from his bedroom direction before he pops out from behind the wall.

“Something wrong?”

“Oh, nothing’s wrong! I just wondered if you wanted to go thrift shopping with me. We could just hang out, ya know?”

Hearing your offer, Law originally wanted to say no. He wasn’t much of a people person, and going out willingly, which didn’t involve working or getting groceries, was usually a no-go for him. But he supposed it’d be fine. Just for today, to go out.

“Okay.” As soon as the words left his lips, he watched your smile grow and couldn’t help but smile slightly himself. Walking over to the door, he grabs his shoes and coat.

“Meow!” The sound of Bepo’s meow makes the two of you turn your heads.

“Bepo!” Law watched as you picked up his cat and started kissing him. Bepo’s loud purring had you holding him even closer.

“I’m sorry, baby, but I can’t take you with us. Your dad and I are going out, and we can’t take you with us. I promise to get you something, though!” Giving Bepo one final kiss to his head, you carefully put him down before making movements to leave.

“Say goodbye, Law! Don’t make him sad!” Your teasing made him roll his eyes before he scratched Bepo’s ears and said goodbye as well.

~~~

“Hmm. What do you think about this? I think it’s kinda cute!”

“Do you want my honest opinion?”

“Yes, I do! I think it’d look cute at the apartment!”

“It’s ridiculous. We have a perfectly good honey container at home, which is the bottle it came in.”

“But it’s so cute! I’m trying to liven up the place! Give it a woman’s touch.”

“Our place is fine.” Law’s eyes widen when he realizes what he said. Looking over to see if you caught his slip-up, he is grateful when he sees you looking at another knickknack on the shelf. His heart feels like it is going to jump from his chest. Despite all the chatter the thrift store holds, all he can hear is his own heart.

“Oh my gosh, Law, look! It’s a Sora: Warrior of the Sea mug! We have to get it!” Grabbing the mug, you hold it by its handle and pretend to drink out of it.

“Okay, I found my perfect find. Let’s go.” Just as you turn around, your face to face with a woman with a slight scowl on her face.

“Jeez! You scared me! Can I help you, ma’am?”

“Yes, actually. You see, my son loves Sora. So I was gonna buy him that mug for his tenth birthday. I just needed cash to buy it.”

“But this place takes cards?-”

“So I need you to hand it over so I can give my son his birthday present.” The lady reaches out to grab the mug from your hand, but you pull it away before she can.

“Woah, hey! Sorry, lady, but it’s mine now. It was on the shelf, so that means it’s up for grabs. You could’ve asked them to hold it. Finders keepers.” Was it mean? Perhaps, but you already had your mind set on this mug, and you couldn’t go home without it.

“You're really gonna ruin a child’s birthday over some stupid cup?!”

“First of all, it’s a mug. Second, yes, I am. It’s for someone I care about. And if it’s so stupid, go buy it on Amazon or buy him that Spider-Man cup behind us.” Too busy trying to leave the store and pay, you encase your hand in Law’s and start to drag him away from the lady.

“You really think there’s a child? I don’t think so. I think she wants it for herself.” You start ranting and ignore how your hand is still holding Law’s. Yet Law was overheating with how fast his heart was beating. The warmth of of your hand against his cold one felt unfamiliar, but it was more than welcomed.

“2.99, please.” The sound of the cash register opening brought Law out of his trance. Once he was back to reality, he also noticed that your hand was no longer in his. Even though it was only in there for a second, the warmth was addicting. While his own hands were freezing, the calming feeling of your fingers intertwined with his own made a light pink spread across his face.

“Thanks, and have a good day.”

“You too! Okay, we can go now.” Motioning Law to fall you, you both head out of the thrift shop. The sun shone down on the two of you as you admired the Sora cup.

“Are you happy with your purchase?” Lay playfully comments when he sees you smile.

“Very, Now here!” Turning your body, you face Law and hold out the mug to him. Your whole face felt like it was on fire, but you pushed through it.

“What?”

“Here! I bought it for you…” With wide eyes, Law looks at you before looking down at the mug. Carefully, he grabs it from your hands and examines it. His heart pounded against his ribs and felt as if it was going to break free.

“For me?”

“Yeah. You’ve been so kind to me during this rough patch that I need to repay you. I know you're probably tired of me thanking you so much, but you really are my knight in shining armor at this time. Expect more gifts in the future, haha.” Putting your hands to your sides, you begin to fiddle with the bottom of your shirt. You watch Law look at the mug in shock before going back to his usual stoic demeanor.

“Thank you. And it’s fine.” There was a seconds silence before you spoke up.

“Well, where should we go next?”

“Going home sounds nice.” Law couldn’t help but roll his eyes at your pout.

“I promised Bepo I’d get him something! I can’t go home empty-handed!”

“I thought you said he needed a diet.”

“He does! I was gonna give him a little toy or perhaps a cat bed!”

“Cats never sleep in cat beds. They rather sleep on top of the fridge than in a bed.”

“Fine! Maybe some clothes.”

“You're not dressing up my cat.”

“I don’t know. Better keep an eye out, Law.” You nudge Law with a smile on your face. Hanging out with him made all the pain disappear, as his presence was calming and gave you hope that you’d be able to get through it all—perhaps even together.

~~~

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#one piece x reader #eustass kid x reader #trafalgar law x reader #law x reader #trafalgar d law x reader

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