#man people on here are way too nice 💖💖 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

joelscruff · 2 years ago

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one day i'll feel alright (joel miller x reader) 18+

here it is... the Big One. i've been hyping up this part of my soft!dom joel series for a while now (probably too much, i'm sorry) but i'm so excited to finally share it with you guys. i just wanna note that this is not the end of soft!dom joel by any means. i wanna keep writing for these two as long as i can, just probably nothing else as long as this lmao 💖 enjoy! | masterlist summary: joel must finally face his demons when you don't return from patrol. rating: 18+ explicit warnings: fem!reader, age difference (reader is mid 20s, joel mid 50s), dom/sub dynamics (joel is dominant but not degrading or aggressive), hurt/comfort, angst, praise kink, dirty talk, bathing together, oral (both f and m receiving), unprotected p in v sex, size kink, orgasm denial, comeplay, come eating, yall this one is SO filthy be warned word count: 15k | ao3 spoilers: this contains vague spoilers for part two of the video game (and most likely for season two of the show). nothing too major (joel does NOT go golfing in this fic).

The patrol schedule is posted on Monday morning outside the community center and you're one of the first people to look at it, eyes frantically scanning for your name as your heart pounds in your chest. There's no way, you think to yourself, still searching, He wouldn't actually talk to Tommy about a schedule change.

You finally find your name and feel those annoyingly familiar angry tears begin to burn in your eyes.

"Fuck you," you mutter under your breath, shaking your head, "Fuck you, Joel."

You're no longer his patrol partner.

You briefly consider going to his house, pounding on his door until he answers and screaming in his face about how ridiculous and immature he's being, but you realize that doing so would make you just as immature. Instead, you just decide to pretend it never happened, like you never patrolled with him to begin with.

"Steve is nice," one of your friends says to you later, "I like him, you'll get along."

Who the fuck is Steve? you want to ask, but then remember that it's his name that has replaced Joel's on the schedule. To make matters even worse, you're no longer going up to the ski lodge and are instead going out past the perimeter, a patrol location known to encounter raiders pretty often. Fantastic.

The next time you see him is that night in the dining hall, sitting in his usual corner by himself and gulping down bites of chili like he hasn't eaten in weeks. It used to be endearing, those big bites, now it just pisses you off.

He doesn't look at you. Over the past few weeks you'd grown accustomed to him peering over at you every so often, giving you small smiles to acknowledge that he saw you and remembered what the two of you shared every weekend. Neither of you would talk about it; it was private and belonged on the mountain, which you were fine with. At least he'd give you those looks, those smiles, and remind you that you were his pretty girl, his little secret.

Now his lack of acknowledgement, his purposeful ignorance of your presence, it makes you feel sick. You end up having to excuse yourself before you do something you'll regret. Like punch someone.

Steve is nice, but that's your first immediate problem with him. He's too nice. He talks too much, constantly trying to fill a silence that doesn't need it, asks you way too many questions and doesn't seem even vaguely put-out when you give him the most basic possible answers. He's young, probably in his mid-thirties, and you find yourself desperately missing the long and comfortable silences you shared with Joel, his gruff sighs, his breathy chuckles, his music, his books, his age. You realize pretty quickly that you view Steve as a boy and not a man, despite him being older than you. Internally, you tell yourself you need to get a grip.

Your new patrol location isn't as bad as you'd first thought; you're stationed in an abandoned cabin in a wooded area past the perimeter. It's cozy and inviting, kind of reminds you of the ski lodge, which quickly makes you feel depressed. You both take turns circling the area - although at first Steve had suggested you do it together; you'd vetoed that immediately. Your main responsibilities are checking traps and watching out for infected. It's actually a bit more engaging than your previous patrol which you feel slightly grateful for; it's nice to feel busy. And to shut your thoughts up.

At the end of your first patrol with Steve you both walk back to Jackson together in the early morning, him still continuing to chat and tell you things about himself regardless of whether you respond. You're almost back to town when you notice that you're suddenly on the same path you and Joel used to take, the one that leads up to the mountain. You stop in your tracks.

"What time is it?" you ask, interrupting whatever Steve had been prattling on about.

He looks down at his watch, "Almost six," he smiles at you, "We'll be back just in time for breakfast."

Almost six; around the time you and Joel would usually be reaching the bottom of the mountain. Your eyes scan the tree line, brow furrowing as you search for any sign of him making his way down the path. Steve stands there awkwardly, waiting for you to say something.

"Should we...?" he gestures toward the path you're both on, toward town, and you bite your lip in thought.

"Just gimme a sec," you say quickly, still searching, "I wanna say hi to my old patrol partner."

"Aw, that's sweet," he says with a smile, and it's so earnest and endearing that you can't necessarily be annoyed, "My old patrol partner, we-" he starts chatting again, buying you some more time.

Not more than a moment later, two figures suddenly emerge from the trees: Joel and Tommy. You feel your heart start to pound as they walk down the path, neither seeing you and Steve standing there until they're almost directly in front of you. They're caught up in some kind of deep conversation, you might even call it an argument judging by Tommy's stiffness and Joel's flared nostrils.

Tommy sees you first, giving you a wave and a smile, then nudging Joel. Joel follows Tommy's eyeline and suddenly freezes in his tracks, standing still on the path while Tommy continues to approach you.

"Good patrol?" he asks, nodding to Steve, "No trouble?"

"No, sir," Steve says, eager and polite, kind of like a golden retriever puppy, "No problems whatsoever."

"Glad to hear it," he looks at you again, "Hey, mind if we meet later for a chat?"

You wonder if he wants to chat about whatever he'd just been arguing about with Joel. Intrigued, you nod, "Sure."

Joel reaches you then, pace slow and hesitant. You turn to look at him, trying not to let the anger you feel toward him completely overtake you; the last thing you need right now is to either start crying or yelling.

"Hey," you say with a stiff nod.

"Hi!" Steve says beside you, and you try not to wince as he puts his hand out, waiting for Joel to take it, "I'm Steve."

Joel simply stares at him, then his hand, and then looks at you, eyes dark and cold. His gaze slips between the two of you back and forth for a few seconds, expression unreadable, then continues down the path without speaking.

"Meet me by the stream 'round noon, alright?" Tommy says, backing away to follow Joel, "I'll bring you lunch."

You watch as he catches up to Joel, says something to him, but Joel doesn't respond and just keeps on walking ahead, pace quicker and quicker. You're still just standing there watching their forms get smaller when Steve finally speaks again:

"He's...uh...friendly."

You laugh without humor, hitching your pack up your shoulder and starting to walk, "Oh, you have no idea."

You meet Tommy around noon by the stream like he'd asked, crossing the bridge and giving him a small wave of acknowledgement as you approach. He's got a paper bag with him; lunch, just like he'd promised.

"Tuna fish," he says with a kind smile, chuckling at the face you make as he hands the bag to you, "It was either that or egg salad."

"The dining hall must stink today," you reply with a scrunch of your nose, but you take the bag gratefully, "Thanks, Tommy."

"No problem," he gestures toward the bench he's sitting on, inviting you to join him, "Let's talk."

He talks and you mainly listen, nodding along every so often and chewing your tuna sandwich thoughtfully. He starts by thanking you for "everything" you did for him and Maria, which you quickly dodge because all you'd done is take a patrol off his hands - a patrol that's gone back to being his again, but he doesn't mention that part. He talks about how big a help you've been, how he's glad you're here, all the basic stuff he's already told you before. You're almost done your sandwich when you realize he's talking complete bullshit.

"Tommy," you say, balling the paper bag up and shoving it into your pocket, "If you wanna talk about Joel, just do it."

He freezes, recognition dawning in his eyes as he sighs and presses his fingers to the bridge of his nose. It's a habit he and Joel share, and you can't help but feel an ache in your heart when the image of Joel doing the same thing crosses your mind.

"I'm sorry about the switch," he finally says with a deep sigh, "Joel told me to do it. Not asked, told. He was pretty obstinate, told me it wasn't workin' between you two anymore and he wasn't gonna stay on ski lodge if you were there."

The words sting, even coming from Tommy. You swallow the last of your sandwich and cast your eyes down to the stream, watching the water ebb and flow as Tommy continues to speak.

"I just want you know that if I had it my way, you'd still be up there with him," he says it earnestly, and you understand now why he'd led with all the compliments and reassurances; he'd thought you didn't know why you'd been switched.

"I know," you say quietly, "Tommy, I know it was Joel's idea. He told me last patrol that he was gonna ask you to take me off ski lodge."

"But why?" he sounds genuinely confused, "It was working so well, Maria and I thought you had a great thing goin'."

You nod slowly, refusing to look at him, "We did. But I guess he never told you any details?"

You sense him shake his head beside you, "No, I spent almost the whole patrol trying to get him to talk about it and he wouldn't. Just kept saying it wouldn't work anymore and that he wasn't gonna say anythin' else about it. Stubborn, my brother. Always has been."

I know, you want to say, believe me, I know.

"So I figured I'd ask you."

You finally look over at him then, "There's not much to say, Tommy."

"But there's somethin'," he leans forward, looking concerned, "I know my brother, I know when he's hidin' somethin'. There's somethin' he's not telling me and I want you to tell me 'cause otherwise I'm just gonna assume the worst."

"Which is...?"

He sighs, leaning back against the bench again, "I don't even know."

You touch the back of your neck awkwardly, trying to decide how to word it. There's absolutely no way you're giving him all the details - or any details for that matter - but you do owe him some kind of explanation considering he's now losing his free time again over this.

"Me and Joel, we..." you bite your lip, "We had...." you sigh and shake your head, "Okay, what I'm about to say does not leave this bench, Tommy. You can tell Maria but that's it."

"Oh shit," he says, eyes going wide, "Were y'all fuckin' up there?"

You groan, leaning forward as your arms fall to your knees and you cover your face with your hands. He's not necessarily correct, but somehow the reality is much more embarrassing to admit. You don't say anything in response, confirming his suspicions.

"Jesus Christ," he says, voice full of genuine surprise, "I was...holy shit, I was not expectin' that."

"Anyway," you say into your hands, skin turning bright red beneath your fingertips, "It's over now and he doesn't want me up there with him anymore, that's all you need to know, okay?"

"Yeah," Tommy says immediately, "Yeah, sure, of course. I wouldn't dream of -" he makes a weird noise, "God, I did not think that's what was goin' on."

"Sorry," you wince, pulling your hands away and sitting up again to look at him. He looks genuinely uncomfortable, arms crossed as he shifts next to you on the bench, cogs turning in his mind. He's probably thinking about what exactly the two of you have been doing up there when you're supposed to be patrolling and the very thought makes both of you cringe simultaneously.

"No, don't apologize, I asked," he shakes his head again, eyes still wide, "I, uh, I won't tell anybody, no worries."

"You can tell Maria," you reiterate, "I don't want you keeping anything from your wife."

"I'll tell her but I doubt she'll believe me," he's staring ahead, still in shock, "You? With Joel? I'm sorry but..." he laughs loudly, still shaking his head, "I didn't think my brother had it in him."

You make a face and stand up, "Okay, that's my cue to leave."

"No, sorry, I'll leave," he stands up as well and digs his hands down into his pockets awkwardly, "I'll uh... be at the bar, if you need me."

He goes to cross the bridge but stops halfway, turning slowly and giving you one last kind and gentle look, apologetic.

"Hey, I'm sorry it didn't work out," he says, and you can tell he means it, "You're real sweet, my brother's just an ass."

"I know," you say with a small nod, "You did warn me."

"I did," he says it sadly, looking down at the stream, "He has his reasons, though. Maybe he'll tell you one day."

"Maybe."

He turns back around and walks away, leaving you standing there alone by the stream with an ache in your heart that won't go away.

He was pretty obstinate, Tommy's words echo in your head, told me it wasn't workin' between you two anymore and he wasn't gonna stay on ski lodge if you were there.

You stare at the steady flowing water and try not to think about how much it hurts to know he really said that to Tommy. Is that how little you mean to him? How little what the two of you shared meant? You've known the whole time that it wasn't a "real" relationship, you haven't even kissed him for god's sake, but it was a relationship nonetheless. A little weird, a little timid, but soft and new and safe and warm. And all along you'd just been a distraction for him.

In the deepest parts of yourself you've known this all along, remembered how many times in the past few weeks he said that it would be the last time, that he couldn't do it anymore, and you'd just continued to persist and persist until he'd finally had enough. You hadn't really thought he'd end it, didn't think he really meant it.

The tears start flowing before you can stop them. You continue to just stand there dejectedly, staring at the water and trying to figure out what exactly it is about you that made him simply stop caring - if he even cared to begin with.

A rustle of branches makes you jump and your head snaps up, looking toward the sound. A short distance away you catch a bush moving in an unnatural sort of way, shaking back and forth like someone had been watching from behind it. Quickly, you dash forward and pull the leaves apart to find the culprit.

No one's there.

Hurriedly you wipe your face and walk across the bridge, shoving your hands back in your pockets and hoping someone hasn't just witnessed your moment of weakness. And if they have, they'd better keep it to themselves.

Another week passes without any acknowledgement from Joel. You decide to stop eating in the dining hall because it hurts too much, instead grabbing your meals to-go and eating them either in your house or by the stream. On one occasion you'd arrived at the stream at the same time Ellie had decided to sit and practice guitar, freezing in place when you saw her. You hadn't spoken since that one very brief conversation months ago when she'd asked about your scars. You hadn't known then what you know now.

"Hey," she'd said with a nod, then went back to strumming aimlessly on her guitar, "You can eat your lunch here, I don't mind."

You'd shaken your head and taken a step back, "No, that's okay, sorry," then you'd turned and practically run away from her, not entirely sure why.

She reminds you of Joel, you dummy, you'd thought to yourself on the walk back home, biting down on your lip and trying to keep the tears at bay this time. Everything reminds you of Joel.

On Saturday morning you hear a knock at your door. You're still in bed, confused and bleary eyed as you sit up and wait to hear it again, just to be sure you're not still dreaming. When you hear a second series of knocks you practically tumble out of the bed and run downstairs, blanket trailing behind you as you dart to the front door.

It's Joel, it has to be Joel, he's here to apologize, he's gonna kiss you and tell you he's sorry.

You yank open the door and feel your face fall immediately when you see none other than Steve standing there, hands on his hips. He grins at you but it falters slightly when he looks down and sees that you're still in your pajamas.

"Morning, sleepy head," he greets you, reaching forward to playfully bump your arm with his fist, "Looks like someone missed their alarm."

You stare at him, vision still slightly blurred from sleep. You reach up to rub your eyes so you can see him clearer, make sure he's actually standing there in front of you. Yup, he is.

You force yourself to smile back - something which takes a lot of effort but he seems to find genuine - and reply, "My bad, I guess I did."

"No worries," he says with another wide grin, "We got some time before we need to leave, no rush!"

You force one last smile and shut the door in his face, trying not to slam it - even though you really want to. You look at the clock on the wall over your fireplace and make a face: 4:30. He woke you up at 4:30, half an hour before your alarm.

"Steve, I swear to god," you grumble to yourself, heading for the bathroom as you drop your blanket to the floor and clamor back up the stairs; there's no point in going back to sleep, you're wide awake now and pissed.

You know who'd never do this? Joel.

After a shower and a quick bowl of cereal you head back out to meet Steve, prepared to put on your best everything is great impression again. You stop dead in your tracks as soon as you open your door.

"Listen, sir, I think you should leave," Steve is saying, voice cracking slightly as he talks to the figure in front of him.

It's still dark outside; the sun hasn't come up yet and everything is muted and hard to make out. It takes you a few seconds to figure out who Steve is talking to, the figure shrouded in shadow and half hidden behind Steve's tall form. You feel your face go pale when you hear him reply.

"You didn't answer my question," the growl is unmistakably Joel's and you grip the edge of the door in your hands tightly, not opening it all the way as you eavesdrop. What the fuck is he doing here? What question?

"I don't think I owe you a reply," Steve replies, attempting to stand his ground but sounding pretty pathetic, voice shaky and high, "I think you should move along, sir."

"What the fuck are you doing at this girl's house at four in the fucking morning?" Joel practically spits, taking a step toward Steve. In response, Steve takes a step backward. He's not a confrontational guy, you know that from the one patrol you've spent with him, "Answer me."

"I'm her patrol partner," Steve finally says, putting his hands up in defeat, "I'm waiting for her to get ready."

"Patrols don't start 'til five thirty."

"It's true, I swear, you literally met me last week!"

That seems to stump Joel, and he must be trying to figure out what to say next when you shove the door open and walk out onto your porch.

"Joel, what the fuck are you doing?" you ask, voice steady and firm. He looks over at you in surprise, backing away from Steve. Is it just your imagination or did his expression soften when he saw you? But that doesn't matter now.

You walk down the steps of your patio and stand in front of Steve, shoving him behind you lightly, "Steve, I'll meet you at the gate," you say firmly.

"But-"

"Steve. Please leave. I'll meet you in a few minutes."

"...Okay," you can't see him but you hear him walk away from you, trudging down the gravel path in the opposite direction. Once his footsteps are faint enough, you finally address Joel again.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" you repeat, "Why are you berating Steve in front of my house?"

"Who the fuck is Steve?" Joel asks; the question of the hour.

"My patrol partner," you reply, shaking your head, "I mean, you should probably know that seeing as you're the one who switched with him."

"I don't know who I switched with, Tommy did that," he retorts, looking away from you, down at his boots, "Wasn't my decision."

"Right, 'cause nothing's ever your fault, right?"

He looks back up, a glint of emotion in his eyes that you've seen only once before, "You have no fucking idea," he says, voice heavy and gruff, "Don't even-"

"Don't even what, Joel? You're the one standing in front of my house at the ass crack of dawn yelling at some guy you've never even talked to before. Steve's actually great, by the way," you're laying it on thick but you don't care; you want him to think you've moved on, "Patrolling with him is much better than patrolling with you."

He raises an eyebrow, "Is that so?"

"Yeah," you lie, cheeks going red with anger, "He actually talks to me."

"And fucks you, I gather?" he says it with a hard edge that makes your blood run cold.

You stand there just staring at him, mouth agape as he lets what he just said wash over you. You inhale and exhale deeply, feeling those godforsaken tears sting in your eyes as you take a step away from him, genuinely fearful that you might end up slapping him or punching him or doing something you shouldn't.

"Fuck you," your voice is small and broken and the tears are already flowing, "Fuck you, Joel."

His expression changes then, and you know an apology is coming. You put your hand up before he can speak, shaking your head.

"Don't," you say, firm and solid, not bothering to wipe your tears as they flick off your face into the grass below, "We're done." You turn on your heel and stomp away from him, feeling a sob wrack through you as you cross your arms and speed walk to the main gate where you know Steve is waiting.

Joel doesn't follow you.

Steve knows better than to question you about what happened. As soon as you'd approached him at the gate he'd seen your tears and the shake of your head when he'd opened his mouth to say something. Ten minutes later you were on your way out to the cabin again without either of you saying a word.

Now you're back on patrol with an aching heart and a huge lump in your throat that won't go away no matter what you do, trailing the perimeter back and forth with your head hung and eyes downcast. Joel's words repeat over and over in your head like a curse, damning you into a feeling of guilt that you don't think you really deserve. You haven't done shit with Steve, the assumption that you'd just immediately moved on from your sexual relationship with Joel to another man makes your blood boil. Who the fuck does he think you are?

Do you really even know him? This whole time he's remained so secretive and aloof, mysterious and cryptic. You hadn't pushed him to reveal more about himself, hoping eventually he'd open up to you, but he never did. Just kept you on a short leash with good girl and pretty girl and the way he'd look at you in those moments where you bared yourself to him.

But you're not much better, you remind yourself with a grimace, and you know it's true. You never told him much about yourself or your past. Yes, you would've, but you didn't. And you're the one who kept asking to get off with him, kept expecting more and being disappointed when he wouldn't give it to you even though he was clear about his boundaries.

"But that doesn't give him the right," you mutter to yourself, still walking through the muddy grass, deep in thought, "It doesn't make what he said okay."

No, it doesn't. But maybe he's hurting more than he lets on. Maybe this isn't as cut and dry for him as you'd thought. Why the fuck had he been snooping around your house so early this morning? He only lives a few houses down from you; had he seen Steve and felt he had to protect you? Does he actually care about you, as much as he tries to put on a front that it's only been sexual between you two and nothing more? Is that why he's been so distant?

You suddenly realize that you've gone much further than the perimeter, continuing to walk ahead instead of turning back and circling the area. You freeze, eyes scanning around as you try to discern exactly how far you've gone.

"Fuck," you mutter, turning around and starting to walk directly back the way you came, hoping it'll lead you right back to where you're meant to be.

It doesn't.

You'd been so lost in thought that somehow you've managed to lose the original path, the tall grass hiding any sign of your own footsteps. This is only your second time out here so nothing looks familiar; it's all grass and mud and trees and rocks. How long have you even been walking? Joel had once admonished you for not having a watch, said one day it was gonna bite you in the ass; you hate that he was right.

"Steve?" you call out, unsure if he'll be able to hear you since you don't know how far you've trailed from the cabin, "You there?"

No reply. You stop again and do another quick glance around, looking for anything that seems familiar to you. But no, this isn't the ski lodge perimeter where you'd grown accustomed to each tree, each stump, each rock. Nothing here is even vaguely telling you exactly where to turn.

You feel the dull throb of panic beneath the surface of your emotions but you quickly shove it down; you're good in situations like this, you've certainly been through enough shit to not get frightened over being a little lost. You've been lost before, you'll figure it out.

All the same, you keep track of the sun's location in the sky as you continue your directionless trek, noting that it's directly above you; noon. You have plenty of time before dark to find your way back, no sweat.

It must be around three o'clock when you finally make it back. Relief floods your entire body as you walk into the clearing and see the small wooden cabin sitting there still and picturesque, exactly how you'd left it. You bend down, closing your eyes and pressing your hands to your knees to take a few deep breaths and ground yourself. The panic had started to really settle in about an hour ago, but luckily it hadn't gotten to a point where you'd been too afraid to keep going.

"Steve," you say loudly, still breathing deeply, "I'm back."

No reply. You open your eyes again, heart still thumping in your chest as you eye the cabin for any sign of him. You walk over hesitantly, feeling a knot forming in your stomach when you open the front door and are greeted to a dark and empty cabin.

"Steve?" you say again, voice shaky.

No reply.

Fuck. He must have gone looking for you when you didn't come back to switch. Either that or he went back to Jackson, but you can't see a guy like Steve doing that. The way he'd stood up to Joel this morning, as embarrassing as it was, it had been enough to show you exactly what kind of man Steve is. He'd definitely gone to look for you. It's only fair that you do the same for him.

You grab a roll of twine from the cabin and start your search, making sure to mark the trees every now and then so you can find your way back again. You'd been advised in your patrol orientation not to do this because of raiders, but you doubt Tommy or Maria will give you shit for making sure you and Steve actually make it back to Jackson alive.

The thought makes the panic start to rise again, but you keep going.

You keep hoping you'll find some sign of Steve, but it's been about two hours and nothing has caught your eye. The twine is starting to run out and you fear you'll have to go back to Jackson without him, which will undoubtedly start a panic and a huge search party, all because you got a little distracted. This shit with Joel doesn't even matter anymore - you can't believe you let it affect you how it did. And now Steve is paying the price.

Another hour passes and you're preparing to turn back when you see it out of the corner of your eye. You freeze, hair standing up at the back of your neck when you look down to see shiny droplets of blood painting the grass.

You lean down instinctively, eyes wide, reaching forward to touch one of the many large red drops. It shivers beneath your finger, not yet fully dry. It's fresh.

Without hesitation you stand back up and pull your pistol out of its holster, cocking it and holding it steadily in front of you as you start to walk again. You have absolutely no idea what you're expecting to pop out at you; raiders? Infected? Or maybe Steve just cut himself somehow and you've taken your gun out for nothing.

A loud scream suddenly pierces the silence of the forest.

"STEVE!" you scream back, face going pale as you begin to sprint through the woods, gun still in front of you, "STAY WHERE YOU ARE, I'M COMING."

It's the last thing you say before you suddenly feel something tight grip your ankle and send you flying into the air, gun falling out of your hand. You find yourself completely upside down, entangled in a net.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. You sway back and forth in the thick netting, trying to find your gun somewhere below you, but you quickly become much too dizzy to discern absolutely anything. You hear Steve's scream again, further away this time, and your blood runs cold. The panic takes over and you can't speak.

Please, you think to yourself, shutting your eyes tight and trying to keep the dizziness at bay, please don't let me die before I see him again.

It's not Steve you're thinking about.

It doesn't take long for the blood to rush to your head, for your body to go completely numb as you hang there upside down, completely alone. You pass out within minutes.

It's pitch black when you wake up.

You're no longer hanging from a tree in the forest, no longer tangled up in a net. Instead, you're lying on what feels like a concrete floor. Your head is pounding, lips dry and parched. Your whole body feels heavy and achy, so much so that you can barely move.

"She's awake," you hear a voice say somewhere close by; it's female and sounds familiar, but not enough for you to place it.

You hear the squeaky hinges of a door opening, then a few hushed whispers that you can't make out. The door shuts again and you swear you hear the sound of a deadbolt being locked in place.

"Where am I?" you finally whisper, voice rough and broken, "Let me go."

"You're in Jackson," the female voice replies, kind and gentle, "You're safe now."

"Who are you?" you can't bring yourself to open your eyes, unsure if this person is really telling you the truth.

"It's Ellie," the voice replies, and recognition dawns on you immediately, "Remember me?"

You nod slowly, wincing at the pain as you continue to lie there on the floor, "Y-yes."

"When you didn't come back this morning they sent out a search party. Tommy found you hanging in a tree, brought you back right away."

This morning? So you must have been hanging there all night. Jesus, no wonder you feel the way you do.

You finally open your eyes then, and are beyond relieved when your vision isn't dizzy and blurry like it had been before you'd passed out. You spot Ellie a few feet away, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed, peering down at you with a soft expression.

"Steve?" you whisper.

Her brow furrows, "They found him too. I don't know the details but he was hurt pretty bad," she shakes her head, "They're gonna do everything they can."

You nod again, swallowing and wincing at the dryness of your throat, "C-can I have some water?"

"Oh, fuck, of course," she reaches behind her and grabs a bottle, then walks over to you. Her movements are slow, hesitant, and when she hands you the bottle her arm darts out and back extremely quickly.

You stare at her in confusion, slowly bringing yourself to sit up. She backs away from you again, presses herself against the wall and crosses her arms again. It's like she's feigning nonchalance.

Reality dawns on you.

"Am I bit?" you manage to whisper, clutching the water bottle tightly.

She swallows, looks directly in your eyes, "We're hoping you can answer that for us."

You slowly bring the water to your lips, mind racing. You try to remember anything beyond getting caught up in the net but there's absolutely nothing. If you'd been bit afterward, wouldn't it have woken you up? Wouldn't you feel the pain somewhere on you now?

You drink the entire bottle of water and place it next to you on the floor, then you begin to feel your body, placing your hands back and forth all over yourself and trying to find a particular spot that feels like it might have been bit. You come up blank; all that you feel is a steady ache from being numb for so long.

"I don't think so," you finally say, crossing your legs and bringing your hands to rest in front of you, "I feel okay."

"We only found you about two hours ago," she says softly, "So we weren't sure. This is where they keep people for observation, people who might be infected."

You assess your surroundings. You must be in some kind of shed; it's small and there's no furniture, only a single lightbulb hanging from the ceiling. If you'd woken up alone you probably would've thought you'd been kidnapped. Your brow furrows and you look over at Ellie in confusion.

"If I might be bit, why are they keeping you in here with me?" you ask, bewildered, "It's not safe for you."

Ellie kicks her heel and shrugs, "I don't know, they just thought you shouldn't be alone when you woke up."

She's lying and you don't know why, but you don't have the energy to press her further. What's important is that you're not alone, and you appreciate that. You watch as she inhales deeply, lost in thought, then brings her fingers to the bridge of her nose and squeezes. Just like Joel.

Joel.

"Does he know?" you suddenly whisper.

You didn't say his name but she clearly knows who you're talking about. She sets her lips in a firm line, "Yeah."

You place your head in your hands and sigh loudly, shutting your eyes tight. You suddenly feel like you want to cry, just at the thought of that big, broad, grumpy man being told that you didn't come back from patrol. Had he been upset? Annoyed? Angry? Scared?

"He's freaking out," Ellie answers for you, voice quiet, "He punched Tommy in the face."

"What?" you stare at her, eyes wide, "Why'd he do that?"

She laughs softly to herself, shaking her head, "Tommy wouldn't let him go with the search party."

Your face scrunches in confusion, "Why not?"

She looks away from you then, eyeing the closed door, "Because Tommy thought his feelings would get in the way," her voice is slightly shaky, like she might cry, "He thought if they found you dead, Joel might not come back, might try to find the motherfuckers who did it and make them pay."

You're already shaking your head, "That's dumb, he wouldn't do that."

Ellie laughs again, turning back to look at you, "You really don't know anything about Joel, do you?"

You stare, waiting for her to speak again. She adjusts her position, slowly sliding down the wall and sitting across from you with her knees pulled up against her chest.

"Joel's killed a lot of people," she says quietly, looking over at you with tired eyes, "I mean, a lot of us have, I'm sure you have too. We've all done shit we're not proud of," she thumbs a tear on her jeans, biting down on her lip, "But when it comes to the people he cares about... Joel doesn't do things halfway, never."

You swallow, "Ellie, I don't think Joel cares about me in the way you're thinking."

She smiles then, small and hesitant, but still a smile, "As I said, you don't really know much about him. Not like I do."

"But-"

She puts a hand up, "I know about the two of you. I overheard you and Tommy talking last week."

You remember that afternoon by the stream, the rustle of the bushes, when you'd pulled the branches back expecting to see someone but found nobody there.

"That was you?" you ask, eyebrows raised, "By the stream?"

She nods, "I showed up to play my guitar and you guys were already there talking. I wasn't gonna listen but then I heard Joel's name and..." she sighs, looking down at her knees, "I might not be talking to Joel right now but I like to know what he's up to."

You nod slowly, "So...you heard about..."

"The mountain, yeah," she makes a face, "Listen, I don't want the details, trust me, but I wasn't surprised when you said that, not the way Tommy was anyway," she giggles, "I love seeing him get all uncomfortable, it's so funny."

You snort, shaking your head, "Please, it was so awkward."

"He really had no idea, but I think I did, somehow," she smiles again, wistful, "As I said, I might not be talking to Joel but that doesn't mean I don't look out for him, watch him, make sure he's doing alright," she looks down again, "I'm not heartless, okay?"

"I know," you say earnestly, "I know you're not."

"I knew something was different with him. He's been so quiet and sad, doesn't talk to people very much anymore, but these past few weeks it was like he had a pep in his step, like the old Joel was coming back," she smiles at the thought, "And then I saw the way he'd look at you in the dining hall, all those little smiles. And at first I was like...gross. But then..." she sighs, shaking her head, "I don't know, I think it's cute how much he likes you. How much you changed him."

Her words elicit a warmth in your chest, soft and safe, like the feeling of being in Joel's presence. You wrap your arms around yourself, huddling forward and continuing to listen.

"We were eating breakfast when Tommy announced the search party this morning. As soon as he said what had happened I looked over at Joel. He looked like he'd just received the worst news of his life," her voice shakes again, like she's on the verge of tears, "He ran up to Tommy, started asking questions about the search, when they were starting, what way they were going, all that. Tommy told him that he couldn't come, they argued, Joel punched Tommy and then I had to practically pull them apart."

"You?" your mouth is agape, "You stopped the fight?"

She nods with another small smile, "As soon as Joel realized it was me pulling on him, he stopped. I told him I knew about what was going on, I said I'd stay with him until you came back safe and sound."

You feel tears prick in your eyes at the words, "That must have meant a lot to him."

"It meant the world to him, I know that," she says quietly, "I haven't talked to him for a long time, I'm sure you know that."

You nod, "I do."

She's silent then for a few moments, staring at the closed door again. When she finally speaks, her voice is shakier than ever, "I sat with him in his living room until they got back with you and Steve. He wanted to see you but they wouldn't let him, so I volunteered to stay with you. That's why I'm here."

She leans back against the wall with a sigh, biting down on her lip. You see tears beginning to brim in her eyes and you look away, knowing you wouldn't want someone staring at you if it was you getting emotional.

"He's lost a lot, you know," she says softly, sniffling a little bit, "He lost his daughter a long time ago, and a woman named Tess he really cared about," she takes a breath, shaky and full of emotion, "He almost lost me, too. That's part of the reason we're not talking."

You stare at the concrete floor, letting her words sink in. A daughter? Joel had been a father? And Tess, who was she? A girlfriend? A wife? Clearly someone important, and he'd lost both of them.

You've been through your share of trauma, experienced your own losses, but never to that degree. You'd never gotten close enough to someone to really feel a loss like that, can't even imagine what it would feel like. Your heart aches for him; that stoic, quiet, and mysterious man who'd let you in but kept you at arm's length... for reasons you're beginning to understand.

You stand up slowly, wincing at the aches you feel, your skin feeling prickly and uncomfortable as your circulation continues to regulate. Ellie's words cycle through your mind as you stretch, ringing quiet and tender in your ears; I think it's cute how much he likes you. How much you changed him.

"When can I see him?" you ask softly, still avoiding looking at her as you pull at parts of your clothes, searching again for a bite you're pretty sure doesn't exist.

"I'll ask Maria," Ellie replies just as quiet, standing up as well and walking over to the door, "If you were bit you'd be showing signs by now, I think you're okay."

"Ask her about Steve too, please," you add, "I need to know if he's alive."

She nods and opens the door, then goes outside and shuts it behind her. You hear the deadbolt slide back into place.

You burst into tears.

Ellie returns with Maria about ten minutes later, both of them looking at you with kind and sympathetic expressions when they find you standing in the middle of the room sobbing your heart out. Without hesitation, Maria walks forward and wraps her arms around you tightly.

"It's okay, sweetie," she says softly in your ear, rubbing your back gently, "Steve's okay, he's gonna make it."

Ellie looks down when she says this, and part of you knows that she knows you're not crying about Steve.

They walk you home slowly, Maria on one side and Ellie on your other. You complain a bit, telling them you're okay to walk on your own, but neither pay your stubbornness any mind, just keep their arms linked through yours as they walk you to your house.

You're on your street when you see two figures up ahead, and your heart starts to pound harder and harder in your chest the closer you get. Because you know who it is.

Joel and Tommy are leaning against the banister of Joel's front patio, talking quietly to themselves. You grimace at the sight of Tommy's black eye but feel relief flood through you when you see that he's smiling at Joel, clearly no animosity present.

"Look who's up!" Ellie says loudly, and they both turn to look in your direction.

Joel freezes, staring at you for a few brief seconds of recognition before he's suddenly throwing himself from the patio and sprinting toward you. You feel both Ellie and Maria release you from their grips, right before you're suddenly enveloped in the warmest, sweetest, most sincere hug you've ever received in your life.

Throughout all these months of knowing Joel, he's never truly touched you. Sure, he's touched your hand, shook it during your official introduction, helped you stand up here and there. He's touched your face once, your lips twice. And he's touched you where you longed for him to, begged him to, but only for a moment, just one touch. Gentle, tender, but never long enough for you to really feel him the way you've wanted to.

Now he pulls you close without any hesitation, no rules, no consequences. He presses his lips to the top of your head and whispers your name over and over until it sounds like a mantra, a prayer.

"Joel," you breathe, and you feel the tears start up again as you shut your eyes tight and just feel, listen to him say your name and hold you like you'll fall apart if he lets go.

"I thought I lost you," he says, voice rough and emotional, "Before I could even tell you how sorry I am."

"Shh," you squeeze him tighter, burying your face in his strong chest, "Don't worry about that, I'm here. I'm okay."

He holds you impossibly tighter and you hear the unmistakable sound of a sob rip through his teeth, tears dripping from his face into your hair. You pull back just enough to look up at him, see him peer down at you with an expression on his face that you've never seen before, impossibly soft and fond, eyes bright and yearning. Love.

"I'm sorry," he repeats, inhaling shakily, "For everything."

You shake your head furiously, "Joel, it's oka-"

"It's not okay," he interrupts, voice breaking again, "I'm so sorry. Not just for what I said yesterday, but for everything else. For pushing you away, making you feel like it was your fault, I'm so fucking sorry," he pulls you in again, his hand coming up to cradle the back of your head, "God, you have no idea how bad I've wanted to just hold you like this. I was such a fucking coward."

"You were afraid," you whisper, shaking your head, "I understand, Joel, I get it."

He lets out another sob, squeezes you tighter, "Don't let me go," he breathes, "Please don't let go."

For the entire hug you'd thought he was the one holding you, but you now realize that for him it's the other way around. You feel yourself start to cry harder as you pull him in tighter and just stand there, arms wrapped around his middle, face pressed against his chest as the beat of his heart thrums steadily in your ear. You both inhale and exhale deeply, moving as one being, one solid force. He kisses your head again and you melt further into his touch.

"I'm gonna head back to town," you hear Maria say softly nearby, probably to Tommy and Ellie, "Tommy, can you go check on Steve, make sure he's still doing okay?"

Joel stiffens at the name, suddenly pulling back from you to look over at Maria, "He alright?"

Maria nods, "Yeah," she turns to look at you then, expression serious, "He told us that when you didn't come back to switch patrols, he got worried, went out looking for you. Ended up running into a group of raiders, the same ones who set that trap you fell into. They stabbed him a couple times but nothing critical, he managed to get a few hits in himself before he got away, led them in the opposite direction."

"Jesus," you mutter, feeling guilt rush through you, "Are they still out there?"

"No," Tommy replies, shaking his head, "We took care of it. Steve knocked 'em around pretty good but we made sure none of 'em were breathin' by the time we left."

You nod slowly, still in Joel's embrace, "Tell him I'm sorry," you say quietly, "It's my fault."

"Shhh," Joel pulls you close again, rubbing your back gently, "Don't worry about that, let's get you inside."

"Make sure she has a bath," Maria says quickly, "Keep her warm, give her some food."

"I'm not a hamster," you groan, and you're surprised to hear Ellie laugh behind you. You'd forgotten she was there.

Joel suddenly pulls out of your embrace, still holding you with one arm while he reaches toward Ellie, "Come here," he says softly, "Please."

She shakes her head, taking a step back, "I'm going with Maria," she bites her lip, looks down and then looks back at Joel who's still staring longingly at her, "But I'll meet up with you later, okay?"

"Okay," he says quietly, voice still shaky, "Promise?"

She nods, gives him a small smile, "Promise."

"Where do you wanna go?" Joel had asked you softly, "Mine or yours?"

"Yours," you'd whispered immediately, no hesitation, "Please."

You now find yourself in Joel Miller's house, somewhere you never really ever pictured yourself. It's pretty similar to yours but there are a few differences, namely the amount of books and art. You hadn't known that Ellie was an artist; there are drawings all over his house, some in frames, some just laid around, all signed by Ellie, all beautiful. There's a picture she drew of him that he has framed on his fireplace, and you find yourself picking it up with a smile.

"Bath's almost ready," Joel says quietly behind you, and you spin back around. He looks at the picture in your hand, smiling softly, "Ellie drew that."

"She's really talented," you reply with a smile, "Wonder where she gets all this artsy fartsy stuff from?"

He chuckles, still standing a few feet away from you, "It's a mystery."

You place the picture back down and turn to look at him, feeling a nervousness in the pit of your stomach that you haven't felt around him in a long time, not since that first night together. Things are different now, it's palpable, and both of you are aware of it.

"Will you take a bath with me?" you ask quietly, unsure.

He nods slowly, eyes trained on your face, "Of course I will."

The bath is warm and welcoming. Joel had told you to strip down, get in, and that he'd be back momentarily with some food for you. You can't help but feel a little disappointed that he hadn't stuck around to watch you undress, but maybe it would've been inappropriate considering the circumstances.

You ease yourself under the water, a satisfied moan escaping your lips as the bath completely envelops you. He's put something in the water to make it smell good, lavender or vanilla. It instantly relaxes you, the heat of the water and the delicious smell making you feel completely at ease.

You lay there for a few minutes in silence, eyes closed, focusing on your breathing and bringing things back into perspective. You're okay, you're safe. Steve is okay, he's safe. You're both back in Jackson. You're with Joel, you're in his bath tub, he's downstairs making you lunch. Everything is okay.

Ellie's words filter through your brain again, distant but present; He lost his daughter a long time ago, and a woman named Tess he really cared about.

A light knock on the bathroom door shakes you from your thoughts. You smile, "Come in."

Joel enters the bathroom, bowl of soup in one hand and a tall glass of water in the other. He places them on the chair next to the tub, eyes avoiding you as he focuses on the task at hand. He kneels by the tub and spoons some of the soup carefully, then finally looks at your face as he brings the spoon to your mouth. You open, letting him feed you, letting him take care of you.

"Good?" he asks softly, gaze still on your face, ever the gentleman.

"Good," you say with a smile.

He feeds you a few more spoonfuls, smiling fondly at you as you eat. After a few moments of this you put your hand up, shaking your head, "That's enough for now, why don't you get in with me?"

His gaze finally falls then, looks at your body beneath the water, sees your nipples poking through the surface. He sighs, leans back a bit on his knees and shakes his head.

"I don't know if that's a good idea," he says quietly.

"Joel," you say quickly, voice steady, "Don't pull away from me. Not now. Not anymore."

He looks at your face again, expression sad and distant, "I'm afraid," he admits, "I'm afraid of being close to you."

"I know," you whisper, and you reach over to place your hand over his, stroking him gently with your thumb, "It's okay. It's okay to be afraid."

"I've lost a lot of people," he whispers, tears shining in his eyes, "I thought...I thought if I let myself get close to you, if I gave you what you wanted...I'd get attached. I'd fall for you," he says it earnestly, voice breaking slightly on the last few words, "But here I am, fallin' for you anyway."

You smile at him, soft and loving. You squeeze his hand and slowly sit up in the bath, putting yourself on display for him. His eyes don't leave yours, but he swallows and tenses his jaw at your movement.

"Bad things have happened to the people I care about," he says quietly, barely a whisper, "And you're young, you're beautiful, you have this whole life ahead of you and I'm-" his voice breaks and he looks down again, tears cascading down his cheeks, "I'm scared you'll end up like those people, dead and gone because of me."

"Joel-"

"And I'm scared I don't deserve it," he interrupts, looking up at you again, mouth trembling, "I don't think I deserve love. I don't deserve someone like you 'cause of everything I've done."

"What about Ellie?" you ask softly, squeezing his hand reassuringly, "She's alive and she loves you."

He scoffs, shaking his head, "She hates me."

"She doesn't hate you," you mean it, leaning forward to cradle his hand in both of yours, "I talked to that girl for the first time today, really talked to her, and I can see it plain as day. She loves you more than you could ever know, Joel."

"She stayed with me today," he whispers shakily, nodding slowly, "She sat with me 'til we knew you were safe."

"And you think that's hate?" you ask softly, "Joel, that's love."

He looks at you again, expression pained. You bring his hand to your lips, press a gentle and tender kiss to every knuckle, showing him how much he's worth, how much he means to you.

"I'm afraid," he repeats through his tears, watching you kiss him, "I'm afraid to want you the way I do."

You release his hand and lean back slightly in the tub, extending your arm for him to take, gazing at him with all the love and care you can muster, "Get in with me," you whisper, the splash of water the only sound in the room save for your heartbeats, both of which you swear you can hear, "Don't be afraid."

His eyes cast downward to your lips and he swallows again, then looks back up into your eyes, "Okay."

You watch as he stands up and starts to unbutton his shirt. You can tell that he's extremely nervous, his fingers trembling as he fights to get each button open.

"I'm gonna close my eyes," you say tenderly, "And when you're ready, tap my shoulder and I'll let you in behind me, okay?"

He nods slowly, fingers frozen on the third button, "Okay," he repeats.

You close your eyes and lean back, listening to the rustle of clothes beside you as he undresses. You're not used to this Joel, the one who seems powerless and submissive. You're not usually the one giving him orders, it's always been the other way around. You know he's just nervous, afraid of being close to you like this, and all you want is for him to feel relaxed again in your presence, feel like himself.

After a moment he taps your shoulder; you lean forward in the bath and feel him ease in behind you, his legs entrapping yours along the edges of the tub. He seats himself down, places his hands around your middle and pulls you in close. You feel his groin press against your lower back; you've never felt his cock before, and somehow the casual intimacy of his softness pressed against you makes you smile.

"You can open your eyes," he whispers, then presses a gentle kiss to the back of your neck.

You do as you're told, immediately seeing the way his legs are splayed out in front of you, long and strong beneath the water. You've never realized how small you are compared to him until this moment, completely enrobed in his body, heart thrumming against your back.

"This is heaven," you whisper, leaning back against him and closing your eyes again, "This is what I wanted, all along."

"I think you wanted a bit more than this," he replies with a chuckle, kissing your neck again, "And you'll get it, I promise. Let's just...let's just sit here for a little while first, alright?"

"As long as you need to," you murmur, and you swear you feel him smile against your skin.

You bathe together for a long time, just laying in each other's embrace and enjoying the company. Being this close to Joel truly is everything you could have ever hoped for, his strong arms wrapped around you as he noses your neck and breathes you in, holds you against his naked body like you're meant to fit there. He's so big and warm; you've never felt more safe.

At one point you scooch back a bit in this embrace, feel your ass unintentionally rub lightly against his cock beneath the water. Neither of you say anything, but you both slowly become aware of the way he hardens, begins to grow larger against you.

A few moments later the head of his cock is pulsing against your lower back. Your eyes are lidded, heavy, head bobbing backward to nestle at the base of his neck. His hands on your belly move upward to cup your breasts, holding you firmly and securely against him.

"Joel," you whisper, "Touch me."

The words bring both of you back to the ski lodge, the power he holds over you there, the way you're always at his mercy. You hope, despite the new situation, he'll be that person again for you. You crave it, need it.

"Not yet," he murmurs in your ear, "Be patient, pretty girl."

There he is.

You swallow, close your eyes and submit completely as he palms your breasts, tweaks your nipples between his fingers gently. You whimper pathetically, shuffle back against his cock again, feel the hard length of it along your back.

"You were a bad girl yesterday," he whispers in your ear, tongue darting out to taste your skin, making you shiver, "And today. Gettin' lost like that, makin' me worry..."

"M'sorry," you murmur, hands moving down to grip his thighs as he brings your earlobe into your mouth and sucks it, "Didn't m-mean to make you worry."

"I think," he whispers, breath hot against your skin, "I'm finally gonna have to punish you."

The words send tingles up and down your spine, eyes almost rolling back in your head when he sucks your earlobe again, eliciting sounds from you that only he knows how to generate. You squeeze his thighs tighter, feeling your pussy begin to pulse beneath the water.

"How?" you breathe, voice weak.

He releases your ear and noses your cheek, brings one of his hands from your breasts and rests a finger against your chin. He turns your face to the side, urging you to look at him. His eyes are dark, full of want and desire, and you know you're completely at his mercy.

"I'm gonna fuck you, baby," he whispers, "Gonna fill that pussy up with my cock."

The words send you into a tailspin, a guttural whine escaping your lips as your fingers press into his thighs, rubbing your own together to seek some purchase against your heat. He smiles, presses a gentle kiss to your temple, drops his hands and places them over yours, big and strong.

"I know that's what you want," he whispers, entangling his fingers with yours over his thighs, "But I'm gonna give it to you over and over again, gonna make you come as many times as I want, 'til you're begging me to stop, tellin' me it's too much, that you couldn't possibly come again," he squeezes your hands, licks a stripe up the side of your neck, "And then I'll give you another one."

"Please," you breathe, voice broken and full of desire, "Please, fuck me, Joel. I need it so bad."

"I know you do, baby," he whispers, "So be a good girl for me and do as I say, okay?"

"Okay," you whimper, leaning back in his embrace, feeling his cock prod your back.

"Say it."

"I'll be your good girl," you whine, trembling under his gaze, "I'm your good girl, Joel. Only yours."

He groans softly in your ear, "That's right, baby," he releases your hands from beneath his and cups your breasts again, squeezing gently, "Now, open yourself up for me."

With trembling fingers you reach beneath the water and pull your lips apart, using both hands to spread yourself for him. The water tickles you, makes you quiver in his grasp as you slowly push your middle finger inside.

"There you go," he whispers, "That feel good, pretty girl?"

"Y-yes," you whimper, throbbing around your finger.

"Add as many as you like," he tells you, "Need to be nice and open for my cock."

The very thought of finally having him inside you makes you whimper again as you add a second finger, feeling his familiar gaze on your cunt. It's so different this time, feeling how hard he is against you, being in his naked embrace while you obey his commands. This is nothing like being in his lap when he'd been fully clothed, holding you open for him. This is sex, pure sex that you know is going to last hours.

"Look at that," he murmurs when you've started to pump three fingers in and out of yourself at a steady pace, "So full for me, already ready to come, huh?"

You whimper, leaning back against his chest, feeling his wiry hair rub against your cheek. Without any hesitation he suddenly reaches down and presses his index finger to your clit, making you cry out in pleasure.

"Remember when I touched this clit for the first time?" he murmurs in your ear, circling it softly over and over, "Remember how you came just from a little touch? So sensitive, baby. Such a good girl."

His words send you over the edge, making you squirm and shake in his embrace as he gives you your first orgasm of the day, coaxes it out of you easily. You whimper when he touches your wrist, pulls your fingers out to replace them with his own.

"That's one," he whispers, sliding his index finger inside your heat, and you're not sure if he's talking about the orgasm or the digit. You're too blissed out to care, head bobbing against his neck again as he fingers you, adds a second and presses his lips to your ear, "Baby, she's so tight," he breathes, teasing a third at your entrance, "How's my cock gonna fit?"

"Mnnhnngg," you can't make words, looking down beneath the water at where he's fucking you relentlessly, fingers so big and thick compared to yours, his thumb toying with your clit.

"Can't even talk, huh?" he whispers, "Need to come again, I bet."

You don't think you'll be able to, not yet; you're so overstimulated but he just continues to fuck you with abandon, rubbing your clit with every thrust of his fingers. You arch back against him, his cock throbbing against your ass. Your fingers dig into his thighs again and he chuckles in your ear.

"Can't do that, baby," he whispers, "Play with your pretty little nipples for me, show me how hard they are."

You bring your trembling hands to your breasts, squeezing your tender nipples between your fingers and feeling another orgasm start building in your tummy. How? It's so soon since you had your last one, how the fuck can he give you another one so quickly?

He pumps his fingers steadily in and out of you, watching as you play with your nipples. He leans forward and presses a gentle kiss to the skin of your left breast, inches away from where your fingers are pinching.

"Put it in my mouth, pretty girl," he murmurs against the skin, nosing the little bumps and dropping his jaw. You whimper at his words, squeezing your breast and dropping it downward so he can wrap his lips around the sensitive bud. You groan, feeling his tongue dart out and begin to lick tiny circles around it.

Seconds later, you're coming again. You shake and shiver and then go completely still in his arms, eyes rolling back as he continues to suckle at your nipple. He removes his fingers, thumbs your clit one more time, then releases your breast with a light pop.

"Two," he says quietly, smiling at you, "Good girl."

Somehow you make it to his bedroom. Exactly how, you're not sure. You're so wrecked from having two orgasms in ten minutes that you feel like jelly, but you're vaguely aware of him picking you up from the bath and carrying you to his room, putting you in his bed. You lay there like a starfish, arms up and legs wide as you breathe heavily, chest heaving.

"So sleepy," he says tenderly, stroking your cheek, "You ready for bed, baby? Wanna stop?"

Your eyes snap open and you shake your head frantically, only to see him standing there with a wide smile on his face.

"I'm kidding," he says with a laugh, "Don't worry."

You roll your eyes and look up at his ceiling, "Ass."

"There she is," he replies warmly, "Missed my feisty girl."

"She never left," you say with a wink, turning to look at him; he's shuffled closer to the bed, standing over you with his cock in his left hand, slowly stroking up and down. Your lips part unconsciously, eyes going straight for the plump and wet head.

"Yeah, you wanna suck it, huh?" he says quietly, thumbing exactly where you want to place your tongue, "Tasted my come twice but never had me in your mouth, how naughty."

You look up at him from under your lashes, smiling playfully, "I'm a good girl, promise."

He smirks, "Are you? Then show me how a good girl sucks cock."

You don't need him to ask you twice. You sit up on the bed and slide forward, watching as he releases his cock and lets it bounce upward toward his stomach, big and thick. You've never been so close to it, never seen it in broad daylight like this; he's huge, so wide and girthy with a big vein trailing along the underside all the way to the head, fat and leaking. With a shiver you lean forward and suck the tip into your mouth, trying not to smile when you hear him release a deep sigh.

"'Atta girl," he groans above you, his hand immediately coming up to cradle the back of your head, "That's my good girl."

You swirl your tongue around the head of his cock, swallowing down everything he's leaking and then starting to bob your head along the shaft, reaching up to grasp the base firmly in your hand. He tastes like the bath; lavender and vanilla, mixed with a salty and masculine flavor that makes your mouth water.

"Oh, baby," he murmurs, watching as you take his entire length in your mouth with barely any hesitation, the head hitting the back of your throat without even making you gag, "That's it, take the whole fucking thing, just like that."

You're aware of the fact that you don't have a gag reflex; you'd thought about telling him a while ago, thought maybe it'd convince him to let you blow him, but you'd never been brave enough to say anything. Now, you're glad you never did. Hearing his absolute wonder as you take his entire length is more than enough.

"Oh, fuck," he groans, watching as you pull back almost all the way and then push yourself forward again to fully envelop him, the tip repeatedly prodding the inside of your throat, "Jesus fucking Christ."

You swallow around him and look up from underneath your lashes, eyes wide and burning. He looks down at you and immediately slips his cock out of your mouth, taking a step back and putting his hands up in surrender.

"Okay, okay," he says quickly, hissing through his teeth, "I'm gonna come if you keep goin'. Fuck."

You look at him with faux-innocence, eyes wide, "Did I do something wrong?"

He shakes his head, inhaling deeply and taking another step backward, "You're gonna kill me, baby," he curls his hands into fists, and you swear his cock bobs again completely on its own, like he's about to come without even being touched. The thought makes you shiver, "I know I say that all the time, but I mean it. You're gonna kill me."

You giggle, falling backwards on the bed again and stretching out your arms and legs, closing your eyes and listening as he does a quick pace around the room to distract himself from the orgasm his body is threatening to have. You just laugh and rotate your legs back and forth, feeling an immense amount of pride that you're not the only overly sensitive one in the room.

"You think that's funny, huh?" he asks you, and your eyes snap open to see him kneeling in front of you at the edge of the bed.

"N-no," you say, but your smile betrays you. He looks at you darkly and suddenly grabs your legs, pulling you closer to the edge of the bed and pushing your thighs apart, "Oh," you whimper, looking down at yourself, seeing where he's looking, where you're wet and dripping all over the sheets.

"Messy," he whispers, "Such a messy little pussy."

"It's yours," you tell him, as if he doesn't already know, "It's your little pussy."

"I know, baby," he leans forward and presses a gentle kiss to your inner thigh, "I've wanted to taste her for so long."

You quiver at his words, brow furrowing as he presses another soft kiss to the opposite thigh. He licks a stripe along the inside, just outside your lips where you're puffy and swollen. He kisses your mound, drags his tongue down and down and down until it swipes lightly against your clit.

"Joel," you moan, throwing your head back and fisting the sheets. He pulls back and you look down again to see him smirking at you, eyes suddenly bright and playful again.

"Tastes like heaven, baby," he says softly, then ducks his head down and pushes his tongue inside you with no warning.

You let out the loudest moan of your life as he begins to eat you out, tongue alternating between twisting and licking your insides and then suckling on your clit like he'd done with your nipple, circling it inside his mouth relentlessly. You writhe beneath him, so much that he has to press his hands firmly against your belly to hold you down.

The noises you're making are practically inhuman, uttering almost a completely different language under your breath as he coaxes more ridiculous sounds out of you. You quickly realize that looking down at him is a mistake; the sight of his greying curls splayed across your pubic bone and the shape of his curved nose pressed into the hair on your mound, his eyes closed in pleasure as he sucks and licks and devours, just the image alone brings you close to the edge.

"I'm gonna come," you manage to squeak out, and he pushes his hands harder against your belly, the added pressure making you groan louder than ever.

He pulls his mouth away.

"No," you breathe, shaking your head wildly with wide eyes, "No, no, no, don't stop. Please don't stop!"

He smirks at you, removing his hands and leaning backward to release you completely from his grip. You stare at him, completely bewildered.

"Joel," you cry, real tears starting to form in your eyes, but not from sadness or anger - this time, you're just horny. "Joel, why?"

He still doesn't speak, just sits there and watches you groan in disbelief, your hands coming up to cover your face. You buck your hips into the air, seeking some kind of pressure, but nothing helps.

"Joel," you repeat, "This is mean."

"I told you I was gonna punish you, baby," he says it with faux-disappointment, like he's not the one who makes the rules, "I'm the one who decides when you come. And what I just did is exactly what you just did to me."

You pout, sitting up on your hands and giving him a dirty look, "That's not fair, you told me to stop, I would've kept going."

"But if you'd kept going, how would I have been able to do this?" he asks, and suddenly he's standing up and leaning over you on the bed, knees sinking into the mattress as he hovers above you.

"W-what?" you ask, but you know the answer as soon as you feel the wet head of his cock gently prod your entrance.

"This, baby," he murmurs, and pushes himself all the way inside.

You almost let out a scream, squeezing his sheets in your hands as his huge cock practically rearranges your guts, feeling him in your stomach as he reaches his hands up to entwine his fingers with yours, plying them away from the sheets.

"Oh, she wasn't ready, was she?" he asks quietly, nosing your neck and smiling at the incoherent noises coming from your throat, "Poor little pussy, never had something so big inside of her, huh?"

He stays still inside of you, letting you get used to his wide girth and thick length, so large within you that you feel like you're going to burst. You continue to make odd noises, twitching under his grasp, and it takes you a few seconds to realize that you're coming. You're coming, just from having his cock fully sheathed inside of you.

"Three," he whispers in your ear, pressing a soft kiss to the skin there, "That's three times now, baby. Such a good girl for me."

Your pussy pulses and throbs around him, aching and burning in the most perfect way. How does he know exactly what you need? How does he know exactly what'll get you there?

"You're okay, baby," he murmurs, stroking your hair gently as you convulse around him, "You're doing so well, takin' it all so good."

You've never felt so full in your life. You've only ever had sex a handful of times, only ever actually been with two other men. If you had to compare them to this, you'd laugh in their faces.

"Big," you finally find your words, barely a whisper, "So big."

"I know," Joel kisses your temple, pulls back to look down at you with a gentle smile, "I'll wait 'til you get used to it, don't worry."

It's only then, looking up into those big brown eyes, that you realize you still haven't kissed him. He's got his enormous cock inside of you, stretching every inch of you open, and you've never kissed him.

It's like he's suddenly thinking the exact same thing. You watch as his brow furrows, lips parting slightly as he leans down and presses a sweet and gentle kiss to your lips, your eyes closing as you kiss him back with a hunger you've never known. You slip your tongue inside his mouth and he grants you entrance immediately, breathing deeply against your face as he sucks you in, lets you taste him. You can taste your own wetness on his tongue and it makes you moan against his lips.

"You're so fucking perfect," he breathes against your mouth, closing his eyes and rubbing his nose against yours, "My perfect girl, always so good for me."

"I'm yours," you remind him, voice weak and shaky, "I'll do whatever you tell me to, Joel."

He inhales deeply, removing his hands from yours and trailing them down your body to hold you closer to him, wrapping his arms around your torso and trailing his fingers up and down your back.

"You can move now," you whisper, still pulsing around him, "I can take it."

"I know you can, baby," he murmurs, "Such a good girl."

It takes a few slow thrusts, your mouth still eliciting the most unhinged sounds as he fucks you at the slowest pace imaginable, but eventually you build up a rhythm. He's so big, it's hard to believe he's actually fitting inside of you. You'd only ever seen his cock from a distance, in darkness, never realized how fucking huge he was. You can't believe you'd even managed to fit all of him in your mouth.

"I'm close," you groan in his ear, your own hands coming up to grip his back tightly, loving the feeling of having him pressed so close to you as he fucks you, "Give me my fourth, Joel, fucking give it to me."

He laughs lightly in response, pulling back to look down at you, "Not much of a punishment anymore, is it?" he says with a smirk, shaking his head, "Now you're begging for it." He slows down his thrusts, eventually stilling inside of you and pulling almost all the way out, letting the head of his cock sit inside your pulsing hole.

"Look at that," he says softly and you sit up to follow his gaze, looking down at your already fucked-out hole, his cock only connected to it via the fat head that sits nestled at your entrance, "Look at all your come on my cock, pretty girl."

You notice the white and glistening spots along his cock, feeling your cheeks go red at the recognition that it's all from you. You bite your lip, chest heaving breathlessly as he carefully pulls the tip from your hole and places it against your clit.

"Oh, fuck," you whimper, watching as he gently rubs the head in circles on your clit, his tip continuing to leak and making you even more slippery than you already are.

"Here's number four for you, baby," he murmurs, and pulls back his cock to lightly slap the head against you, the pressure immediately making you moan. He slaps it again, a little harder, and you have to bite down on your lip again to stop the onslaught of little whines you're threatening to make.

"Come," he says firmly, deliberately an order, and slaps the head of his cock against your clit one last time, delivering the final push.

Your eyes roll back again and you fall back on the bed, body twitching as you come for the fourth time, feeling his eyes on your pussy as your hole pulses and throbs around nothing.

"Good girl," he whispers, and seconds later you feel his cock slide back inside of you, exactly where it belongs, "There you go."

You lay there completely limp for a few seconds, body only moving with the thrusts of Joel's steady pace. You finally open your eyes again, see him kneeling on the bed above you. He's holding your lower half upwards, hands digging into your hips and thumbs splayed across your tummy.

"Use me," you breathe, eyes closing again, "Just use me for a few minutes."

He groans, a guttural and fierce noise that rips through the silence of his bedroom. You relax completely, melting into the sheets and letting him take what he needs, take and take and take, using you like his personal fuck toy, something you'd only dreamed about and never thought would ever actually come to fruition. Your arms hang limp and loose off the edge of his bed as you inhale and exhale, trying to get your energy back as fast as possible so you can come again.

Because you know he's not gonna let you off at number four.

After a few more steady thrusts you slowly sit back up on your elbows, looking at him through hooded and tired eyes. He can see that you're close to being completely done, smiles gently at you and slows his rhythm.

"Welcome back," he says softly, leaning down to pull you up so you're level with him. He repositions the both of you so his legs are circling you, yours coming up to wrap around his lower back as you sit on his cock. He pulls you closer, cradling the back of your head and pressing kisses along the side of your face, "I know you're tired but I'm gonna give you one more, baby, just like I promised."

"I know," you whisper, voice shaky.

He holds you in his wide arms, completely envelops you as he fucks up into you steadily, nose and lips pressed against the side of your face as he brings himself closer and closer to release, continuously whispering a thread of dirty things to you, building you up.

"Such a tight fuckin' pussy, all for me," he murmurs, "So wet and pink and perfect, takin' me so good, so fuckin' full of cock."

"Joel," you whimper, leaning further against him and letting him fuck you mercilessly, letting him push you closer and closer to your fifth orgasm, "Keep talking."

"Okay, baby," he whispers, brow furrowed, "Okay, pretty girl. So fuckin' good to me, so fuckin' pure and perfect, lettin' me fill this little cunt, lettin' me fuck it so deep," you scratch at his arm, tension building in your belly, "Waited so long for me to give it to you, begged for it for months, and now you have it. It's all yours, baby. You get this cock whenever you want now, just say the word."

He reaches down and rubs your clit with his thumb, feeling you tense against him as your orgasm overtakes you. You shake in his embrace, moaning out his name one final time before you start to come, heart pounding and chest heaving as he releases your clit and hugs you close to him. You tremble beneath him, feeling completely spent, almost boneless in his lap as he keeps fucking you.

"Where do you want my come, pretty girl?" he asks you through clenched teeth, "You still want it in your mouth?"

"Yes," you say immediately, eyes widening, "In my mouth, please."

Without another word he pulls you from his lap, watching as you fall backwards on the bed weightlessly.

"Christ, I fucked the shit outta you, baby," he says, genuinely shocked at how blissed out you are.

"You did," you reply softly, feeling a smile cross your face, "Can't move anymore."

He gives you a gentle smile, walks around the bed and aims his cock toward your face, "Here's your reward, baby, open up, nice and wide."

You do as you're told, feeling an immense amount of pride and satisfaction as you finally get what you've been craving for months. He strokes his cock once, only once, and suddenly ropes of thick white come are painting your tongue and lips, your cheeks, your chin. He groans, long and low, watching as you close your eyes and take every drop he gives you, watching it all pool on your tongue, dribble down your chin.

"Fuck," he breathes, and you open your eyes again to see him staring at you, eyes still dark and pupils blown wide, "Swallow it, pretty girl."

You close your mouth and swallow all of it, reveling in the salty taste on your tongue and in the back of your throat. You bring a trembling hand to your mouth, push the leftovers from your cheeks and chin past your lips, swallowing a second time.

"Good girl," he whispers, leaning down to push your hair out of your eyes, "That's my good girl, did so fucking well for me. Did everything I said."

"I'm yours, Joel," you whisper, voice completely wrecked, "I'm your good girl."

He cleans you up tenderly, pressing kisses to your skin every now and then as he takes a warm washcloth and wipes you down, pays extra attention to your sensitive spots and lets you lay there in peace. He's so sweet, so gentle, you'd hardly know it was the same Joel who walked out on you back at the ski lodge.

But it is the same Joel. He's just finally let himself have what he wants, finally let himself give you what you want. When he climbs in bed beside you and wraps his arms tightly around you, you've never felt so desired in your entire life. He kisses your face all over, whispers praises, tells you how beautiful you are, makes you feel wanted.

"You asleep?" he asks you softly, hands running up and down your arms soothingly.

"In and out," you murmur back, "You really did a number on me."

He chuckles quietly, kisses your cheek and holds you tighter, "I know. It was okay, right? I didn't go too far?"

"It was perfect," you reply sincerely, leaning back into his touch, "It was everything I ever wanted, better than anything I imagined."

He smiles against your skin, "Good, I'm glad."

You both lay there in the silence of his bedroom for a few more moments, listening to each other's breathing. He kisses the back of your neck, noses your skin and inhales your scent.

"Are you still afraid?" you ask quietly, "You can tell me, I want you to be honest."

He takes a few moments to reply, sighing deeply and bringing one of his hands down to hold tightly to yours. You squeeze his back, quietly reminding him that you're here, that you're not going anywhere.

"I am," he says softly, voice barely a whisper, "But not so much anymore. I think it'll be easier now."

"It will be," you reassure him quietly, tightening your grip on his hand, "I'm here for you, okay? Every step of the way."

He nuzzles into your hair, presses himself against you and sighs contentedly, "Okay."

You close your eyes, focusing on the perfection of this moment, the feeling of his body so close to yours, warming you up and keeping you safe. You can't help but notice how perfectly your bodies fit together, how right it feels to be lying together like this.

"By the way," he whispers suddenly, "You'll be my patrol partner again, right?"

You grin, tilting your head back slightly so his cheek brushes against your temple, relishing in the feeling of his stubble against your skin, so natural, so easy.

"I thought you'd never ask."

i can't believe how long this took me to write but i'm so glad i finally finished it. this isn't the end of soft!dom joel, but i would consider it the end of their story, most likely. i'll probably write some more smutty one-shots for them, but i doubt i'll write anything for them again with this much detail. i feel pretty satisfied with this.

let me know what you think!!! i love hearing yalls feedback, it makes me so happy. i also have a kofi if you'd like to leave me a tip. thank you so much for reading 💖

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #tlou fic #pedro pascal fic #*#fic: soft!dom joel

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boolger · 16 days ago

Text

A lapdog at a farm - chapter 4

<-former chapter -AO3 link -next chapter -> Call of duty. Explicit, 18+, minors do not interact. read the tags. WC: 7.1k

tags: Rape/non-con elements, dub-con, dog!hybrid!people being kept as pets, alternative universe - farm, dark, farmer!John Price, working-dogs, punishments, mating cycles/rut/heat (no omegaverse), the dove isn't dead but its dying, it dies later on, reader is a brat, knotting, animal tails and ears, mentions of trauma, violence, angst, hurt/comfort, collars, rough sex, breeding kink, biting, threesome, foursome, everyone is fucking your honor, enemies to lovers, chubby reader, reader has a pussy

MDNI. MDNI. Dead dove do not eat.

Authors note: sorry for the wait, life challenged me to a knife duel and then I had do go on a workshop and such, bc I’m still unemployed. Also I got sick. Still kinda am. I’ll fix spelling mistakes tomorrow. Read the tags and if you don’t like how this fic is going, stop reading it.

Anyways. Enjoy sinners. Behave. 💖 Consider supporting my coffee addiction on ko-fi bc I’m a good girl and I updated.

The shed was filled with sounds, though nothing had to do with the work of the hybrids. The only thing they were working on was breaking you.

You felt like you were on fire; both from anger and from the pleasure of Soap’s way too skilled tongue. He was fucking you with it, real nasty about it as he forced a finger in next to it, growling into your wetness, seemingly trying to drink up any slick leaving you. His free hand kept your tail out of the way.

Caught in your own personal, rather sexual, hell.

You had almost given up on getting free. Gaz was still pressing your wrists down against the mattresses, tongue out as he wagged his tail, drool dripping down on your chest. Then he grabbed your wrists in one hand, which you could still not break out of, annoyingly so; only to pull up the crop-top that Price had chosen for you earlier.

That got Soap’s attention who barked happily into your pussy which made you growl - but you were distracted by the two fingers suddenly added to the first, to really care about your tits being out. He spread the fingers a little, tail wagging behind him, ears moving to pick up all your sounds.

You didn’t get more than that, fingers out before you could take a proper breath.

You growled intensely but there was no mercy; he forced his cock into your poor, dripping hole while you howled with pain - the three idiots daring to mockingly join in on your howl.

Full… in a different way than usual. It was as if your world stopped moving. This - this wasn’t your owner, this was just three brutes he had let into your life. When you had cried and whined about not wanting to live here, you didn’t mean for him to try to fix it with these 3.

Their cocks would never be as nice as John’s.

Hell, you would even take Nik’s.

Soap pulled back a little, before he trusted inside again a little harder than before. A little whimper left you, your eyes closing, trying your hardest to ignore the sparkles you saw behind your eyelids.

His knot, though not fully expanded in any way, pressed against your pussy; you couldn’t remember the last time you had been knotted. You didn’t remember it being a nice one either.

Each thrust made a wave of hate and pleasure run through you and sounds left you at each of them. Your ears tipped back, writhing in the grip of the hybrids.

Worse? They both seemed to get off of it.

They made out above you, Gaz’ bulge pressed against your face, as you watched them kiss each other with an intense heat, nose bumping together in every one of Soap’s thrusts, that hit so deep inside you wailed at every one of them.

Ghost was behind Soap suddenly, grabbing onto his Mohawk and forcing his head back a little.

“C’mon pup, fuck her better than that,” the bigger man snarled and Soap’s thrusts easily became faster, more desperate; his strong fingers digging into the fat of your thighs so hard, that you knew it was a matter of moments before his claws would pierce though your skin.

There were three pair of eyes staring at you as your moans and sobs intertwined into a mess, making you feel smaller than you had for a while.

“Look at you now,” Gaz crooned, his fingers palming your tits, pressing his bulge against your face a little again, “much more sweet now, huh?”

“Sh- uh - ah fuck - shut up.”

Gaz merely snickered at your attempt and as you tried moving your face to nip at his bulge, he easily moved back and slapped your cheek.

It didn’t help in any way that Soap decided to touch your clit in that exact moment. Pain bloomed in your cheek, while pleasure bloomed in your pussy, the little shed filling with lewd and loud sounds of the fucking.

Soap was fucking you so hard and good that it made you whine and howl a little in between your pathetic moans and growls.

Gaz’ grip tightened on you as you fought - a scream left you as Soap leant forward, one hand brutally attacking your clit with clumsy, energetic fingers while he decided to sink his teeth into your shoulder.

It wasn’t a soft bite. In fact, it continued to press into your skin, the fangs pressing deeper and deeper, before it snapped; teeth buried into your skin, breaking the barrier. Together with the thrusts and assault on your clit continuously, it seemed to be what your body had needed.

You came almost silently, twitching and cramping, Soap fucking you through it, growling while his teeth was buried in your skin. It was like everything became white with the intensity of the many feelings all at once, your mind leaving your body for a couple of seconds.

Then, as you felt your mind finally returning, another thing happened… Soap pushed fully in, like the bastard he was! Knot a little expanded, he pushed into your cunt, forcing you to take it.

It was too much; you sobbed with horror and pleasure as his knot fully expanded, effectively binding the two of you together. You could feel his cum fill up your insides, feel the way his cock twitched, Soap moaned and even more seed was forced into you. Your only relief was knowing the implant you had, at least stopped them from knocking you up.

Soap finally let go of you, blood dripping from his mouth like he was a feral animal, hands holding you down as you wailed, trying to get away from the knot. It was too much, too much.

“Bonnie lass,” the mutt crooned at you, leaning forward to run his bloody tongue along your cheek, laughing as you tried biting his hearing aid - before running his tongue over the wound he had left.

He rubbed his head against you like a desperate animal, as if he was a cat and not a dog hybrid, nuzzling against your armpits, even licking them, get his bloody spit all over you.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

When Nikolai entered, it was like all the flowers inside John’s stomach bloomed; the other man easily had all his attention, even if he wasn’t supposed to be here.

“Didn’t Princess give you the phone?”

“Da - but she said you need mechanic and that is lie,” Nikolai answered, sitting down on the desk that barely creaked beneath him, “I am here - no need for mechanic.”

“Oh, you suddenly know how to fix tractors too?” John couldn’t help but let some of his disbelief seep through his words, making Nikolai snort.

“I do - planes too, if you have one of those, my friend.”

There was an odd peaceful silence in between the two of them; none of them said anything but John felt Nik’s eyes on him nonetheless, undressing him in his mind. The urge to fill this silence with their moans wer— wait.

Silence?

John blinked, listening for another moment for one of his puppy’s dramatic sighs but as none came, looking towards the door, expecting you to be annoyed with having to have left the house… nothing. He looked at Nikolai again, unable to keep the nervousness from his voice.

“Where’s sweetheart?”

Nikolai chuckled darkly, looking rather pleased with himself.

“Playing with the other dogs.”

“… I highly doubt that.” John almost rolled his eyes as he spoke. If there was one thing you had made sure was known ever since they arrived, was that you didn’t want to spend time with them.

“Well, they’re playing with her then,” Nikolai shrugged as John hurried to open one of the apps on his phone, running through the options until he reached the camera in the dog shed. Where his precious puppy were.

Crying and screaming, twisting even as pleasure overtook you, the others too much for you.

Dark want rushed through Price, as he saw them sink their teeth into your soft skin, heard you shriek out another curse and cry bloody murder; the want was overtaken by feeling bad for even putting you in that situation.

“I should go look—“

His phone was taken from his hand as Nikolai then pulled him close; flushed against each other, Nik’s front pressed against his back… cock slowly filling.

“Net,” he rumbled, “you need to stay here.”

“They’ll be too rough,” John argued, watching with both delight and fear as they made you came, “I nee—“

He was pulled into Nik’s lap without warning, the man sitting down in the office chair with a little sigh; his strong hands on John’s own body, sliding beneath the knitted sweater, grabbing onto some of his skin.

“It will be good for her,” Nikolai promised darkly, breathing deeply against John’s neck, as if to take in his taste, “this is why you got them, eh?”

It was; at least, it had been one of the reasons. As much as he loved you, you couldn’t control his life and he had changed everything around the two of you already - it was only fair he made sure you were taken care of too.

“They’ll break ‘er skin,” he muttered, already feeling his cock hardening like a traitor, distracted from the sight of the pups absolutely ruining you, by Nikolai’s warm, rough hands beneath his clothes.

“We will fix her,” Nikolai easily replied, scraping his teeth along John’s neck, as if he was considering doing the same, “let them play- they need to establish hierarchy.”

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

When Soap’s knot finally deflated you tried turning away from him, getting on your knees; only for Gaz to push your upper body down again, a hand pressing down between your shoulder blades.

Soap’s tail was thumping against the barely made nest and though he clearly looked blissed out, he still helped Gaz, pressing your head down against the mattress, even as you tried getting away. Scratching at the mattress with your fingers.

“Fuck, this pussy,” Gaz crooned lovingly, “this is what I’ve been dreaming off.”

You growled against the fabric, trying to move away, but his fingers sank into your hips, claws once again pressing dangerously hard into your skin.

His cock filled you up with a couple of thrusts, slower than soap’s intense one; as if he was taking his time enjoying you. A deep huff of pleasure left him and you barked, trying to scratch at Soap.

It earned you a hard slap on the ass, taking you by surprise - and then the thrusts came suddenly and quickly. There was no mercy and you began crying again. The mixed hybrid was growling deeply, moving so that he was fully pressed against your back - hands grabbing your wrist pressing them against the nest.

Then he fucked you. The thrusts were short and sharp, he didn’t pull out as far as Soap had, but it was like a constant hammering instead, without any kind of relief from the pressure. He sniffed and panted into your neck while you wailed - and then he did the same as Soap had.

He sunk his teeth into your skin, fangs pressing deep and breaking skin, and for the second time, you were bitten. Only, Gaz let go much quicker, barking at your cries, before repeating his action.

Never stopping his movement.

No words could leave you. It was animalistic sounds, created from the chaos that the hybrids had forced into your mind, blending hatred and lust together.

It sent shivers down your spine as you tried to drown out Gaz’ words about your ass, about you being a little silly lapdog, about being too spoiled to shut up and accept things didn’t have to go your way.

It felt like he went on forever and you managed to come twice, the second one squirting - which meant you got Soap all up in your business, pushing himself in between Gaz fucking you, lapping up your juices like he was dying of thirst.

It made you attempt to squirm away, his face being pressed against your clit every thrust, together with Gaz’ balls. Gaz was drooling, slobbering all over your shoulders and sinking his teeth into your skin, new places and into your already broken skin.

Chaotic and wrong, moans sept into your threats, promising you would mess them up, which they barely seemed to notice. As if they knew you were more bark than bite, which wasn’t exactly wrong. Soap finally pulled away and Gaz pressed his slightly expanded knot inside you, before pulling it out again, before repeating the motion again and again.

Then Soap was suddenly in your face, pulling your head up by your ears, making you cry out, kissing you slobbingly and intensely - and for once, you proved that you could bite, sanded down teeth or not.

Soap pulled back with a yelp, then a grin appeared on his face a moment later, his own blood mixing into yours, dripping from his lip, as you growled at him.

Of course the crazy pup liked it.

Every time Kyle forced his knot inside again, you cried - every time he forced it out you wailed, gripping the sheets harder, tugging at them while you found yourself screaming, begging for him to just knot you properly. To stop torturing you like that and apparently, it was what Kyle had wanted to hear.

One last time, he forced it inside and pressed further into you than before, almost putting his entire body weight on you; you moaned and whimpered as it got stuck, his cum forced into your womb, just like Soap had done. He continued rolling his hips in small motions, making you sob into the sheet, closing your eyes. Then he bit down yet another time, another spurt of cum inside you.

He gnawed a little on your shoulder like a chew toy and all you could think about was how you would rather have John do this to you.

The pain from everything made you space out, panting into the mattress, sniffling a little. Ignoring the tongues running over your shoulders and neck, how they cooed at you.

Good little puppy. A good bitch now, aren’t you? Knew ye could behave, bonnie lass, just needed some knots. Dinnae throw a fuss. Stupid lil city dog, aren’t ya?

Kyle tugged you and tipped the two of you to the side, ignoring the way you cried out as his knot tugged.

Minutes went by as you waited for the knot to go down, trying your best to remain calm.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

You felt sore all over, arms shaking as you tried raising your upper body, wincing at the cum sliding out of you and the way the bite marks stung. You weren’t just worried they had broken skin anymore, you knew they had. Blood was dripping down your arms, in between the already dried and caked parts, only making you feel more horrible.

Your beautiful, beautiful body - your skin. Those brutes! Curse them! Sons of bitches, all of them.

You felt pathetic, needy, weak; never wanting to leave the farm house again.

Gaz lazily barked at you as you tried getting up, but he was laying next to you, clearly blissed out, so you used the moment to escape… or at least attempted to.

A large hand pushed down on your back, the weight pushed upon you, forcing you down with a squeal - Ghost let out a deep growl as a reply.

The moment the hand was away, you scrambled, hearing his knees hit the mattress behind you. Ghost seemingly didn’t care that you tried slipping between his fingers; he merely grabbed your tail and tugged you back, hard. Ignoring your sob of pain, continuing to growl deeply, trying to force his dominance down upon you.

As if there was any question of who was the one in charge here. The sound of a zipper.

“No - fuck, let go, no more, no more!” You attempted pathetically, tears springing to your already puffy eyes, “I can’t - no more!”

“Yes you can,” Ghost just rumbled darkly, Soap and Gaz letting out small barks in support.

You fought him but it didn’t matter.

One hand on your hip, having a tight grab on some of your fat, the other sliding to your front, grabbing your throat - forcing you up on your knees. Your back pressed against his front, his cock thrusting in between your thighs a couple of times.

You cried at the mere sight of the cock in between your thighs. Yes, you were a size queen but not to brutes like them. Mutts, idiots, assholes, working dogs, hounds —

His fat cock entered you in one thrust, making you scream, desperately trying to wiggle away. Any movements merely made the cock slide in a little more, the knot pressing against your hole. Your scream turned silent as he gave a little thrust, your mind going blank, body giving small twitches. Much to the amusement of Ghost if you had to guess from the way he chuckled. Tongue licking your human ear. Gaz was staring with big eyes, Soap panting, drool dripping from his tongue.

You whined. He hadn’t even moved that much, but it felt like the cock was in your throat.

“Look at you, puppy,” he crooned darkly, “all you needed was some knots to shut up, huh?”

You couldn’t reply with anything but a few messy moans and Ghost gave a little thrust more, bullying his cock a little deeper,almost making your eyes cross.

“See how good you can be, hm?” Ghost continued, “tight pussy just needed to be fucked dumb. You’re much sweeter now.”

His hand tightened around your neck, pressing your tags on the collar into your skin. His palm pushed at your chin a little with its size.

“Don’t worry,” Ghost continued, before nosing your shoulder a little, a pitiful cry leaving you as his tongue slid over some of the bleeding, burning bite marks, “we can fuck you whenever ye want, princess. Perfect, innit?”

You tried shaking your head, but then Ghost let go, pushing your upper body down again- you barely managed to save yourself from slamming your head into the mattress.

There was no more waiting. He just grabbed onto your hips, pulled out his cock as far as possible and began to fuck you mercilessly.

Hard, commenting about the way your body jiggled and how lucky they were to end up somewhere with a soft bitch like you; how they would get you used to their cocks, addicted to them. How they would knock you up. Give you all the litters you wanted.

You hated how good it felt, how you cried and moaned, how your body shook and how you came. Unable to escape, crying and barking, ears tipped back.

He delivered a last bite right onto the back of your neck, as he forced his knot inside your poor pussy, filling you up; sinking his fangs into you, breaking the skin as you screamed and came once more, filled up with his knot. Cum unable to escape.

You sobbed into the mattress while stuck to Ghost, who grumbled but didn’t hit you. Gaz and Soap were cooing at you again, licking away tears and nuzzling closer, telling you how good you looked, how much fun you all were going to have.

Then you could hear them kissing above you, but you didn’t look, mind overwhelmed.

It was like you were hot all over; it had been years since you had had a heat and you feared, just for a moment, that your body would spontaneously go into one, from the knotting and biting, the breeding behavior you had just gone through.

It was the familiar feeling of warmth spreading from your chest to your cunt, Ghost growling slightly as you tightened around his knot from the feeling. You were pretty sure your implant was going to save you. Hopefully. The idea of getting knocked up by them right now almost made you want to throw a fit.

But beneath them, being beneath Ghost at the moment, throwing a tantrum would bring you nothing. His clothes pressed against your bare body, save from the top that was pushed beneath your tits, felt too hot.

The shed stunk of sex, blood and sweat. You pretended you didn’t like how the musky, male hybrid scent wasn’t slightly nice. How a little part of you wanted to lick away the sweat drops beneath Ghost’s chin.

Nasty, they were all nasty and you hated them.

You didn’t get up, even as his knot deflated. Ghost rumbled, clearly pleased. Licking at your neck a couple of times.

Then, some of the horses neighed loudly. All three of them stiffened, while you laid there, cum dripping out of you, not caring.

“I’ll go check it out,” Ghost answered, getting up, zipping up as if it was as easy as that. Giving your ass a clap that made your pussy clench around nothing.

The moment he was out the door you were stumbling to your feet, managing to grab John’s jacket. Soap’s tail wagged and he barked, getting up himself - but Gaz held him back.

“Nah, let her run back ‘nd whimper, Soap.”

You didn’t stay to hear the reply. You just bolted to the house, jacket barely on, naked from the waist down. Feet sinking slightly into the muddy parts of the farm, towards the door you had been thrown out earlier.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

You were a crying mess, John cooing at you, drying your tears with a worried look in his eyes, while Nik seemed more calm. They both stank of sex but you were too upset to care. Humiliation from not being able to escape them, the need to be cared for, to be loved was overwhelming.

They made you bend over the couch at first, Nik’s fingers pressing into you, John softly hushing you as you cried.

“No tear,” he confirmed a moment after, pulling his fingers out, with a soft pat on your ass.

“Let’s get you a bath, princess.” You nodded while whining, clinging onto Nik as he lifted you up.

“We might need to get those checked out,” Nik nodded towards your shoulders and back and you looked over at John, who didn’t look too happy. Even Nik, who was much more calm, didn’t seem to be too enthusiastic despite how he hadn’t stepped in earlier.

The water in the tub was nice. Usually you would fight a little when it came to showers, but you were putty in their soft hands, carefully helping you get free of mud, dried blood and cum.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Alex Keller and Farah Karim appeared just around ten minutes later, parking in the big driveway, near the barn. They had apparently just visited Rudy and Rodolfo, or at least so you heard them talking about in the entrance.

Normally you would be barking at the mere door opening, curiosity overwhelming over who could give you attention now.

You were laying on your stomach on the couch, wearing panties and with a blanket over you, fur and hair still a little damp.

“There she is,” Farah mused as she entered the living room, taking in your otherwise quiet demeanor in contrast to your usual intense one, “poor puppy got all messed up, huh?”

A barely audible growl left you.

“Cut her some slack, Farah,” Alex said, following after her, his new fancy prosthetic leg that was electrical, saying a soft noise you assumed wasn’t something the humans could hear.

“He won’t send them away,” you just replied, sending John a stink eye, which made Nik chuckle while John at least looked a little upset about it.

“We will teach them to be gentle,” Nik mused to which you huffed, because that wasn’t helping one bit.

“Let us see then,” Farah said, stepping over to the couch, while Alex followed, putting their bags down on the table.

You sat up, turning your back towards them, pulling the blanket down to expose your bites, both of the vets stepping closer.

Alex let out a little whistle. Your ears tipped back a little.

“That is some nasty bites,” Farah agreed and you could hear them put on plastic gloves. Despite your anger towards your owner right now, you sent John a desperate look - and the man was with you in mere seconds, one hand gently holding onto your collar, the other caressing your dog ear, in an attempt to calm you down. You hated how it instantly helped. You didn’t really have good memories with vet visits despite knowing Farah and Alex were always sweet and careful with you.

At the first touch of a gloved hand near your bite, you moved instantly, grabbing onto John’s arm with a whine.

“Sorry lovely,” Farah apologized, “we’ll have to clean them up - I’m afraid two of them might need a stitch or two.”

“We’ll numb the area first, don’t worry,” Alex was quick to add in a softer tone.

If this didn’t prove to John and Nik that the hybrids shouldn’t be near you, you didn’t know what would.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Farah and Alex left half an hour later, with you being prescribed antibiotics and painkillers.

Nik and John spoke in hushed voices while you watched television, John having given you some snacks.

“Nik and I are going to town, Princess,” John said a moment later, entering the room to give you another pat on the head, “we’ll be back in an hour or two.”

“What if they go in here-“ you whined, “I wanna go, I wanna-“

“Hush. You can’t rip the stitches, you’re staying here. We’ll lock the door, Laswell will make sure you’re left alone, alright?”

“MmKay.”

You stayed in the living room most of the day, watching rom coms and reality television. Nothing like watching two hybrids fall in love, but not being allowed to meet, their owners despising each other.

When your owner and Nik returned, they had brought several things - most importantly, some nicely baked cake for you, as a treat. Your tail wagged while eating it. If you closed your eyes, it was like you were back in the city again.

Imagining you weren’t out in the country, that you were in a fancy apartment and not an old farmhouse; that the sounds in the background was the music of the city and not—

The sounds of a cow mooing. You huffed, took another bite, closing your eyes and daydreamed once more.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

“Go on, then.”

You blinked at John’s voice, sterner than last time, for a moment afraid if you’d done anything wrong. The painkillers were making you a little slow, so you blinked a couple of times, before you were able to focus your eyes on the people in the living room.

And instantly tip your ears back in a growl at the sight of the three hybrids, John and Nik standing behind them.

“Go away.” You growled, to which Ghost huffed, rolling his eyes and shooting John a look. John merely crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow at him. As if to dare him to not follow the order they’ve been told.

“I’m sorry that I hurt ye, cuilean. I dinnae mean tae. Nae this badly.” It was Soap who said it first, actually looking apologetic as you laid there on the couch, staring at them, Gaz nodding along.

“Yeah sorry,” Gaz’ ears were tipped down, tail even a little between his legs, “we won’t bite you again like that, I swear, we never meant to hurt you.”

You wanted to get them castrated. Despise not really liking their apologies, you looked over at Ghost then, waiting. The big guy didn’t say anything, just stared at you - that was until Soap elbowed him in the ribs, the pale man finally grunted out; “Sorry sweetheart.”

John looked expectantly at you, a small smile on his face, as if to say ‘look! They can be good!’. You scrunched your eyebrows together in a frown. That was it?

You deserved poems, movies, dances, songs, art pieces created in a mere attempt of apologising properly.

“I still hate you.”

It made Soap laugh, grinning with all his teeth, while John groaned behind them, touching his face. Nik seemed amused too however.

“Good enough for now. We will work on bonding later, da?”

“They can bond with each other,” you answered, curling together on the couch, “bite each other to pieces.”

“We apologized,” Ghost argued in a dry voice, as if he barely believed in it himself.

“Fuck off.”

Ghost smiled at your stubbornness, before letting John kick them into the kitchen so that they could be fed before being sent out again.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Your time with them was limited for a couple of days, much to your enjoyment. You got extra attention, John and Nik were careful around you — John did eat you out on the third day, when you became frustrated, Nik cooed at you in Russian as you came. Even Laswell was a little nicer to you.

You got scratches beneath your chin, kisses and touches and the pain meds helped stop the thundering pain from the bite marks, which were at least healing nicely.

You slept at your master’s - and his boyfriend’s - feet, leisuring around the house while they worked throughout the day.

Apparently the military bastards knew how to do their jobs, at least. They stopped and caught a fox before it got a chicken, kept the wolves at bay and helped throughout the day. They made sure to watch at night, too apparently.

Then it was rainy one day… and it rained a lot that night. It seemed to never end and when you were called to eat breakfast, you had assumed the working dogs were out. But they weren’t.

In fact, two of them stood in the doorway, close to the dinner table, watching as their third pack mate, Soap, quietly sat on the bench while Nikolai and John looked him over. They all had damp hair and Gaz’s and Ghost’s boots were covered in mud, making you scrunch your nose in disgust. Dirty mutts.

“Good morning bird,” Gaz greeted, looking over you and smiling as you coughed so that they would move. They did so and you stepped into the kitchen, not answering the greeting.

It was only when you passed him that Soap looked up and grinned at you.

“Hiya bonnie lass,” his words sounded… slurred in a way. A tad too loud, but his tail was thumping at the sight of you. You huffed, looking at Nikolai as he sighed and put down a piece of tech you didn’t know.

“I’m afraid you need to fix by professional,” Nikolai said, looking at John, “it’s all completely ruined.”

“Hm, that’s what I figured,” John said, “alright. We’ll go get it done today, just so he can feel better soon.”

“Gonna do what?” You asked as you sat down at your common spot, looking confused for a moment - then Nikolai pointed to the technology that was dripping with water and mud.

“Soap’s hearing aid is broken,” Nik replied, “we have to get a new one.”

“You guys can go out and help Laswell - I’m gonna go to town together with Soap and—“

Growls.

You tried making yourself smaller, even though they weren’t raised towards you.

“We’re not leaving him.”

“What is dae matter?” Soap’s voice was loud, as his head turned from person to person.

John was staring at Ghost who had crossed his arms.

“It won’t take long,” John replied but Ghost just growled again.

“No.”

“Ghost,” John’s voice was kept calm but steady, “Soap’s not going to get hurt. We will get him fitted for one and find a kind that fits him the best - then we’ll come back. Bringing you two along won’t be necessary.”

Ghost didn’t look one bit convinced but John turned towards Soap anyways, leaning closer to his human ear on the left side of his face.

“You’ll need new hearing aids,” he explained, voice loud and words clear, “Nikolai and I will take you to town to get them fixed.”

He pulled back and Soap looked confused but nodded.

“I dinnae want to make trouble,” he promised, ears tipping back a little, “I can make it work!”

John shook his head, giving Soap a small smile before reaching up and giving his head a pat. His tail instantly began to wag again.

“You didn’t do it on purpose,” John answered, keeping his voice loud, “it’s okay. You would need new ones eventually.”

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

John and Nikolai left after breakfast, with the herding dog in the backseat, muzzle on his face - just in case.

You had forgotten the fact Soap had lost some of his hearing, though you had noticed the hearing aid now and again.

Ghost and Gaz didn’t seem one bit happy with their bonded mate leaving, even though they knew he would be back. Laswell was using them though, making them help fix things, so you dared to relax again, enjoying the little sun ray that hit one of your dog beds perfectly.

The peace and quiet that you had enjoyed and the lack of attempts at being forced to spend time with the men was seemingly coming to an end, at least for one specific pup.

Soap was back, giant grin on his face but no hearing aids, since they apparently decided to buy a fancy kind that had to be shipped to the clinic in the nearest town.

Which meant Soap was in house rest for the next couple of days.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

At first Soap left you alone, merely staying close but not messing with you. He slept in one of your dog beds, muttering - or at least trying to - about how nice and soft it was.

All you could think about was that it needed to get washed, because you weren’t sleeping in something that stank of him. You even suspected he jerked off into the fuzzy fabric. Nasty.

John had merely told you to be nice and share when you complained; that Soap wasn’t used to being indoors like this, wasn’t used to remaining still and not having something to do - that he didn’t like not being able to hear.

You tried, at least a little, to be overbearing, making it rather visible when he got too close and you didn’t like it.

He would disappear now and again to see his mates, and come back with a wagging tail, salvia wet lips and a pleased smile on his face.

As long as he kept his distance.

It was on the second day however, when taking a nap in your own room, in the fuzzy, soft dog bed, that the mutt caught you off guard.

You slowly woke to a nice and pleasurable feeling, letting out a deep pleased sigh as you blinked a couple of times, slightly confused over what was making you feel this way. Of why your legs felt slightly cold. Only to blink a couple of times, half lidded eyes looking down — seeing Soap with his dirty paws on you, tongue halfway into your cunt.

His tail was wagging, ears turning towards you and he didn’t even stop when he realized you had woken up. If anything, he just quickened his tongue’s movement, thrusting it into your cunt, tightening his hands on your thighs.

“‘S okay, Bonnie lass,” he cooed, a slight slurred tone to his voice as he pulled back a little, tongue and slick dripping from his mouth and chin, before he crawled up to you. You didn’t have time to protest, the bigger hybrid settling in behind you, the lack of his own pants clear as he settled against your back, his cock pressing against your asscheeks. His hands slid around your body, holding you close and letting out a deep breath as if the both of you just woke from the nap.

You twitched slightly and he kissed you cheek, “dinnae throw a fit, please,” he mumbled against it, voice still a little loud.

“I will yell for master,” you warned with a growl. The other just let out a “mhmm,” in agreement and you weren’t really sure whether he had truly heard your threat or not. Even if he had, you weren’t sure if it would have stopped him.

Despite your confused and tired attempt at pulling free, squirming and attempting to claw at whatever you could reach, it was no help.

His cock slid into your pussy, which was looser than you liked. Your eyes rolled back for a moment and Soap let out a deep growl, that sounded more pleased than anything.

You writhed, unable to help it, the cock hitting you so well, which you didn’t like. Well, you liked it, the pleasure, but you didn’t want to give in.

You cried out at a deeper thrust, Soap moaning as well; it started deep in his chest and turned more high pitched, more needy. He was careful with your shoulders, keeping you pressed so close you couldn’t move them. The stitches were almost ready to come out and though there was a slight pain, it was not too much.

He fucked you better than you liked, whimpering behind you like a needy mutt in rut.

You couldn’t control your moans and cries, attempting to keep it down, to pretend you weren’t enjoying it. His thrusts were deep but quick, sending your mind spiraling. His knot teased your opening with each movement.

You moaned so loud it was bordering on a scream when he came, knotting you. Carefully licking your cheek, catching a few of your tears with a pleased hum.

It was barely a minute later before John opened the door quickly, looking worried, apron on, presumably making lunch - instantly looking at you. He blinked at the sight of you and Soap, before visibly calming, even smiling. How dared he, traitor, mea—

You let out a small sound as Soap wagged his tail, it thumbed against your bed quickly, making you mewl a little as the movement rushed through his hips and making his cock move, inside your cunt. The knot moving and pressing inside you, making you unable to breathe for a second, eyes rolling up.

Soap licked against your cheek and you pawed at his hands on you, ears tipped back a little.

“Horny pups,” said almost lovingly by Price who then patted your head, and you whined, annoyed by how you were stuck to Soap - or well, to his cock.

“Don’t like him, Sir,” you whined, using your best needy voice, ignoring Price’a raised eyebrow as another thrust made you gasp again.

“You seem to get along fine,” he just answered, patting Soap’s head to prove to the other man that it was fine - he moved Soap’s head to the side for a moment, taking a look at your shoulders, to make sure nothing was bleeding, “everything seems good. He can control himself then.”

“Castrate them,” you just replied, “cut off their dicks.”

John Price laughed. You still loved his laughter even if he didn’t understand your hatred for the mutts he had decided to add to the farm.

“When you get untangled, there’s lunch in the kitchen.”

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

When Farah and Alex returned to look at your wounds and remove your stitches, you felt your tail instantly go between your legs, ears down.

“It’s fine. I’m doing fine,” you argued, not making one move towards sitting down on the couch like last time. You knew Farah and Alex were only there to help you; however, you weren’t in pain like last, your mind saw no reason for them to be there. Surely the stitches would fall out or something?

“Princess,” your owner stepped towards you, your tail curling even further between your legs, “it’s fine, they’re gonna chec—“

You stumbled backwards, almost falling into Soap’s chest. He seemed confused at the sudden appearance of the two vets, who were smiling gently at the two of you. Yet when you curled around and behind him, he instantly straightened up.

You could hear Nik laugh. “They have been bonding!”

“Shut it, Nik,” John just answered while Alex huffed, your owner stepping closer, “darling, come on. We will be done in a minute.”

“They’ll file down my teeth.”

“Wha- no, of course they won’t, princess. You know I won’t let them do that.”

You sniffled, holding onto Soap’s shirt. There was a low growl from Soap.

You still very much hated him, but you could have kissed him.

“Dinnae.” Was all he said, slightly slurred and a little loud, but still. Body tense.

“She needs her stitches checked.” Farah’s voice cut through the room, loud and clearly not filled with patience, “we are here to clean them and remove them.”

Soap’s body language calmed down a little and you wanted to hit him, for giving up so easily. What kind of fucking safety was he supposed to offer when he gave in line this? Maybe you should just ask Farah to castrate him and the two other mutts while she was here.

“Sit,” John pointed towards the couch and Soap moved - pulling you by the arm, while you barked and argued a little.

In the end you curled up against him, John petting your hair, as they removed the stitches.

By now, everything seemed to be going as they should.

It wasn’t like when you got the fangs filed down or when you were declawed, but you were still afraid. Not that they could take much more from you.

Despite not liking either Farah or Alex being there, you still took the treat they offered you - managing to get it into your mouth before Soap could get too interested. He got his own and you didn’t like how both your tails wagged. But you allowed it for now.

The treat wasn’t as good as the weird one Nik had fed you the first day. You let out a dramatic sigh on the couch, making John roll his eyes - but he scratched your stomach a little before moving on, to do whatever it was farmers did.

You just ignored Soap, he was wagging his tail like a lovesick puppy next to you, sniffing your hair. You still hadn’t forgiven him or the others for anything.

His hearing aids came later that day. You kept your distance, watching Gaz and Ghost help him get it set up right, Nik and John right by them.

You wasn’t really upset that Soap went back outside… were you?

No. Not at all.

234 notes · View notes

saradika · 7 months ago

Text

— invisible string

din djarin x vaguely force sensitive!reader

rated e - 1.7k

tags: divergent timeline, soulmate!au, takes place across season 1 & 2, missed connections, the Razor Crest lives, PiV, marking, creampie, magical elements

a/n: for the TS Challenge by @beskarandblasters! This was so fun, thanks so much for hosting this event! 💖 I was so excited to get this song & character

There's something about him, this man.

Deep down, it feels as if a string is tied around something vital inside you. A piece of you that you cannot live without, twined with its match inside him. Like the path you've taken has always led to this moment, this meeting.

You feel as if you are always out of step.

Too early. And then somehow - just a little bit too late.

As if you've missed something crucial. A prickle on the back of your neck. Eyes scanning the crowds of people as you weave through cities - looking for someone.

As to whom, though - you're never quite sure.

You think it's always been there. A similar sort of feeling that flickers when you're in danger. That was something you had cultivated. Manipulated into a force you can wield. A push and pull, an aid - when you need it. Something you draw from often, during your days as a smuggler.

But you're not sure what to do with this.

The feeling is pushed down on Nevarro.

Contacted for a job, one that had been easy enough. Your goods exchanged in a dingy cantina - a shipment of stolen fuel cells furtively traded to an irritated man that went by Karga. Your eyebrows raised at the charred hole in the man's fine clothes - a half-hearted wonder at how the man was still standing.

The Imperial credits he offers you do not get you far. He's unable to offer you a puck - his trade was in bounty hunting, not smuggling. You're not sure if you'd take one, and the cells are enough to keep his crew afloat for a while. A dead-end for now, but you think - not always.

After, your ship drifts along an unseen track.

To Tatooine this time. A big job for the Hutts that takes you two weeks. Days in the sun spent waiting for the payments to transfer to your account, and so in the meantime - you tinker.

Trading your way up. A broken blaster fixed, exchanged for ship parts. The parts installed, the labor paid for with two, beat-up old speeders.

Only to sell them both to a cocky hot-shot bounty hunter for double their value - his over-blown self-confidence eclipsing the fact that you were absolutely swindling him.

It’s not your problem.

Though here, you can't help but feel the urge to linger. An itch beneath your skin, as if you've missed something, again.

You ignore it. Trading up one more time - swapping Mos Eisley for the sea. The choppy waters of Trask washing away the grit and sand that clings to your skin.

There's always work to be found here - deals to make with the Quarren and Mon Calamari. Those days spent at the inn, with lunches of warm homemade chowder and wrapped in chunky-knit sweaters.

Eyes snagging on a couple that often sits together at lunch. Their features frog-like, affection clear in their soft chatter, the slow blink of their large, black eyes. You imagine it to be a stolen moment - meeting up in the afternoon, too eager to wait until evening to see each other.

It’s nice.

It follows you, back to your room.

You think about them later - the obvious connection. A bone-deep urge to find another that matches a part of you. Something you've never had.

Somehow you know it’s out there.

But it's not time.

The next day, your ship takes off again.

There's a feeling deep down that for once, you're right where you need to be.

Your path is not guided by a job. Something spinning inside your chest like the point of a compass, your fingers keying coordinates with a mind of their own.

It's not a sea. Not a desert. Not a growing town, slowly rebuilding.

You're taken to a forest. The trees are unlike those you've seen - stretching tall and thin towards the sky. Their leaves sparse, but still filling the space with the sheer number.

There's a village - but you're drawn away from the tall walls. There's nothing inside that you seek. Drawn back to the trees you had seen from above. There's no tracks for you to follow, it's only your own boots pressed into the earth.

But you still go out, day after day.

It's on the third day, as you sit by the edge of a clear, shallow pool, that you hear the crack of branches under boots.

It should frighten you… but it doesn't.

It feels like an inevitability.

Your head turns, and there's a man there. His limbs encased in armor of shining beskar. A Mandalorian, you realize, when your eyes meet the dark visor that bisects his helmet.

"It's you." The words are a flat buzz, through his helmet. Unsurprised, somehow. Just as you are.

And it's him.

There's something about him, this man.

You're not sure what that something is...

But think you are finally ready to find out.

His touch is familiar, though you've never known it. Much like everything else, it feels almost destined.

You know he feels it too. A slow circling dance, the weight of his eyes following you from behind the visor. That string inside no longer feels like a leash, but instead - a lifeline.

Finally being able to acknowledge that he has been what you've been orbiting around this whole time. Easing that ever-present ache of loneliness that had always followed you.

For some time, he had thought you would be the one to train Grogu. That perhaps this had been the reason why the fates had pushed you together.

You had tried, and failed. That part of you still too raw, too unfashioned. It lived inside you, but it was something you had been unable to teach another. How could you, when you did not even know the word for what it was?

And as time passed, you realized deep down that you were truly meant to be here now. Not for the before.

An aid at first, of course. You had gone with him to Tython. Traded in your ship, and traveled on the Slave 1. Had faced death by his side, staring into the black chrome of the Dark Troopers.

Had grieved with him, after.

You think this had been your place all along.

This liminal space, in those months that follow.

Giving him something to grab onto. Fingers sinking into flesh, your back hitting the mattress as he follows.

It’s dark, in the belly of his ship. With anyone else your senses would be screaming, a ringing alarm.

But you’ve come to know each room, fingers tracing the cold metal. From the walls, to the bunk, to him - the tips slipping under to tug at the fastenings of his armor.

He is quiet, like he often is now. But you can feel the heat that rolls off him in waves. The harsh buzz of his breath through the vocoder, before the light cuts out completely.

Before it’s just him and you.

His knees nudge your thighs wider. Pressing into muscle and flesh, forcing them up and apart. Your fingers twist in his curls, angling your mouth up to meet the kiss that is all teeth and tongue.

Fingers dip down, thick and calloused. Parting you, nudging inside to where you’re wet and waiting. Pumping deep with his thumb pressed snug against the button of your clit - leaving you dizzy and clenching and wondering if he just knew, as well.

You think he did. He does.

And when he works himself inside you, you finally feel full. Ripping a sound from each of you - his rough and swallowed, yours a broken murmur of his name.

Something else given in the dark, on another night akin to this. Pieces of himself peeled back and gifted, only to be carefully wrapped up and buried deep.

The pound of his hips itches at something you’ve been missing. Those hands tugging at your hips, pulling you to meet each harsh thrust. Fingers slipping down to swirl against you again - a spark rising each time you fit together, building swiftly to an inferno.

“Din,” You breathe, as something heavy flickers inside you, just out of reach, “Stars, please. Don’t stop-”

“I won’t,” It’s a low oath, as his cock grinds deep, “I’ve waited too long for you, cyare.”

He wrenches it from you, setting you ablaze. Your is cry loud in the tiny room as you come undone. The wild swirl of your senses narrowing down, until it’s just him. Din’s mouth against your neck, warm breath and teeth nipping marks into your skin - the pleasure flowing from you in pulsing waves, sinking into him.

Making him follow, no more than a dozen thrusts later. A gritted, bitten-back moan of your own name, before his hips are stuttering. Giving back what you passed to him, his cock throbbing inside you, buried deep.

Where he stays, until he’s gone soft. A pang of loss shuddering through you when he slips from between your thighs - expecting him to return to his own bunk.

To leave you, again.

But the mattress dips, next to you. The space narrow, a short sigh when you wiggle too much trying to get comfortable. Hands hooking around your wrists, hauling your hips over his. Settling you down on top of him.

And in the dark - he stays.

“Should have met you on Tatooine,” Din tells you later that night, unbidden. Letting your legs twine with his, thighs parted to make room for you. “I didn’t know it was you. If I had-”

His words end abruptly, hanging. Both of you thinking about all those moments when time hadn’t lined up. The synchronicity of your movements, just barely nudged out of time.

Both there, during that same moment. If you had stayed another day, maybe that would have been your meeting.

But you had left early, and he had came late.

“We’re here now.” You tell him, chin pressing against his chest. Eyes finding his in the dark, though you cannot see. “Isn’t that enough?”

There’s the brush of his hand along your spine - knuckles, and then fingertips as they unfurl.

“Yes.”

It is enough, for now.

You’re not sure if it’s forever. If, for some reason, you’ll be forced to part again. But tonight, you’re not worried.

Because, if you were to reach inside yourself and pluck that golden string right now - letting it thrum…

You think that he would feel it, too.

thanks so much for reading!! 💖

cyare - beloved

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x f!reader #ts drabble challenge #din djarin imagine

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yawnderu · 1 year ago

Note

My life is falling apart - could you write how Ghost might save reader from her emotionally abusive and toxic husband? I thank you, maybe one day I'll have someone like Simon.

Whoever you are, I'm here for you if you need to talk. Stay strong sweetheart, this too shall pass. 💖

CW: Emotional abuse, toxic relationships, hurt/comfort, protective Simon Riley.

Simon had sneaked his way into your life with the same stealth he uses on missions— a man who barely spent any time at his apartment and was always away for what he said was just ''work''. The same man who after a few conversations, started bringing you small gifts from his missions, always something different that he thought you'd like.

Simon isn't dumb— far from it, he's always aware of his surroundings and throughout the years, he knows how to read people well. That's why it breaks him to see the way your smiles now came accompanied with a nervous look in your eyes whenever your husband was home, despite you and Simon simply being friendly towards one another.

Whenever he was back at his apartment, he started listening more and more. Paying even more attention to you, ear pressed against the wall while he listened to your husband berate you for a plethora of reasons, all of them more absurd than the other, the truth heavy on his shoulders, weighting him down like Atlas holding the sky.

Oh, how he wanted nothing more than to go inside your house and ravage your husband the same way he does so casually in the battlefield— but he can't. Simon Riley is not Ghost. Simon has to lay low, to ensure both his safety and yours, so he starts planning. Planning how to approach the issue, how to get you out of the situation and understand you better. He'd never admit it, but he spent the entire night reading the experiences of other married women when it comes to abusive marriages, restless dreams full of ideas on how in the bloody hell he'll get you out of this.

He waits until the next day once your husband leaves for work, waiting out five minutes that feel eternal just to make sure he doesn't come back. Unmasked and with very faint stains of eye black that he never seems to be able to fully remove, he knocks on your door. You answer with teary eyes, sniffling softly as you try your best to give him a small smile, yet he can see the pain. The same pain he saw in his mother's eyes his entire life.

''Simon!'' You greet, moving aside so he can enter your house, closing the door behind you as you both go to the living room.

''Would you like a cuppa?'' You offer and it takes him a few seconds to decide, ultimately nodding his head. Maybe this will be easier if you're both having a nice, warm drink. You come back minutes later with a tray and some crumpets, something you started buying when he casually mentioned liking them.

''Thank you.'' He takes a sip of the perfectly made chamomile tea, done the way he loves it— with two teaspoons of honey and hot. You give him a happier smile, the warmth of his presence wrapping around you like a secure blanket, a far cry from your marriage.

''Love...'' He begins and your full attention goes to him, noticing his serious tone and pensive expression.

''There's no easy way to say this, but with this place having thin walls, I sometimes hear things I shouldn't.'' You immediately know what he's talking about, but before you can apologize on behalf of your husband, he keeps speaking.

''You deserve so much better.'' He puts his cup down, eyes looking down to his hands— the hands he keeps ungloved just for you, the hands that are protected by his skull gloves whenever he's out in missions, so he can come back to you free of sin. He sits down next to you, one of his arms wrapping around your back reassuringly.

''Why are you still with him?'' There's a hint of desperation in his tone, thin eyebrows furrowed as he looks at you. You want to look away, but his brown eyes are almost hypnotic. So expressive, so telling whenever words aren't enough.

''I... I don't know.'' You reply with honesty, tone strained as you hold back tears and try to dig into your brain for any reasons you're with the man, yet nothing comes up. ''I don't have anywhere else to go to.''

Your words hurt him as much as they hurt you, looking at the potential you have that is being wasted on some ungrateful wanker who berates you for the smallest things.

''Run away with me.'' He suggests in a spur of the moment and before he can even process his own words, a small giggle escapes your lips. He raises an eyebrow as he looks down at you, curious as to what's so funny. Your giggling stops when you notice the expression on his face.

''You're serious?'' You ask carefully, not wanting to make a fool of yourself despite knowing he'd never joke about something like that.

''I'm serious, love. We could go somewhere far away from here, safe. You can leave all of this behind, just say the word.''

''I...'' He can see your hesitancy, his warm hand rubbing circles on your back while the other one holds your hand, thumb rubbing the back of your hand reassuringly.

''What if he finds me?'' It's the first question that comes to mind, not wanting to deal with more of his abuse if you ever manage to get away.

''He won't, doll. I can promise you that. I'll get some of my mates to watch out for you when I'm busy at work, if it helps you.'' He knows it will, and he already has highly trusted friends from the 141 in mind to watch out for you whenever he goes on solo missions.

It took almost two hours of convincing before you agreed, and that's where you are now. He's helping you inform the police about your situation and why you're going away, just in case your husband tries to report you missing.

Most of your belongings were left at the house, but... it surprisingly doesn't bother you. It'll be a new beginning, the same furniture that has witnessed years of abuse is now left behind, only a few clothes inside his car while you both leave the police station. You take a deep breath, the warmth of the sun washing over your skin as you close your eyes, a sincere smile on your face for the first time in years.

''Thank you, Simon.'' My angel, my savior.

#cod mw2 #cod mwii #simon ghost riley #ghost mw2 #ghost fluff #hurt/comfort #simon riley x y/n #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost x you #simon riley fluff #ghost call of duty #simon riley #ghost cod #call of duty #mw2 fluff #stray answers

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 5 months ago

Text

End Game 7

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

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

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

Summary: Your gaming buddy asks to meet up but it doesn’t go exactly as planned.

Characters: Andy Barber

Note: hump day, wooooo.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Strange how you never found comfort at home. Well, it never felt like one for you. You were always just a hanger-on. A burden.

As you enter your grandma's house, you can't help but exhale the tension you've been holding in. She's in her chair, reading, not a word at your arrival. You go into the kitchen, set on eating the frozen meal you lost your appetite for the other night.

You peel back the corner on the tray and shove it in the microwave. As you shut the door, you nearly wince at the unexpected figure in the doorway. You don't know if you're really surprised or if Andy has you jumpy. Both.

"Want some coffee?" You offer your grandmother, hoping to appease her. "Tea?"

She grumbles and waves you off, shuffling across the tile in her slippers. She crosses her arms and her lip sticks out, "nice of that man to come all the way down here like that."

You turn your attention back to the countdown and shrug, "yeah."

"He didn't need to just for all that. For you, did he?" She prompts. Her interest both irks and worries you. She never cared about anything. "And after losing his family."

"Right, yeah, it's tough," you twiddle your fingers at your side.

"Don't sound so heartbroken," she scoffs, "Christ, wasn't that boy you're friend?"

You face her as the microwave beeps, "grandma..." you can't tell her. If she even bothered to listen, she wouldn't believe you. She doesn't even know Andy and she's already taking his side. Typical. "Yeah, I'm sad. Guess I'm a bit in shock."

You turn back and take the too hot tray out, holding back a hiss at the singe in your fingertips. You spin and cross the kitchen to grab a fork. Your grandma huffs and putters after you.

"He sent them flowers," she says.

You stir the noodles and cheese, "he did."

"Fancy. Expensive."

You don't really get why she's still harping on. She didn't put so much mind to your prom or graduation or even when you got your job. Yet you can't be surprised where she's strayed; she's always been on you about money.

"Seems to me he's a bit lost," she says, "you're..." she weighs her words before she speaks, something she rarely does, "maybe he's tryna find some direction. He might... might wanna take care of ya."

"Huh?" You make a face and glance at her from the corner of you eye.

"Like, I dunno, I watch those talk shows, grief is something nasty. I would know," she goes on. You can't remember the last time you heard her talk so much. "He only got-- had the one kid. You're about the same age... maybe he's tryna, I dunno, replace what he lost."

You nearly laugh in her face. Really? This is what she cares about? You stare at her and furrow your nose. You could tell her. You could try. She's listening. For once.

"I don't think... it's not... I'm not his responsibility and I don't wanna be."

"You're barely your own responsibility," she sneers, "can't see a good thing in front of you."

"Grandma--"

"Well? Pretty sure there's more where those flowers came from," he tuts, "you got a few hard lessons to learn, girlie.

You look down at the macaroni. You're not hungry anymore. You grab the tray and walk away.

"Yeah, well, maybe you shoulda tried to teach me some, huh?" You toss over your shoulder and stomp out of the kitchen.

You go into your room and kick your door shut. How is he doing this? How is everyone, even a woman who hasn't lived in reality for twenty years, on his side?

You put the tray and fork down and go to the other side of the bed. You sit facing the window and drop your head into your hands. The only person you have is too far away. Besides, you don't want to drag her into this. Not any more than you already have.

🎮

For once, you’re anxious to get to work. You welcome the distraction from everything else; debt, grandma, and the biggest problem of all, the one you won’t even name. You stroll up to the ice cream booth as Luis stands outside the window, chatting to Jessie as she stands at her vigil inside. You frown. You don’t see the manager often. Only when he hired you.

“Ah, there she is,” Luis spots you and waves you over, “right on time.”

As he checks his watch you pull out your phone. You’re early, like always. His presence is more than a coincidence. You have this ripply feeling in your stomach. You black your phone and cross your arms, hiding it under your elbow.

“Hi, how’s everything going?” You ask as you approach the kiosk.

“Everything’s great,” Luis smirks, “sunshine’s out, customers too.”

You glance around. The picnic tables are mostly full. It is the perfect weather for a scoop.

“Yeah, gonna be a busy shift,” you pander with a smile.

“Hey,” Luis wags his finger as if remembering something, “before you start, let’s have a chat.”

“Oh, alright,” you agree.

He waves you away from the window as more customers approach. You follow him to one of the tables. You wait for him to sit before you do the same. He looks around from behind his black lenses and tilts to reach into his back pocket. He slides out his phone and brings it forward to cradle in both hands.

“So uh, how are you liking it? The work?” He asks.

You’re uneasy. You stare at his cell then look him in the face.

“It’s good. Steady,” you answer as you keep your own phone in your lap.

“Mhmm,” he hums and once more glances around, “look, this is never easy but I got a complaint--”

You blink slowly. You’re not surprised. You figured it would happen. Still, you thought maybe Andy might be above that. Or anything at all.

“Obviously, I take these things seriously. This business is all about customer service, especially with the Dairy Queen down the block,” he explains, “but I do try to give the benefit of the doubt. I checked the cameras.” He pauses for effect as you shrink down, “you closed the window.”

You sigh and heave out a breath, “I did.”

“You know we don’t do that,” he reprimands.

“Sir, I know but... the customer... he wasn’t a customer. He’s... bothering me.”

He pokes his tongue into his cheek and scratches his neck, “oh? Didn’t look like that type. When I spoke to him, he didn’t even seem upset. He just asked me to check in, really, but it’s not his shop. He don’t gotta worry about the bottom line. I do.”

“It won’t happen again,” you wisp out.

“I know it won’t,” he says.

You sit, waiting for him to continue. He just stares at you. You shake your head. No.

“Sorry, I gotta let you go.”

“What? It’s my first complaint--”

“This is an ice cream shop, how many of those do you think we get? Not very hard to keep the people happy so if you’re getting unhappy customers, well, that’s all I need to know.”

“Please, Luis, I need this job--”

“Shouldn’t have closed the window. I’m sorry. That’s the one rule.’

“God, I--” you huff and snarl, “whatever. Fine.” You stand and untie your apron, “get your bottom line.”

You toss the apron on the table and swipe up your bag. You turn without waiting for another empty apology. Fuck. It’s shitty but hey, there’s always the DQ and now you have experience, right?

🎮

You fill out an application for the Dairy Queen and a few other places. Your job hunt has been chronic as it is. It’s only that your search for a second gig, is now back to square one. You have only your last check coming to you before you’re digging into your meagre savings; the money meant for tuition.

Your grandma is back to living in her novels. Good. You didn’t realise until before how much you preferred it.

As you close yourself in your room, your phone vibrates. You look down at the message. It’s him. He’s been messaging, still thinking he might talk you into it. He is a lawyer but this isn’t his court. This is your life.

How pathetic. A grown man meddling in the affairs of a nineteen-year-old. If you could let go of the catfishing, everything else has assured you of his character. You flop onto your bed and swipe away his texts.

You wallow there for a while. In self-pity, in futility, in listlessness. You don’t know what to do. Everything is at a standstill. You have no job, you don’t know if you can pay for next semester, let alone the year, and you’re stuck in this deadbeat town.

You put on a video to try to drown out the incessant anxiety. Today, you’re just going to let yourself sink. You can deal with everything tomorrow. You close your eyes and yawn, drifting into a haze that makes your head fuzzy.

You’re roused by another vibe of your phone. You ignore it. He’s not going to get an answer. He can keep skirting around your blocks but you’re not wasting your energy. You’ve told him enough times to leave you alone. He has to get bored eventually.

You roll over and bury your head in the pillow. You hear your grandma clunking around in the kitchen. You hate this place. You hate your life. The more you think about it, you can’t deny how horrible it really is, especially in the shadow of your dwindling future.

What did you do to deserve this? You’re a good person. At least, you’ve always tried to be. It feels like a lot of karma for that Twizzler you stole when you were eight.

Your grandmother keeps up the racket and your phone keeps on buzzing. You flip over and sit up. You snatch up the phone and stop yourself from flicking your thumb sideways. It isn’t him. It’s Kara. You never did call her back.

You answer and put her on speaker, “hey, sup?”

“Hey,” her voice is shaky, “uh, I don’t know.”

“What?” You sit up straighter, “is everything--” your voice trails off as you listen to the commotion on her end; chatter you can’t make out, movement obscured through the speaker, “what do you mean you don’t know?”

“The cops are here,” she murmurs, “I don’t know. They just showed up. Said they got a call from the landlord or something. Cause it’s the property owner, they can just come in or whatever. I don’t know, I don’t know...” Her voice quivers with panic, “me and Calvin were just hanging out...”

“That’s... why would they--”

“Shoot, I think...” she lowers her voice, “they must’ve found his stash. Shit, shit.”

“Kara?” Your heart races as you try to keep track of what’s going.

“Miss, can you please hang up the call? We need to question you,” a deep voice interjects.

“One second, I’m just on the phone with--”

“Miss, hang up or you’ll be charged with obstruction.”

The line cuts and you gape at your phone. What the hell? You try to dial back, the call rolls through but doesn’t pick up. You try again and again. You get out of bed and pace, texting Kara helplessly. Shit, shit! How is this happening? Over what? A tiny dime bag? Everyone smokes, not that you’re the biggest fan. Too smelly for you.

You put your hand to your forehead. What do you do? You can probably get a bus ticket. Even if you get to her, the bond is going to be way more than you can afford. You doubt you’ll even be able to scrape it together.

Do you call her parents? No, they’d kill her, then she’d kill you.

You shake as your legs turn to jello. You sit back down and close your eyes. Holy crap, this can’t be real.

Your phone vibrates. It doesn’t stop. You look down at the incoming call. Unknown Caller. You’re not stupid. You know it’s him and his timing assures you he had something to do with this. This isn’t a coincidence. Those don’t exist. If there was any sort of luck in this world, you would have found some by now.

“What?” You put the phone to your ear and snarl.

“I can help your friend,” he says.

You’re silent. You want to scream at him. You want to swear at him. You want to call him every nasty word you can. But this isn’t about you, not just you. You brought Kara into this mess, even if you never meant to. You won’t let her pay for your stupidity.

“Meet me at Oxford and Maris. There’s a restaurant--”

“Fine,” you snip and hang up.

You lower your phone and shudder. He won. Given his career, he must be used to that.

#andy barber #dark andy barber #dark!andy barber #andy barber x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #defending jacob #end game

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drvscarlett · 5 months ago

Text

DOWN BAD

Charles Leclerc x Kpop idol!reader

Summary: When kpop meets formula 1 and its a relationship PR stunt. What happens then?

The Tortured Drivers' Department series

A/N: after a long long long while, we are so back! Congrats for charles winning his home race. Let me know what you think or if you wanna be added to the taglist.

Taglist. @tea-bobba @boiohboii @c-losur3 @haikyuen @stelena-klayley @stinkyjax @0710khj @jinimon-tr

Cause what if I was in love What if I can't have us.

Liked by Charles_Leclerc, todayis_wendy, and 790,456 others

xoxo_y/n 💍💖

user8 MOTHERRRRRRRR!!!!!!!!!!

user4 she remembered her account again!!!

user10 can we get a smile miss maam???

user11 she is ice princess for a reason duhh user10 it wouldn't hurt for her to smile sometimes

user55 someone tell me why charles is in the likes??

user7 charles??? like king charles?? user67 dumb dumb, its charles leclerc

user90 another day, another slay from Y/N

Y/N have never been a fan of fake dating.

However, it was not an uncommon practice in the industry. If someone wants to hide their relationship, create a fake relationship to throw off the media. If someone wants to boost their popularity, fake a relationship and get the attention.

It amazes her how good people play that part of being in love when they are really not. The thought of it also disgust her because she can't even control her emotions to the people she doesn't like let alone pretend to love someone.

So this entire meeting seems ridiculous.

"Isn't there any other way to solve this situation by not doing this?"Y/N asked.

"The company doesn't want to give you a comeback until your popularity rises and this fake relationship will guarantee a boost" the manager convinces "You are the only girl in your group that has not been involved in any dating scandals"

"Isn't that supposed to be a good thing I'm not into scandals"Y/N rebutted

"Normally it is but your image is not doing well because everyone thinks you are too cold and unreachable"

Y/N slumps back at her chair, there is really no way out of this.

"C'mon Y/N, do it for the team please"the manager begged "Think about Wendy, Joy, Seulgi, and Yeri. This whole thing will do them good"

As the leader of the group, this was her main weakness. She will do anything for the betterment of the group. Its what a good leader does.

"Just make him someone nice" Y/N surrenders.

The immediate change in expression almost made Y/N retract everything she said. This was happening whether she likes it or not for there was already a plan in mind. With her verbal agreement, its set to motion.

"Don't worry, he is a very nice guy" the manager assures "It's that f1 driver, Charles Leclerc"

Y/NFansite Y/N was just spotted boarding a flight to Japan.

user4 what is she doing in japan??

user2 what is she doing alone in japan? user3 japan huhhhh

user7 safe flight y/n

user8 it might seem crazy what im about to sayyyyyy

user9 i love love her airport fashion so chic and comfy

She knew that she should have listened to the members advice to look up her "boyfriend" but of course Y/N was too stubborn. Now, she is here sticking like a sore thumb and looking like a headless chicken in the Ferrari garage.

This was the week that they are supposed to be soft-launching their relationship. She haven't even meet the guy yet, she resist the urge of rolling her eyes as cameras might be lurking.

"Love the color of your nails" the voice comes from behind.

Y/N snaps her head giving her famous resting face as she meets the grinning Charles Leclerc.

"Ferrari Red or Red Velvet?" Charles wondered.

"It can be either"she shrugs.

He sits next to her. He was a little bit taller than her even when they are sitting down. She noticed the friendship bracelets that that he wears on his wrist with red and yellow as its dominant colors.

It was the first time that she has been able to take a long look at the man, she has seen posters of him at the train station. She will admit that she kind of sees why the girls were shrieking when they looked up the photo of Charles. He certainly looks good and she bets he knows it too with that charming smile plastered on his face.

"My name is Charles, sorry that it took me so long to meet you"Charles held out his hand

"Y/N, nice to meet you"

She didn't reach out to touch his hands in return, she just wants enough distance as much as she could. After all this whole thing is just a pretend thing.

Charles didn't seem to be dismayed by the action and he smoothly covers it up by running his open hand to his hair. He continues to smile at her brightly.

"Ice princess right?"he mentions the nickname.

"How do you know that?"Y/N asked

"I googled you last night" Charles replied "Of course I have to know something about my new girlfriend."

Y/N felt her cheeks burn at the way he spoke girlfriend. It was uttered in such a teasing manner that she is beginning to understand how some people are good at making fake dating situation work.

"I didn't look you up"Y/N admits.

She was expecting to see a falter or a tinge of disappointment but the smile on Charles face only went wider. It's as if he was a kid given a his wish on Christmas day.

"Well then that's perfect" Charles clapped his hands "We have some time before free practice, I could show you around and I could talk to you about Formula 1"

Charles_LeclercUpdate Charles is spotted walking with kpop leader Y/N before FP1. They were also spotted hanging out after free practice.

User4 what????

User7 BIG DAY FOR THE KPOP X F1 GIRLIES (its me)

User8 so that's why she went to japan!!!

User9 omgggg they will be a power couple

User14 y/n pick anyone, pick anyoneeeeeeeeeeeeeee. leave my husband alone

"Sooooooo when are we meeting our new brother-in-law?"Wendy asked.

The minute that Y/N steps back to Korea, she was immediately bombarded by her members regarding her Japan trip. They were all over their groupchat and they kept sending the photos that were tweeted by fans during the weekend.

"I think he will be busy a lot"Y/N answered "You might not meet him any time soon"

The Japanese GP was quite disappointing for Charles with him landing on a P4 and missing out on a podium. Although if Y/N could argue, she overheard people talking about how Charles did extremely well especially with the one-stop strategy. Y/N mentioned it in their conversations but Charles still insist that he has to do better so he will be training a lot.

"Tell me you took pictures"Joy asked

Y/N nodded her head as she opened up her phone. Her gallery was filled with a lot of pictures during the weekend. There were also some fans of Charles that she took photos with.

They stumble upon a selfie by Charles and Y/N, they could not stop giggling.

"Unnie, you two looks so good"Yeri, the youngest cheers "Everyone keep saying how you two are the original visual"

"What if this can be your first real relationship" Seulgi encourages.

"This is just work Seulgi"Y/N reiterated "We'll fake date for a year and a half then its done"

Before the members could voice out their protest, the door rings.

"Did you guys order food or something?"Y/N asked.

The four other members shook their head communicating that there is a stranger outside the door. Y/N cautiously opens the door because she didn't want her private apartment leaked to fans.

Y/N felt a sigh of relief upon seeing the lady at the frontdesk of her building. What was highly unusual was the bouquet of red flowers of various shades and sizes that she was holding.

"Y/N, I wanted to give this to you because I think your boyfriend forgot your room number"she greeted.

Stunned silence, she wasn't aware that there was something to do for today. She normally doesn't gush but receiving flowers is something really nice. Y/N mutters a small thanks before getting the flower and getting inside.

"Ohmygod, that must be from Charles"Yeri was jumping up and down "Isn't he romantic?"

"What did he sent it for?"Joy quizzes.

Y/N picked up the card and saw a scrawl signed by Charles' name.

"I never got to thank you for being with me during the weekend. Thank you for being a wonderful addition to the garage. Its nice to see you. I'm hoping to see you maybe in Shanghai?"Y/N reads.

"You have to go!!!"Wendy pushed.

"Unnie c'mon bring us with you"

"Let me see the letter"

While the girls were busy talking, Y/N took the opportunity that they were occupied to quiz the man who sent the flowers.

Y/N: Why did you send the flowers? Charles: You don't like it :<< Y/N: Well, I love it and I appreciate that. Y/N: Should I post this on social media or something to tag you? Charles: I just want you to enjoy the flowers. I really appreciate meeting you. Charles: Have a great day cheri Y/N: Thanks Charles, you too!

Charles_Leclerc what a weekend, shanghai you have been great.

User4 what a weekend for feudrari

User5 Charles you look so good!!!!!

User10 a smiling Y/N???? WHAT IS HAPPENING

User45 am i the only one thinking how random this whole relationship is?

User7 i know like who introduced them??? User8 ngl i dont give a crap, i just think they are perfect with each other

She was easily getting a hang of this new life. She feels like as an idol, she was well-prepared with the flashing cameras and the people bombarding her wherever she goes. It was no big deal for her to stop by and meet people since everyone seems to want a picture or a sign of Charles.

"Y/N can you give this to Charles?"

"This bracelet is for you and Charles"

"Would you sign this?"

"Y/N I hope you can have a comeback soon!"

There were so many voices and people. She kept a smile on her face as she tries to navigate her way out of the crowd. There is probably an increase in the amount of people crowding her since she is now known as Charles' girlfriend besides being an idol singer.

The crowd was moving in a snail pace and she politely thanked people giving her gifts for her or even the ones that are supposed to be for Charles. She was so preoccupied that Y/N didn't notice that Charles was worriedly squeezing his way to the crowd to retrieve her.

"Excuse me, can you give her some space please"Charles tried to get a hold of her.

"I'm okay"she squeaked.

Still, Charles waded through the crowd and once within reach he interlocked his hands with her. Y/N also noticed how his other hand has been gently placed at her back in a protective manner as if he is guiding her.

There were cameras flashing and Y/N felt a cap being placed on her head. She can see the number 16 etched on the flap of the cap and Charles suddenly missing his iconic hat.

"Please don't crowd my girlfriend please" Charles begged the crowd "I don't want her harmed or you guys to be harmed so lets just calm down"

It felt like Charles has a certain pied-piper charm to his voice because people listened. The two of them made their way to the garage and Y/N didn't miss how he still kept the protective arm gesture.

"You should have used the more private gate, next time I'll teach you that so you won't be bomarded by people" Charles explained "You could have been lost in the crowd if Fred didn't tell me"

The worried look on Charles face was evident. He was looking at her if she had any bruises or scratches, he knows that there was a tendency for avid fans to accidentally leave some scratches.

"Charles, I'm okay" Y/N rested a hand on his shoulders to soothe him "This is not my first time to deal with crowds"

"I know but I don't want to create a bad experience for your grand prix, you might not want to go next time"Charles pouts.

"I can assure you that it will take more than a crowd to scare me into not going to Grand Prixs"

Y/N's remark seems to place a smile on Charles' face and she couldn't help but to smile as well. It was simply infectious for Charles to do that.

"Good because I want to keep inviting you to more Grand Prix"Charles stated.

xoxo_Y/N 🎹🎵 #solo

User1 were finally getting an Y/N solo ???? FINALLY

User2 Y/N SOLO???

User3 I spy with my little eye, thats charles!!!!

User16 CHARLES WILL BE PLAYING FOR YOUR SOLO??? User24 no wayyy!!!!

User15 were going to be blessed!!!

Todayis_wendy why are we not informed???

xoxo_Y/N he is only here for a couple of days Charles_Leclerc I promise, I'll hang out next time! Todayis_wendy get me some gp tickets in canada and were good! Charles_Leclerc that can be arranged user55 wendy here is getting the bag LOL

After a couple of grand prix, it was now time for Charles to enter her world.

Its the summer break, they made use of the time by bringing Charles to Korea. Y/N had a lot of things planned because she wanted to treat Charles with the whole korean experience but her company had other plans.

"I'm really sorry, this will be just a quick thing" Y/N apologized as they walked the halls of the recording studio.

"No worries, I don't have anything planned" Charles smiled.

"This will be just 30 minutes or so then we can go exploring again" Y/N explained.

"Hey, its okay. "Charles assures "This is your world and you know I'm really happy to see you do your thing"

Y/N felt something weird again with how Charles placed his hands on top of hers. It wasn't her nerves because she recorded multiple times so this is something else. In the back of her mind, she knows what exactly this is but she wants to deny it for a little bit longer.

"There you are Y/N, I'm sorry but your recording last week glitched" The producer noticed she wasn't alone "We might rerecord"

"Can we do a quick run?" Y/N pouted.

"It might take some time"

She helplessly looked at Charles expecting him to be disappointed. Charles has a big supportive smile on his face as if reassuring her that she could take all the time she needs.

"I'm alright being here, your studio is awesome" Charles piped in

He was immediately making his way to the piano and looking over to the other equipment in the studio. Y/N noticed that Charles has a certain crinkle in his eyes when he is in awe with things, she used to see it with the cars.

"You wanna play?" Y/N asked

Charles looked at her as if she was kidding. He looked to the producer, seeking confirmation, and the producer just gives a go signal.

"I mean, maybe I can contribute to your recording"Charles suggested.

"Gee, are you coming after my job?"Y/N joked

"Maybe I'm just trying to do this so we can spend more time together" Charles winks.

And so the re-recording started. Charles was busy playing and making suggestions, which the producer takes into account. He even made a rough draft of a new song that Y/N noticed when he stepped out to take a call.

"Your boyfriend has an ear for music"The producer admits.

"It seems so"

Y/N glanced at the musical notes and lyrics that he has written. It was something that she might have to discuss with Charles soon because these have big potential to be a part of an album.

"You two are a match-made in heaven"

The comment caught her off-guard. It was her internal crisis that she was getting used being with Charles and it reached to the point that they are still acting like they are together even without cameras on them.

Is everything still pretend?

Charles_Leclerc Red Velvet should be played at the garage tbh

Arthur_Leclerc a blast to see her perform!!!

xoxo_y/n thanks arthur! Arthur_Leclerc my bias is Yeri btw! any chance you can get me one of those yeri card? xoxo_y/n talk to her yerimiese yerimiese hi???

xoxo_y/n consider me surprised, thanks for seeing us perform

Charles_Leclerc wouldn't miss it for the world mon chou! user81 the nickname is mon chou???? user50 i want what they have

user9 the fact that charles literally took the time to surprise his gf by staying lowkey and buying tickets like a fan would, Y/N wins the jackpot!!!!

User4 what a supportive boyfriend, i wish my boyfriend is like this

User7 why is that every time Y/N smiles, charles is always there at the receiving end??

User8 i wanna go to a red velvet concert too!!!

Charles knew that this was beyond the contract but he was pretty curious after knowing that this was Red Velvet's first european tour. Y/N was always doing her best to be present in GPs and he wanted to return the favor. He had a bit of free time and he did a little snooping.

"Let me ask you why did you call me here again?"Arthur asked.

"I need you to go on your laptop and get tickets"Charles repeated.

"Tickets for what?"

"Red Velvet tour in Paris"Joris answered.

He really brought the whole battalion to secure the concert tickets. From what he researched, it was quite chaotic once the ticket starts so he enlisted everyone within the vicinity. This is why Joris and Arthur are camped in his living room with their laptops on.

"You know I honestly think we shouldn't go with this big of a trouble when we can just call her and ask for tickets"Joris added

"But she will be surprised and this is too sweet of a gesture" Arthur cooed "I'm definitely down to do this"

"We have to focus on getting the tickets"Charles reminded.

They watched as the clock ticked closer to the selling time and then it was quite chaotic at the household. Charles would like to think that his fast reflexes would be a great advantage to this but it was all futile.

"What do you mean that were in line?"

"My site just crashed"

"This button is not working, what is this wifi?"

"WHY IS THIS SO STRESSFUL?"

Charles_Leclerc recharging the batteries with her.

xoxo_y/n i dont wanna leave monaco

Charles_Leclerc stay with me even longerrrrr hi_sseulgi stop stealing her!!! Charles_Leclerc sorry lolz user9 lolz, charles ur so unserious

user4 posting two photos of Y/N and one of him, he is head over heels

user7 i mean if Y/N is my girlfriend then i will do the same!

user16 i just wanna take a long walk and lie down the highway

xoxo_y/n always so proud of you Charlie!

Charles_Leclerc thank you! i couldn't ask for anyone better to support me

xoxo_y/n saranghaeeeee Charles_Leclerc love you more mon chou

user12 im not a huge fan of Y/N but she is always there to support Charles therefore i like her a lot

User5 why are they so wholesome???

User6 i just saw them walking to the paddock and how Y/N looked so proud of Charles is everything

Charles finds that Abu Dhabi is that one track he hates every season.

It serves as a bitter reminder that another season is ending and he doesn't have a championship in his belt. It was a heavy burden on his shoulder especially when everyone has dubbed him as someone who will bring back the glory days of Ferrari.

"You look exhausted"Y/N pointed out.

He was so into his thoughts that he didn't notice her arrival.

"When did you get here? I'm sorry if I wasn't able to pick you up at the front"Charles apologized.

"It's okay Charles"Y/N assured "But are you okay?You seem a bit out of it"

"Just a lot of things"Charles sighed.

Charles fiddles with his ring, a habit that Y/N observed that Charles do when he is stressed. After being together for nearly 10 months, even if its fake, Y/N was observant to pick up these characteristics.

"You could tell me anything"

Something that Charles learned that despite the whole cold atmosphere and aura Y/N has, she was a very good listener and comforting shoulder to cry on.

"It's just the championship, I wish I could have a better car and a better chance to win this thing"Charles admitted.

"You always have next year" she suggested

"Maybe but everyone is getting restless"Charles' voice felt like cracking "Next year, its a new team mate and a new car and new struggles"

"Well no one said that the road to championship would be easy"Y/N said "Things are never easy but that's what makes victory so sweet"

Y/N's hand reached to touch Charles to stop him from fidgeting his ring. There was that feeling of warmness again but this has been occurring for so long that this was not a foreign feeling anymore.

"You'll get it next year Charles"

"Thanks for believing in me Y/N"

Charles_Leclerc love spending time with you as always!

user8 the rings??? dont tell me you two are engaged???

user76 im so happy to see them be like this huhuhu

user2 i love it how open Y/N and Charles is about their relationship

user6 why is she in monaco again? doesn't she have a job or sumthing?

user7 jealous much?? user8 why does she need to work when charles can provide

It was so easy to do the whole relationship with Charles that they haven't noticed that a good year and a half has been done. Y/N knew that sooner or later the phone call will inform her that its time to call it off but she would like to pretend that its never happening.

"Charlie!"she greeted as soon as she enters the apartment "I remember we were running low on fruits so I bought some apples and oranges while I was going home"

Y/N frowns because usually Charles would come running already to ask what did she get but today there was a certain stillness. She immediately went to Charles' office and she spotted him in front of his laptop.

In her heart, she knows what's happening judging the grim look on his face.

"We need to talk" Charles broke the ice "I just got the email"

Y/N understood english but why are the words like floating in the air and not making any sense to her. She felt like she could just vomit at the moment with the amount of stress.

Everything was coming to an end.

"Hey, hey look at me Y/N" Charles held her hand "This whole thing may be over and we just need to give it a few months but we are still friends"

Friends? That was even more painful than ever. How can Y/N go from acting all domestic and being a couple to simply being reduced to a friendship. She clutches the necklace hanging around her neck as if it was the thing suffocating her.

"Do you need water?" Charles asked

"I need to go"

"Go? Where are you going?" Charles was confused.

But Y/N was already picking up her bag and things. She felt so claustrophobic being in Charles' place and having so many thoughts running in her mind. She just wants to get away.

"I just need to go for now Charles"Y/N repeated.

"Mon chou, you don't seem like in a good state to drive by yourself, let me drive you mon chou-"

"Don't call me that"Y/N snapped.

There were so many emotions in Y/N's eyes. It was filled with regrets, begging, and most of all pain. It was swimming with emotions that he was lost at what to do.

"This whole thing is about to be over so I think its best to start dropping nicknames so its easier for us to part"Y/N's response was on autopilot and Charles could only nod in agreement.

soompi Red Velvet leader Y/N and Scuderia Ferrari driver Charles Leclerc confirms break up.

user4 what???did i miss something???

user88 you have got to be kidding me!!

user7 i knew it, they were bound to end.

user9 good news, my wife is freee!!!!!

User8 we are checking, we are checking

"Charles?" Y/N's voice felt like fresh air for Charles.

He can't see her but he can feel how there was so much that has changed about her. There was this certain tone and intonation that he remembers whenever she speaks to him. Now, its just empty and void of emotions.

Its been 2 weeks since they received the termination email and they haven't been together in the same place ever since. Frankly, Charles misses her.

"Charles, are you there?"Y/N asked "I'm gonna hang up this phone if you're not going to speak because I have some stuffs to do so-"

"Don't hang up.. please"Charles interrupted "I just didn't know what to say to you"

There was a silence on both ends of the phone call but their heavy sighs acknowledges that they are still both on the line. They are both waiting for each other to say something.

"You know its snowing today" Charles started.

"The first snow?"

"Yeah and I remember that you told me that in Korea that whole tradition about when the first snow falls then you have to call someone really special"Charles remembered.

"Charles don't do this"she begs.

"Don't do what?"

"This, whatever this is. It has to stop because were about to announce to the world that were breaking up and we have to adjust back to what we used to be"Y/N said.

She was begging Charles to give her some time and space. It was for her own good because she knows that she was already in too deep with this whole fake relationship and its going to break her the minute that this whole thing finally ends.

"I like you Y/N" Charles was first to cave in "I have been thinking about this for months that I really like spending time with you and I really like you way beyond than this whole fake dating thing"

There was desperation in Charles' voice and it was not comforting for Y/N to hear it. She often hears that love is not supposed to be something that scares you, it should be your peace or tranquility.

"This is all wrong, you're only saying that because we spend too much time together"Y/N denies.

"Then we can start this again. Properly and real this time around" Charles insisted "We can hide away this relationship from the media, we can do secret studio session, we can just have private vacations here in Monaco"

Everything was too good for Y/N to be real. She was scared that she might wake up and this is all a dream for her.

"I like you Charles but I think I needed time to process this whole thing"Y/N answered "We have to think this through because I think were transitioning from everything way too fast. We're acting and now we're turning this to something real."

And there was silence, she knows that she messed up by being too open and too direct about what she's feeling.

"You're scared?" Charles asked

"Yeah"

"Okay then I'll wait for you until you're no longer scared"

Y/N felt like she could cry with how Charles replies. It was somehow very comforting to hear that he wouldn't run away and that he would be here.

"And when you feel like you are no longer scared and afraid then I'll be here" Charles assures.

CharlesY/NUpdates is Y/N and Charles back together?? We spotted a new girl in his vlogs and it looks like Y/N. The photo from the left is a screenshot from Charles' new vlog while the one on the right is a photo of Y/N in her IG a few weeks ago.

User4 ohmygod!!! I KNEW IT!!!

User7 anyone thinks that the timeline isn't adding up because Y/N hasn't left korea

User8 we don't know if she's been riding private jet planes

User91 no, that's not Y/N. Look at her nose

User20 and the skintone User4 but they look eerily similar

Its been 8 months since they "broke up" and true to their words they haven't been contacting each other. They really took the words taking time to navigate what they are feeling so that they can work things out properly this time.

Y/N is currently doing some songwriting when the members barged in her room. They were giggling and excited that it made Y/N confused if she missed any new memes.

"Okay what is going on"Y/N asked, putting down her pen.

"Oh c'mon unnie, why are you still hiding from us?"Yeri giggled

"Yeah, did we really have to know things from the internet" Wendy agreed.

This only confuses her even more and the members seem to realize that Y/N truly didn't know anything.

"Unnie be real with us? Is this you" Joy asked.

Scrolling past the different set of photo of Charles and mystery girl, Y/N felt her heart drop.

"I haven't talked to Charles ever since.."Y/N admitted.

There were so many questions in her head if this is one of those fake ones or is this a true relationship. Truthfully, she didn't want to know the answer because it will only pain her more.

"What are you going to do about this Y/N? I thought you two are working things out to be real"

"I don't know.."

There was something broken about Y/N that she can't feel anything.

WagF1 look at the new gf of Charles Leclerc and his past gf, does charles get deja vu?

user6 charles i cannot defend you with this

User7 its called, he has a type!!!

User88 i miss Y/N and charles

User9 can you all get over the old ones, they have new lives already

CharlesY/NUpdates Charles and Y/N at the same event tonight! After a year of their break up!

User6 anyone wanna bet with me that there will be chaos

User8 nah Alex and Y/N are too sweet to be involved in a fight User10 oh to be a fly in that room

User1 did they know about this or are they as surprised as each other?

User2 i mean if my ex shows up looking like that, i would have started packing my bags

User3 but alex is also too beautiful!!! User72 alex looks like Y/N

User84 i just miss Y/N at the paddock :((

If Y/N has been informed that Charles would be in attendance then she would have called in sick or skipped her flight. It was a punch in the gut to see him but she felt like someone twisted the knife when she saw the company he was with.

Alex, a beautiful name for a beautiful girl.

They were a few tables away from Y/N's table but to her luck she has the perfect view of the couple. She have to thank the years of media training that she underwent during her debut days that prevents her from showing any emotions she is feeling at the moment.

"Y/N do you want to switch seats?" Seulgi asked

"I'm okay, I don't wanna make anymore trouble"

She watches how Alex whispers to Charles and how he nods in attentiveness. It was the same way that Charles used to talk to Y/N when she was fake dating him.

How is this not confusing for Charles? This was the question that bothers Y/N.

"I need to go and powder my nose a quick second" Y/N bids the table.

The members look at their leader with a worried expression but they let her off. Y/N went outside of the hall and out of the view of the cameras. She was suffocating in that room.

The door creaks open again and she fears that oh so familiar footsteps.

"YN"

"Charles"she greeted without stopping with her stride.

"I need a second with you"Charles was catching up.

"I don't have a second for you"

"C'mon Y/N hear me ou-"

Charles grabbed Y/N's wrist and she made a mistake of facing him. Everything just comes flooding in her memory and she hates herself so much that none of these feelings have any semblance of hatred towards the man.

"Give me a chance to explain myself. I know this is all so confusing for you and I know that I hurt you but I didn't mean to do that to you"Charles explained.

Another mistake that Y/N did was she looked him straight to the eye. It was a recipe for disaster as months of trying to heal suddenly went down the drain.

"I love you. I really do. And I waited for you and then Alex entered and then I liked her a lot and I know this is not an explanation that you need but you deserve to hear this and-"

The whole thing was passing on deaf ears because Y/N already confirmed what she was feeling ever since the first sentence. She was ready to settle this out even if it hurts her.

"Loved Charles. You loved me"Y/N points out "Past tense"

"What? What do you mean?"

"You love Alex now right so you only loved me" Y/N restates.

Charles was at a lost for words.

"You shouldn't feel guilty, I can see it in your eyes that you truly love Alex." Y/N explains "I'm happy that its something real and sure"

Real and sure, its something that she cannot give but she is happy someone else can give that to Charles.

"But what about you?"Charles asked

"My feelings, I'll get over it."Y/N knows that she has to.

They stand there with a more comfortable silence.

"Does that mean were okay? No more hard feelings?"Charles wondered

"of course charlie"she musters a smile.

"Great" Charles awkwardly runs a hand down his hair

"You should get back to the hall, I'm sure Alex would be wondering where you went"Y/N suggested.

"What about you?"

"I'll follow soon, I just need to go to the bathroom"

"Okay Y/N, I'll see you inside later" Charles replied.

The fading footsteps of Charles allowed Y/N to let out a heavy sigh. She briskly walked to the bathroom and in the far end of the stall, she locks herself. It was the only moment that she allowed herself to be true to whatever it is she feeling.

She did everything good but why does she feel like crying now.

#charles leclerc x reader #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #the tortured drivers department #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc angst

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myownwholewildworld · 2 months ago

Text

acta, non verba - ii. there is no treachery in the art of war

chapter 1 | series masterlist | ao3 | main masterlist | chapter 3 pairing: conqueror!marcus acacius x ofc!reader. summary: you need to start moving the game along, but you cannot be too obvious. or... can you? a/n: hello there! c: here's the second chapter! there is quite a bit of character & world building in this one, as i felt it served the storyline, so i hope you guys like it! i wanted to thank you all for your nice, encouring words on the first chapter, it really motivated me to keep on writing! you guys are amazing 💖 as always, all interactions welcome, i do appreciate you liking, sharing and/or commenting! take care <3 warnings: 18+, mdni. references to marital abuse (physical and sexual) and child marriage (massive age gap, not in a cutesy way), in line with the time this story is set on. mentions of death/murder. mention of infertility. sexual tension galore (👀). a smidge of angst. w/c: ~8.6k. dividers by @saradika-graphics taglist at the end (let me know if you want to be added/removed please!)

“Honestly, I don’t think it’s a good idea, Callie”, Torcall sombrely warned you, his eyes locking on yours over the wooden spoon he tightly gripped close to his mouth.

“And what would you have me do then?”, you sneeringly replied back.

Your brother-in-law had been pestering you the whole morning about what your plan was to win your lands back. You knew the long game was your best bet — you didn’t have the numbers to face Rome on your own. Your athair had tried and failed in his attempt. Another defeat like the one your people suffered in Raedykes would destroy your clan. It would wipe you out off the map — everything your ancestors had worked for, gone under the crushing yoke of the Romans.

“I would not have you whoring yourself out to a fucking Roman, that’s for sure. Your athair would be so disappointed in you.” He snapped back at you, anger flowing in his words.

His reply stung badly, so much you unconsciously crossed your arms at chest level — an unvoluntary gesture to protect yourself from his accusation.

“That’s beyond the point”, you barked, the green of your irises burning like hellish fire. “And my father would be just fine with my decision. Need I remind you who he married me off to?”

Torcall’s knuckles went white as his fingers pressed around the spoon harshly. You cocked a brow, unwavering.

Ten years ago, your athair had reached an agreement with Iain of Am Baile Ùr(Insh), the lord of Badenoch whose state was a few miles south of your birthplace. For as long as Caledonia had formed, there had always been internal disputes about who was the rightful heir to the Overlord title.

The clan who held the stronghold at Inbhir Nis had historically always been considered the legitimate title’s holder. Your family had been the keepers of the land for as long as anyone could remember. But it didn’t stop those who were thirsty for power, so your father had to prove himself over and over again.

After several bloody skirmishes, Murdoch of Inbhir Nis had crowned himself, yet again, lord and master of Caledonia. Iain had been a strong contestant against your father and was only appeased when your athair offered you as a consolation prize to him, as if you were a lamb up for sale at the local market. A cheap one at that.

At the tender age of six and ten, you had been shipped off to an unknown land to be wife to a man you had never seen before. The next ten years of your life would be living hell — what you had to endure, you would not wish it upon your worst enemy.

The memories that would crawl back at night would still wake you up, a cold sweat trickling down your spine every time. Abuse in your arranged marriage was your bread and butter. Every time you returned home under the prying, controlling eyes of Iain or your family came to visit, you would lie to them about the new bruise on your cheek, the limp you had for a couple of weeks or the teeth marks on your neck. Murdoch was the last to realise, unable to come to terms with the destiny he had forced upon you. And by the time he did, there was not much he could do without infuriating Iain, without risking another war.

The peace of the Caledonians outweighed your suffering, after all. You were not worth such a bloodshed.

So you pushed through it all and survived — for family, for clan, for honour. Never resented your father either; he had a duty to protect his tribe, and so did you. For a decade you dragged yourself across ember and ash, until you finally caught a break six months ago.

Iain was found dead in the marital bed, his eyes wide open and his expression struck with horror, as if a wraith had taken his life. At the mature age of six and sixty, you had been his third wife, so when his only son and heir from his first marriage ascended, you were no longer needed. With no family of your own tying you to that ghostly place, you packed your things and swiftly left, the Will' O' the Wisps guiding you home.

“I didn’t mean it that way”, his answer burst out in a pitiful whisper. One of your eyebrows raised even further into your forehead. “I’m sorry.”

You sighed, unfolding your arms and looking at the cold broth in front of you. Grabbing the spoon again, you swirled it in the bowl aimlessly. You didn’t need your most trusted ally questioning your decisions, not when the whole clan depended on your actions. At least he was doing so in the intimacy of a crannog and not in front of your folk.

“I’m just trying my best, Torcall. I know I can win our freedom back, so I need you to have some faith in me. How I get to the endgame is up to me. The means justify the end.” Your words were imbued with unfaltering determination.

“I do trust you, Callie. With my life and the lives of my children”, he mumbled solemnly with a curtsy as his eyes drifted to the other end of the room.

Your niece and nephew, whom you loved dearly, were obliviously playing with some wooden swords their father had handcrafted a while back. They were six years of age, both born during the cold winter months. The twins had filled the blackhole in your heart, one that your marriage had not been able to lade.

“Ah, ye brute!” Your nephew, Daimh, let the sword slip from his fingers to hold his hand close to his chest. “You’ve hurt me, Iona!”

His little feet dabbed towards you, raising his injured hand in the air.

“Auntaidh (auntie), Iona has broken my fingers, look!”, he wept while you cradled his hand.

“Oh, come on here, mo laochain (my little hero). Let me see”, you said while rubbing his hand between yours and kissing it where it hurt.

“What a wimpy!”, Iona complained, running to her father. “I won, daddy!” Her proud, high-pitched voice squealed in excitement, and you couldn’t hide your smile.

“I’m going to tell màthair (mother)!”, Daimh blew raspberries at his sister, and she reciprocated from the other side of the table.

Your heart sunk to your stomach at the mention of Maisie, tears welling up at the corner of your eyes. Both you and Torcall had explained to them that their mother had been reunited with Dhuosnos, God of the Dead, but they were too little to fully understand what that entailed, what it truly meant.

“When is mama coming back from Tech Duinn (House of Dhuosnos), daddy? I miss her dearly”, Iona’s innocent words ripped at your heart.

Torcall and you exchanged mournful glances.

“Aye, me too”, exclaimed Daimh as he snuggled in your arms.

“So do we, sweet pea, so do we”, you mumbled as you kissed the crown of his blonde head.

Daimh stirred in your arms, his green eyes piercing yours. He looked so much like his mother that it was painful. Maisie and you had the same emerald irises, although she had been blonde. Daimh and Iona were living images of her.

“When can we go home? This place smells funny”, your nephew questioned while he sat on your lap.

You wished you could tell him. Your whole family had been living in the castle that now Marcus Acacius occupied. Torcall and his children could not risk staying there, not when the threat of death was hanging above them. If the Romans knew your sister had offspring, they would hunt them down.

Despite the adversity, you had been lucky in a sense. The highlanders had always been wary of strangers — outsiders brought tragedy with them, in the way of disease or war. The Caledonians had learnt to keep their distance, to be extremely cautious. So, when the General and his army arrived, no one spoke of your family, not even when questioned.

Your people, despite the differences that had them at each other’s throats some years back, were loyal to you. And it was their fealty what enabled your plan, what allowed you to pretend, to just be another servant girl.

So Torcall, his children and you had sought refuge in the skirts of town. Your uncail Aengus’ wife had welcomed you into her home.

The crannog was a circular hut with a straw roof, the walls made of mud, rocks, wood. There was only one big, round room, with an open hearth which kept the inside warm. The open shelving gathered some necessary clutter, but there were many things scattered around the place. There were only three beds lined up against the wall, which meant that you shared a bed with Iona and Torcall with his son. Your cousins had moved out to the small barn just a few feet away to make room for you.

It was cramped and very modest in comparison to the thick walls of your castle, but it was a roof over your heads. You were extremely grateful to her. Your heart still wept at the memory of telling her the demise of her husband.

“Soon we will, but in the meantime, we are keeping Bonnie and her sons company. And this place smells just fine. Are you sure it’s not you, you stinky little deamhan (demon)?”, you jested, pinching his nose and then tickling his ribs.

His laughter was a soothing balm on your aching, longing heart.

“Was everything as expected, Dominus?” His Roman servant asked, his head bowed to him.

Marcus patted the corners of his mouth with the rag on his lap and then nodded to Atticus. The food was somewhat decent, a venison stew with some root vegetables he could not identify. The bread, unsurprisingly, was a bit stale, so he had left it untouched.

The great hall was lugubrious, silence filling up the atmosphere. There were two other maids in the room, cowering in a corner with averted eyes. They only spoke a barbarian language he had no wish to learn. Communication with the natives was extremely difficult, as they seemed to be uneducated.

But there was one lass who knew how to speak Latin — you, Callie.

He wondered where you had gone. Marcus had not seen you since your encounter in his new-found bedchamber. It had been three days since then and with each passing one, he found himself searching the room for you. There was something about you that had reeled him in but was unsure of what it was. Maybe it was the eerie, magical aura that surrounded your fiery hair — or maybe it was the way you carried yourself, the way you had briefly but decisively held his gaze. The way you quickly retreated — unwillingly.

Marcus imperceptibly shook his head and waved his hand at Atticus, motioning for him to pour another cup of the bitter wine.

“Yes”, he simply replied, bringing the wooden chalice to his lips.

Atticus signalled the young women to come forward and they quickly cleared the table of dishes and cutlery. When he was alone with his servant, away from enemies’ ears, he signalled at Atticus, who quickly stepped forward.

“Fetch my commanders and bring them here. There are matters I need to discuss with them”, Marcus demanded of him.

His attendant curtsied and vanished from the great hall, leaving him alone.

Marcus was taking in every detail of the room, of the tapestries and their stories, when a scattering sound distracted him. He thought to hear a commotion, then a blasphemy. Curious, he stood up, stepped off the dais and sauntered towards the double doors. The door was slightly ajar, so he only had to push it for it to swing open.

There was nothing in the corridor except for a distinct scent. Rosemary and thyme with a hint of something unrecognisable, he identified. A smell that had loitered in his bedchamber once you left. Wrinkling his aquiline nose, he caught something in the corner of his eye. He turned to see how a shadow dissipated at the end of the corridor.

Furrowing his brows and in long strides, Marcus covered the distance, tracking the distinct aroma — like a lost man after the beckoning of a nymph, he followed. As he was about to turn the corner, he almost collided with Maximus, Valerius and Cassius.

“My lord,” Cassius was the first to talk, “we were on our way to you. You wished to see us?”

Marcus tried to conceal his confusion at the sight of the three men. With his head slightly tilted, he asked, “Did you encounter anyone on your way to me, Commander?”

Cassius slowly shook his head no, baffled by the question. “No, Dominus, no one. Were you expecting someone else?”

The General hmphed, taciturn. He needed to be cautious — if the tapestries were right, ungodly, mythical creatures lingered between the walls of the castle. Evil ones at that.

“Worry not”, Marcus rapidly dismissed. “Follow me, gentlemen.”

The four men sat at the rectangular table on the dais, Marcus’ fingers drumming on the wood as Maximus flattened a piece of parchment before him.

“These are some names that have been thrown around in the last few days, people who may act on their rebellious comments. Our spies have been trying their best to mix in with the townies, but they are tough nuts to crack. They are wary even of the people who speak their own language”, Maximus’ index finger slid down the list as he talked.

Marcus’ hand darted forward and pinched one corner of the parchment, pulling it towards him. His eyes scanned the unfamiliar names.

The barbarians did not use surnames, which spoke to their lack of sophistication. Instead, they used patronyms and the land where they were born, so the list made it difficult to identify individuals who might belong to the same family. Knowing what families were a menace would be a great advantage, one they did not have.

“There seems to be a recurrent name here”, Marcus paused, his fingertip pointing to the words scribbled in lead ink. “Seumas and Anndra of Dail an Eich (Dalneigh), sons of Aengus. Who is this Aengus?”, he questioned, looking up to the frowning faces.

“We are not sure, Dominus. As I said, the villagers are not talking much”, Cassius replied, his fingers intertwined, resting atop of the wooden table.

“Well, find out then. I don’t care how you get the information. Just get it”, Marcus’ back reclined against the chair he was sat on. He felt like they were wasting his time with trivial details. He needed more than that.

“You didn’t get Murdoch’s wife to talk, even when she was hanged half dead in a cage off the main tower, after being brutally tortured and whatever else you inflicted upon her, and you expect us to get names just like that?”, Valerius’ insolence spoke for him.

Marcus’ eyes lazily locked on his commander’s. He should have his ill-mannered tongue cut out for such disdainful arrogance. Valerius’ Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as he forcefully swallowed, his eyes slightly widened, realising his impertinence.

Whispers flew around the town; his name being cursed from mouth to mouth. Marcus was not too worried about whatever rumours they could spread about him. They probably would be true — he was no saint.

But Marcus had not been the one who had ordered such distasteful death upon Mòrag, wife of Murdoch. Agricola did, with no respect for his name when he dropped it mid-sentence. Marcus did not even lay an eye on her, even less a hand.

Let them all think what they might. Marcus was used to being the scapegoat of the governor — when something went wrong, Agricola would blame him. And when something went right, he would just take credit for himself, the evil, power-thirsty rat.

He looked at Valerius dead in his eyes, one cocked brow showing his mild incredulity.

“Do you have something to say, Valerius? I hear a certain condemning tone in your words?”, his voice was flat, devoid of emotion, but the reality was there was a raging fire within him he could not make manifest.

“Absolutely not, my lord”, the man bowed his head to him, his knuckles white.

“Then be gone. All of you. Find those two men or I will have you hanged too.”

The resolution in his tone scared the seasoned warriors, who quickly said their goodbyes and hurriedly left the premises.

Marcus’ elbows sunk in the wooden table, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. He was angry, but amongst all, he was tired — tired of masking, of cleaning up after Agricola’s hideous actions, of power plays, of trickery, betrayal and deception. He was surrounded by it all.

At eight and forty, he was tired of war and conquest. He had seen it all, lived it all. If retirement would be an option, he would gladly take it. But he knew — he would wield a sword till the day he died in a godforsaken battlefield, till Pluto welcomed him with open arms. Rome would not have him any other way.

Marcus Acacius was truly exhausted.

So it was him who had your beautiful màthair tortured and hanged in a cage until she greeted death. Your blood boiled as your breath quickened. The rage flickered inside you like wild flames burning down an entire civilisation.

When the rangers announced your arrival to a few selected loyal men who had stayed behind, they got out at night to cut the ropes holding the cage your mother had been thrown in. They did not want you to see such act of savagery.

Your kinsmen had really tried to conceal how badly damaged your mother’s body was. Despite the heartache, you had been grateful that they had gone to the effort of making her somewhat presentable. But one look at her mangled body had been enough to understand what type of wickedness you were up against.

In the dead of night, you had buried Mòrag, the woman who so selflessly gave you life, in the outskirts of town. Just like her other children and husband, she would not rest under the family’s chambered cairns. Your family had been wiped out of history as if they were mere droplets in a vast ocean of human tragedy.

With one ear flat against the wooden door to the great hall, you unknowingly squinted your eyes, trying to listen to the rest of the conversation. If someone caught you eavesdropping, you would have a lot of explaining to do. But so far your spying was being productive — you would need to warn your cousins when you got home that night.

The faint sound of approaching footsteps made your heart jolt in your chest.

“Cac (shite)!”, you swore, frantically looking for a place to stow yourself away.

Picking up your skirt so you would not trip, you hid in a nearby garderobe. The cupboard smelt sweet and musty — barrels of wine decorated the whole height of the stone walls. The scent was so intense, you felt it soaking through your skin, appeasing the craze that had a tight grip on your mind. The darkness that surrounded you only accentuated your sense of smell. Could you get inebriated just with the sugary aroma of grape juice?

When the booted treads slowly faded away, you quietly pushed the door open, emerging back into the cold corridor — the contrasting temperature between the garderobe and the hallway gave you goosebumps. Palm flat against the wood and the other hand tightly gripping the iron pull handle, you gently shoved the door back into its frame, hoping to make no noise.

“What are you doing?”, a deep, masculine voice startled you, making you jump on the spot.

A set of warm, firm arms wrapped around you as you stumbled with your feet. They enveloped you so steadfastly, your body involuntarily relaxed against the person behind you. Leaning back, your back met the cold touch of metal.

Swallowing a profanity that would bring a repenting clergyman down to his knees, you turned around, in the arms that held you tight, to face the embodiment of hate. Your hate.

Marcus Acacius was standing, all righteous and proud, intimately close to you. He was wearing an impeccable white armour with golden details. Two flaxen griffins adorned the center of the plackart, their claws wrapping around a floral design. Linen straps, snug around his hips, fell from his waist, covering the fauld and the tasset underneath.

Marcus’ body was a fountain of warmth, even with all the layers enfolding his frame. His arms, although tense around you, did not feel suffocating — in fact, they were almost coddling you into a state of ataraxia as your brain quietened. His hug exuded a sense of security you had not felt in years — as if nothing nor no one could ever harm you as long as you stayed in Marcus’ embrace.

You traced the topography of his plackart with your fingers, your palms resting against the alloy, as your eyes peeked up —he was considerably taller than you— and were met with the fervour of two brown irises. Their gravity pulled you in for an eternal second. With your face near his, you picked up on the tired bearing on his face, the wrinkles around his eyes, the hard press of his lips. A kempt but patchy beard coated his jawline, and salt and peppered hair curled at the nape of his thick, muscular neck — a stray silver lock caressing his forehead, asking to be tucked away.

Your fingertips suddenly itched with longing, your eyes slightly widened, and your mouth partially parted. And then you came back to reality with the full force of your conscience yapping at you. What the hell? You had to control the contortion of your face so your disappointment would not be evident. It’s because I want to slap him so bad, was your afterthought.

Something changed in his expression — Marcus suddenly let you go, leaving you cold again. As if it was a rehearsed move, you both took a step back, breaking the electric contact that snapped between your bodies.

You now realised his clean image was a shocking contrast to how you first met him. Covered in mud, blood and sweat, his untamed expression as he dispatched your father still haunted you at night. And that was how you had to remember him. Sinking his gladius in your father’s belly. And nothing else.

“Well?”, the General insisted after clearing his throat, his eyebrows knitting together as he folded his arms.

You rapidly lowered your gaze when you realised you had been looking at him too intently, too directly. A maid would have fainted at the audacity you had just shown him. But you were no maid — albeit he was not privy of such detail for obvious reasons.

You hoped he didn’t notice, although you could feel his eyes studying you eagerly.

“I— I was looking for wine, Dominus.” You faked the stammering in an attempt to convey innocence. “Cormag, the cook, wants a very specific wine to accompany your supper, Dux Meus (My General/Leader). I was making sure we had it.”

“And what wine is that, if I dare ask?”, he pressed with a steely voice.

Thalla gu taigh na galla (go to hell), you thought, browsing your brain for a quick reply.

“It’s a fine wine imported from Carmo, my lord.” Your father had been a wine enthusiast, so you knew some places he had his wine shipped from. Not that it really meant anything to you, anyway.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw his arms falling to his sides, his threatening posture softening.

“Carmo? In the Baetic region of Hispania?”, Marcus’ incredulous voice made you glance up at him through your long eyelashes.

You nodded, your fingers laced at your front as you bowed your head again, showing a deference you didn’t really feel towards him. And you prayed there was at least a few drops left of said wine in one of the barrels, or you would be in trouble come dinner.

“That’s one of my favourites”, he let slip and you instantly knew he didn’t mean to say it out loud.

Feigning bravery, you fanned your eyelashes back at him, a half-smile softening your lips. The General almost looked mortified at the fact of letting a stranger know about his likes. You could see it in his eyes — the brief moment of asking himself, “What have I just said?” Although he seemed all stoic and unattainable, he was just a man. Just like any other.

“Is that so?” You did not wait for a reply you knew would never come. “I’ll try and remember that, Dominus, to make sure we never run out.”

He was a hard man to read, you would give him that. His expression didn’t flinch, as if your words had gone over his head. The only sign he had actually listened was a subtle tic on his jaw.

You just needed to drop some hints here and there, let him brew. If you were too obvious with your intentions, Marcus would become suspicious. You knew nothing about the man except he was a cold-blooded murderer, but perceived he was observant. Probably too observant.

“If you’ll excuse me, my lord, I wish to retire now so I can attend to my tasks.” Asking for permission was not something that came naturally to you, but it was a trained response you had learnt from your late husband.

“Take your leave then”, he granted, his hands hiding on his back.

You curtsied. “Thank you, Dux Meus.”

Marcus turned on his heels in a swift whoosh, the sword swaying in front of him, his fingers gripping the handle tight. He intuited his opponent’s next move before it happened, so he bent his knees and ducked his head right under the swing of Maximus’ gladius. With a wild, toothy smile, Marcus pulled back, weighing the blade on his left hand.

“So predictable”, he teased the commander, who was an old friend of his.

If one could have friends in the midst of war, that was. Their friendship easily transformed depending on the circumstances — in war matters, Maximus knew to respect Marcus above everything else. Outside of that, they just were two friends with a long history behind them.

“I’m being gentle, lord General. We have spectators, I don’t want to embarrass you. I know your ego is as fragile as a rose’s petal”, Maximus chaffed, a grin taking over his mouth as they circled each other like two lions on the gladiator’s pit.

Marcus’ tunnel vision had him so tuned in on his friend’s advances, he had not realised that a small group of people had gathered around the makeshift arena. Feeling a sudden heaviness weighing him down, Marcus combed the gathered faces in one sweep.

Until his eyes locked in on yours. He saw a glimpse of wonder metamorphosing into surprise in your emerald greens — then you quickly withdrew your eyes from his at the realisation of getting caught staring.

There was something about you that drew him in — something mysterious, uncanny, but also strangely enticing. Exciting. Your eyes spoke of mischief, of adventure, of the unknown. Of something eerie, almost witchy. The flickering, iridescent fire within them had him under a spell for a brief moment.

Marcus vividly remembered holding you against his chest, your soft curves perfectly moulding to his hard edges. Even through the armour, he had felt the heat your body irradiated, the way it seeped through to envelop him, soothe him. For a moment, having you between his arms felt just right. And that thought had unsettled him gravely, letting go of you as such wild, unnerving concept sank in — his mind point-blank rejecting the notion.

Despite his inner refusal, how you looked back at him would plague him. For days and nights on end.

Out of the corner of his eye, Marcus watched as Maximus inched forward, the sword aiming at his open flank. Just in the nick of time, the General’s steel deflected the attack.

“Getting distracted? That’s unusual of you, Marcus”, the commander jeered at him, closing in.

Marcus scoffed at his words, bluffing. But the reality was that Maximus had hit the nail in the head. Not that he was going to acknowledge it in public anyway. If he was to successfully bring Maximus down, he needed to focus on the task at hand and not think about a green-eyed nymph.

Studying his adversary’s body language, his feet dragged on the sand. Maximus was on edge, tense, too focused on his sword, so Marcus wagered a distraction would tip the scales in his favour. Maintaining eye contact, he slowly knelt, the fingers of his non-occupied right hand extended, palm down. Maximus’ brows wrinkled when he saw Marcus getting a fistful of sand and the General knew he had the diversion he was looking for.

With Maximus focused on his right hand, too worried with a cloud of sand that would get in his eyes, Marcus took the chance, quickly stood up and swung his heavy sword against his rival’s left loin. Maximus did not have time to prepare for the impact and so dropped to the ground.

Marcus smiled with sufficiency, straightening out his aching back, and offered a hand to his old friend.

With a grunt, Maximus accepted his gesture and got up, palming Marcus’ back soundly.

“You treacherous man, making me believe you were going to blind me”, he quipped as they both started to walk out of the circle people had formed around them.

“There is no treachery in the art of war”, Marcus replied, patting his friend’s back in playful jest.

A loud snort made Marcus look around him. He had no time to fully study your face, but he could swear you had made that disapproving noise before turning on your heels and trotting off.

Confusion and a smidge of curiosity settled in him — what had he done to gain your dissent when a minute ago awe darkened your eyes? The sudden change in your attitude left a lingering question in the back of his head as he and Maximus ushered towards the barracks in the northwest corner of the bailey.

“But you shouldn’t be serving, mo bhean-uasal (my lady)”, whispered the young lass, her hands twisting in her lap with nervousness.

“Shush, Brighid, lower your tone.” Anxiously you checked out your surroundings, ensuring you were alone. You were relieved to know you were. “You cannae refer to me like that. I’m just Callie now, remember?”

Upon your arrival to Inbhir Nis, Torcall and your father’s retinue —now yours, you guessed— had made everyone aware that the Romans thought you dead and hence, concealing your identity was of utmost importance. A slip of a tongue and you would be hanging in a cage too. Every passing day you feared someone might forget and show you deference publicly — but you had to trust that no one would run off at the mouth and rat you out.

“Duilich (sorry), mo bh— Callie. I—I promise I didn’t mean to”, she profusely apologised, her big wide eyes begging for your pardon. The wee lass could not stop fidgeting.

“I know, I know”, you tried to calm her down, placing your hand on her forearm. “But please, I need to take your place tonight.”

“Cormag will fire me for not turning up. I cannae afford that, my family depends on me.” Her pleading plucked some fast beats out of your heart.

“Don’t fret about it, lass. I’ll speak to that old crank of a man, he owes me. You’ll get paid, awright? He’ll be fine with it, I promise.” You gently squeezed her forearm, so your words would sink in.

Her eyes broadened in understanding. Before the girl could think about her actions, she jolted forward, her arms wrapping around your shoulders. You could only smile at her relief and let out a soft cackle when Brighid lumbered back, mortified.

“I’m so sorry, do Ghras (Your Grace).” Her excitement was so palpable the poor girl didn’t notice the second blunder.

“BRIGHID!”, a raspy threat left your tongue as you jerked her closer to you by the elbow. “For the love of Morrìgan, do watch your mouth!”

The young servant covered her mouth with both hands, her eyes speaking of self-reproach as it dawned on her. “I’ll have it sewn”, she muttered with great remorse.

The guilt splayed across her heart-shaped face brought a smirk to your lips. “Off you go now, before your runny tongue gets me into trouble.”

Brighid scurried away towards the barbican, and you hurried along to the kitchens. You followed the tangled web of corridors and passages thoughtlessly — you had played hide and seek countless times with your siblings between the stone walls, there was no nook nor cranny you were not familiar with.

The air got denser as you approached, the thick smoke of the open hearth filling your lungs. Repressing a cough, you entered the galley as good ol’ Cormag was shouting orders at the helping lads. The head cook had an aging face, creases around his grey eyes and bulbous nose, and a thick bush of white hair — hair strands shooting in every direction, almost comically. He was short and round around the belly, living proof of his good, delicious cooking.

“Keep fanning the fire, ye lazy ass! Don’t you see it’s going to die out? Faster, stronger! Aren’t you supposed to be young and full of life?!”, Cormag had wrapped his thick fingers around the brittle wrists of the lad, forcing his feeble arms up and down, fingers tight around a thin plank of wood. “Tiugainn (come on), with more enthusiasm, ye numpty!”

“Do you really think that’s how you motivate the young lads to do a good job, Cormag?” You questioned his teaching approach, with folded arms and a cocked brow.

An oath escaped his mouth as the cook turned around, his face downcast at your reprimand. “Callie!”

Thank the gods someone remembered how to approach you now. It came easier to Cormag though, considering that he was almost like family to you. The old man had seen you grow, having served your father since before you were even born. He was there, on the background, to wave you goodbye every time you had to return to Am Baile Ùr. And each time you came back, he had a full plate of haggis with a side of neeps and tatties waiting for you.

“No wonder your apprentices quit so fast if you treat them like that, Cormag. Have you no manners?” You kidded — the man had the filthiest mouth of the shire.

“I was raised by an ogre, young lady, of course I don’t”, he jokingly replied, cleaning his dirty hands on the apron tied around his round belly.

“Aye, and Nessie was your pet. I’ve heard that story before awright. I am still to see proof of such claims though.” Unfolding your arms you approached him, immediately going in for a bear hug.

Cormag palmed your back enthusiastically and you circled his stout frame, sinking in the comfort of his presence. In the blink of an eye, you were a five-year-old crybaby being consoled by a younger Cormag because there were no more mutton pies left that you could shove down your tiny mouth.

“I heard you were back, fear beag (little one). Wondered when you’d come visit this old git.” With a last squeeze, he took a step back, his hands placed on your shoulders. “Know you’ve probably heard this a thousand times now, but I’m truly sorry for your loss.”

His whisper was loaded with a heavy affection that shot your heart down to your stomach. Pressing your lips to stop your face from contorting at the memory of being alone in this world, you nodded, almost frantically, and sniffed. His eyes were a reflection of yours — the friendship between your athair and Cormag had been a staple in your life for as long as you could remember.

“But let’s not get all teary now!”, his demeanour changed as he rubbed your shoulders before taking a step back. “Got something for you.”

He turned around to rummage through a rattan basket on one of the counters. Cormag exclaimed an enthusiastic “Ha!” when he got his hands on what he was looking for. Then he presented his discovery to you with a flourish that made you crow.

When you saw the peachy plum on the palm of his hand, you almost squealed. “Plums!” You quickly snatched it, afraid he would take it away.

“I arranged for these to be brought from Fachabair (Fochabers). The cook who serves the clan chief there is an old friend of mine.”

“But Cormag, plums are not in season yet!” You marvelled at the sight, munching on the delicious fruit eagerly. Your eyes almost rolled to the back of your head.

“I know.” He winked at you mysteriously, but you didn’t press the matter if it meant you could get your hands on some more plums.

“I did come to you with a favour to ask”, you batted your eyelashes at him, anticipating his disapproval.

He looked at you, inquisitorial — it was his turn to fold arms at the chest. Cormag snapped his tongue as if to say, “do go on”.

“I already convinced Brighid so you cannae be mad at her. In fact, I promised her you wouldn’t.” You grinned at him, his face already puckering with exasperation. “I’m taking her place tonight as a serving maid.”

“Have you lost your damn mind, lass? Nay, I’m not having it”, he quickly dismissed you, grunting.

“I’m not asking for permission. I need to be there, I—” Just in time, you remembered that the two lads were still running around the fireplace, trying to keep the flames alive. “I’ll fill you in later, but I have to be there, there’s no discussion about it.”

“What? Serving that Roman scoundrel? There’s more royal blood in you than there is in him.” He was more offended than you were.

You laughed, patting his forearm. The old man already hated the Romans more than you did, and that was difficult to accomplish.

“Aye, and that’s not the worst bit, Cormag”, you teased him, because you knew he would lose his mind with rage.

“Enlighten me”, he said between gritted teeth.

“We are serving the Corma wine tonight with supper”, you pursed your lips, watching his reaction.

His round face turned all shades of red, and his nostrils flared. If it was physically possible, his ears would be steaming too, like a ceramic pot with boiling water over the open fire.

“NAY, OVER MY DEAD FUCKING BODY!”, he exploded, shaking his arms over his head in disbelief, and you burst into laughter. Cormag was too expressive. “Ah, no, NO. We are not wasting such finery on that murderous cunt!”

You blinked rapidly at him to appease his fury, but his rage just gleamed brighter.

“Well… I kinda told him we would. You winnae make me look like a liar, right, Cormag?”, you muttered, as if you were a child who had committed the grave felony of stealing a sweet off the counter.

“You did WHAT?!”, he snorted angrily.

“Tìoraidh (bye)!”, you effusively waved him goodbye as you bit into the plum, sprinting off and ducking when you heard the wooden spoon flying by your ear.

“Trobhad (come here)!”, but you had already turned the corner into the hallway.

Why he was so taut, he did not fully understand. Marcus’ body was in high alert, and he had his suspicions about the cause.

You were just a woman like any other. Sure, your green eyes flickered like hellfire, your red hair was so bright it looked like you were up in flames, your upturned nose covered in freckles twitched adorably, and the skin on your hands was unusually soft — but that was it, really.

So you were nothing out of the ordinary, he kept telling himself. But it was hard to keep to that line of thought when your breast would brush against his shoulder every time you approached to clear the table from empty plates, when your velvety fingers would briefly caress the back of his hand while reaching for his cutlery, or when you would talk too close to his ear, a tingling sensation on the back of his neck almost making him shiver uncomfortably.

Marcus did not know if you were doing it on purpose or not — your face had an innocent look to it that was hard to read for him. The most prudent thing would be to ignore it all — ignore you. Surely you were only being suggestive in his imagination. And he still had the feeling something had upset you that afternoon when you stormed off after his training session.

“How’s the wine, Dux Meus?”, your sweet voice trickled from your plush lips like honey.

The way you kept referring to him as Dux Meus unsettled him. The first time you had said it during your encounter in the corridor, it caused certain havoc in his mind — and body.

Although it was appropriate for his title, no one really referred to him like that. My leader, my general, my god. It was the last connotation what made him feel… uneasy, for lack of a better word. It just sounded too intimate, the way it would pour from your oval-shaped mouth.

Marcus blamed it on Latin not being your first language. If you knew how seductively it rolled from your lips, he was sure you would stop addressing him like that straight away. Which meant he should correct you, tell you to just stick to Dominus.

But for whatever inexplicable reason, he did not.

“It’s as tasty and earthy as I remember it.” He replied, his fingers wrapping around the chalice with more strength than what was necessary.

You smiled at him, one of your hands gently placed on his right shoulder giving him a subtle squeeze.

“I’m glad to hear it, my lord”, you mumbled, Marcus’ eyes following the movement of your hand when you broke contact.

You inched forward over his shoulder to grab the glass jug and refill his cup, gifting him with the sight of your generous cleavage — your breasts almost spilling over the neckline of the dark blue, linen dress that so tightly wrapped around your hourglass figure.

Marcus had to swallow hard, tension suddenly building up on his groin. Was he getting hard just by the mere touch of a woman? He sucked in his breath while forcing himself to look forward, not down.

He just nodded in reply, unable to find his voice. If he had talked, he would have just groaned in frustration. Marcus had to readjust his posture as he saw you walking away, your waist evocatively swaying sideways with every step you took.

“I’m sure the wine is not the only tasty thing around here.”

Maximus’ whispered jest forced Marcus to look in his direction, turning to his left. They, along with the other commanders and a few other people of importance, were sat on the table on the dais, facing the crowd. Other tables were scattered around the great hall, where some legionnaires were enjoying a meal and a drink, sharing a joke and bursting in laughter.

“I don’t follow”, he grunted, feigning ignorance, before taking a sip.

“Oh, you do follow. At least your eyes do.” Maximus mocked him while Marcus just sneered at him, eyes squinting. “No one would blame you though. We are far away in an unknown land, and we all have needs to satisfy. I myself am considering getting laid tonight.”

“I did not doubt you would.” Men like Maximus had no consideration for their wives.

Neither does Livia, the intrusive thought wiggled its way through his mind. Despite the lack of passion in bed with his spouse, Marcus had been a faithful husband. While others looked for warmth in the folds of a pleasure woman after a battle, the General would tend to his wounds and rest, focusing on what next skirmish lied ahead.

And while he had been loyal although there was never love between them, Livia had been fucking the “love of her life”, as she had referred to the man stuffing her cunt full during his long absences. Marcus was yet to know his name. What he would do with that information, he did not know.

Thinking of his perfidious wife had an extinguishing effect on him. The strain against his subligaculum (underwear) had softened.

“You’re too tense, Marcus. You need to relax, have some fun. I bet you two denarii that she will fuck the stress out of you expertly, I can tell.” Maximus pressed maliciously, conscious of how uncomfortable the conversation would make Marcus feel.

“Just shut up, will you?”, Marcus snapped back, tired of his friend’s quips, and downing the drink in his cup.

Maximus laughed it off and turned to talk to Cassius when you sauntered towards the table again, stopping right behind him.

“More wine, Dux Meus?”, you asked, infusing your honeyed voice with a sweet touch of flirtation.

You bent over his shoulder again, hand lazily looking for the wine jug in front of him. His hazel eyes fell on your bosom again and your nipples involuntarily hardened at the desire you saw in him — you were sure he noticed them peeking through the thin fabric.

In your attempts to arouse him, your body was betraying you, getting warm in all the wrong places. As much as you wanted to be immune to your own provocative games, you were not. But it wasn’t him who made you wet with lust, you told yourself. It was your own actions, nothing else. The long game.

But Marcus quickly tamed his expression, grinding his jaw and looking away.

“No, I’m okay”, he rejected your offer, hovering his hand over the chalice so you would not pour more.

You forced your lips into a flat line. You needed the man to let go of his defences. Having him drunk would help with that. But not tonight, apparently.

You nodded.

“Of course, Dominus.” You placed the jug back down on the table, your left breast brushing his right shoulder again.

You bit down your bottom lip, your free fingers curling on the back of his chair. It’s just the game, you thought to yourself again, your core slick and hot.

Slowly you retreated to the kitchens, fully aware of Marcus’ eyes feasting on your body. You smiled to yourself — he might be a taut General, but he was just a man.

A deceitful man at that, who thought there was no treachery in the art of war. Was that how he defeated your father? With deception? You had been too far to see and hear how the fight between your father and Marcus had unfolded, but having been witness to how the General distracted his opponent that afternoon, you wondered if he had followed similar tactics with Murdoch. If your father’s demise was just a byproduct of Marcus’ boldness.

The memory of Marcus being your father’s executioner put out the liquid fire in your crotch. And rightly so.

It wasn’t long before the Romans started to vanish from the great hall, retreating to the barracks or to town, maybe looking for the comfort only a woman could offer.

When you walked back out to clear the last plates, you saw the General leaving the room. Alone. Where he intended to go you did not know, but you had to make sure he was not considering joining the men in town — if he was to choose a woman to enliven his bed, he should pick you.

“Isla, I’ll be back in a minute.” The lass gave you a puzzled look as the bits you had gathered previously clattered against the wooden table when you let go of them.

You hurried forward to meet him as he swung the double doors open, the cold breeze of the corridor filtering into the great hall.

“Dux Meus, wait please”, you interjected in the hopes he would stop walking.

Indeed, he did. His whole body stiffened, his fingers curling into fists at his sides. You were not sure what to make of that reaction — exasperation or frustration. You hoped for the second, especially the good kind of frustration.

As soon as you reached him, you placed a daring hand on his forearm — an unusual surge of energy sparked at the contact between your skins, giving you goosebumps. You quickly retrieved your hand with certain surprise, the tingling sensation evaporating right after.

“I trust everything was good?”, you queried, tilting your head to one side.

“Yes. Now I’ll retire to my bedchambers. Bonum noctis (good night)”, his words dragged for a second, “Callie.”

There it was again, your name falling from his lips as if it belonged to him. It angered and pleased you equally. If he pronounced it like that on purpose you did not know, but it surely felt like it.

Before you could come up with an answer, he trudged to his right and you took a step forward.

“That is not the way to the main bedchamber, my lord. You should follow this other corridor instead”, you pointed to the left.

He paused and turned around to face you. A lingering question danced in his pupils, but whatever it was, he did not say out loud. Instead, he nodded.

“I am aware. However, I have taken a different bedroom.” He did not give you an explanation, but you could have a good guess. Your father always complained his bed was like a blanket of spikey rocks. “I am now lodged in the second tower, the room in the top floor.”

You tamed your face into nothingness, but internally you flinched at his reply. He was sleeping in your room, in your bed. The thought of him naked with your bedlinen draped around his waist and thick legs made you gush. Fuck.

This was unknown territory to you — although you had been married for ten years, you had not known pleasure in the bedchamber. Iain just chased his own release, using you in disgusting ways, proving you that you were the problem, not him — that your womb was barren. You had been told by your friends that fucking was enjoyable for both parties, but you were yet to discover that. Maybe the dampness your legs harboured was a start?

“I see”, you curtsied, fingers laced on your back, looking up at him through your long eyelashes.

“How come you speak Latin?” His question blurted out, catching you completely off guard.

Marcus had a nick for inconvenience, forcing you to come up with lies on the spot. Luckily you were astute and creative.

“My late father was a scrivener to Murdoch. He taught me how to speak Latin, as it was his favourite language.”

“He passed?” You simply nodded. “I trust you still have family around though?”

You shook your head no. You killed them all, ye cunt. But you could not express your hatred out loud. Although when the time came, you would. Aye, you definitely would.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” For a second you believed him, his tone almost sorrowful.

“It was a long time ago.” You lied through your teeth, shrugging. “I’ll leave you to your rest now. Oidhche mhath (good night), Marcus.”

You heard a loud sigh being drawn into his lungs, possibly because of your cheekiness — calling him by his first name was a very bold move on your part. Maybe too bold.

Before he could reprimand you for your audacity, you scuttled back into the great hall, a sufficient grin tugging at your lips.

@orcasoul @immyowndefender @sjc7542 @fairiebabey

@thepalaceofmelanie @harriedandharassed @whoaitspascal87

@verybigvag @jessthebaker @ivoryandflame @missadangel @pepperstories

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highonmarvel · 1 year ago

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Helloooo! Can i please request an au where the reader has had a few toxic relationships and she’s trying to distract herself by those by starting her own business, turns out bucky or steve are an interested investor but they never really wanted her business and just her and somehow trap her into an arrangement…Sorry if it’s too specific! 💖💕💞💗⭐️

oh, this is such a good idea, i hope i did it justice!

Bucky Barnes: Your ex has made sure you’ll never get a job in NYC again, but you’re determined to keep your head above water. Just as things are getting too bleak to bare, you meet James Barnes. 18+!

Dub/Non Con Warning!

additional content warnings here!

You yawn as you close your laptop, finally done with payroll for a small nursery school a few neighbourhoods over. Who knew Grade R teachers could have such horrible internal affairs?

You heart skips a beat as the lights flicker momentarily, and you worry your electricity will be cut off, but they stabilise, and you sigh in a relief, hand over your heart.

When you left Tony, he made sure you lost your friends, and your job, and your income has been less than minimum wage, you’re barely even scrapping by. You had been through this before, boyfriends trying to ruin your life—Thor, most notably—but you had to give Tony credit for really crippling you this time.

You weren’t able to get any office jobs again, having to settle on working for a sweet old woman in a small flower shop, which was kind, but it didn’t come close to paying your bills. Still, you refused to let Tony win; you had good qualifications; you had a bachelor in HR and nearly a decade of experience, and that no one would hire you didn’t stop you.

You started your own HR consultancy, an idea you to had spoken about to a friend a few times, but you were sure Tony had took care she never even looked at you again, so you did it alone, which would be way too much for a single person, except business was slow; but, make no mistake, you worked your ass off.

The nice thing about the flower shop is the sweet old lady allows you to hand out your business card to the few customers that come in. Only four or five people had actually taken it in the time you’d been working there, and reluctantly, at that.

You drag yourself to bed and crash pretty much immediately.

As usual, the morning is pretty much empty—one woman comes in but buys nothing and another stares through the window for 10 minutes—until around midday, when the air shifts.

The bell at the top of the door pulling your attention from your daydream and to a familiar-looking, tall, broad-shouldered man wearing a nice suit, which he adjusts the cuff of as he scans the room. His eyes meet yours and he smiles. You return the smile with a, “Welcome to Miss Roe’s Flower Shop. Is there anything I can do for you?”

Though his mouth doesn’t twist, his eyes glint with something odd, making his initially warm smile seem more sinister.

“Anything I can help you find in the store?” you feel the need to clarify.

He only asks you for the red roses, which you point to and he returns to the counter with a bunch.

“Romantic,” you mutter as you ring him up, and he chuckles, softly and, seemingly, sweetly.

You hand the bouquet back to him, and he plucks a rose from it and hands it to you, “A beautiful lady like yourself deserves one,” he winks, and you blush, stuttering out a thanks as you take it.

Just as he takes a step back, you yell out, “Wait!” louder than you intended, and slightly startling him, “Sorry,” you apologise, as you slide one of your business cards off the top of the stack and hand it to him, slightly nervous for some reason. He takes it curiously and scans over it.

“HR?” he asks, “Wouldn’t have thought it.”

You don’t really have to time to process that comment, let alone come up with a response before he continues, “Perfect timing, actually, I’ve been needing help in that area. I’ll give you a call, he smiles as he pockets the card, “Oh, and,” he reaches out a hand, “I’m James Barnes.”

That’s where you know him from! Barnes Industries, one of the most advanced tech companies in North America, and the CEO is interested in having you on his team.

You give him your name as you shake his hand.

“It was nice meeting you,” he says with a determined smile before slipping out the door.

Back home, in the kitchen, you’re not sure if he’s actually is going to call, especially when it’s approaching 19h00, maybe he was just being nice. He did seem a bit flirty… but maybe you imagined it, why would he want anything to do with you? And if he were being flirty, he surely wouldn’t then hire you.

You jump as your phone rings, nearly spilling boiling water all over yourself. You set down the pot and rush to the living room where your phone is singing and vibrating on the couch.

“Hello?” you answer, slightly breathless as you rest the device on your ear.

A female voice asks if this is the number for your HR Consultancy, to which you affirm.

“Please hold.”

You press your phone against you harder, heart beating a little faster as you bounce on your toes, waiting on hold with some generic elevator music doing nothing to soothe your nerves. After nearly five minutes, you’re ready to hang up when a voice answers.

“Good evening, I’m sorry for the late hour.”

“Mr Barnes!” you exclaim, before clearing your throat and sitting down, speaking in a lower, more professional voice, “It’s no issue at all, sir. Can I help you?”

“Would you mind coming in for a meeting? 8AM sharp tomorrow. I understand if you’re working—”

“I’ll be there,” you reply a little too enthusiastically, walking over to your desk to pick up a pen and pull out your notepad, “8AM, I’m assuming at Barnes Industries?” You take down the address he gives you even though the huge, skyscraper-tall building with a giant B and a rocket logo is pretty hard to miss.

When you hang up, you can’t help but jump up and down excitedly like a schoolgirl. Finally, your luck is turning around.

You straighten your skirt as you step into the building, grateful the sweet old lady had not only given you the day off, but been super supportive, convincing you would you get the job, and that settled your nerves slightly. Only slightly, though, as you walk up to the desk where a red-haired woman sits, looking alert, but a little bored.

“How may I help you?” she asks.

“Good morning, I’m here to see Mr Barnes,” you say, and then give her your name.

At the mention of your name, her eyes widen and she quickly stands, “Of course!” she says, “Right this way.”

Her heels click on the pristine white floors as she leads you to a fancy elevator and presses the button for the top floor.

“Should I be nervous?” you ask, trying to make conversation as each floor ticks by too slowly for your liking to get to the 60th.

She laughs politely and shakes her head, leaning in and speaking lower (despite only the two of you being in an-already small space), “For anyone else, I’d say yes, but Mr Barnes has been looking forward to your meeting; I think you’ve got a real shot. In fact, I think he’d pay anything you ask.”

She pulls away and raises her eyebrows at you.

Your mouth falls slightly open but you quickly close it and gulp lightly, tearing your gaze away from her to focus on a spot on the floor just in front of the doors. You don’t know if she’s exaggerating, you assume she has to be, because how could Mr Barnes even know if you were good at your job? For all he knows, you work in a flower shop and hand out cards for subpar services. Somehow, her words make you more anxious than they are comforting.

The doors finally open and she points you to the room at the end with big double doors.

“Good luck!” she smiles, and you watch the doors shut, the numbers go down for a few floors, and you’re left on your own.

You take a deep breath and turn back to face the apparently never-ending passage. You walk down the corridor in timed rhythm, counting 1-2-3-4, 1-2-3-4 until you reach the end on a 2. You knock on the door and are met with a “Come in,” from a masculine voice.

You slowly open the door, resisting the urge to peek your head in first like a child.

“Good morning, Mr Barnes,” you smile, speaking cheerily but still professionally.

“Ah, there she is!” he says as he stands from his desk and walks towards you, and for some reason now you really take note of the height-difference.

He gently grips your shoulders and kisses you on the cheek, to which you stiffen slightly, but try to cover up before he notices. His hands move to your waist and he leans in; you almost sidestep him thinking he’s trying to do… something else, but he only locks the door behind you, and you can’t tell if that’s better or worse than what you were expecting.

Your nerves flare up again, but in a different sense than if you were just going in for a job interview, adrenaline starting to prepare like you’re in danger. But you’re not… right? You’ve had dozens of interviews. You assume this time it’s just more scary because it’s with James Barnes himself.

“Nervous?” he asks as he steps back and gestures to a comfortable-looking leather armchair on the other side of his desk.

“A little,” you admit with an anxious and breathless laugh. He gives you a reassuring smile as he turns to a shelf behind him.

“Don’t be,” he says as he fixes himself a drink, “Whiskey?” he offers, “5PM somewhere and all that.”

You politely decline, and he settles into his seat across from you with his drink in hand. He takes a sip and sets the glass down to set his gaze on you, and you resist the urge to shift uncomfortably under his stare… it almost seems like he’s preventing himself from sizing you up.

“Why did you start your business?” he asks, “Honestly.”

“Well, I’ve been in HR for a while now, always had a passion for it, but I wanted to be more independent, and a little more flexible.”

He raises an eyebrow, “Honestly.”

“And I…” you don’t know why you say it, but you do, “I’ve had bad experiences with boyfriends in the past—and, please let me know if I’m being too unprofessional here, sir—”

“Bucky.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Call me Bucky.”

“All right… Bucky,” you smile, “I’ve had my most recent ex boyfriend try to ruin me; he got me fired, and no serious white collar will hire me, but I’m good at what I do, and I refuse to let him stop me from using my knowledge and expertise.”

“Tony Stark, is your ex, I take it?”

Your blood runs cold, and you deflate slightly, “Yes,” you sigh, “He is, and… and he treated me horribly, I couldn’t take it anymore, and even when I’m not with him, he still finds away to make my life hell.”

“I don’t trust that sleaze. In fact, anything he says, I do the opposite. I know you’re good at what you do, I can see your passion…”

You smile, relieved he believes you.

“… and I have a passion for you.”

You freeze, so your smile is still intact, “I’m sorry?” you ask, tilting your head slightly, sure you misheard him, but how could you have?

“You’re a smart girl, you know what I’ve been feeling, and you’re smart enough to know you’ve been suppressing your mutual attraction, but maybe too naïve to understand intentions.”

“Mr Barnes—”

“Bucky,” he corrects.

“Bucky, I—”

“I’ll pay whatever you want.”

You nearly snap at him, want to tell him you’re not for sale, but you stop yourself. You really, really need this job, you can’t afford to live another month.

“I know you need this job,” he says, as if he read your mind, pulling out a contract from his desk drawer, “And imagine if both Tony Stark and James Barnes said you were awful? You’ll never work in this city again.”

A tear rolls down your cheek as you take in the weight of his words, and you clutch your bag tighter in your lap.

“You’ll never work in this country again, you’ll be ruined, you’ll have nothing.”

You choke on a sob and cover your mouth with your hand as you shut your eyes.

“Why’re you crying? Honey, I’m offering you everything.”

“Thank you for… the opportunity,” you manage to get out between a deep breath as you shakily stand, and he stands with you.

You dart for the exit, but he grips your shoulders and turns you around, pushing you against door, your lower back painfully hitting the handle.

Soft blue eyes meet yours, so gentle and empathetic and caring you nearly forget the position you’re in, “I’m trying to help you,” he says, wiping away one of your stray tears, “If you walk out that door it’s over for you, you know that.”

Tears are falling more freely now and you fumble behind your back for the door handle, but the tall wood separating you from freedom doesn’t budge.

He wipes another tear with his thumb and pops it into his mouth before pulling it out adding his middle and index finger, never breaking eye contact with you, face stoic as your chest rises and falls rapidly.

You can do nothing but stare up at him helplessly as he hikes up your skirt and pushes two fingers inside you. You grip his shoulders with a gasp and he smiles as he slowly drags in and out of you.

“Didn’t even need to do that, you’re all ready.”

You turn your head to side and look away from him, shutting your eyes as you squeeze around him. He’s right, you were already wet, but your feeling of disgust is overpowered by the sensation of him pumping in and out of your more quickly, curling his fingers and hitting your sweet spot, over and over until you can hardly take it.

“B- Bucky, stop—” you try to get out, but you convulse, your stomach tensing as you cry out and arch your back, head thrown back before falling onto his shoulder, still crying softly. He removes his fingers and strokes your hair with his clean hand.

“Did so well for me, you see,” his voice is dark in your ear despite his praise, “You’re good at your job.”

✪

[taglist; @cjand10]

#dark bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes #dark!bucky x reader #dark bucky x reader #dark!bucky barnes x reader #dark bucky barnes x reader #dark avengers #yandere bucky barnes #dark!avengers #request

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starhvney · 3 months ago

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Heyyy I just found your account and I adore it!!! If requests are still open could I request a Travis x reader where they just moved to the street and travis has been trying to woo them (and its highkey working). And one night theres this huge storm and the lower goes out while theyre at travis and dantes and Travis claims they need to “cuddle for warmth” (Dantes off somewhere idk) and its just really cute and he confesses his feelings and is a huge dork? Sorry if thats too specific, thank you so much and I hope your day has been lovely 💖

𝐆𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐍

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: mys travis x reader

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: a power outage at a very inconveniencing time happens to be just the push you need to

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒: fluff, sharing a bed, travis being a dork, he wants to be suave so bad, like no sweetie you’re just cute, anyways yeah, you both smooch at the end hehehe he likes youuuu

𝐂𝐖: none? a small innuendo i suppose

𝐀/𝐍: i love travis my cutie schnookims! anyways i slightly changed the plot but it’s basically the same? i hope you like it regardless! Have a good day :)

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

it was time for one of aphmau’s annual parties, and the girl had enthusiastically made a point to include you with her friend group to join in on their celebration. from the way she described it, it sounded like it would be a fun time, and as the new girl in the neighborhood, you definitely couldn’t reject the generous notion.

especially when you found out that most of your neighbors had already been friends with each other since high school. it was really intimidating, to be thrown in a place where everyone around you already had a bond. how did they all even manage to find these nice houses next to each other?

you were grateful that they all were really friendly and seemed really open to letting in new people into the group. one had been especially friendly—a certain man with white hair and charmingly bright green eyes. you couldn’t lie he was attractive, and honestly one of the funniest ones in the group, but with his overly confident “womanizer” attitude you couldn’t help but obliviously ignore his advances on you.

it wasn’t that you weren’t interested. but you wouldn’t be easy against his rather brazen pickup lines and… dorky charm. he’d have to work for it. besides, it was kind of fun to watch him chase after you like a lost puppy.

that’s what brings you here, in your kitchen, the night before the party with travis himself. after all, you hadn’t accepted his flirtatious moves, but you most definitely hadn’t rejected them, either. everyone volunteered to cook a dish for the party in the group chat, and conveniently he happened to once again be loitering in your house—a habit he had started after you made it known he was welcome—as everyone discussed what they’d bring. he’d suggested for you both to hang out and cook your dishes together, and you couldn’t let down that hopeful glint in the man’s eyes.

“travis, now why in the world would you think mustard is scary. you have got to be messing with me right now.” you scoff, leaning back on your counter.

“i’m not!” he defends with his hands up, snickering at the unimpressed face you shoot him. “a lot of people get unnerved by random things for no reason! like mushrooms, and lots of holes, and even just a drop of blood!”

he points up as the window flashes with light, a loud thunder strike from the storm raging on outside cracking right after. “and thunderstorms!”

“okay, drama queen. i’d say being scared of thunderstorms and blood is a lot more justifiable than a condiment.” you scoff, before frowning as the wind howls and aggressively throws thick pellets of rain into your windows. “speaking of which, i’m not scared of storms but i don’t know if walking or even driving back down the street to your house would be safe

travis’s eyebrows raise, pretty dark eyelashes brushing along his cheekbones as he blinks at you in surprise. a second later he’s leaning onto the counter with a goofy-looking smirk on his face.

“so, you want me to stay?—”

crack!

“oh!” you startle, not missing how travis also jumped in place too. “i’m surprised the power hasn’t gone out yet…”

“don’t—” travis starts only to be interrupted by another loud crash of thunder from the sky, the both of you getting sent into complete darkness. “…jinx it.”

for a moment the both of you stand in your kitchen in silence, listening as the heater powers down along with the gentle whir of your household appliances. if you could see each other in this moment you imagine you’d both be awkwardly standing with your arms by your sides. another flash of lightning briefly lights up the room to show your assumption was correct, and you burst into giggles after seeing travis’s pressed lips and wide eyes.

“huh? why are you laughing?” travis asks, though the amused warble in his voice gives himself away before he starts laughing with you.

it wasn’t freezing cold outside, but it most definitely wasn’t warm enough to get away with not having the heater on in your house. the immediate lack of hot air rushing through the vents sent a small chill against your skin, even through your warm pajamas.

your laughter stops as realization of your situation seeps in with the cold. not only was your heater off, but so was your fridge and your…

“oh my god our food is ruined.”

there’s a dreadful pause for silence—and now that your eyes are adjusting to the dark—you see travis whip his head to look down at the oven, where your dishes were only halfway cooked inside.

“…damn.”

“that's all you have to say, travis?” you chide.

“what? i mean, there’s nothing we can do about it, right?”

a disappointed sigh leaves your lips before you reach over to your phone, the screen lighting up to show the late hour it already was. there’s no telling how long the power would be out, and this was enough for the wind to blow out of your sails. you can’t be bothered to try and figure out a way to fix this.

a full-body shiver wracks your body as you stare blankly at your screen.

“hey, i can help you remake everything tomorrow morning if it’s ruined by then.” travis suddenly says.

his voice is a bit closer, and you realize he’s moved right in front of you, part of his face now also glowing in your phone’s dim light. the look on his face is genuine and he seems almost worried, his own lips mimicking your own downturned expression. it makes you sigh, dropping your tense shoulders as another rumble of thunder vibrates through your house.

travis gently sets his hand over yours and your phone. “why don’t you sleep and i can come back in the morning?”

“come back?” you repeat. “no way you’re going back in this weather, that’s so dangerous! plus you’ll get sick.”

travis stares down at both of your slippered feet, then over to the kitchen windows, then back to you. “okay, i’ll stay if you want me to.”

you shiver again as you nod, crossing your arms to conserve the heat from escaping your body. you’re surprised at how calm and passive he was being. it’s not like he was always overbearing with his flirting and jokes, but it seemed to always be a part of his personality—not whatever this… soft, quiet version of him was.

“cold already?” he asks, rocking on his feet himself as he clenches and unclenches his hands.

“yeah… i didn’t know i needed the heater running that much, but i guess the storm made it even colder…” you mutter.

you catch his smirk through the dark. “well i know one way we can warm each other up—”

ah, there he is.

you’re about to swing a slap wherever it would land in the dark, though you stop when the suggestion clicks in your brain as an opportunity to give in to his advances—but with a perfect excuse.

“oh yeah! we can do that!”

travis’s eyes blow wide open as he takes a step back, a few startled coughs leaving his lips from inhaling too suddenly.

“wait, what?!”

“we can cuddle.” you simply return. “since there’s no heater!”

he deflates his tense shoulders, nervous laughs leaving his lips. “oh, yeah! right, yeah. cool cool cool. that’s what i meant.”

turning on your phone flashlight you grab his hand, guiding him through your house while trying to hold back the urge to laugh at his flustered state. you wish the lights were on only so you could see whether he was blushing or not.

your bedroom was already a bit chilly compared to the kitchen, since it was at the far end of the house away from the main flow of your ac system. it makes you pull travis closer as you speed up your steps to your bed, finally letting go of him to rip open the comforter and dive into the sheets.

shimmying over to make room for him, you wave him to you through the dark to get in himself. you watch him rock back and forth on his feet before leaning over, crawling in right next to you and keeping just an inch of distance between the two of you.

“you sure you’re okay with this?” he whispers to you.

“yeah, of course i am.”

this seems to set off a green light for him, his arms circling around your waist and pulling you practically on top of him. you feel his feet kick next to yours, squeaking out a tiny “yay!” in celebration. the act was insanely adorable for the grown age he was at.

you can only quietly giggle at his antics, unable to nonchalantly play it off as usual. you hug him back, tucking yourself under his chin, and you feel his chest swell in a happy inhale.

“i love you.” he sighs, a dopey smile evident in his tone.

it makes your heart stutter in your chest, eyes wide open as they stare at his chest in the dark.

“…what?”

his arms tense around you, breath hitching like he just realized what he said and beginning to stutter out an excuse. “um… i mean… not like…! oh my—i’m so sorry—”

“you really like me?” you ask, pulling back enough to make out his face in the dark. his eyes are wide and round, face in shock and embarrassment as if he had just slipped and fell in front of a whole crowd.

“i… i mean… isn’t it obvious?” he whispers sheepishly.

“well, you flirt with a lot of people. i didn’t know if you meant it with me or not.”

“no, not anymore!” he lurches himself closer to you. “didn’t you notice i only do that with you now?”

you blink as you try to recall a recent time you’ve seen or heard travis trying to use a pick up line or even staring at another one of the girls, and you honestly can’t recall it.

“…i guess so.” you mutter, and he squeezes you to him.

“so i do mean it with you! i know i can be really stupid and a little annoying, but—”

“you’re not annoying, travis. the things you do are a little stupid sometimes—”

“hey!”

“—but i think it’s cute.”

his jaw drops and mouth opens in shock. “you…you do? wait, do you…?”

you nod. “i like you.”

there’s a beat of silence, before he pulls you tight against him. a second later he rolls you around with him very similarly to how a crocodile rolls their prey, though the taller and heavier man thankfully keeps his weight from completely crushing you.

“travis!” you laugh, groaning at the sudden movement as you’re captured and thrown around like a rag doll. “how do you have this energy right now?”

“really?” he squeals, giggling like a schoolgirl. “you like me?”

“yes! now release me! please!” you breathlessly laugh.

he at least stops the rolling at your pleading, though he keeps you in his bear hug as he holds you on top of him.

“so, does this mean you want to date me?” he eagerly asks, still breathing heavily from the death roll he just made you endure.

you rest your forehead on his chest, quietly laughing to yourself in a bit of shock of what you just admitted. how did you give in so easily? you were hoping to drag this out for at least another month!

“it’s so late. why don’t we talk about this in the morning?”

he deflates and audibly pouts with a dejected sigh, and despite his dramatics clearly being played up you can’t help but still feel a bit guilty. rising up to your elbows you lean over him, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek and another on his lips.

"you dork." you chide under your breath.

his eyes are so wide you can see the whites all around the dark green of his irises. suddenly his hands are cupping your cheeks, and he’s bringing you down for a longer kiss. he pulls away a few moments later, seeming much more satisfied than he was a few moments ago.

“okay… we can talk in the morning.” he agrees breathlessly, staring up at you like he’d been locked away in a cave all his life and you were his first glance at the stars in the sky.

it makes the smile on your face impossible to fight, and you don’t think you care to anymore.

“good night, travis.”

“good night, hon.”

taglist: @wasting-away-on-the-internet

#aphmau mystreet #mystreet x reader #mystreet #x reader #aphblr #travis x reader #travis valkrum #mystreet travis #aphmau travis

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harrywavycurly · 4 months ago

Note

Ok but I’m going to need Harry calling Niall to tell him about his date/first kiss with miss Southern girlie 👀

Hiii lovey!!! Oh for sureeee we need the deets on how Niall thinks the date went 😂 I hope you enjoy💖

-find all things Southern Comfort here✨

A/N: Harry figures he might as well talk to someone on his walk home so of course that someone is going to be Niall✨

“Decided you needed to see my face during these early morning chats huh?…why you grinning like that mate? You’re freaking me out.” “It’s not even midnight Niall so it’s not early morning and…well I’m walking home from my date-” “oh fuck that’s right your date!….well going on your grin I’d say it went well? Unless you decided to just go full obsessive and kidnapped her and she’s actually in your basement or something?” “You’re truly a disturbed person…yes it went well you twat…she even let me kiss her goodnight.” “Did you ask first? Like a proper gentleman and all that?” “Yes…and honestly I thought she was walking up to her door but she was just trying to be the same height as me so I wouldn’t strain my neck.” “She sounds too good for you mate…honestly what’ve you done to trick her into agreeing to date your lanky ass?” “I haven’t tricked her you into anything you ass.” “Whatever…so what did you end up bringing her instead of flowers?” “I uhm made her…a mix cd…she liked it a lot and was very surprised I went through the effort to do that for her.” “A mix cd? Jesus H that’s like…proper boyfriend shit…what even songs did you put on it? Don’t tell me you just loaded it up with yourself…” “I mean it has the band on there…and yes you annoying little hobbit I’m on there but so are just some random artists I think she’d like.” “Okay so you made her a cd…then what did you do?” “I took her to dinner at a nice little Italian spot and then we went to this new wine bar that just opened and…after we just walked around downtown.” “You two and your bloody walks I swear…always fucking walking.” “We enjoy a good stroll okay? Just because you have wonky knees doesn’t mean the rest of us do…” “oh piss off you know you like taking walks with her because she lets you hold her hand.” “Oh…she let me touch the top of her thigh at the wine bar.” “What?” “Yeah she was sitting next to me in the booth and I reached over and placed my hand there to…test the waters ya know?” “Yeah…and?” “She didn’t slap it away….she even put her hand on top of it…” “I’d say that with the kiss goodnight is some serious progress…I’m happy for you Harry.” “Thanks….I really…really…like her.” “I know ya do…when do I get to meet her? Only seems fitting that she meets your absolute bestfriend on the entire planet now that you’ve got the first date out the way.” “Oh she’s meeting Jeff next week…he invited us to lunch.” “Oh fuck right off Harry you know damn well I’m above Jeffery on the friends hierarchy okay? Who is it you call about her every fucking time you have an update? Me…not him…me so get your head outta your ass and set up a time for me to meet her you wanker.” “You can’t have that kind of potty mouth around her Niall.” “I know how to behave myself around new people don’t worry.” “Oh I’m worried…you worry me.” “Yeah? Same goes for you… but at least I know the difference between salt and sugar.” “Why do you say such rude things to me when I’m on such a high?” “Sorry…but really I want to meet her…and I’m happy for you man…you deserve this.” “I’ll see when she’s free and get back to you…thanks Niall that means a lot.” “Now I gotta go…but keep me posted on how things are going…and please for the love of god Harry stop calling or FaceTiming me late at night you’re starting to fuck with my sleep schedule.” “I’ll keep you posted…sorry it’s just I like to call you while it’s all fresh in my brain that’s all…but I’ll do my best…now go get some sleep you look bloody awful.” “Love you too ya wank.”

#southern comfort extras #harry styles series #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fluff #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles x southern!reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles social media au #harry styles imagine #Harry styles fanfic #Harry styles and Niall Horan #my little irish marshmallow #my little lanky baby #harry styles #niall horan #one direction fanfiction

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itsokbbygrl · 10 months ago

Text

Old Dogs and New Tricks

Summary: Sarah Miller has always loved her dad, maybe especially today. Years of long days at work and longer nights taking classes and studying have lead to this--his college graduation day. When the Miller family is interrupted during their impromptu picture time, Sarah thinks there might be one more person who could love her dad, too.

Word Count: 3k, one-shot

Rating: T (some swearing)

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader/OFC

Tags: FLUFF, TOOTH ROTTING FLUFF, BRUSH YOUR TEETH AND FLOSS AFTER THIS ONE!!!, mild swearing, Sarah Miller POV, briefly Joel Miller POV, likely some University of Texas at Austin graduation inaccuracies, adult learner gets his diploma yay, Uncle Tommy is an A+ wingman, almost zero description of reader aside from having hair long enough to tuck behind an ear, wearing a dress, and having a shimmering laugh, but Joel and Sarah both refer to reader as a woman and use she/her pronouns, no y/n, no 2nd person perspective, reader/OFC has an unspecified family outside of 1 sister

A/N: Helloooooooooo this is the first thing I've ever published here holy shiiiiiiit. I was scrolling on Pinterest for interior design inspo and came across this adorable photo and immediately went, "omg Joel and Sarah core."

So naturally, I had to write it and set it in the HBO TLOU timeline. Sarah is 10 and we're going to suspend our disbelief about the technology of the year 2000 a little bit okay??? Digital cameras were not that good and very expensive and most people still did not have cell phones, but THE MILLERS DO OK. Anyway without further ado, I give you that (not so) old man doing something adorable. I hope you like it! My DMs and inbox are always open (yes I lovingly refer to you all as my little chickens, come say hi to me!). Reblogs and comments are appreciated per usual. 💖 Banner and title card made by me with the help of Canva :)

Sarah loves a lot of things about her life–her soccer team, her fourth grade teacher, all of the friends she’s made in her 10 years of life–but if you asked her what she loved most of all, she would say her family, hands down. Her family is small–just she, her dad, and her uncle Tommy–but their love for each other is anything but. It’s been the three of them her whole life and she’s never felt like there were any missing pieces, until one fateful Saturday in May.

Sarah has spent nearly her entire life being told how proud her dad is of her, but today is a day Sarah is determined to show her dad how proud she is of him. She knows he tries to hide how stressed he’s been the last few years, how tired, but she’s a smart girl and she, to her dad’s chagrin, notices everything. Sarah almost can’t contain her excitement for her dad as her uncle Tommy parks his truck in the vast expanse of the University of Texas at Austin’s football stadium parking lot. She hops out of the backseat and slams the door like Tommy taught her to make sure it closes all the way on its rusty old hinges, and then bends at her waist to brush any pesky wrinkles from her dress. She wanted to look extra nice for today, trying to tame her thick, curly hair by tying it back in a low bun and fashioning her favorite flower pin on the side, donning her favorite sundress and the sandals her grandma said were nice enough for Sunday church. If they were nice enough for grandma’s church, they were definitely nice enough for her dad’s graduation, she figured.

Sarah finds Tommy around the front of the truck as he’s pulling their entry tickets from his wallet. “Here you go, kiddo,” he says, extending a ticket to her with a smile. She replies her thanks before following him towards the imposing stadium ahead. Tommy helps lead them through the crowd, consistently checking to make sure she’s still near, Sarah offering him a smile each time she catches him looking. Their seats are up high, in the top third of the stadium bleachers. Sarah thinks she hears Tommy mutter something about only getting good seats if you donate a bunch of money under his breath, but she isn’t sure what exactly he means, so she ignores it.

“Do you know where dad’s going to be?” Sarah asks her uncle. She wants to know where to look, doesn’t want to miss a minute of this, and she’s dubbed herself unofficial photographer for the day, so she wants to make sure she knows where to point the camera at all times.

“Not yet, honey. We’ll keep our ears open, they usually announce each college as they come in, so we’ll know when to look for your dad,” Tommy reasons.

“Good plan,” Sarah nods in return, eyes focusing back on the field ahead.

Once it appears the seats have nearly filled, Sarah checks her trusty watch and sees the time has just passed 2:00, the scheduled start time for today’s ceremony. As if she triggered it herself, her head perks up as the sound of brass instruments rings out through the stadium, signaling the start of the ceremony. She watches the entrance of students intently, hoping to catch a glimpse of her dad.

Sarah turns in her seat and asks, “Uncle Tommy, can I have the camera, please?”

Tommy fishes in his pocket and pulls out the requested camera, placing it in Sarah’s open palm. “Yup, got it right here. You gonna be on photography duty today?” Tommy chuckles as he watches Sarah’s brows pull together just like her dad’s as she fiddles with the buttons on the camera until the settings are to her liking.

“You bet,” Sarah answers, poking her tongue between her teeth as she looks down at the small digital viewfinder. “Can’t see anything, gonna use the zoom and see if I can see any better through the screen.”

Tommy lets out a low whistle, “Smarty pants over here, did we forget your cap and gown? Shouldn’t you be down there?” He jokes and pokes her in the ribs to make her giggle.

“Uncle Tommy! Stop!” She laughs. “I’m trying to focus!”

“Alright, alright, kiddo. I’ll let you focus. Let me know if you find him.”

“Aye aye, captain,” Sarah salutes in return, earning a chuckle out of her uncle.

The McComb School of Business is announced and Sarah sits up a little straighter, refocusing her efforts to capture every important moment. She squints against the afternoon sun, determined to find her dad amongst the long line of pending graduates.

“There!” she points and Tommy follows her finger, trying to find what she’s seeing. “See his hat? I told him he needed to put something on it so we could find him and he told me to go wild, so I did. I knew that orange glitter glue would come in handy.”

Tommy spots him then, laughing when Sarah shows him the picture she’s snapped on the little screen, Joel’s graduation cap adorned with orange glitter glue that reads, “This old dog learned new tricks,” accompanied by two clip art dogs pasted on opposite corners.

“D’you come up with that all on your own, smarty pants?” Tommy asks her.

“Sure did,” Sarah chuffs. “Dad always says, “You can’t teach an old dog new tricks,” when he doesn’t want to learn stuff like the camera or the computer, so I thought it would be funny,” she finishes with a shrug. Tommy silently laughs, his shoulders gently shaking, and Sarah smiles to herself.

If there’s one thing Sarah will take away from this day it’s that graduation ceremonies are long and boring. There are about two minutes where she focuses intently as her dad’s row rises to make their way up to the stage. She diligently keeps the camera pointed his way, snapping pictures every so often. As he prepares to take the stage, she and Tommy stand from their seats.

“Joel Alejandro Miller,” the announcer reads. Sarah and Tommy whoop and cheer as Joel crosses the stage, Sarah keeping the camera trained on her dad, making sure to press the shutter a few times as he shakes hands with the chancellor and receives his diploma. The rest of the ceremony goes by relatively uneventfully, until the graduates are instructed to stand and change their tassels from right to left. There’s a murmur through the audience and then the students erupt in a spirited rendition of, “The Eyes of Texas.” Sarah smiles as she watches the new graduates laugh and sing, throwing arms around friends and pointing to the sky. Once the song ends, the graduates then whoop and throw their caps into the air, and Sarah raises the camera once more to snap a couple final pictures.

The crowd starts to dissipate, attendees making their way towards the exits to find their respective graduates. Sarah looks over the railing of the ramp as she and Tommy work their way down from their seats and watches as the mass of bodies move through the corridor, thinking about how they resemble a school of fish, almost liquid in the way they shift to accommodate obstacles in the hall.

After a few minutes of shuffling, she and Tommy find the exit out of the stadium, heading towards the spot they designated to meet Joel after the ceremony. Sarah spots him first, poking Tommy in the arm and pointing his way. Tommy nods in acknowledgement, giving her the okay to head over. She looks both ways to make sure the coast is clear before breaking out in a jog.

“Dad!” she calls, waving her arms to get Joel’s attention. His natural scowl drops the minute he sees her, face breaking out into a wide grin, and opens his arms as she rushes forward. Sarah meets him with force, earning a quiet, “Oof,” from her dad as she wraps her arms around his middle and hugs him tight.

“You did it! I’m so proud of you!” Sarah tells him, not letting go, but tipping her head back to look him in the eyes. If she notices the extra glimmer along his waterline, she doesn’t say anything. He pulls her in tighter, giving her small shoulders a squeeze, and Sarah feels the deep rumble of his laughter in her cheek.

“Thanks, babygirl. I’m so glad you came,” Joel tells her, rubbing up and down her back before letting her go from his embrace.

“Hey old man, proud of you brother,” Tommy greets Joel with a smile and a hug, the brothers exchanging firm pats on the back before separating. Joel gives him a half smile and thanks him for coming and for bringing Sarah.

Sarah steps back from their little group and realizes her dad has already taken off his cap and gown, and that just won’t do.

“Dad, where’s your hat and robe?” Sarah chides, putting her hands on her hips and giving him a serious look.

“It was hot, so I took them off,” Joel answers.

“Well, put them back on! We need to get pictures!” Sarah iterates, raising the camera in front of her dad’s face and giving it a shake.

Joel sighs, but relents. “Alright, alright, gimme a second, kiddo, then you can play photographer.” They find an open spot on the lawn and Sarah powers up the camera again, using the viewfinder to ensure the shot is lined up just right.

“Ok, 1, 2, 3…say, “Hook ‘em!”” Sarah says.

Joel smiles and entertains his daughter’s request. “Hook ‘em!” he says, smiling for the camera.

“Ok, this one, hold up your diploma,” Sarah requests and Joel again complies. “Can we do one more?” Sarah asks.

Joel gives her a nod, “Sure thing, honey.”

“Ok, this one, do the Hook ‘Em horns,” Sarah says and she does the gesture with her own small hand. Joel mimics his daughter and smiles for the camera as she snaps the picture. She pulls up the recent shots and turns the camera towards her dad to review them together, unaware that they’ve been watched for the last few minutes.

“Excuse me,” a soft voice interrupts Sarah and Joel from their scrolling and they look up to find a new member has joined their party.

“Sorry, I don’t mean to interrupt, I just saw your daughter taking pictures and I thought y’all might want a few together?” Wow, pretty, Sarah thinks as she assesses the stranger.

Joel clears his throat and Sarah turns her head to see her dad’s cheeks have flushed a new shade of pink as he stammers out a, “That’s awful kind of you, darlin’. Thanks for offerin’, we’d love that.” Sarah’s mouth ticks up into a smirk, the dimple she shares with her dad crescenting her cheek. She turns to Tommy and they share a knowing look.

“Thank you, ma’am. You just press this button here,” Sarah hands over the camera and shows the pretty stranger how to operate it.

“Got it, thanks, sweetie,” she replies before bringing the camera’s viewfinder up to her eye and lining up the duo. “Ok, big smiles,” she says and clicks the shutter. She smiles and moves the camera away from her face for a moment to direct, “How about we get one with both of you showing us your best “Hook ‘Em” next,” before once again snapping the photo. “Alright, let’s do one more. Gimme your best silly faces!” and she lets out a shimmering laugh as she presses the shutter a final time.

“Perfect,” she says to the small family, smiling and handing the camera to Joel, their fingers brushing briefly as the camera exchanges hands before both of their eyes lift to meet. Tension lingers only for a moment at the contact before they both let out breathy chuckles. The stranger lifts her hand and tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear, Joel’s gaze following the motion, Sarah’s gaze locked on her father.

“This was real kind of you, darlin’. Thanks again for helping us out,” Joel says, trying to extend the moment just a little longer.

“Oh, it was nothin’. My pleasure, really,” she replies in kind, waving him off, her gaze dropping shyly to the ground. “Well,” she continues, bringing her gaze back to Joel’s, “I better head back or my sister,” she turns her torso and gestures to where her party is standing and carrying on conversation, “will never let me hear the end of it, how I deserted her on her own graduation day after she spent torturous hours sitting through mine a few years back,” She chuckles softly and clasps her hands in front of her, kicking out one foot and cocking her hip slightly to the side.

“Alright, s'pose we better let you get on back then,” Joel replies. Sarah catches a sadness in her dad’s eyes at their pretty stranger’s words. “Thanks again…I know, I know, I’ll stop,” he laughs when she gives him a stink eye at his persistent gratitude. “Have fun with your family. And pass on our congrats to your sister.”

“I will,” she nods before taking a visible breath and waving goodbyes to the three Millers. She turns and heads back towards her own family. Sarah watches her dad watch her the entire time she goes, turning to Tommy and sharing an unspoken conversation before Tommy breaks the silence.

“Alright, brother, why don’t you say hi to your fancy college buddies before we head out. I’ll entertain the sprout for a few minutes. Then we can head out for ice cream,” Tommy says, pulling Sarah into his arms and giving her a soft noogie while she cringes good naturedly.

“Uncle Tommy! Stop, you’re going to mess up my hair!” Sarah complains. Tommy relents and Joel eyes the pair suspiciously, but ultimately agrees. He gives the camera back to Sarah for safekeeping, and she dramatically tells him she’ll protect it with her life. He laughs before leaving the pair on the lawn to find a few of his classmates and professors.

Once he’s out of eye and earshot, Sarah and Tommy form a quick plan and spring into action.

It’s getting late, the sun set, the evening sky dark and air heavy with the remaining heat and moisture from the day. Joel is sat in his makeshift home office at his messy desk, camera in hand, flipping through the pictures Sarah took earlier in the day. She got some pretty good shots, rolling his eyes and shaking his head fondly when he realizes how gaudy his cap looked from the crowd.

He gets to the pictures of he and Sarah together and smiles, loving how happy his little girl looks, how proud she clearly is of him, how much fun they have together. He tries and fails not to think of the beautiful woman who took those pictures earlier, of the jolt of electricity that zipped up his arm and ran through his heart when their fingers touched, and he especially tries not to think about how he never managed to get her name.

Just when he thinks he’s gotten to the end, the silly faces he and Sarah made only hours ago staring back at him through the small camera screen, he notices the number in the upper righthand corner. 24/25. There’s one more. He flips to it curiously, finding a special face looking back at him. A wide toothy smile, hair still tucked behind one ear, gorgeous little sundress that should have been illegal to wear out in public, and…holding a piece of paper? There’s something written on there and Joel desperately wants to know what it says, but for the life of him, he can’t remember how Sarah told him to work the goddamn zoom.

He flips to the picture before, of him and Sarah making silly faces, swallows his pride and prepares himself for the shit he knows he’s about to get from his daughter before bellowing out, “Sarah! Babygirl, can you come here, please? Need you to help me with the camera!”

Sarah bounds into the room, sly grin already plastered on her face. Joel holds out the camera and asks, “How do you work the zoom on this thing again?”

Sarah walks over to her dad and points out the buttons he needs to use. “These right here, the plus sign zooms in, the minus sign zooms out, and you use these,” she moves her finger down to the directional arrow buttons that form a small circle on the lower right side of the camera, “to move the picture around when you’re zoomed in. Make sense?”

“Clear as mud,” Joel replies, giving the buttons a try to make sure he has it before dismissing his daughter, thanking her for her help, and thinks he hears her mutter something about old dogs and new tricks as she leaves the room.

Joel turns his head to make sure Sarah isn’t hanging around before flipping back to the last picture on the digital version of a camera roll. He does as Sarah instructed, presses the plus button until the picture is zoomed in enough that he can read the paper being held up to the camera. No fucking way. He blinks, squints, rubs his eyes, and looks again, but his eyes did not deceive him. Written on the paper in a looping scrawl is undeniably a phone number. Joel leans back in his chair and brings his hand up to his mouth before pulling it down and resting on his lap. He stares at the screen for a moment in disbelief before letting out a low chuckle. He looks away from the screen and over towards the office entrance again, thinking about Tommy and Sarah and their insistence to hang back and let Joel congratulate his classmates and thank his professors.

“Son of a bitch,” Joel murmurs to himself. He shakes his head and looks back at the screen. He holds his gaze there for a minute, then one more, before he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his cell phone, punching in the number and hitting the green call button before he loses his nerve.

The line rings once, twice, three times, and Joel thinks maybe this was a mistake, calling a relative stranger after a brief (at most) meeting, but then the ringing stops and a newly familiar voice answers with a soft, “Hello?”

Joel smiles as his anxieties drift away, “Hey, darlin’. Nice to hear your voice again.”

END

Tagging some friends who might be interested: @5oh5 @javierpena-inatacvest @swiftispunk @sawymredfox

#holy shit i actually posted something #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #the last of us au #pre outbreak!joel #LJ writes #IT'S A TAG IT'S OFFICIAL

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taiey · 2 months ago

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hi guys i watched Pangi's vod An honest talk with Flamefrags and came out of it A Flame Fan 💖 i shall now attempt to spread this affliction 😌

Like I do appreciate just the bare fact that he did log in to chat with Pangi, because he asked. And then went and... built a house with him? Just because. Like they spent an hour this, he's not actually kidding when he says that he does show up for other people's bits.

Anyway. Here are some things Flame says, when they got onto building:

I don't like building: everything I build gets destroyed

I won't build at spawn, I'm scared I'll get arrow cannon'd

I don't like getting attached to places, someone'll trap it

"putting the entrance *here* would make sense but if it's *here* I can see more people if they come to attack me"

Having pets also gets him killed, "I had to drop that a while back."

"How can you dedicate this much time to something, just to know it could be gone instantly?"

(me like a month ago: huh Flame keeps going through the wall instead of the door of his base, that's potentially interesting.) (me now: oh NO) this is what being immortal means, apparently: being constantly aware of all the ways you could die.

so. in. addition to your "man who had to burn off him caring about anything other than fighting because it will get him killed". thing. 🥺

There's the whole audience angle that I find tasty to chew on. Like he opens by saying, he dies once on Lifesteal and everyone's mocking him and he wanted to prove himself. And then the "I have four thousand people watching me and now I let them all down and they start slandering me in the chat"—calling it clickbait, I hear. And it's like—

Did you know one time Flame was a streaming grinding villagers in his volcano-adjacent base and someone paid him money to tell him they would pay him more money if he killed Zam? (the answer, at the time, was—I'm not killing Zam, I'm allied with him, Zam built this base.) Did you know one time he killed Jepexx, metaphorically turns to the camera to say "chat, you be begging me to kill people. Then look, I just killed him in three hits. Are you happy? That's why I want to fight actual good people, like... Is this what you guys wanted? An easy kill?" and then two minutes later he died to Leowook's void trap? Like the emergent symbolism, guys. Did you hear that he died to a wither he had already killed because he was responding to chat?

"I have to blow up spawn tonight or I'm lying, again"

i want to Chew

And then there's a reflection of the stream audience in the audience of, like Wemmbu, and Manepear, which we get in inside flamefrags mind, like... can you back down when other people are looking at you expecting it, encouraging it, going through with it with or without you? You can't understand the - character of Flamefrags without putting that pressure somewhere. (i do like fics where these characters are streaming their own lives)

They blow up his house; Mane says it was just Wemmbu and that Wemmbu didn't know it was Flame's but we don't know. He was very suspicious and withheld for a long time but by the end of it he was joking with Pangi and putting real effort into making the fireplace look nice with the bricks and the grate. Like, like, like—You take - one step down a path you've been avoiding for so long because every time you've tried it leads to ruin. And then your friends burn it down. Don't go that way, even a little. Just blow stuff up, that's what's fun, that's what we do for fun. Not that.

. . . probably reading too much into it.

Also he said he expected that if he'd fought the six people everyone would've just run away as soon as he started winning/killed one person, and told Pangi his plans for later were getting enchanted apples, and just generally gave the impression that he could plausibly win a 6v1 by straightforwrdly having 20 hearts and notch apples and being Flamefrags. :) i am not immune to being an audience that thinks it's neat when he's super good at fighting. :) also also it's not just the four Declared Pacifists he's complaining about, they made a list of thirteen people on lifesteal who in general wouldn't fight (4c, zam, ecorridor, midmystixc, mrcube, pangi, squiddo, jaron, kaboodle, poafa, terrain, spepticle, woogie) and you could add or subtract a couple (pangi argued him out of bacon; uh, i do dispute,) but gosh that actully is a lot.

In conclusion Pangi's going to make a Flame Lore video and I hope it is Good and I can just point people at that when it's out 🙏

#flamefrags #lifesteal #lifesteal smp #lifesteal spoilers #meta #mine

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 6 months ago

Text

The Quiet Ones 7

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

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

Summary: You live a quiet life, but your peace is fractured by a chaotic man.

Characters: Lloyd Hansen, short!shy!reader

Note: like Staind said in that one song, it's been a while.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

Lloyd brings you down the flight of stairs, his arm through yours as you teeter in the heels. You’ve never been one for anything besides flats or sneakers. You’re getting acquainted to the painful arch of your feet and it’s doing little for your agitation.

While this man might be entirely too direct at times, he can be just as vague. You still have no idea why you’re dressed like some dainty rose. Whatever delusion he’s living in, it’s not the fairytale he believes it is.

Savoury aromas waft in the air and draw your nose towards the kitchen. You glance at Lloyd curiously. He puts his hand over yours and winks. You quickly turn your head straight.

“Don’t worry, jelly bean, I got everything sorted. Can’t have you sweating up a storm in the kitchen. Private chef,” he clicks his tongue, “besides, our guests won’t settle for anything less.”

You arch a brow but don’t ask. As much as you want to know who he’s expecting, you dread finding out. You highly doubt it’s good company.

He takes you into the living room. A large chandelier dangles from the high ceiling, the long crystals casting marbled pale light around the space. The tall windows peer out onto the green lawn, dim in the rising evening hue. The ornaments are just as sleek and precise as every other room. Polished marble and spotless porcelain.

As you take in the curved couch and round ottoman, Lloyd shifts your hand from the crook of his arm and tugs you to face him. He raises your knuckles high and kisses them. You blanch and resist the urge to pull away. His mustache tickles your skin.

“Baby, you look spectacular,” he purrs, “did I mention that dress hugs your ass in all the right ways.”

You bite down and nearly snatch your arm away. No. Don’t rile him. Tolerance will keep you safe.

“You didn’t,” you murmur as he clings to your hand and places it against the chest of his jacket. He wraps you up in his arms as if he means to dance with you.

“Well, shit, it really does,” his hands crawl down your sides and he scoops your ass up in his large hands, forcing a squeak from you as you press against his chest. “How about an extra dessert tonight?” He winks. “I bet it’s sweet, huh?”

He leans in, nuzzling your forehead as he growls. You shudder, but he might mistake it for excitement. His nose brushes yours but his lips stop short of yours as a chime interrupts him. He freezes and reluctantly draws away.

“Wait here,” he smirks and flutters his fingers longingly as he struts away.

You blow out through your lips and swivel to glance around. It’s a nice place but you miss your apartment. You miss being alone. You miss when you didn’t know this man.

You mash your hands together and wring them. You hear voices. A man and a woman. Great. This is really strange. You don’t understand what exactly he’s up to. Is he not afraid you’ll start begging for help? Somehow you don’t think that would do you much good.

“She’s in here,” Lloyd’s voice carries through ahead of him, “mom, dad, my lady,” he waves towards you.

You stand frozen to the floor. Uh. Mom? Dad? Oh gosh, it’s a family dinner. You blink and slowly step forward as Lloyd waves you closer.

“My mother, Delores, and father, Lawrence,” he introduces the two other figures.

The woman is tall and blond and statuesque. You feel even smaller in her presence. She looks down her long nose, her irises blue as ice, and her lips a soft shade of rose. Her hair is so icy, you can’t tell if it’s blonde or silver.

The man is as tall as Lloyd, a little broader, and wears a cerulean jacket over black. His hair is streaked with the same sandy shade as his son, mingled with shocks of white. He tilts his head as he measures you, his eyes narrowing.

“Hm,” that’s all you get. You feel much the same.

“We’ve come all this way, tell me supper is ready,” the woman, Delores, tuts. “Crab cakes, right, honey?”

She looks at her son and he frowns. His mustache makes the expression even more theatrical. You hate to disappoint but what did he expect? I mean, look at you.

“And I appreciate you coming,” Lloyd says, sounding unlike you’ve ever heard him in your short acquaintance. Something about it is disingenuous, for as honest as that man can be. “We’re super excited to have you.”

“Have you had those windows looked at?” The man stops to scope the ceiling to floor panes, “impractical things.”

Lloyd’s shoulders square. You can’t see his face but you’re certain he’s not happy. You don’t see anything wrong with the place. It’s a bit over the top, too sleek, too shiny, but it’s not horrid. Most people can’t afford anything like it. People like you in your boxy apartment.

“This way,” Lloyd says and waves them towards another doorway.

He takes them across the entryway and you follow behind. The dining room has high ceilings and an overly long table. You can’t imagine anyone would ever need that many seats.

Lawrence sneers with disapproval as Lloyd pulls out a chair for his mother. Delores primps herself as she sits, popping a compact out of her purse to touch up her lipstick. You stare from the doorway, drawn forward as your host clears his throat and eases another chair away from the table.

You near and sit. His parents have even you on eggshells. You can tell they won’t be much help to you. You’ve got more than enough with their son.

“I’ll just go check on dinner and you can get to know each other,” Lloyd declares as he claps his hands.

You wince as his mother snaps the mirror shut and puts it away. She looks you up and down as you keep a dull stare. His father examines the butter knife as if searching for any speck of filth.

“So, dear,” Delores begins. “Aren’t you a quaint one?”

You scrunch your nose up. Quaint? You’re not a house.

“Quiet, aren’t you?” She chuckles, “well, what do you do then? How’d he find you?”

“Probably one of those websites again,” Lawrence grumbles and curls his lips. “Women these days, they’ll jump at a dollar sign.”

You shake your head and tilt it. You’re not a mean person. You wouldn’t consider yourself malicious at all but he annoys you. And her. Their judgement reminds you of your schoolyard bullies.

“I do data entry,” you answer, ignoring the snipe. “We met... uh...” you frown and look at the table.

We met when your son stalked me and starved me out of my apartment. Yeah, you don’t think that’s going to get more than another condescending trill from her and indifferent grunt from him. You pick at your nail, the movement catching her eye, and you pull your hands apart and hide them behind the table.

“We met...”

“At the cafe,” Lloyd strides in and approaches the chair next to you, standing behind it, “supper will be out shortly.” He sits and grabs your hand, bringing it onto the tabletop, “you know, I saw her from across the coffee shop. Just waiting. I was just taken by her. Her effortless beauty--”

“Effortless indeed,” Delores comments.

You flick your lashes and glance over at your abductor. How is he preferable in this moment? You blink and turn your dull gaze ahead, staring through the blonde. You don't do well with confrontation, you're more the type for avoidance.

Lloyd quiets and brings his other hand up, chewing his fingertips before ripping them away from his mouth. He keeps his grip on you with his other and sighs. He looks up and shrugs.

The silence doesn’t last long as several bodies enter and lay out plates in front of each seat. A man in a black jacket and chef’s cap emerges and announces the appetizer; crab cakes with black truffle crostini. You stare at the food. It doesn’t look very tasty; it’s too curated.

“Mm, crab,” Delores sings as she picks up her cutlery, “how delightful.”

“Yes, see, I remembered,” Lloyd utters.

“All this flash,” Lawrence clucks as he lifts his fork, “you know, there’s more too life than show. Your fancy car, the house, your women...”

“Dad,” Lloyd goes rigid, “she’s not just another woman. I wouldn’t bring you here if--”

“Oh, no? The last one, I recall, was wearing a bright red thong. How do you think I know that?” The older man snips.

“She’s not like that,” Lloyd rebuffs. “I told you, she’s different. She’s the one.”

“Well, she definitely doesn’t talk as much as the last one,” Delores remarks tritely. “And Lawr,” she nudges her husband with her elbow, “she does have a certain allure. She definitely is... different.”

Your brows nearly meet in the middle. You close your eyes to hide the roll. You exhale through your nose. You don’t care about these people. You don’t even want to be here. So, why try?

That's it. Don't try. You don't need to impress any of them. You're not going to dance for them like they want you to. They aren't your parents and your own parents don't earn enough of your concern. You don't care about them and you definitely don't care about the man beside you.

Defence is the best offence, right? You're not going for an outright attack, that won't work. It's about repulsion.

You wiggle free of Lloyd’s grasp and surpass the cutlery to pick up the crostini with your fingers. You shove the whole cracker in your mouth and chew without caution. You hum and nod as you swallow it down. Maybe if you can disgust his parents enough, they’ll make him get rid of you. It’s not much of plan but more than you had before.

“Oh my,” Delores hovers her cutlery over the crab cake and gapes at you.

“Mm, oh my, good,” you speak through a full mouth.

“Uh, right, mom,” Lloyd raises his voice, “did you try the wine?”

“The wine,” you say through another mouthful, “mmm.”

You slurp messily. Your heart is racing and your skin is tingly. You don’t talk in front of strangers often. Always mindful of every single action. You never want to draw attention. Never step out of line but now, you’re toeing every one. It’s embarrassing.

“Lloyd,” Delores breathes.

“Honey,” Lloyd touches your shoulder, “let’s slow down.”

“I’m starving,” you argue and nearly choke, coughing into your hand.

“We still have several courses,” he lowers his voice, “please, jelly bean, don’t do that.”

“Do we have any more of this stuff,” you hold up the second crostini.

“Please,” he begs and puts his hand on your thigh, squeezing.

You smile, food in your teeth, and show it to the table. You’re going to barf, not just from the soft cheese but your humiliation. Hold it together, just a little longer.

“She definitely is... something,” Lawrence says and sends his wife a look of disgust.

You clear your plate as quickly as you can. The food is like rocks in your stomach. You’re not used to eating that much, not to mention, that sort of fare. It’s rich to the point of too much.

You wiggle your nail between your teeth and pick at them until Lloyd grabs your hand. You flutter your lashes in his direction. You really think you might throw up. Not only because of the fishy taste in your mouth.

Before you can think of your next move, the plates are cleared away and replaced with the next course. An entree of filet mignon and seasonal vegetables, as announced by the chef. You imagine it’s similar to what they serve in those fine restaurants you could never afford.

“Fine cut,” Lawrence offers as he turns over the steak with his knife and fork.

You saw through your own and look at the middle, “ew, is it supposed to be this colour?”

The table is quiet as you poke at the steak with your knife. You push it to the edge of the plate and make a face. You poke at the roasted potatoes instead.

“Rare,” Lawrence sniffs, “I’ll take the chef’s name.”

“Can he make cheeseburgers?” You ask.

“Jelly bean,” Lloyd hisses, “what’s going on? What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” you shrug and look at your plate and huff, “fine.”

Like a bratty kid you pout. You pick up the steak with your hand and gnaw on it, making it into an effort. Lloyd reaches over and takes it from you, putting it back on your plate.

“Stop, please,” he begs.

You shrug and wipe your hands on your dress. He latches onto your hand, gripping it tight until your joints hurt. You wince as he stands, still clinging to you.

“I was meaning to wait until dessert but... she’s had a long day. She’s not feeling herself,” he reaches into his jacket with his other hand and turns. He looks down at you and clears his throat, lowering himself to his knee. His blue eyes meet your grimace. Oh, god. “Jelly bean, sweetheart,” he pulls out the velvet box and your stomach lurches, “will you--”

You bend over your lap as you lose all control. You spew onto the floor, the sick splashing onto your feet and Lloyd’s pants. You cup your mouth as you puff, bile staining your tongue. You groan and stay folded over your knees.

“Oh, Lloyd, you can’t mean to marry that?” Delores sneers.

“Truly, son, you brought us here for... her? Really?”

Lloyd looks at you and his forehead lines. He shakes his head and opens the ring box, picking the ring from the cushion, and grabs your hand. He shoves the row of large diamonds onto your finger. You stare at the sparkle in horror as you slowly sit up and he stands.

“We are getting married,” he insists, “and I didn’t bring you here for your blessing. I only brought you to let you know.”

“Married?” You and Delores echo in fraught unison.

“Yes!” Lloyd stomps his foot, nearly stepping in the puke. “You can’t stop me, she can’t stop me,” he jabs his finger in the air, “no one can stop me!”

“Settle down, boy,” Lawrence says.

“Come on, baby,” Lloyd snatches your wrist and pulls you to your feet, “let me get you cleaned up.” He winks and wiggles his tongue out at you and his parents groan. He curls his arm around you and lowers his voice to a whisper, "I got something else for you to choke on."

Well, that didn’t work.

#lloyd hansen #dark lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #the quiet ones #series #the gray man

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devilat-thedoor · 1 year ago

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Sweet to Taste

okay so i ended up writing the whole thing🫠

it’s not a blurb anymore, it’s a full, filthy and smutty oneshot. but i’m leaving it here for @ignite-my-fire @ohgodthefeeling-gvf and @gvfpal because thems my babes💖🤍 love you, guys and hope you enjoy😏(it’s not proofread at all, so forgive me for any mistakes)

Word Count: 4.6k

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!reader x Sam Kiszka

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI, Smut(Unprotected sex[stay safe, friends], Oral[m&f rec], Fingering, Tiny bit of overstimulation, Voyeurism if you look closely.) Read Discretion Advised! let me know if i missed anything.

🌟🌟🌟

You always found yourself in these silly little games with Sam. It would start as a debate and quickly turn into one of you challenging the other in some kind of bet. Tonight, as you all sipped your drinks in the back of the barroom, the youngest Kiszka hit you with a daunting task. “Fifty bucks says you won’t get up on the bar and dance.” He sipped from his seltzer, eyeing you over the can with a slight raise to his eyebrows.

“Fifty?” You scoffed at the offer, “Fifty isn’t worth getting kicked out this early in the night, Sammy.” Rolling your eyes at him, you lifted your own drink to your lips.

“Okay, fine. A hundred, but!” He held his finger out as you opened your mouth, “You have to really put on a show, Y/N.” He emphasized his point by playfully shaking his hips. A hundred bucks just to shake your ass on a bar top was easy money. Plus it always felt great to win a bet against Sam. You turned your head towards the bar, crowded with people talking and waiting on their drinks. Admittedly, you were a little anxious about being up in front of all of the strangers and as you were about to turn it down, he gave you a smug smirk, “If you’re too scared to do it, just say that.”

If anything, you were fueled by his taunting and he knew it, “Fuck you, Sam. I’m gonna do it and I can’t wait to see the look on your face when you cough up that money.” You held your hand out, prompting him to shake it and seal the deal.

“No way, I’ve gotta see this.” Jake piped up, pushing away from the pool table to join the conversation between you and his younger brother.

Sammy shook his head, eyes still on yours while he spoke to Jake, “She’ll chicken out, I know she will.” His gaze raked down the length of your body, spending extra time on your legs that were covered in fishnet tights. The black, leather miniskirt you wore stopped high enough on your thighs that even the slightest bend would expose your ass and both of the boys were drinking it all up.

You threw the rest of your drink back, pushing the glass into Jake’s hands and turned on your heel to head for the jukebox. Making sure to add a purposeful sway to your hips, you glanced back over your shoulder to the brothers, rooted to their spots as they stared at you. A spark ignited in your belly at the looks they wore and you smiled to yourself as you chose a song, knowing that you would leave here with one of them tonight. After deciding on a tune, you went to the bar to wait. You knew they were still watching your every move and you were gonna have fun with it. “Hi, handsome.” You leaned into the man on your left, “These tattoos are nice, did they hurt?” Staring up at his face, you trailed a single finger down his bicep. His response was drowned out as you locked eyes with Sam, his lip caught between his teeth, and then Jake as he ran his fingers over his mouth. The way they both eyed you lit your skin on fire and you tried to distract yourself, interrupting the tattooed man, “Buy me a shot?” You gave a sweet smile and he agreed, signaling for the bartender and asking what you wanted, “Two shots of tequila, please.” She poured the drinks and slid them across the bar just as your song faded in through the speakers. You picked one of the glasses up and tossed it back, feeling it burn its way down. The man went in for the second shot but you grabbed it before he could and took that one too, offering him an apologetic shrug. “Sorry, hun. I’ll make it worth your while though.” You grabbed his shoulders, hoisting yourself up onto the stool in front of you and climbed onto the bar top as the first line of Pour Some Sugar On Me played. Pulling yourself up to stand, you started by strutting down the bar, letting your heels click against the wood with every beat.

Lookin’ like a tramp, like a video vamp. Demolition woman, can I be your man?

You stopped, kicking a bottle from the surface and whirling your hips in a circle as you pushed your fingers into your hair. Your eyes flashed to Jake as you slid your jacket off of your shoulders, revealing the cherry red, lace bralette you had on, and held it above your head to wave it in time with your winding hips.

Sometime, anytime, sugar me, sweet. Little miss innocent, sugar me, yeah

He was watching, arms crossed over his chest with an impressed smile over his face when you tossed your jacket into the crowd. The chorus started and your eyes fell upon Sam, gawking in shock as you dropped to your hands and knees, earning a slew of gasps and whoops from other patrons.

Pour some sugar on me, in the name of love. Pour some sugar on me. C’mon fire me up.

You whipped your hair around, shaking your ass as you crawled across the bar. Stopping to pluck a little plastic sword from somebody’s drink, you slithered your tongue around the cocktail cherry and sucked it into your mouth. You rolled onto your back, having entirely too much fun, and arched your hips into the air, writhing on the wood top while sliding your hands up your chest and into your hair.

Red light, yellow light, green light, go. Crazy little woman in a one-man show.

Suddenly, a pair of hands were grabbing your legs, pulling you from the bar, “Alright, show’s over.” You looked up to see the bouncer, as he placed your feet on the floor, “Boss is gonna have a fit when he checks the cameras.” You couldn’t contain your laughter as he led you through the swarm of people who were all cheering you on with wolf whistles and hollers.

“I’m sorry, Hank! It was a bet!” You were laughing so hard that tears were dripping from your lashes, Hank, the bouncer, was trying to stifle his own smile while pushing you through the door.

“You’re done for tonight, Y/N. Someone will bring your stuff out.” He pointed a scolding finger at you with a smile before retreating back into the building.

Wiping your eyes with the backs of your hands, you managed to yell through your giggles, “You’re such a buzzkill, Hank!” Jake was coming out, carrying your jacket in his fist, followed by Sam who had your purse. “HA! You owe me a hundred dollars.” You stuck your tongue out, teasing Sammy.

“Yeah, you’ll get your money.” He rolled his eyes and handed you the bag.

Giving him a pout, you moved towards him, wrapping your arms around his torso and looking up into his eyes, “Weren’t you impressed with my moves?” His eyes briefly dropped to your lips as he licked his own.

You felt a hand grazing up the back of your thigh to gently cup your asscheek, “She really did outperform our expectations, Sammy…” Jake’s breath was hot on the back of your neck and you shifted on your feet, clamping your legs together at the pooling in your panties.

“You’re right, Jake. It was quite the show.” Sam brought his thumb up to brush over your bottom lip. “Too bad the whole bar got to see it.” You could feel his growing cock pressing into your hip while his brother was sliding his hand between your thighs from behind you.

Your eyes began to flutter at the intoxicating feeling of having both of them so near and you could feel the same primal need radiating from the boys, “If you guys want a private show, just say the word…” You let out a shriek as Jake pried you from Sammy’s body and all but dragged you to his car. Stumbling to keep up with him, you half turned to see the younger Kiszka following closely behind, “Where are we going?”

He pulled the back door open, ushering you into the backseat, and pushed it shut while Sam climbed into the passenger seat, “Your place is closest, but if you’d rather go to mine-.”

“My place is fine.” You answered too quickly, cutting Jake off, and saw the brother’s share a look that had you body thrumming with anticipation. Dropping your head against the seat, you couldn’t form a thought that didn’t involve what was about to transpire. “Jake, drive faster.”

Sam turned around in his seat to face you, “She’s a needy little thing, brother.” His index finger weaved through your fishnets, pulling them back to let the material snap against your thigh, while he locked eyes with you, “So impatient, Y/N… What is it that you just can’t wait for? Hmm?” He snapped the tights again, leaving you squirming on the backseat.

“If you keep toying with her, she’ll leave a mess on my leather seats.” You could hear the amusement in the older boy’s voice, “And I’ll just have to put her on her hands and knees to clean it up.” He wasn’t wrong, you were practically dripping at the feeling of Sam’s fingertips walking further up your leg. But then they were gone and you looked up to see him facing forward again as the car pulled into your driveway.

The second the engine cut off, Sam was out of the car and hauling you from your seat to crash his lips against yours. Your hands frantically grabbed at his clothes, his arms, his hair, searching for anything they could find as he broke away, “Keys.” He laughed at the confusion scrawled across your face, “Where are your house keys, babe?”

“Oh… Uhh…” You fished through your purse, pulling the key ring out, “Here.” He took them from your hand, tossing them to his brother and before you knew what was happening, he picked you to sling you over his shoulder and ran to your front door. “Sammy!” You were squealing loud as he scolded Jake to hurry up.

The deadbolt clicked and he pushed the door open to watch Sam carry you inside. No sooner did Sam have you on your feet when Jake was pulling you into his arms, gripping your ass with a tight squeeze as his tongue licked at your bottom lip. You moaned into the kiss, allowing his tongue to dance with yours while one of his hands traveled lower to slip between your thighs again. This time, his fingers grazed along your panties and he let out a deep groan, “Fuck, you’re soaked, baby.” You smirked as you leaned in to kiss him again, but Sam yanked you away, forcing your attention back on him.

His lips danced along your jaw and down your neck, “Hmm…And you said I was needy?” You broke away from the both of them and sauntered down the hallway, disappearing into your bedroom. By the time they caught on and followed, you had stripped your skirt off and were leaning on the bottom of the bed in just your bralette, matching red thong and the fishnets. Music was playing from the small speaker on your nightstand and if you had any anxiety over the predicament you were in, it all dissipated with the way they hungrily stared at you, waiting for your signal. You turned around and bent over the bed and started sliding the tights and your thong down your legs, moving slowly to give them a full view of your ass. Once you kicked them off your feet, you crawled up the mattress, swaying your hips as you went. When you made it to the pillows, you sat back on your knees to pull the top over your head and tossed your hair to the side as you looked back at them over your shoulder with a devilish grin, “You just gonna stand there and gawk?”

You spun around to face them completely, keeping your legs crossed and angled perfectly to cover your chest and your core. Jake shuffled across the room first, coming to stand at the foot of the bed as he pulled his shirt off, “Open up for us, beautiful. For me.” He kneeled on the bed, watching you expectantly, “Let me see you.” You held eye contact with him as he gripped your knees and gently pushed them apart to reveal your glistening cunt. You leaned back on your hands and spread your legs wider, enjoying how captivated he was in your display. “Sammy, do you see this?” Jake was trailing a hand up the length of your leg and your breath caught in your throat as he stopped right before he could reach your sensitive spot.

Your eye flicked up to Sam, standing beside the bed now to get a glimpse, and he noticed the uneven rise and fall to your chest, “You gotta give her something, Jake.” He pushed the hair out of your face, “Poor thing is just aching to be touched.” His fingers grazed down your cheek, blazing a path straight to your breast as he brushed his thumb over your nipple. A satisfied hum left his throat as he watched it harden.

Your attention went back to Jake as he blew cool air against you, “Can I, Y/N?” He was so close, all he had to do was flick his tongue out, “I wanna know if she’s as sweet to taste as your song suggests…”

“Please, Jake. She’s so fucking sweet, I promise.” You were pleading, lifting your hips to meet his mouth while he just watched with a sinister smirk. If he wasn’t going to give in, you would just have to replace him. Lifting your foot, you pressed it to his shoulder, pushing him away from your body. When he gave you a questioning look, you returned his smirk and reached up to pull his brother down on top of you. Sam’s lips were on yours in an instant, only detaching enough for you to pull the shirt from his body. You could faintly hear Jake cursing but all of your focus was on Sam’s bulge, pressing against your pussy from inside his jeans. You rolled your hips, reveling in the friction that denim provided, “Do you want the first taste, Sammy?”

He paused from licking along your jaw to look at you with an eager nod. Pressing his lips to yours one more time, he started working his way down your body. He bit down on your breast and pulled the nipple into his mouth before continuing his descent. Every hot, wet kiss he left made your head swirl and by the time he settled between your legs, you were a squirming mess. You sat up on your elbows to keep eye contact with him and the second his eyes met yours, he wasted no time. His tongue came out, licking at your entrance and dragging up to flick over your clit before retreating back into his mouth. “She wasn’t lying, Jake.” He was gloating to his brother, “Her pussy is fucking saccharine sweet.” Before Jake had a chance to respond, Sam was diving back in.

You dropped flat on the mattress only to arch you back off of it again as your hands grasped at the thick comforter, “Oh. Oh fuck, Sammy.” His tongue worked over your clit in a steady rhythm and after every few licks, he would drop down to push it inside of you. “God, don’t fucking stop!” You picked your head up to look down at him, but your eyes landed on Jake instead. His jeans were gone and he had a hand wrapped around his cock, stroking it while he watched his brother devour you. A nagging need to wrap your lips around him had you fighting through moans to beckon him, “C-mmm. C’mere, Jakey.”

He was rushing to your side, climbing on the bed to kneel beside you. Your hand went straight to his hard dick, grasping it as you started to stroke. He was going back and forth between your tits, squeezing each of them when you leaned towards him, spoiling the head of his cock with soft kitten licks. “Wanna feel you swallow me, baby.” He grabbed the back of your head and slowly pushed his hip forward. You retracted your hand and allowed him to slide deeper when Sam pushed a finger through your entrance, forcing a groan to vibrate over Jake’s cock. “Holy- Whatever you just did, Sam… I need you to do it again.” He slid himself further, just barely hitting your throat as his younger brother curled his long digit, drawing a deep moan from you and causing you eyes to roll back.

“Jake, you gotta get a taste of her.” Sam sat up, prompting his brother to pull out of your mouth with a pop. You watched as they proceeded to switch places, “How’s her mouth?”

Jake laid on chest, in the spot that he’d claimed first, “Fucking divine, brother.” Right after the words left his mouth, he was gripping your legs and rolling over. The next thing you knew, he was on his back, below you, while you straddled his face.

You were about to protest the position until his arms hooked your legs and pulled you down onto his mouth, “Jesus, Jake!” You lurched forward, using your palms to catch yourself as he sucked your clit between his lips, swirling his tongue over it. It didn’t take long before you were grinding against his mouth and riding his face. “Shitshitshitshit.” Your knuckles were white from the grip on the blanket.

Sam appeared in front of you, now fully nude, and brushed the hair from your face as he ran the tip of his cock along your lips, “You wanna show me how nice this pretty mouth is?” His pupils were blown, making his dark brown eyes turn almost completely black, and all you could do to answer him was open your mouth and let him in. Your tongue danced along the underside as he slid past your lips. He gathered your hair into his fist and began rocking his hips, “Take it all, Y/N. I know you can.” He continued fucking into your mouth, keeping an even pace as he bounced against the back of your throat. You felt Jake shifting between your legs for a moment before his tongue slipped into your pussy, pushing as far it could go while his nose brushed over your clit. The sensation had you moaning around Sam’s length and it caused him to jolt, slamming himself into your throat. “She’s fucking gagging on me, Jake.” There was a hint of laughter in his tone as he said it, but then you felt two fingers stretching you, stroking over your g-spot with the perfect amount of pressure as Jake’s lips found your clit again, and you couldn’t concentrate on anything outside of cumming on his face.

You pulled your mouth from Sam with a gasp and sat up, circling your hips on Jake’s tongue, “I’m gonna- Oh fuck, I-I’m.” Your thighs closed on his head as you collapsed forward, breathless and shaking with full body convulsions. His hold on your legs only tightened and he kept lapping at your folds, pushing you to the brink of overstimulation, “P-please. I can’t…” Your eyes flashed to Sammy in a silent plea as tears threatened your eyes.

“Hey, ease up, Jake.” He tapped his brother’s arm, “You’re gonna make her tap out too soon.” His words worked enough that the elder Kiszka released you, allowing your body to fall limply to the mattress. Sam lifted your head to lay on his leg and swiped the hair from your sweaty forehead, “If you’re done, you gotta tell us, babe.” His voice was so soft and sweet, you could listen to him talk for hours. You were feeling pretty exhausted, but all you wanted since this night began was to feel one of them inside of you and you got lucky enough to have them both here.

You shook your head, rising to a sitting position, and climbed into Sam’s lap, “I want you fuck me until you cum.” His hands slid up your thighs to grasp your hips as you looked back at Jake, “And then I want Jakey to fuck me until he cums.” When you turned back to Sam, he lifted you just enough to slip his cock inside of you and you gripped his shoulders as he bottomed out, “Fuck, Sammy…” You dropped your head to his shoulder with a wince, giving yourself the time to adjust, before slowly lifting off of him to glide back down. You kept your movements relaxed but it wasn’t enough for him. His arms snaked around your back, squeezing you against him as he laid back and began hammering his hips into you. The sounds that filled the room were vulgar but you couldn’t be bothered to care. He was driving you straight to the edge again and you welcomed it, clawing at his skin like a wild animal.

No words could form in your brain or on your tongue, all you could manage were ear shattering cries as you started to tighten around him. “You’re fucking soaking me, Y/N.” The rhythm he’d had was beginning to falter, “I’m gonna cum, babe. I gotta pull out…” You heard the words leave his mouth and shook your head, meeting him with a look that he almost didn’t decipher, “Are you sure? I-.” His brows were pinched as he fought off his impending climax, but when you cut him off, frantically nodding your head as your jaw hung slack, he lost control.

“I want it, Sam. I fucking want it.” You were holding his chin in your hand, forcing him to look at you, “Look at me while you fucking fill me up, Sammy.” His eyes began to roll but he brought them back, locking them directly on yours as he stopped breathing. You felt his jaw clench in your hand as he came, his face contorting. A warmth spread over you at the feeling of his release, painting your insides, “That’s my good boy.” You pecked his lips and released his face as you climbed off of him. He shrunk back against the pillows with a blissful smile over his face and you turned to Jake, “Are you ready for me, sir?” You ran your tongue across your lip as you eyed him, silently preparing yourself for a grande finale of an orgasm.

He was standing beside the bed, holding his dick in his hand, “Are you ready for me, beautiful?” He grabbed your ankles in a flash and hauled you to the edge of the mattress before pushing you to lay flat, “Spread, baby.” You obeyed without hesitation, hooking your hands behind your knees and opening yourself up for him. “Prettiest fucking pussy.” His thumb ghosted over your clit, sending a shiver throughout your body, “She’s a bit sensitive, huh?” If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was talking to himself. You let out a sharp hiss as he pushed into you, his thick cock stretching you more than Sam’s did, “Shh. You’ll get used to it, baby… and then you’ll be addicted.” He cooed as his hand rubbed over the insides of your thighs, but the gentleness of his hands was soon overpowered by the way he slammed into you.

He was playing your body like an instrument from God himself. Cock driving into you with the perfect rhythm, hitting your sweet spot with every entry. His thumb strumming your clit like you were a song he’d played a million times. Just when you thought it couldn’t get any better, he took your left leg and pull it over to the right, leaving the lower half of your body twisted to the side while he still got a perfect view of the euphoric expressions you made. “Jake… Jake, I-.” You tried to tell him how good it felt, how great he felt, but the words failed you. He just gazed down at you, a proud smile on his face, as he fucked you deeper.

“You wanna cum, baby?” He had a handful of your ass, watching you nod your head, “I wanna hear you say it. Tell me.” Your mouth was agape, but nothing aside from pathetic whimpers would come out, “Come on, pretty baby. Tell me how bad you wanna cum.” There was a mocking tone to his voice as he started to slow his movements, giving you an expectant look.

The spring was wound so tight in your belly that it was almost painful. You swallowed hard and managed to choke out whatever your brain would permit, “I need it, Jake. I- Fuck.” You were gonna start pulling your hair out if he didn’t give you an orgasm, “Jake, please… I need you.” You saw something shift in his body language and he pulled your left leg back over to hook his waist, allowing him to lean down and catch your lips. The kiss was sloppy, tongues and lips clashing, but it all felt too good to care. When he started trailing kisses down your neck, your hands went to his back, holding him close, “Let me have you, Jakey. I fucking need it, baby.” You were whispering in his ear, letting your teeth graze the cartilage. There was no refuge from the mind altering pleasure he was providing and you were crashing down around him like a tidal wave as the rubber band snapped, catapulting you into a different realm. The climax hit hard and you were working your hips in tune with his, riding it out while willing him to cum, as well.

You could hear him mumbling against your skin, but you couldn’t make out any of the words until lifted his head to look at you, “I’m- Shit, baby… So fucking tight. I’m cumming.” You watched as his face twisted, similar to the way Sam’s had just a bit ago, feeling the first bit of his release.

“That’s good, baby…” You stroked your hands down his back as he finished. You turned your head to look at Sammy, still laying against the pillows with drooping eyes and a dopey smile, “You guys were both amazing.” You reached up to grab his hand as Jake pulled out of you. Sam yanked at your hand and you crawled up the bed to lay beside him, curling your body into his side, “You feeling good, Sammy?”

He fought the sleep that threatened to close his eyes, “Hmm. I feel great. You felt fucking great.” You giggled at his sleepy, fucked out voice.

“What about you, Jake?” You held your hand out to him and pulled him down onto the bed as he took it.

He climbed in behind you, fitting against the curve of your body, “Fucking fantastic, baby.” He murmured into your hair as he let out a tired sigh. You smiled to yourself as you laid your head on Sam’s chest and draped a leg over his while Jake spooned you with an arm firmly around your waist. A silence fell upon the room as you soaked up their warmth. Just as a slumber began to take you, you made a promise to yourself that this was definitely not a one time thing.

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