#the ''another happy landing'' part always makes me smile x

[monzabee]

partition - lh44 (+18)

masterlist ||

Summary: The one where you and Lewis are stuck in traffic in Paris, and decide to make the most of the situation.

Pairing: lewis hamilton x reader 

Word Count: 4.0k

Warnings: smut!! sex in a car, unprotected sex (because when have i written something with condoms lol), pwp, cringey ass nickname (blame beyoncé), manhandling, took me a long time to write it so it doesn’t make sense most part, minors dni!!

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! this was a passion project for me and you have no idea how happy i am with the way it turned out. There’s only one slight issue and it is that i wanted lewis to call the reader something other than peaches, but it is in the song, therefore please if you don’t like it blame the mother, aka beyoncé. Also, i was very unsure of whether i wanted to drag it out, or leave it as it is, so any feedback is appreciated. i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms. 

It took you forty five minutes to get ready – Lewis knows this because he’s been keeping time on his phone since the moment you’ve went into the bedroom side of your hotel room to get ready for the party he’s taking you to. You’ve always like to joke that he takes longer getting ready whenever the two of you have to go somewhere, but now that he is staring the timer on his phone, maybe he should use it as an evidence that you’re, in fact, wrong the next time you tease him about it. Not that he actually would do that, he is a gentleman, after all.

He’s just about to call out to you to hurry up when you beat him to it, “Baby, I need help, please!”

The nickname manages to bring the smallest of smiles to his face as he, without shouting anything back in response, gets up from his place on the couch and makes his way towards the bedroom. And that’s when his eyes land on you, in front of the full-sized mirror struggling  to zip up your dress. In just a few more steps he’s right behind you, his fingers itching to dance against the smooth skin of your back. “I thought you were going to wear the suit you brought, Peaches,” his voice comes off muffled as he presses a few kisses to the expose skin on your shoulder.

“I forgot to bring the shirt that goes with it,” your voice comes off shaky as you feel his lips drag on your skin, and you can hear his soft chuckle. Craning your neck to give him a small smile, you join in his laughter, “Zip me?” With a yielding kiss, Lewis wordlessly grabs the small zipper between his fingers, and when the moves the zipper, it makes you shriek out another laugh, “Up, Lewis, zip me up please!”

“Alright, alright,” he chuckles, pulling the zipper upward with a swift motion. The dress seamlessly hugs your figure, and he makes a show of checking you out from the mirror in front of you before meeting your eyes. “There you go, all zipped up,” Lewis announces triumphantly, ignoring your disapproving headshake, giving you a gentle pat on the back. You turn around, facing him with a grateful smile, and he can't resist leaning in for a sweet kiss. The connection between your lips is brief but warm.

“You like my dress?” You ask him and his enthusiastic nod makes your smile widen in satisfaction, “You don’t think it’s too short?”

Instead of answering your question with words, instead Lewis tsks, letting his dissatisfaction with your question known. He gently takes one of your hands in his, threading his fingers through yours and prompts you to spin around to give him a better look of your dress. He wraps his arms around your middle, his hand still firmly intertwined with yours, and presses a kiss on your shoulder right where the strap of your dress meets your skin. “Wear any dress you want, Peaches, Miles and I can handle anyone who gives you trouble for it.”

Chucking at his protective, yet playful, response, you pat his arm around your middle with your free hand, “Speaking of the devil, we should probably get going if we don’t want him to kill us both for being late.” Lewis makes a sound of contest, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he pulls you closer to himself. “Lu,” you let out a faux-exasperated sigh, “there is being late, and fashionably late, and I’m afraid we are way past the latter.

“Oh, darling,” you hear his breathy voice whisper against your skin as he places a couple of open mouthed kisses onto your exposed skin, “maybe we should stay back, hm? I can show you just how much I like your dress.” With one of his hands splayed on your stomach and his lips greeting your skin ever so often, you gasp when his lips find that one sweet spot he knows that makes your knees week. “Imagine how much fun we can have on our own, here, in our room.”

Throwing your head back to rest on his chest, a breathy chuckle falls from your lips, but you give him a stern look. “As much as I would love to stay back with you, we promised all of our friends we’ll be there.” As you rise up to your toes to give him a soft peck on the lips, you manage to break free from his arms, leaving him with a perpetual pout on his face. “When we get back, Mister Hamilton, you can do whatever you want to me.”

With your offer, the look on his face changes from a pout to a smirk. “Is that a promise, Peaches?” He raises an eyebrow.

“Oh, darling,” you emphasise the word with an exaggerated version of his accent. “It’s a fact,” you return his look with a small smirk on your own as you add, “sir.”

Needless to say, the walk down to the lobby to get into your car is full of tension between the two of you. It’s not like Lewis can’t hold himself back, because he can. He has proven under many circumstances that he can withhold sex from you if he decides to do that. The most recent incident was when he caught you lurking around the Red Bull garage during the last race you’ve attended, which ended with you quite literally having to beg him to fuck you after a week of Lewis not even touching you. The walk down to the lobby is filled with stolen touches and knowing glances, with him trying to get you to kiss him every minute, not caring whether the people around you can hear him or not.

You give him a sideway look when the receptionist tells you that your limo for the night is waiting for you. “A limo?” You raise an eyebrow, looking at him for response.

He simply shrugs a shoulder, leaning down to mumble his response into your ear, “Miles was in charge of the car,” with his fingers giving your waist a firm squeeze, he manages to earn a silent shriek from you, “I’m sure we could do with the extra space, darling.”

“Behave, Lu.” You chastise him, but the corner of your mouth upturns nonetheless and you let Lewis guide you towards the car waiting for you.

Because he is the perfect gentleman he opens your door and helps you into the limo, pressing a lingering kiss on your hand before joining you. The inside of the limo is darker than you expected, but the city lights of Paris do a good enough job of illuminating the car. The condensation on the limo’s windows has your attention and Lewis watches and you trailing your finger along the glass, tracing the line a raindrop left behind. He contemplates, for a second, whether being jealous over a raindrop for commanding your attention could be considered weird or not, but he decides that he doesn’t really care.

He places a hand on your thigh, his touch is both reassuring and possessive, but when you turn your head towards him to look at him, the way he smiles at you and his thumb caresses your knee is incredibly sweet. He is a duality in himself, Lewis is. And you enjoy the way city lights illuminate his face, his smile soft as he leans over the middle of the seat to give you a sweet peck on your lips.

“What was that for?” you ask him, giggling as you place your hand over his on your thigh. He doesn’t answer, only shrugs his shoulders and grins as he pulls away from you, instantly making you seek him out again. You’re about to comment on his suddenly playful mood, when you realise the car is slowly coming to a stop, and you let out a breath of frustration when the driver informs you that you’ve hit traffic. And traffic in Paris on a Friday night? It’s safe to say that both of you know that you are not going anywhere fast.

The overall wait is not that bad, you think. Even though the traffic is crawling at a snail’s pace, you’re more than happy to be in the car where you can be with Lewis without the overwhelming sound of EDM music and sweaty bodies pushing you around in a crowded club. The same, however, cannot be said about your boyfriend.

As time passes and you’re, still, stuck in traffic, you can see Lewis getting more and more frustrated with the situation. You try not to comment on how annoyed he looks and let him have his silent moment of irritation. You gently squeeze his hand, offering a reassuring smile. “It's alright, Lewis. We'll get there eventually.”

He lets out a sigh, running a hand through his hair. “I know, I know. It's just... I hate being late.” He lets out another frustrated sigh as he gently pats the empty seat between the two of you. “Can you just come closer, please?”

“Why?” you ask, eyes narrowed down in suspicion as he somehow manages to pull you closer to himself, not that you would try to get out of the situation otherwise – with the amount of times you’ve found yourself suddenly sitting in Lewis’ lap, it’s almost as if you can’t get away from him when he’s next to you. “We can’t do anything,” you whisper in warning when you catch him giving you literal bedroom eyes.

Smirking at the anxious tone of your voice, he lets his hand wander down to your hip as he quickly manoeuvres you into his lap, despite all your warnings, and calls out to the driver loud enough for him to hear his voice, “Hey mate, can you pull up the partition, please?” You hear the sound of the partition going up as Lewis fiddles with the couple of the buttons on the door handle, and soon after you hear the faint sound of music playing in the car. He meets your eyes when you give him a funny look, silently asking him what he’s up to, but he responds with a faint smile as he rests his hand on your lower back.

Rolling your eyes at the antics of the driver sitting, literally, under you, you turn your attention back to the scenery outside the window. Going back to tracing the raindrops falling onto the glass window, you choose to focus on the outside view as best as you can, given the current position you’re in. Although you’ve warned him against it, Lewis’ hand on the lower of your back drawing circles into your skin gives you other ideas you would otherwise choose to ignore in a public setting.

“What are you up to, Lewis?” you ask, lips twitching in a need to smile as you do your best to supress it.  

He grins, his eyes gleaming with a mischievous spark as he gives you an innocent shrug of his shoulder. “Just making the most of the situation, darling.”

Letting out a resigning sigh, you try to focus back on the rain outside, but with Lewis’ hand getting bolder on your lower back and the fact that you find yourself shuffling in your seat with every subtle movement of the car makes it almost impossible to focus on anything but him. Deciding to find out just how much you can get away with, you  tilt your head back slightly, your lips hovering near his ear. “Are you trying to start a scandal, Mr. Hamilton?”

He chuckles, the vibrations from his laughter sending a delightful shiver down your spine. “I told you we'd make the most of it, didn't I?” Hid hand continues its teasing dance, eventually dipping lower and even under your dress, and you have to fight the urge to let out a moan at the feeling of his skin on yours. “We can make it into a challenge,” he offers, his voice low as he suggestively whispers on your skin, “see just how scandalous we can be in the back of a limo.”

“What if someone sees?” You mumble, biting the corner of your lip to stop yourself from smiling.

His lips graze the curve of your neck, sending another shiver down your spine. “I thought you liked being watched, Peaches.” You can feel his lips curling into a smirk and a gasp leaves your lips as his hand grabs your thigh, making you shuffle closer to him as a result. “Is that a yes?” Your eyes glance over at the closed up partition, but you nod your head nevertheless, though that doesn’t necessarily satisfy the man beside you. “Words, darling.”

“Yes, please.” The words escape your mouth and your hands slide down his body to work on the zipper of his dress pants. He gives you an amused look as you pull his zipper down, and kneel on the floor between his legs as elegantly as you can given the current situation you’re in. You hear him say your name in warning, giving you a way out, even though he was teasing you about your voyeuristic tendencies – and you might’ve considered taking it, if it weren’t for the fact that having him in your mouth is the only thing you can focus on at the moment. So, instead of pulling yourself up on Lewis’ lap and let him have his way with you, you carefully take his cock out, making sure to keep your eyes fixed on his during the whole process.

Giving him a few gentle strokes, you lean forward to lick the first few drops of precum that drips out of the head of his cock. The hiss he lets out when you take the head of his cock between your lips and suck on it gently makes you smirk, and so you swirl your tongue around the tip to get another reaction out of him. With the way his left hand grabs the door, you know Lewis is trying so hard not to just grab you by your hair and guide you the way he wants to. Humming at the taste of him, you widen your lips to fit more of him in your mouth and wrap both hands around his cock to pump the rest of his cock that you can’t fit into your mouth. As you slowly start bobbing your head up and down on his cock, the sounds leaving his mouth make you want to quicken up your pace, though you refrain from doing so. Maybe you shouldn’t be feeling so turned on by a mere sound of your boyfriend’s pleasure, but you can’t help yourself as you inadvertently rub your thigs together.

You continue the movements of your mouth, taking more of him every time you bob your head down, and Lewis gives in at some point, threading his hands through your hair and guiding you down until the tip of his cock hits the back of your throat. “Fuck, Peaches,” his low groan sends tingles down your spine, “just like that.” He looks so beautiful, you think, with his head thrown back and eyes closed.

Your hands work together with your mouth, picking up speed when you realise you have him at your mercy like this – it even makes you wetter, and you feel the wetness between your legs. Your eyes water as a sudden move from Lewis thrusting his hips causes your gag reflex to remind you both that it is there, causing you to pull back with a huff and send a glare his way. But he apologises by caressing the apple of your cheek and easing you back onto his cock.

Your power move, however, doesn’t last long, as Lewis lets out a groan, pulling your head off of him and leaning forward to lift you onto his lap. It’s not necessarily intentional when you grind yourself against his cock, causing both of you to moan simultaneously. Your head is thrown back when you feel his lips gliding on your feverish skin, and you even let out a breathy laugh when your head lulls to the side and you see the handprints he’s left in the mirror. “Lewis,” you whisper, trying to keep your voice low, suddenly very aware of the driver sitting in the front of the car, “if you don’t fuck me now, I think I might explode.”

“I got you, baby,” he murmurs, his hands on your hips lifting you up to position you over his cock. But you have other plans in mind. He lets out a breathy chuckle as you drag your lips over the skin of his neck, tracing his tattoos as you leave feverish kisses along the way. “What are you doing?” He asks, hands busying themselves to get you out of your underwear.

Nipping at his skin, which earns you Lewis squeezing your hip in warning in return, but you give him a pout as you pull back. “You didn’t let me finish you off, you impatient brute.”

“Brute?” He echoes, not able to stop himself from laughing at your choice of words, “Are you going to be a brat, hm?” He is more than happy to play along when you get into these moods, though he also knows how you can get when you don’t get something you want. So when you fix him with a glare of your own, he lets out a deep sigh as he wraps your hair around one of his hands and pull your head back to bare your neck to him. “And to think I thought you were going to be a good girl, I guess that’s my fault.”

The whine that leaves you would’ve been embarrassing if it weren’t for the fact that he has you in the in the palm of his hand. “It’s not fair,” another whine leaves you, and you attempt rolling your hips against his erection resting against you in between your legs, but before you can find a rhythm, he halts your movements by tugging on your hair again. Curling your fingers around his shirt, you huff a breath of annoyance, whining out his name. “I’ll be good,” you promise, and let out a relieved sigh when he lets go of your hair to give you more freedom to move; you thank him with a few kisses.

“I know you will.” Lewis mumbles, hands finding your underwear again, but he quickly becomes frustrated when he realises the position you’re in will make it hard for him to get you out of them. So, taking an executive decision, he decides to rip them off your body. He gives you a look when you whine at the loss of your favourite pair, and he tries to salve the situation with a promise of buying you another pair. When you feel him between your legs, without any barriers this time, he is not surprised to see your immediate reaction. Though Lewis enjoys when you take control, he is impatient as he raises your hips, despite all your protest, and positions you over his cock.

You only have a few moments to adjust when he eventually lowers you onto his cock, and the initial stretch has you gasping out his name. He gives you a few minutes to adjust before slowly starting to move your hips, each move making you take him deeper until he’s buried to the hilt in you. One of your hands is pressed to the window for support out of reflex, trying to keep still as he uses the grip he has on your hips to move you in the rhythm he wants. It matches the mood pretty well, you think, everything is rushed and the sounds of the traffic and the music playing surrounding you becomes muffled as the pleasure takes over your body. You have to physically stop yourself from screaming every time he slams you down on his cock, faster and harder each time, relentless as he watches your face contort with pleasure.

Trying your best to match his thrusts, you grind your clit on every down stroke, making him somehow go even deeper, and making you moan even louder. There is an arrogant smirk on his face that you would love to wipe off, but with the way he’s making you feel, you decide to get him away with it. Dragging your hands down his shirt, you suddenly feel offended by the fact that he is covering his chest, and decide to get him out of it. This plan would’ve worked better if it weren’t for the fact that you end up ripping the buttons rather than being gentler with it. Not that Lewis complains about it, since this is most definitely not the first time something like this has happened. Your hands work on their own as you glide them through the smooth skin, slightly damp due to the warm temperature of the car, but every contact with his skin seems to make you roll your hips faster and harder.

He has to close one of his hands over your mouth since the moans that leave you get considerably higher in volume with every waking second. His lips curl up in a smile as you silently beg him with your eyes, your movements becoming sloppier with every down stroke. “I’m going to remove my hand and help you come, but you’re going to be a good girl and keep quiet, okay?” His voice carries a warning tone, and you frantically nod, assuring him that you’ll follow his instructions.

Keeping true to his word Lewis takes away his hand, making you take a deep breath as he grabs your hips. His hold on your hips is bruising, and you’re certain you’ll have marks to remember tonight for a while – especially with the way he uses his hold to move you on his cock in a rhythm he wants to. It doesn’t take you a long time to feel the overwhelming pleasure starting to build up in your lower stomach. “Please,” you whine, nails biting into his skin as your other hand is splayed over the window for support, “I’m so close.”

“Come on,” Lewis encourages you, hands working you over his cock even faster to get you where you need to be, “give it to me, I got you.” And with him looking at you like that, using your body however he wants to? It doesn’t take long for you to feel yourself coming around him, head thrown back and lips parted in a silent scream. With a last thrust, you feel him also spill himself into you, the act being greatly intimate despite the current predicament you’re both in at that moment.

A sound of surprise leaves the back of your throat when he begins to move under you, positioning you to stand on all fours as he positions himself behind you. “Wha– What are you doing?” You ask, craning your neck to look at him with hazy eyes.

“Oh, Peaches,” he coos, one of his hands caressing your skin down your thighs and up towards your hip again, “did you think we were done? We still have a long way back to the hotel.”

“But, the club?” You find yourself asking, cheeks burning when he uses his finger to push the wetness dripping out of you back in.

“We were never going to make it to that club anyway,” Lewis drags his lips up your spine until he reaches your ear, pressing a gentle kiss to your neck before whispering, “what do you think? Should we make the most out of the way back?”

Your eyes slide towards the handprints left on the window, the Paris lights shining through the streaks both of your handprints have left behind. Maybe under different circumstances you would’ve insisted you go to the club to meet with your friends. But at that moment? You instinctively push your hips back onto his, and feel his smile on your skin as he runs his hands through your body, ready for another round simply because you two can’t keep away from each other.

[lixzey]

“lovelorn, and nobody knows.”

luke castellan x daughter of apollo!reader

word count: 7004 words

summary: you and luke have been friends since the day the two of you met. you've had a crush on him since the two of you were fourteen; needless to say, he doesn't know about your feelings.

warnings?:  unrequited love, oblivious luke, jealousy, falling for your best friend, reader writes songs and plays guitar, reader lowkey hating the girl luke likes, faking, heartbreak, reader is friends with everyone and juniper the dryad, use of nicknames between reader and luke (melody and charming), swearing, will loves his sister!!, platonic chris rodriguez x reader, platonic clarisse la rue x reader, and platonic silena beauregard x reader (chris calls her sunshine, clar calls reader sunny, while silena calls her love), mention of fainting and dehydration.

a/n: take note of every little thing in this first part, because i laid clues for what's gonna happen in part two.

August by Taylor Swift is the song she sings during the camp fire.

ONE.

You smiled as you watched your best friend teach your younger siblings how to wield swords, which was futile, as children of Apollo tend to be better at archery than sword fighting. 

But Luke was patient with your siblings, which always made you smile. Maybe it was from experience. Having a cabin full of mischievous kids tends to give experience in being patient with hyperactive children.

You were sure you could stare at him forever. Bright brown eyes full of mischief paired with a contagious, kind smile.

“Y/n, are you listening?” Dawn snapped her fingers in front of your face, pulling you out of your daze. “You’re staring at Luke again, gods, you are hopeless.”

“I wasn’t staring, Dawn,” You rolled your eyes, turning your full attention to your younger sister. “Now, what were you saying?”

“You were, you ain’t fooling me,” Dawn teased, a smirk on her lips as she leaned back against the hard stone walls of the arena. “Anyway, are we singing at the campfire tonight?”

You scowled at your younger sister, your gaze landing back onto Luke. “You’re annoying, you know that?”

“I know, but I’m still the best sibling you got,” Dawn grinned cheekily. “So, are we singing or not? Or are you just going to ogle at Luke the whole day?”

Your cheeks started to heat up, like being kissed by the sun in the early morning. “We’re going to sing, happy now?” you grumbled, averting your eyes away from the senior counselor of the Hermes cabin. 

Dawn smiled triumphantly, rising to her feet. “I think I’m going to join Lee and Michael,”

You raised a brow at her. “You’re shit with a sword.”

“Yeah, but it’s better than watching you hopelessly be in love with him,” Dawn jerked her head in Luke's direction. “Frankly, it’s nauseating.”

“Shut up,” you grumbled, rolling your eyes. 

Dawn snickered, starting to walk away. “I’ll leave you alone to daydream of Luke sweeping you off of your feet, leading you up the stairwell-”

“Shut up!” You snapped at your sister, who was still snickering.

“Is everything okay?” A voice you know oh so well spoke behind Dawn.

“Oh, it's nothing,” You quickly said before Dawn got another idea to embarrass you. “Dawn was just going to train with Lee and Michael. Right, Dawn?” You say through gritted teeth, making your sister chuckle.

“Yeah, I’ll leave the two of you to talk.” And with that, Dawn finally left, golden hair dancing in the wind.

“You okay, melody?” Luke asks, sitting beside you, concern etched on his handsome face.

“Yeah, I’m alright.” You smiled, trying to look genuine despite wanting to kiss him and run your fingers through his curls like it’s the end of the world. 

You never wanted to be in love with your best friend. You knew the consequences of it—thanks to your friends from cabin ten's constant reminders, but your stupid heart just wouldn't listen.

You've known Luke since the night he and Annabeth arrived at camp when you were fourteen. You'd been assigned by Chiron and Mr. D to tend to Luke and Annabeth’s wounds and bruises, being the head of cabin seven and the best healer camp has to offer and all.

Luke was charming, you had to give him that, charmed you into letting him attend training one first day despite not being healed properly yet. And then, half an hour later after he left the infirmary, one of your siblings brought him in—one of his wounds that you patched up, bleeding and was unconscious after insisting that he was okay minutes ago. Annoyed, you put him on bed rest. When he woke up hours later, he insisted to be let go—wanting to prove he can be better than that Ares kid he sparred with.

“Come on, doc, I’m okay now!” Luke raised his arm, but winced at the pain beneath his underarm. “See?”

“You are going to lay in that bed and you are going to rest. Doctor’s orders.” You simply said, humming a song as you checked his wounds for any infection.

“But-” 

“One more word out of you, and I’ll curse you with bubonic plague.” You said, stuffing a cube of ambrosia in his mouth, smiling sweetly at him.

Luke chuckled, raising his hands up—wincing through it—in defeat. “Alright, doctor melody.”

“What?” you asked, brow raised in confusion. “Melody?”

“You’ve been humming, you know, while fixing me and Annabeth up last night. And you did it again, just seconds ago.” Luke explained with a small smile. “Aren't the children of Apollo good at music too? Like, singing? Since he’s the god of music and all.”

“Yeah, he is,” You smiled, reaching to hold the sun shaped locket dangling from your neck. “Apollo, god of the sun, archery, art, music, poetry and a shit ton more.”

“Can you sing for me, melody?” Luke grinned, sitting up. “C’mon, it’ll make me feel better, promise.”

“I’m not gonna get out of this, am I?” You ask, laughing softly.

Luke shook his head. “I’m stubborn, I’ll just ask you again and again, so you might as well do it now, melody.”

You rolled your eyes, chuckling. “Aren’t you just charming,”

“I’m waiting, doc,” Luke teased. “I can’t wait for an eternity like the gods.”

You shook your head, a giggle escaping your lips. “Fine, fine, but do you promise to rest your stubborn ass for the night?”

Luke nodded. “Yes, ma’am!”

“Okay, here goes nothing,” You muttered, taking a deep breath. “And they called it puppy love. Oh I guess they'll never know.

How a young heart really feels and why I love him so…”

Luke started clapping his hands. “Damn, melody, that was amazing!”

“Oh, shush,” You waved a hand dismissively, feeling your cheeks heat up like the sun, as if your dad kissed you on the cheek. “I’m not that good.”

Luke raised a brow. “And I thought Apollo was the god of truth,”

“I am telling the truth,” You insisted, folding your arms over your chest.

“Whatever you say, melody.”

From then on, you and Luke have been friends. Never one without the other, the two of you made it a pact. 

“Michael and Lee are getting better with swords,” Luke commented as the two of you watched your younger siblings.

“Better?” You snorted, tying your hair up in a ponytail. “They are far from getting better, charming.”

Luke reached up to mess your hair. “You saying my methods aren’t great, miss melody?” he asked, feigning annoyance.

You hit him playfully on the shoulder. “All I’m saying is those kids,” you jerked your head to Michael and Lee, who were getting ready to duel like medieval princes as Dawn laughed her ass off. “Are shit with a sword.”

“Fair point,” Luke chuckled. “Let’s just hope they learned a thing or two from me.”

“If not?” You asked with a raised brow, passing him a bottle of strawberry flavored energy drink. Your hand grazed with his, sending shivers down your spine, better than any cold could. 

“At least they have you,” Luke gave you a lopsided grin, opening the bottle of red sugary liquid and bringing it to his lips to quench his thirst. You could see his Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he downed the energy drink, the beads of sweat on his forehead and neck made him even—if possible—more handsome, making you gulp and look away.

“Yeah,” You squeaked out, your eyes widening at the tone of your voice, mentally slapping yourself for it. “They’ve got the best sister.”

“Damn right, they do,” Luke agreed, capping the now empty bottle. “You are the best sister Lee, Michael, Dawn, and the rest of your siblings could have, melody.”

You smiled, pushing out a stray strand of your hair behind your ear. “Thanks, charming,”

“No need to thank me, melody. I mean, it is the truth. That you are the best sister to your siblings and bestest friend to me.”

You felt your heart break a little. You wanted to be more than just being best friends with Luke. You wanted to be his muse, the girl he loves until his final breath. Maybe Aphrodite had cursed you or something, because Luke never saw you more than a friend or a sister.

“I’m the best,” You agreed, trying your best not to sound sad or anything about your feelings for him slip out.

“You hungry? I think it’s lunch time.”

You nodded, fixing your hair back up in a ponytail. “Yeah, you?”

“Starving, like I could eat a pegasus. Come on, let’s get some lunch and eat by the docks.” Luke stood up, stretching his arms and legs. “You comin’?” He asked, offering his hand to help you stand. 

“Of course,” You beamed, reaching for his hand. “Let’s.”

You followed Luke out of the arena, before yelling over your shoulder. “Dawn, you’re in charge of the boys! Don’t let them die!”

“Yeah, Dawn! Don’t let ‘em die!” Luke yelled over to Dawn with a laugh as the two of you strolled away, leaving your siblings and a few other campers at the arena.

“Race you to the mess?” You challenged, a teasing grin on your face.

“Not fair, Y/n!” Luke scowled as you started to run ahead. “I just trained kids!”

“Too bad, Lukey,” You stuck out your tongue at him. “Last one there cleans the stables!” 

“Oh no, you don’t!” Luke scoffed as you ran ahead of him, laughing as he easily caught up to you. “I’m not cleaning the stables!” He said, lifting you up with his strong arms and placing you on his shoulder, making you yelp.

“Put me down!” You giggled, playfully hitting his toned back.

“I don’t think so, Miss L/n,” Luke then ran towards the dining pavilion, with you still on his shoulder, screaming like an enraged harpy.

“Luke Castellan!” You shrieked, gripping his shirt for dear life, earning the amused looks of other campers. “Put me down, put me down!”

“Your voice sounds better when you aren’t screaming, you know that?” Luke commented, his pace slowing to a brisk walk.

You hit him hard on his back, again and again. “Put me down, Castellan! Now!”

“Ouch, woman, that hurt!” Luke grumbled, finally relenting and putting you down on the ground, just a meter away from the pavilion.

You pinched him on the side. “You son of a bitch!”

“Ouch!” Luke yelped, jumping slightly. “Violence is never the answer, woman!”

“Violence is never the answer,” You mocked him, rolling your eyes. “I’ll do whatever the hell I want, thank you very much.”

“Fine, fine, let’s just get food,” Luke placed his hands on his hips, catching his breath for a minute. “All that running with you on my shoulder got me extra hungry.”

“You’re the one who lifted me like I don’t weigh a thing!” You retorted, pushed him slightly. “I literally weigh like a minotaur!”

“Nah,” Luke dismissed, slinging his arm over your shoulders. “You don’t weigh that much. Stop thinking that you are.”

“Whatever,” you grumbled, making your way to the long table where all the food the dryads made for the day are served.

An array of food greets you as soon as you arrive at the table, Luke two steps behind you. There were bowls of fruit—strawberries, apples, and grapes—bread in all sorts of shapes and sizes, a container of mac and cheese (which you know has broccoli and carrots blended in to sneak vegetables in picky eaters’ food), and some other options.

“Look, there’s some waffles and pancakes,” Luke pointed to a platter of said breakfast items beside some yogurt parfaits and (tofu) sausage.

“You go get the waffles and pancakes along with some yogurt and ask Lily for some extra,” You pointed to the yellow haired dryad, Lily. “I'll go get the fruit and bread. You want some mac?”

“Nope.” Luke said, already making his way to the waffles and pancakes. 

You chuckled, shaking your head before heading over to Juniper, a red haired dryad in charge of the fruit and bread.

“Hey, Junie,” You greeted, smiling at the dryad. “Got something for me?”

“Just these,” Juniper pointed to the array of pastries and bread. “Mr. D allowed the Demeter kids to get some croissants and tarts from a bakery in Manhattan.”

“Oooh,” Your mouth was already watering as you eyed the lemon and blueberry tart and those flaky croissants. “Can you put some in a picnic basket? Luke and I are going on a picnic by the docks.”

Juniper smiled brightly. “Are you and Luke going out on a date?”

You choked on your own saliva. “What?”

“You know, have you told him about your feelings yet? Are you boyfriend and girlfriend now? That’s what boyfriend and girlfriend do, right? Dates?”

“Shh!” You quickly shushed your friend. “No, I haven’t told him yet! He doesn’t know!”

Juniper frowned. “It’s so obvious you like him,”

“He’s stupid, I know.” You sighed, picking up a strawberry.

“Your siblings and those Aphrodite kids figured out you liked him years ago.” Juniper said as she filled up a picnic basket with tarts and croissants along with strawberries, grapes, and apples.

“Maybe one day,” You smiled, a hopeful look in your eyes. “When Aphrodite decides to reward me with a perfect love life.”

“I’ll pray to Aphrodite for you,” Juniper smiled, boosting your confidence up. “You deserve to be loved.”

“Thanks, Junie.”

“No worries, your secret is safe with me.” Juniper chuckled, she then passed you the picnic basket filled with food, looking almost like a cornucopia. “Here you go, packed and loaded for a picnic.”

You gave Juniper a grateful nod, mouthing a quick thank you before turning to go and find Luke, the picnic basket locked in both of your hands.

You walk towards Lily the dryad’s station, but Luke wasn’t there anymore. Instead, you walked around the large dining area, eyes scanning the place for your curly haired best friend.

When you finally spot him, your heart sinks.

Luke was talking and laughing with a girl. A girl you know to be a child of Athena, a sister of Annabeth Chase.

You felt the picnic basket in your hands grow heavy, along with your heart feeling like it’s slowly sinking into a bottomless pit.

Lacy Matthews—pretty, smart, beautiful, kind, stunning, intelligent. 

Nothing like me.

Luke leaned on one of the pillars of the pavilion, eyes steady on Lacy as she discussed with him about something—probably architecture, like Annabeth would always ramble to you.

Hair gold as the sun, eyes gray as stormy clouds, skin like puff pastry, and a mind sharp as blade, no wonder Luke would like her.

You contemplate, whether you walk to Luke and disturb his talk with Lacy, or just walk to the docks alone and eat the food Juniper packed as you cry your heart out. Maybe pray to Aphrodite while you’re at it. 

You sigh, taking a very deep breath, before making your way to them with shaking hands.

“Luke?” You ask as soon as you’re in earshot. “You ready for the docks?”

Lacy looks at you first, smiling sweetly at you. “Oh, hi Y/n! How are you?”

You stood there, silent for a minute. Feeling a myriad of feelings all at once, taking you over like a spirit. “I’m….okay.” you answer after what felt like eons.

“Your hair looks amazing,” Lacy compliments you, but it feels more like bullets on skin. “I wish I had your hair.”

You give her a tight smile, turning your attention to Luke. “Docks?” you ask, hoping he’d get the gist of it. 

“Oh, Y/n,” Luke scratches the back of his head, your heart breaking another of its pieces at the mention of your name. He always calls you melody, your name feels like poison out of his lips. “Can we take a rain check? Lacy and Annabeth need help with cleaning cabin six, you know, books.”

“Tonight, then?” You ask with a shaky breath. “After the bonfire?”

“Tomorrow, l guess?” 

“Uh, yeah, sure. No problem. I’ll see you? I guess.”

You quickly turned around, the basket of fruits and pastries still in your shaking hands as you made a beeline towards the nearest exit, your heart beating fast like pegasi galloping in the wind. Your eyes stinging like a fresh cut you wanted to just drown in antiseptic.

“Y/n?” You heard a small voice from behind, you whipped your head to see your little brother, Will Solace. “I cut my hand on a sword.” he mumbles, lower lip shaking like yours.

You kneel to his level, the basket still in your hands like they had their own minds, refusing to let it go—maybe hoping that Luke would reconsider and go with you to the docks instead, but you knew deep inside that it was a long shot.

“Okay,” your voice was hoarse, as if there were thorns blocking the back of your throat. “Let’s get you fixed, is that alright?”

Will nodded, blonde hair falling into his face, blue eyes hiding underneath them, making you chuckle. At least I have something else to think about for the meantime.

“Come on,” You reach your hand out for Will to take. “Let’s get some cute band aids for that cut.”

Crying on the docks would have to wait.

Will takes your hand as the two of you head to cabin seven where you keep a box of medical supplies just in case. You didn’t feel like going to the Infirmary, you were just too tired to do so.

“Why are you sad, sissy?” Will asks, big innocent blue eyes looking up at you.

“It’s nothing, I just have dry eyes. Think I need some eye drops.” You answered the younger boy, trying not to be, well, sad.

“I can feel that you’re sad, you don’t have to lie to me, sissy.” You look at your brother, how in Apollo’s name did he know? He was only ten years old, and wasn't even trained properly yet.

You sighed, pushing out the hair from Will’s face. “I’m just bummed.” you answered honestly, at least you tried to.

“Why?” He asks further. “Maybe I can help.”

You took a deep breath. How do you explain to a child that you are sad and hurt because the boy you like chose a girl over you, his best friend. “I’ll tell you when we get to our cabin, alright?”

“Okay,” Will agreed. “I’m gonna do my best to help you sissy!”

You tried suppressing a laugh, but failed miserably. Will was like a literal ball of sunshine. Since he arrived at camp a little over a year ago, he’d become a beacon of hope for you. You’d cling to your little brother when shit goes wrong for comfort, and he did the same, it was like you had an empathy link with him.

As soon as the two of you stepped onto cabin seven’s premises, you let Will run to his bed—he wanted to get the macaroni bracelet he made you—while you went to get your medical supplies.

“Look, sissy! I made this for you! I made one for Dawn too, and Lee and Michael!” Will excitedly showed you a blue and yellow colored macaroni bracelet. “Do you like it?”

You smiled, kissing the top of his head. “I love it,” You slipped the bracelet onto your wrist. “I’ll never take it off.” you promised the little boy—who was smiling from ear to ear.

“Okay, so are you gonna tell me now why you’re sad?” Will asked, straight to the point like an arrow through a bullseye.

You sighed, rolling your eyes playfully as you dug through your medical kit for some bandaids. “Luke and I planned earlier that we’d head to the docks to have a little picnic, but last minute…he, uh…”

“He what?” Will pushes further, peeking as you went through looking for your medical kit.

“He kinda ditched me? I don’t know if that’s the appropriate word, but instead of going with the original plan, he asked for a raincheck to go and help Lacy from cabin six clean out their cabin.”

“What’s wrong with that?” Will looked up at you as you poured antiseptic on a cotton ball, wiping it on his cut. “He’s helping others.”

“Oh, sweet baby boy,” You sighed, remembering that Will was still a child. “I like Luke—no, maybe I love him at this point. And I’m sad because I’m jealous and he chose to be with her after he asked me to a picnic that I was looking forward to, because I wanted to spend time with him.” You took a deep breath. “Even if I didn’t have romantic feelings for him, it still hurt because he picked her over me, he was my best friend first before everything.”

“What do you want to do?”

“What do you mean?” You ask, brow raised as you placed a bandaid on the cut.

“Are you mad at Luke? Do you wanna prank him because you are? Or curse him to be sick for a week?” 

“William Andrew Solace!” You chastised, shocked at what he had suggested.

“What? He hurt you, he deserves it.”

“He hurt me, yes, but he does not deserve any of what you suggested, William.”

“He hurt my best big sissy, so he deserves it.” Will muttered under his breath.

“William,” You sighed, tucking behind a strand of your hair behind your ear. “What he did was wrong, as a friend. But I don’t have any right to be angry at him for liking Lacy, I’m just his friend, nothing more.”

Will’s face softened. “You deserve everything, sissy,” he then reached up, placing each of his hands on both of your cheeks. “You are the best sister in the whole world. You deserve to be loved, like the way you love me and everyone else.”

You smiled, tears stinging the corner of your eyes, your heart swelling with love from your little brother. You may not have the love of the boy you loved, at least you had your brother’s making up for it, masking up the heartbreak, even just for a little while. 

“Alright,” You wiped away a single tear. “You’re all fixed.” you pat him on the cheek, wiping the sweat away on his forehead. 

“I love you, sissy!” Will says as he wrapped his arms around you.

“I love you too, kiddo,” You chuckle, ruffling his blonde curls, kissing his forehead. “Go find Dawn, she’s at the arena. Watch Lee and Michael duel like idiots. Don’t tell them I told you that.”

Will nodded enthusiastically, before sprinting out of cabin seven. “See you later, sissy!”

You let out a shaky laugh, feeling the loneliness eat you up as quick as it left. Your eyes landed onto the basket with food still packed for two.

Luke still wasn’t going with you down to the docks.

You choked back a sob, grabbing the basket and your guitar and notebook from your bed before heading out to the docks. You might as well kill time until the bonfire, alone with your breaking heart.

You didn’t stop at anyone, walking straight to the beach with your guitar strapped onto your back and the basket wrapped between your arms. You just didn’t have the will to talk to anyone, even your friends and siblings.

The salty smell of the sea breeze infiltrated your senses as you approached the beach, the docks that you and Luke always hung out at nearing  your view. You took a deep breath, letting the soft breeze take over you as you stepped onto the wooden platform, the waves crashing beneath it. You set down the basket, sitting beside it as you pulled your guitar to the front, your fingers lightly strumming a little tune—one you knew like the back of your hand, the song Luke always asked you to play.

“'Cause if one day you wake up and find that you're missing me and your heart starts to wonder where on this earth I could be,” You sang, trying your hardest not to just break down despite the tears you had been pushing back were threatening to spill. “Thinking maybe you'll come back here to the place that we'd meet and you'll see me waiting for you on the corner of the street,” you sniffled softly. “So I'm not moving, I'm not moving.”

You can’t help but wonder what would Luke do when you leave camp for good. Would he be sad? That you, his best friend, gone with the wind? Or would he ask you to stay?

You wished that you didn’t know the answers to your own questions your own damn mind plagues you with. You wished that he knew he was all that you think about every goddamn night, that he was the reason for those teardrops on your guitar, that he was the only thing that kept you wishing on a wishing star. 

You sighed, grabbing your blue notebook that you had slid inside the basket and the pen you had packed alongside it. You needed to let it out, even just on another tear streaked paper.

You hummed a little melody as you continued to write what you felt, your chest burning with untold stories.

“Hey, sunshine,” You heard a voice call from behind you, whipping your head around almost immediately, nearly dropping your notebook into the sea.

“Chris,” You gave him a small smile, adjusting the strap of your guitar.

“Mind if I join you?” Chris asks, walking closer to you but stops a few steps from you with a grin plastered on his face.

You quickly closed your notebook, stuffing it in the picnic basket. “I don’t mind,” You scooted to the side to give him some space to sit, your hair blowing in the gentle sea breeze. 

Chris nods at you, making his way to the vacant spot beside you. “So, what are you up to?” he asks, leaning slightly back. “You weren’t at archery practice earlier.”

You shrugged your shoulders slightly. “Just wanted some time alone, I guess.” you turn to look at the basket sitting unopened beside you, wondering if you should offer Chris one of the pastries. “What about you?”

“Luke,” Chris chuckles, he rolls his eyes with a shake of his head. “Can’t stand him making out with Lacy in cabin eleven.”

“Oh.” You say, the pain and sadness slipping out in your voice, your heart, now broken completely as another fresh set of tears threatens to spill. “Well, good…good for him.”

Chris raises a brow at you, noticing the tremble in your voice. “You okay?”

“I’m okay,” You lied, wiping away the tears that spilled from your eyes, hoping Chris wouldn’t notice. “Do…do you want, uh, a croissant?”

“You are not okay,” Chris says, pulling your hand away from your face. “You’re crying, what’s wrong?”

“No, no, it’s nothing,” You sniffled, trying to assure him that you were alright, but he wasn’t believing any of your attempts to cover up what you were feeling.

“C’mon, you can tell me,” Chris tells you with a soft smile. “I won’t tell anyone, promise.”

You turn to look at him, your eyes now red and puffy, tears still streaming down. You felt numb, broken, and empty. You didn’t have the words to try and tell what was happening inside your heart and mind. All you could see, against your will, was the image of Luke kissing Lacy.

You wanted to scream, you wanted to jump onto your feet and storm over to Luke and hit him for hurting you this much, and you even wanted to just jump into the ocean and let the salty water fill up your lungs so you couldn’t breathe the same air as them.

“You like him, don’t you?” Chris asks, his smile fading.

You blink back your tears, Chris’ words echoing in your head. “I love him.” you whimper, wiping your tears away.

Chris sighs, scooting closer to you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder. “I knew it, I figured you liked him years ago. I’ve known you and Luke long enough to know how different your looks at each other are.”

You lay your head onto his shoulder, your tears spilling still as you silently sobbed. “It’s not fair,” you mumble out. “It’s not fucking fair.”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, let it all out, it’s okay.” Chris soothes, rubbing your shoulder to comfort you. “You’re hurt, you deserve to cry.”

“Am I ugly? Unlovable?” You ask with a shaky breath.

“Hey, hey, hey, look at me,” Chris cups your tear streaked face in his hands. “You are not unlovable. You’re the kindest, most selfless, and loving person out there. You help everyone in need, you make people smile, and don’t get me started with how your music makes everyone feel. How would that make you unlovable? You are very lovable. You are loved, your siblings, your friends, everyone.” 

Chris pushes strands of your hair away from your face. “And you are most certainly not ugly. You are beautiful. You are beautiful like the sun, like a sunflower, especially when you smile—radiating beauty like rays of sunshine. Luke is too fucking stupid to not realize how lucky he is to have you loving him.”

“The boy who I love is now in love with someone else,” You murmur, moving your head out of Chris’ hand, closing your eyes. “He’s the only one who's got enough of me to break my heart.”

“It’s his loss, not yours.” Chris says, rubbing circles around your back. “He’s a fucking idiot, for hurting you. Even if he doesn’t know.”

“She’s pretty, I’m n-” 

“Stop it, stop,” Chris cuts you off. “You are beautiful, pretty, stunning, dazzling, whatever the hell you want to call it. Don’t you dare compare yourself to her, you are far better than her. She’s beauty and brains, but you? Beauty, brains, talent, and a big heart.”

“You’re just saying that to make me feel better,” You hiccup, wiping your tears away.

Chris scoffs playfully, shoving you slightly. “I’m trying to comfort you, woman.”

“Thanks,” You chuckle, moving your hand to the basket beside you. “Want a croissant?”

“Eating your sorrows away, huh?”

You rolled your still red and puffy eyes at him. “I’ve got a basket full of it,” You explained, bringing the basket onto your lap and opening it, the smell of the pastries mixing with the salty ocean breeze. “Luke and I planned to eat these here, but bailed on me to help Lacy.”

“That son of a bitch,” Chris grumbles, reaching for a croissant. “Wasting food and bailing on his best friend.”

“I mean, Hermes is a bitch,” You snort, picking a blueberry tart up. “So, technically…”

“Yeah, well,” Chris bites into his croissant, crumbles falling into his lap. “I’m not one to dump my best friend for a girl.”

“Not even for Clarisse?” You ask, a teasing smirk on your lips.

“Clarisse would beat me into a pulp if I did.” 

You smile at Chris. “Thanks for being here, even by chance.”

“I’ll always be here for you, sunshine,” Chris ruffles your hair, making you laugh. “That’s what friends are for.”

“Thank you for making me feel important,” You took a deep breath. “I needed that.”

“You are important, never think that you aren’t.” Chris gives you an assuring smile. “So, is the tart good?” 

You let out a giggle, your eyes going to the tart in your hands. “I think so,” You raise the blueberry tart to your lips for a bite, your eyes lighting up. “Mmm, gods this is good!”

Chris laughs at your reaction. “Good, huh?”

You nod, licking your lips. “It’s divine, better than cookies!” You say, taking another bite. “This is my new favorite dessert!”

“There’s the sunshine I know,” Chris chuckles, an amused look in his eyes. “The light in everyone’s lives.”

“Now you’re just fueling my ego,” You giggle, reaching for another tart.

“It’s true,” Chris insists. “Ask anyone—except Luke, ‘cause he’s an idiot—and they’ll say the same things I told you.”

You roll your eyes playfully, raising your hands in defeat. “Fine, fine,” You say through a bite of your tart. “You win.”

“I’m amazing,” Chris says with a cocky smile. “The best, even.” 

You groaned playfully. “Note to self, never tell Chris Rodriguez he’s right.”

“Hey!”

You burst out laughing, nearly falling off of the dock as you leaned forward if Chris hadn’t grabbed your arm. “Sorry,” You say through fits of laughter, the sadness and hurt you felt just moments ago, fluttering away. “You get…wait,” you wheeze out, clutching your stomach. “So cocky when someone tells you you’re right, but you end up looking constipated!”

Chris gasped, feigning offense. “Take that back!”

You shook your head, laughter still coming out of your lips. “Never!”

“I hate you,“ Chris fake grumbles, an amused look twinkling in his eyes. “You’re a meanie!”

You burst out laughing, again

“Yeah, go ahead and laugh your ass off, sunshine,” Chris shoves you playfully. “It’s the best medicine out there!”

Out of breath, cheeks flushed, you leaned flat against the wood platform. “Chest hurts,” You wheezed, though still smiling.

“Well, you did laugh like a fuckin’ lunatic, sunshine.”

“How am I going to sing at the bonfire tonight?” You say through breaths, mentally kicking yourself for not bringing any water—despite being surrounded by it.

“You can do it,” Chris assured you as he laid beside you, leaving enough space that you’re not uncomfortable. “I know you can. You’re camp’s best singer, you can’t fuck up the best thing you’re good at.”

“You think so?”

“You’ve been singing for as long as we’ve been friends, sunshine,” Chris yawns, stretching his arms up. “Pretty sure, you’re gonna nail this, like you always do.

You were regretting your decision to come to the bonfire.

Here you were, sitting beside your siblings, across Luke and Lacy—arms linked together like they’d perish if they didn’t. 

The mere sight of them shamelessly flirting made you want to vomit everything you ate, and maybe even your brains out. It was sickening, how Luke smiles as Lacy whispers something into his ear, her delicate fingers around his biceps.

You wanted to walk up to him and drag him by the ribbon on his left arm—which was one of Lacy’s probably, watch him burn into ashes, but decided against it. Because, one) Hestia wouldn’t approve of it, two) well, he’s still the love of your life and best friend.

It was torture for you, watching them be happy. It makes you wonder, how the hell did they get that close. They had started talking just hours ago, but now? They looked like lovers reunited after the war.

What was so special about her? You ask yourself again, even though you knew the goddamn answer. Smart, sexy, Lacy. God, she was making you crazy. Dazzling starlet, like a Bardot reincarnate. And then there you were—messy hair, paint stains everywhere, guitar string marks, flab on your belly and arms, band aids in your pockets, basically nothing like her. 

Luke looks at her as if she was the sweetest thing on this side of hell, like she was the greatest thing to ever exist in this world. 

Like ribbons in her blonde hair, your stomach was all in knots. She’s got the one thing that you ever wanted, wrapped around her finger without even trying. 

The fire continued to burn golden-orange flames as your siblings led the song Down by the Aegean, everyone was happy and content, except for you.

Jealousy lingered around you like a moth drawn to the flame. Making it hard for you to concentrate on anything else aside from Lacy laying her head on Luke’s shoulder as he toasted marshmallows for both of them. The thought of them plagued your mind, despite trying everything to keep it away from your thoughts.

Stupid brain, stupid heart, stupid Luke, stupid Lacy, stupid love.

“Hey, sis?” A voice snapped you out of your insecure thoughts. You looked up to see Lee standing just a few inches to your right, looking at you with concern. “You okay?” He asks, his voice laced with worry. You then realized that everyone had stopped singing, and all eyes were on you—except those lovebirds who were making googly eyes at each other, as if they were the only person left on this damned world.

“Uh, yeah, I’m okay.” You say through gritted teeth, hoping no one would notice.

“It’s time for your special song, sissy.” Will nudges you from your left side.

Oh. You thought. They were waiting for you.

“Oh, right,” You chuckled nervously, reaching for your guitar from Dawn.

You didn’t know what to sing. All the thoughts and memories in your head seem to have faded into dust.

You shakily strum a chord on your guitar, your fingers gliding over the metal strings. The guitar was a gift from your dad, enchanted to play whatever you had in mind with just a few strums of your fingers. 

You sigh, letting your fingers do all the work, hoping you could give the people around you your best. 

I can see us lost in the memory,

August slipped away into a moment in time

‘Cause it was never mine. 

And I can see us twisted in bed sheets, 

August sipped away.

Like a bottle of wine 'cause you were never mine,

You sang, the words coming out of your lips so naturally, all of what you felt pouring out like water. You saw the sympathetic eyes of your friends from the other cabins—the ones who knew about your feelings for Luke.

Your siblings were trying their best not to give you the biggest hug in the whole world, especially Will, who was sitting beside you. 

Some were confused as to why you were singing about some boy because you’ve never done it before. They hadn’t thought that you had feelings, too. 

Back when we were still changing for the better

Wanting was enough

For me, it was enough

“Shit,” You heard someone curse from cabin nine. “The fire’s blue!”

You look up, blazing blue, meeting your eyes. Hestia’s fire had never burned blue before.

“Beckendorf, this isn’t funny!” Someone yells in the background, amongst the whispers.

“We’re not doing…..anything,” Beckendorf trails off, as if he had been silenced all of a sudden.

To everyone’s surprise, the blue—almost black—flames burning in the firepit started to get bigger and bigger, as if they were swaying to the tune as you played.

To live for the hope of it all

Cancel plans just in case you'd call

And say "Meet me behind the mall"

And finally, as you finished up the song, from the corner of your eyes, a sore sight to behold. Luke and Lacy were making out, and they couldn’t have waited to even be out of sight—barely a meter away—before devouring each other’s faces.

So much for summer love and saying "us"

'Cause you weren't mine to lose

You weren't mine to lose, no

You weren't mine to lose.

Luke grabs Lacy’s waist, pulling her closer. They looked happy, and it was tearing you apart. They were killing you slowly, like a dagger was lodged in your throat, and they were twisting it. 

Cause you were never mine, never mine…

You felt tears filling your eyes like a dam, and anytime was ready to explode. But, forced them back down—at least, you tried to—hoping to save a little more dignity for your name.

Lacy has everything that you have to live without. She should hold him tight, and give him all her love. Look at him straight in those beautiful brown eyes and know she's lucky because Luke was your everything—your life, your world, everything. 

As the image of them faded from your peripheral view, you stared into the blazing fire in front of you. Now, red, blue, and black flames were dancing together, almost as if Hestia could feel what you were feeling.

You sigh, placing the guitar down, feeling arms wrap around you. You look up, seeing Chris, camp necklace dangling from his neck. “I’m sorry you had to see that,” he murmurs, rubbing both of your shoulders.

“You want me to put his head on my spear, Sunny?” Clarisse asks, sitting opposite of Will. “One word from you, and I’ll skewer him.”

“You’re overwhelming her, Clar,” Chris says. “You don’t deserve this, sunshine. Yet, he doesn’t deserve you.”

“Do you want to spend the night with us, love?” Silena asks from beside Clarisse. “A little girls' night could help.”

You shake your head, the tears you’ve pushed aside spilling like an opened dam. “I’m okay,” you say, clearly lying. You knew your friends could always see through your lies.

“Come on, let’s take her to seven. She needs rest.” Your brother, Lee, interrupts. “She looks dehydrated; why the fuck is she dehydrated?”

“Language,” you weakly say, the view of the fire blurring. “Swearing, s’bad.” 

“And delirious,” Dawn mutters beside Lee, holding Will close to her.

Before you could retort a reply, your vision slowly went dark, and faint voices were screaming before you completely passed out. 

Luke was immediately jolted awake from his honeymoon daze by the sounds of frantic screams and yells, just a few steps away from him and Lacy.

“What’s wrong, baby?” Lacy asks, her delicate hands cupping his face, lips swollen from kissing just a few seconds ago.

“You heard that?” Luke asks, pushing her slightly to the side. “I heard screami-”

Luke cuts himself off at what he sees.

Chris is sprinting to the Big House with you, unconscious in his arms. Luke’s heart starts to beat rapidly—faster than ever before—as his legs subconsciously take him in your direction.

“Melody.”

Lacy stands there as Luke makes his way to you, huffing and arms crossed in annoyance. “What the hell, Luke!?” She yells after him, but it’s like he hears nothing. 

taglist:

@lilmaymayy @mischiefmoons @m00ng4z3r @woodlandwrites @sflame15-blog @the-sylver-dragon @ceruleansx @evsolostheuniverse @patitotodd @jennapancake @kur0m1sblog @emryb @onecojg @caramelandvenus @y0urm0m12 @hottiewifeyyyy @7s3ven @atashiboba

[shellshocklove]

ridin' shotgun | joel miller

pairing/AU: joel miller x female!reader – post breakout & no ellie AU

summary: as the snow covers the land, joel starts to like his new life on the farm, but is it too good to be true?

warnings: this is an 18+ fic so mdni!!! canon-typical violence, age gap (reader is mid to late twenties), swearing, guns, vomit, use of pet names, fluff, angst, fingering, oral (f receiving), some tags are left out to avoid spoilers, no use of y/n

a/n: this is the second part to this. so i'd recommend reading that before this one. i'm very sorry this took me so long! i'm hoping it was worth the wait! <3 also a big thank you to @dustydaddyyy who's always up for helping me when i'm stuck <3 happy reading!

main masterlist / series masterlist / ao3 / playlist

from the river to the sea, palestine will be free 🇵🇸 this account stands with palestine. the creator of tlou is a zionist, and the second game is largly based on israel/palestine. please, everyone who interacts, educate yourself about the genocide happening right now, and support/donate.

“Morning, Joel,” Arthur greeted him as Joel entered the kitchen.

Joel felt far from rested. His eyes burned with sleep behind his eyelids. He’d love another hour or two on his pillow, but Arthur’s heavy steps coming down the stairs had woken him.

Damn, these thin walls.

“Mornin’,” Joel said as he sat down at the dining table, looking past the curtain on the portrait of the day. The world was blue with dusk, contrasting the low candlelight inside. Alma stood at the stove, butter crackling in the frying pan as she cracked an egg, then another, two suns in a greasy night sky.

“I think we’ll bring the logging sled today,” Arthur spoke up and gestured out the window, “I think the snow is more than deep enough for the sled.”

“Yeah?” Joel looked out the window again. Assessing the snow, he guessed it was about two feet give or take.

“Yeah, I think it’s gonna be enough– If not we’ll test-drive the sled, make sure it can handle the weight.” Arthur continued, but Joel lost interest as soon as he heard the sound of a door shutting down the hall.

Joel hummed, leaning back in his chair, his eyes flickering to the door of the kitchen waiting to see you walk through. A moment later, you padded into the kitchen in your pajamas, feet clad in soft wool socks. You’d thrown a sweater over your sleep shirt, but Joel remembered how the thin fabric had clung to your skin last night. Remembered the shape of your nipples poking through, the sounds you’d made as you’d whimpered his name. Joel’s cock twitched in his pants at the memory; crashing against the wave of shame and guilt that washed over him when he recalled what he’d done after he’d stepped back into his room.

“Good morning, sweetie,” Arthur greeted you as you sat down, opposite Joel.

“Good morning,” you smiled, resting your chin in the palm of your hand, tiredness like a faraway look across your face.

“Did you sleep well?” Arthur asked.

Your eyes widened at the question, quickly flickering to Joel before they found the table. Your face dug deeper into your hand as you twisted slightly in your chair. A shy smile blossomed across your face.

Huh.

A forgotten tickling feeling of pride filled Joel’s chest as he watched you. The way you avoided his gaze, like your dreams would show through your eyes if you did. But Joel didn’t need to hold your gaze to understand. Something had shifted, both for him and for you. It was different now.

A chuckle escaped Arthur at your motions, “That good, huh?” Arthur teased, “All fairytales and rainbows?”

“Something like that,” you breathed out a chuckle.

Joel cringed. He was closer to a nightmare. Why did he even entertain his thoughts of you? You were the one who was a rainbow, while he’d paint you in a dull grayscale.

Joel let out an inaudible sight, and leaned back in the creaky kitchen chair, as his hands twisted in his lap. He didn’t miss the way his movement caught your eye as he felt the drumroll of your gaze break over him. Joel didn’t dare move, scared he’d scare the warmth of your attention away. But something pulled at his chest, and he couldn’t deny himself to look at you, to drink in your early morning shyness. You didn’t look away this time, instead you smiled. It was a small and polite smile, but it still felt like a kiss to his skin. The small moment between you only lasted a second, but to Joel it felt like an eternity – one he wouldn’t mind spending with you.

You dropped your gaze when Alma placed the breadbasket on the table, and like it had broken a spell, you immediately stood to your feet, “Let me help you, Alma.”

A moment later the table was set and ready, and Arthur was already helping himself to a fried egg. Safe for the sound of cutlery against porcelain plates, a silence fell over the kitchen.

“We uh,” Arthur started, looking over at you, “We were thinking of using the logging sled today,” he informed with a dig into his eggs. “'Could use your help saddling up the horse.”

“Okay,” you nodded, reaching across the table for the butter, “but I need to milk the cows first– you know how they get if I don’t do it first thing–”

“I can do that, sweetie,” Alma interrupted you with a smile, taking a bite of her bread.

“Oh, okay,” you turned your head to Alma as you said it, giving her a smile, but Joel could see the worry behind it. “But if it’s too much I’ll be right there–”

Alma cut you off again, “I can handle it– I did this all by myself before you came along, you know.” She said it with a wink to put you at ease, but Joel saw how your teeth dug into your bottom lip, and he wanted nothing more than to ease it away with a kiss.

No. No kiss.

Shit.

After last night, Joel couldn’t think straight. He wanted you now. He wanted what he knew he couldn’t have– what he shouldn’t have. With his eyes boring down into his plate, he tried to will his wants away. Tried his best to not build memories on things not yet said – to not feel the ache of never having touched you.

The air nipped harshly at Joel’s cheeks. The sun had finally risen over the mountain, shining its light over the crystals in the snow. A thousand diamonds blinked at him as he helped Arthur pull the log sled out of the barn. It was covered in dust and dirt, and the cobwebs stuck to Joel’s mittens like cling film. Clapping his hands, a cloud of dust evaporated from his hands – almost cartoon-like.

Joel picked at the yarn, trying to cover the hole that had become wider and wider every day. He felt bad about it; you’d made them for him out of the goodness of your heart, and now he’d ruined them– or the work had. Sharp branches had hooked themselves through the stiches, and the rough bark had worn the yarn down.

As Arthur checked the sled, and got it ready, Joel felt himself drawn to the open stable door. Leaning against the barn door he watched you quietly. You worked with practiced hands, saddling the old workhorse, Ingydar, as you talked to it in a low voice.

“You’re going to work in the woods today,” you said to the beloved nag, “Work in the woods with Arthur and Joel. Do you remember Joel? He’s a nice man, isn’t he?”

Joel felt his cheeks warm at your words, his eyes falling to the worn wood floor, as he continued to listen to your little conversation.

“Yes, he is! He’s very nice– fed you too many carrots last time he said hello, didn’t he? But you liked that, didn’t you?”

Joel looked up at that, his eyes locking with yours’ as you looked straight at him, a teasing smirk covering your face.

“That ain’t how I remember it,” Joel defended, stepping closer to the open stall door. You tightened the straps on the saddle while your smile grew larger at his words.

“No?” You teased, moving on to checking the straps on the bridle.

Joel stepped closer, his mitten clad hand coming up to pet the old horse. “No,” Joel shook his head, “you kept handin’ me all those carrots ‘s how I remember it.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you laughed, stepping closer.

“Sure, you don’t,” Joel teased, a rare smile tugging at his lips, matching your own.

Locking eyes with you again, Joel felt something light bubble under the surface of his ribcage. You really were beautiful like this – eyes sparkling and smile wide. He couldn’t remember the last time someone looked at him the way you were right now – like he hadn’t lost everything, like he didn’t have blood all over his hands, like he was worthy of a smile.

Stepping even closer, you noticed the holes in them. “Joel, your mittens.”

“Sorry…” he started, trailing off when you grabbed his hands, “They get hooked in the branches ‘nd–”

“Don’t apologize,” you cut him off, with a shake of your head, “I can fix them– it’s no problem.”

The sun shone through a small window in the back wall of the stall. Bright white light lit up the back of your head, crowning you in the morning. You stood so close now, the warmth of your finger brushing over his rough skin through the hole, and his hands suddenly felt heavy in yours.

A burden you shouldn’t bear.

“Uh…” Joel cleared his throat as he stepped away, pulling his hands from yours, “Thank you.”

Finishing up saddling the horse you led it out the stall door, the iron shoes click-clacked against the worn wood floor before it fell silent against the snow when you led the horse outside. With a nod in the direction of the house you told him to wait inside for you.

“Would ya let Arthur know he can go right ahead with the sled?” he asked you, his body half-turned towards the barn house.

You let out a breathy laugh, a frosty cloud of smoke clouding your smile before you nodded.

Inside, he waited for you on the couch, watching you wave Arthur off on the horse through the window. Joel’s heart picked up its beat when he heard your hollow steps across the porch. He shifted slightly in his seat when you walked in, almost standing but then decided against it in the same moment, rubbing his hands over his thighs instead.

Stomping off the snow covering your shoes you smiled at him like always, and Joel didn’t know what to do. A feeling starting to bubble under the surface of his skin. Excitement? Nervousness? Dread? Joel couldn’t tell. Maybe he felt all three at once– if that was possible. Excitement at the prospect of being alone with you, but also nervousness at the prospect of being alone with you. They gathered around his heart, filled his chest, but the dread, it climbed up his spine, bit its cold teeth in the back of his neck.

“Just let me grab my things,” you hurried with a gesture towards your room.

Joel cleared his throat and nodded. It felt clumsy and awkward, and he cursed himself for it while he waited for you. He couldn’t be alone with you. Couldn’t entertain the growing feelings. It wasn’t right – to you – Joel needed to stay away, to keep a friendly distance.

Joel sighed and closed his eyes.

Nothin’s happenin’. 

Like a broken record, those two words spun in Joel’s head in the few seconds it took before you were back in the living room, dropping down next to him with your basket overflowing with yarn.

It felt like déjà vu.

You worked in a comfortable silence, and Joel didn’t know if he should say anything. He watched how you worked your needle with a practiced hand – you made it look so easy – but Joel knew it wasn’t. A lifetime ago he’d spent way too many nights with a needle in his hand trying to mend a hole over the knee of tiny pink pants, his stubby fingers gripping the needle tightly, guiding it clumsily through the fabric until he was red in the face from frustration.

He needed to thank you, but should he say it now or wait until you’d finished? The longer he watched you, the stronger that bubbling feeling felt, bubbling over, up his throat and over the bite of dread.

“There!” you smiled when you’d fastened off the last stich. You grabbed a hold of his hands before he’d had time to think and pulled the mittens over his knuckles.

“Thank you,” he said, voice scruff but tone still shyer than he’d expected.

You smiled at him again and leaned a little closer to readjust the mittens, tugging at the yarn where you’d mended them, pulling them into the right shape.

“You’re welcome, Joel.” You locked eyes with him and suddenly Joel noticed how close you sat. It made him hold his breath as his heart started hammering against his chest.

His gaze flickered towards your lips for half a second, wishing for something he couldn’t have– shouldn’t have. He caught himself quickly, finding your eyes again but they were fixated on something else, his lips. Who leaned in first, Joel would never know, the only thing he knew was the feel of your breath against his lips before they brushed over yours in a soft kiss.

Warm. Joel felt so warm.

His hands worked by their own volition; mitten clad, and soft against your cheek, pulling you closer to him, but not close enough. Your hand grabbed at his jacket in the crook of his elbow, tethering yourself to him, to the moment, like you’d float away if you didn’t. You hummed against his lips, a desperate sound as you shifted closer.

The sound messed with Joel’s head, he wanted to hear more of it, pull it from you again. His tongue teased at the seam of your lips, a distant thought at the back of his head questioning where his boldness suddenly came from, but he ignored it.

It didn’t matter.

The sound escaped you once more and you opened yourself up to him. Joel’s other hand, moving with desperate urgency, found your hip – pulling you even closer. He licked into your mouth, and he fell deeper into you, deeper into the grip you’d snaked around his heart.

A loud slam of the kitchen door pulled Joel away, and the reality of what he’d done trickled coldly down his spine. Out in the kitchen Alma rummaged around while you looked at him with bright eyes, pupils slightly dilated with a hazy smile across your lips.

Joel felt awful.

He shouldn’t have done that.

He’d taken advantage of you. He’s too old for you – none of this was right.

You noticed the change in him, you must’ve, because your eyebrows pulled together in the smallest of frowns as you regarded him.

“Joel,” you started, your voice low and soft, but he just shook his head.

“I’m sorry!” Joel quickly stood to his feet, wiping his hands on his jeans as though that would somehow erase what he’d done. “We– I shouldn’t have done that– I’m sorry.”

“Don’t,” you tried to grab at his hand, but Joel only shook his head again.

“I’m sorry.”

Joel was out the door before he could regret it, lord knows he couldn’t take anymore regret. His life had been full of them, full of ‘I shouldn’t haves’. He dug his mitten-clad hands in the pockets of his jacket, his head hanging low as he headed down the road towards the forest.

A heavy blanket of clouds had shaded the morning sun, the world darkened in the beginnings of real winter. As a snowflake kissed his cheek, his thoughts wandered to the butterfly he’d seen all those weeks ago. How it had rested over his knee– made him think of Sarah.

You’re on the right path.

Joel had never felt this lost.

The kiss.

It took up most of Joel’s mind. When he worked himself hard with an axe in his hand, when he was counting sheep, but most of all, each time he saw you. Then his thoughts had a mind of its own, reminding him of how your lips had felt against his own, the feel of your body under his touch, and the sounds you’d made just for him. The kiss had been the first kiss who’d made him want another. The first kiss where he’d pulled away and not been satisfied. He needed to kiss you again, to feed this new hunger for you.

But it wasn’t right. An old man like him with someone like you. It wasn’t a good idea– would never be a good idea.

So, Joel tried his best to avoid you, but avoiding you was impossible – you lived in the same house, shared a bedroom wall. He saw you every day whether he liked it or not – and he did.

He liked you, and it scared the shit out of him.

He felt like he lived in a cruel state of limbo. He didn’t know what you were thinking. If you were mad (you had every right), if you were disappointed (he hoped you weren’t), or happy (maybe the most devastating thought of all).

The fire crackled loudly, sparks kicking, the sound making you look up from your book. Joel’s eyes found his own book, rereading the same paragraph he’d been trying to read for the last thirty minutes– ever since Arthur and Alma had retired to bed. This was the first time he’d been alone with you since the kiss, and he felt it all over his body. The aftermath of the kiss sticking to his body like the Austin heat had done in the peak of summer – he couldn’t shake it off, couldn’t ignore it.

“When was the last time you cut your hair?” you suddenly spoke across the silence.

Your question was unexpected, and it made him pull his brows together in a frown. “You sayin’ I look bad?” Joel asked, dogearing the page he was on before closing his book.

“No,” you said quickly, shaking your head, “No-no, I mean it’s just a little long.”

Joel looked at you for a second before he ran a hand through his hair. Well, it wasn’t like you weren’t right. Lately his hair had started to get in his eyes, even when he pushed it back. Most days when he was working outside, he could tame it under the knitted beanie you’d made him, but it had started to have a life of its own.

“Boston. I think, Tes–” he cut himself off before he said her name, clearing his throat awkwardly to cover his slip up. He’d forgotten, forgotten for a second that she was dead. Forgotten she’d died for him and his stupid quest to find his brother. Died for nothing.

“I can trim it for you… if you want?” you asked with a bite of your lip.

He couldn’t say no to you.

“Uh… yeah,” he nodded, “Okay.”

As you led him up the stairs to the bathroom, Joel tried not to think too hard about what it would mean – you cutting his hair. He tried not to think about how the last person who’d done something like that for him was Tess, and what it meant that she was gone– that it now would be you.

Your fingers running through his wet hair felt good– what didn’t feel good was the way his back almost gave out from leaning his head in the bathroom sink. The basin was too small, and the tap hung too low for him to comfortably turn his head, instead the water spilled down his face.

Why the hell was he drowning himself for you?

“Done soon?” he grunted, his hands gripping the sides of the sink while he felt your fingers scrub at his roots.

Yes, Joel was uncomfortable, but the way you stood so close – practically leaning on him – it felt nice. So nice that Joel thought that if his eyes weren’t already shut, they’d flutter shut at your touch.

Soap suds ran down the sides of his face as you giggled, “Just a little longer.”

You maneuvered his head back under the tap, your right hand running through his hair under the water while the left covered his eyes in a useless attempt. Then you grabbed the towel resting next to him on the porcelain, the world suddenly silenced through fabric as you dried his now clean hair.

“You can stand now,” you told him with a small tap to his back as you stepped away. You’d laid the towel around his shoulders, ready to catch any excess water.

Joel groaned, “I don’t think I can.”

You giggled again and then your hands wrapped around him, helping him up. Joel groaned again, but this time for show. He liked the way you touched him, gentle – always gentle. He plopped down in the chair you’d brought in from the spare bedroom, while you got your comb and scissors ready. The wooden chair creaked as he shifted his legs, widening them while he rested his hands in his lap.

He’d never seen this chair before, but then again Joel hadn’t explored the house much – it didn’t feel right. He was a guest after all, only staying for a few months– or was he? His eyes found you in the mirror, and then that thought suddenly felt awfully wrong.

“Ready?” you turned around to him, a pair of kitchen scissors in one hand, and an old shaver plugged into the wall in the other.

You didn’t say much as you worked. It was uncharacteristic for a hairdresser, at least from what he could remember. Back before the outbreak he’d rarely gotten his hair cut by someone other than himself. With his clipper guard set to four he’d tidy up the sides when it was needed and called it a day.

Your quietness was also uncharacteristic to you. You never talked his ear off, but you were never this quiet – at least you weren’t before the–

Stop.

Joel tried not to think about that.

He’d gone and fucked everything up now. Instead, he stole a glance at you in the mirror, watched the way your lips pursed in concentration to the metal sound of scissors snipping, and the low buzz of the shaver.

He needed to apologize to you.

“I…” he started, watching your head snap curiously to watch him in the mirror.

No turning back now– just say it.

“I’m sorry ‘bout the other day– It wasn’t right to kiss you like that.”

Your curiosity pulled into confusion across your face, and your eyebrows tugged together in a frown.

“You don’t have to be sorry, Joel,” you told him, your voice gentle, “I didn’t exactly–... well I definitely wasn’t stopping you.” You said it with an awkward laugh. Your kind, always kind, eyes that’d watched him in the mirror, now glued to the back of his head as you gently combed his hair.

Joel felt something bloom in his chest at your words, and despite himself, he felt his cheeks warm slightly as thoughts invaded his mind. 

Maybe he should tell you why he did it. 

Shit, did Joel even know why he did it? 

“I thought you–” Joel felt the words stall in his throat for a second, before he cleared it decisively. 

No going back now, he thought to himself, just rip off the band aid you idiot.

Another part of Joel screamed at him to stop the words before they even left his lips, and his doubts gnawed at his insides with more intensity than ever.

“The other night, when you were asleep,” he paused to swallow, a lump growing in his throat, “I was getting to bed and I heard–... well, y’were sort of having a dream, sweetheart.”

With nervous eyes, Joel found your face in the mirror, and watched the way the smiling expression dropped off your face, quickly replaced by a wide-eyed look of pure mortification. 

“I–” you stuttered out, and Joel rushed to correct himself. 

“It’s nothin’ to be embarrassed about, I shouldn’t a been watchin’ you, I just–... thought maybe y’liked me, or something.” 

His words hung heavy in the air between you, and Joel’s heart picked up its beat as he watched how all your movements suddenly went quiet, along with the shaver, seemingly processing all this new information.

Your eyes found the back of his head again, and when he felt the comb run through his hair again, Joel suddenly felt very guilty for even bringing it up. 

Stupid. Why on earth would he do that? Was he trying to send you into an early grave? 

“I’m sorry you walked in on that,” you finally managed, your eyes fixated on your working hands as you refused to meet Joel’s eye – looking infinitely embarrassed.

You’re sorry? He didn’t want to hear those words leave your mouth ever again – the only person in this bathroom who was sorry, was him.

In the mirror you looked so small, and it was his own doing. Your teeth dug harshly into your bottom lip as your combed, and combed, and combed his hair in a shaky hand. Joel felt his heart break.

He’d dug himself too deep now, Joel thought, he had to tell you, to reassure you it was okay.

After a beat of silence, Joel spoke again.

“I’m not.” 

Your eyes widened at his words before they snapped to the mirror, staring at him as the shears trembled slightly in your hand. Still, you didn’t say anything.

Joel didn’t have the faintest idea where he was going with this, and with the way you looked at him now, his doubts seemed to overtake him as he got the sudden urge to swallow his words right back up. 

“Look, forget I even said anything angel, I didn’t mean anythin’ by it–” 

The word slipped from his lips like the most natural thing in the world. Something flashed in your eyes through the mirror, he could’ve sworn it, and Joel seemed to realize a beat too late what he’d called you. Feeling his cheeks heat up, his embarrassment forced his gaze to fall anywhere but at you, quicklyfinding his hands knotted in his lap.

“Joel,” you said softly, and despite himself, Joel felt the earlier warmth expanding like a balloon in his chest, “It’s okay.” 

He perked up at your words, his eyes snapping from his hands to you as you moved, coming to stand in front of him. Your hands deftly moved the comb through his curls as he looked up at you through the strands. You seemed focused on cutting the ends, before you let out a breath. 

“It would’ve been okay if you had been watching, you know,” you said, your voice simple and even.

Joel felt his entire body tense at your words as his eyes bored into your face. He watched the way your face grimaced slightly; your eyes focused on snipping the strands right.

“I just mean I–” There was a pause as you gave him a half-embarrassed smile, your lips pursed together as you seemed to search for your next words. 

You were standing so close, so close he could smell the sweetness off you. You made him dizzy. Dizzy with warmth. Dizzy with proximity. Dizzy with something heavy in the depths of his chest he hadn’t felt in a long time.

Joel didn’t know why he did it, didn’t know why the way his hands moved felt like second nature, but when the tips of his fingers grazed the back of your knee in an attempt to reassure you, it felt like something was calling to him.

“It’s okay,” he told you, “You can tell me, angel.” 

Finally, your eyes met Joel’s. Those kind sparkling eyes bored into his own as you, in an attempt to gather some courage, swallowed hard.

“I–I do like you,” you said.

The finality of your words lodged something loose in Joel, and something he hadn’t felt in a long time flicker to life in his chest.

“That so?” he asked, his voice a little lower.

Somehow, you were stood even closer, only slightly taller than Joel as he angled his head up towards you. Your chest started to rise and fall in a quicker rhythm at his question. Looking at him, your lips twitched in a nervous smile as you turned slightly away from his, placing the comb and scissors on the sink gently.

You nodded.

Still turned away from him, he watched how you gathered yourself, your hands resting on the porcelain as your head hung low between your shoulder blades.

“When you…” you trailed off, moving the comb and scissors in a perfect parallel line next to each other. “When you,” you repeated, “kissed me… I thought maybe… you liked me back.”

It was now or never.

Joel knew it.

Standing from his chair, Joel’s hand found your shoulder, turning you to face him. You didn’t look at him right away, your head tipped in a bow as you fiddled with your fingers.

“Hey,” his fingers brushed lightly under your chin, tilting your head up. Your eyes were wide, flickering like sunlight over wavy water as you studied his face. His eyes fell to your lips – he couldn’t help it, and the memories of how they’d felt against him resurfaced in his mind. If he just leaned a little closer, he’d feel them again.

“Joel… if you don’t want me– if you don’t like me, you can just tell me– I’m a big girl.” Your voice sounded almost breathless, like you’d run up a flight of stairs or walked miles in knee deep snow.

Joel shook his head before you’d even finished your sentence. Don’t want you? Don’t like you? It was absurd.

“It ain’t that.”

“Then what is it?” The way the words left your lips, broken, beaten, it had Joel’s heart tear apart in his chest.

“It ain’t right, angel. I’m too old f’you– I can’t take advantage of you like that.”

A frown pulled at your face then, “Take advantage?” you questioned with a shake of your head. “I’m a grown woman, Joel. Would it be taking advantage if it was what I wanted? If what I wanted was… you?”

Joel had never thought about it like that before. The thought of you wanting him back had seemed like a fantasy – something that would never even be a possibility.

Your fingers moved a strand of hair out of his face, brushing it away, and Joel held his breath. Hesitating for just a second, you cupped his cheek gently and leaned closer. The softness of your lips over his own had Joel reeling – didn’t matter how quick or chaste the kiss had been – it only left him wanting more.

“I look stupid.”

“You don’t look stupid, Joel,” you laughed, full of joy.

You adjusted the bandana holder and fixed the crooked kerchief around his neck slightly. The red fabric picked up the warmth in his lined leather jacket, and the metal holder caught the shine of the sun.

Joel couldn’t believe he’d said yes.

This morning when he’d gotten up with the sun, Alma had stuck her head out of her and Arthur’s bedroom right as he was on his way out the bathroom. Arthur wasn’t feeling well, and Joel had prepared himself to work in the woods alone. It wasn’t the first time Arthur had gotten sick, and with the way he was looking lately, Joel figured it wouldn’t be the last.

He'd been washing his dishes from his breakfast when you’d padded into the kitchen. With a look over his shoulder, he’d caught the way you’d smiled at him before you padded over to him.

“Good morning,” you’d said and wrapped your arms around him from behind.

“Mornin’, angel,” he’d hummed back. He’d dried his plate and placed it on the counter before he’d turned around, still in your embrace.

Joel wasn’t used to it yet, your affection, he still had a hard time comprehending it was meant for him. That it wasn’t some joke you’d so cruelly played on him. A joke to see how long you could feed him this adoration until he’d get hooked on it, hooked on you, before pulling away.

Joel didn’t dare hold you too tightly. Everyone he’s ever held in his arms had been pulled away by death’s hands. Every day since you’d told him you liked him, wanted him, Joel had been afraid to lose you.

Maybe that’s why he’d said yes? You’d convinced him it’ll be safer for you if you knew how to shoot.

Joel didn’t know.

The only thing he knew was that he’d caved under your wide and blinking eyes. You’d looked too cute to say no, and he disliked seeing a frown upon your lips, unless he could kiss it away.

Which he did – but only when you were alone.

You’d both agreed to keep this thing, the fondness, the love, growing between you a secret. It was easier that way, at least until you both knew what it all meant. Right now, it was a thing, a fondness, but not yet a love, although Joel wasn’t far off if he were being honest with himself, especially when you looked at him with those moony eyes.

With a pat to his chest, you pushed off him with a smile. In a closet upstairs you’d found you both a cowboy hat and some bandanas you’d insisted on him wearing. The whole thing was silly, but the way you’d lit up with happiness when you’d placed the cowboy hat on his head, it didn’t matter to Joel.

“C'mon cowboy,” you laughed, and grabbed his hand.

He let you drag him with you before he caught up with you. He pulled at your arm so you crashed into his side, and wrapped his arm around your shoulder. It made you giggle, and the sound bubbled around Joel’s heart.

Ingydar stood waiting dutifully in his stall, where you’d gotten him ready. The saddle bags were packed with your lunches and a box of ammunition, and at the back of the saddle you’d rolled two sheep skins and tied them with leather ties. Everything was ready for your day out together.

Or your date, Joel thought as he trailed after you, closing the stable door behind him as you led the horse outside.

Joel insisted you get on the horse first with his help. He wanted to make sure you were comfortable and sat as safely as possible before he slid his foot into the stirrups. You wiggled around to mess with him, and Joel grabbed your knee to steady you. It made you giggle again, and he earned himself a ‘Relax, honey’. Then you leaned back and made space for him to get in front of you.

Joel liked the sound of ‘honey’.

“Y’alright back there?” Joel said over his shoulder after he’d gotten on the horse. Placing the shotgun over his lap, Joel made sure the safety was on before his hands came down to take yours where they rested over your thighs, and gently guided them to slot around his waist.

“Y’actually gotta hang on sweetheart, or you’ll slide right off the minute he starts trotting,” Joel said, fighting back a smile when he felt your arms tighten around him.

“I know how to ride a horse,” you retorted, and his chest shook with a slight chuckle. 

“Not saying you don’t, angel,” he replied easily, and kicked Ingydar lightly in the sides.

The old horse started walking, and Joel pulled on the reins, steering it down the road and then south towards the woods.

“’Just makin’ sure you ain’t gonna fall off ‘s all,” he said.

You hummed in return, leaning your body against his back. “It’ll have to be a really bumpy ride for me to fall off, Joel,” you spoke, the innuendo not lost on Joel.

He decided to pull at the thread a little, “And I s’pose you’ve had a lot of these bumpy rides, have you, angel?”

Your hands around his waist tightened slightly as he felt you lean over his shoulder, your hat dumping into his. A smile tugged at his lips, and in his side vision he could see you narrow your eyes playfully at him. 

“What are you insinuating, Joel Miller?” you asked him, your tone only half-sharp.

A chuckle rumbled in Joel’s chest, before he bit back a smirk. “I’m not insinuatin’ nothin’,” he replied, keeping his tone as normal as he could.

He felt your eyes study him for a moment before he heard you let out a dissatisfied hum. “You definitely are.” 

“Well, we got an entire horse ride to god knows where to debate it,” he shot back, which made you smile.

You leaned back again, and a second later he felt you rest your forehead against his back. Joel figured you must’ve flicked your hat off; letting it rest against your back tied by the string around your neck.

“An entire horse ride to god knows where?” you repeated half-mockingly, speaking into his back but Joel could hear your smile in your voice, “You really know how to make a girl wait for it.”  

“You have no idea, angel,” Joel replied, an otherwise joking tone overshadowed by something else, something more honest.

Behind him, Joel felt you shift, and a small spark of pride filled his chest. He had an effect on you, the same way you had an effect on him. Quickly, you changed the subject, and that spark of pride grew larger in Joel’s chest.

“Did you have a plan, by the way?” you asked him, your voice light and innocent, “Or are we just riding this horse off into the sunset?” 

“It’s the middle of the day,” Joel pointed out, “And you’re the one who put me in a bandana, so don’t even bother tellin’ me you ain’t the one with the plan.” 

You let out a giggle at this and pressed your face into his back once more. “Just keep going straight for now, you bore, I’ll tell you when.” 

Joel chuckled at you, and did as you said, guiding the horse south at the edge of the forest where the snow wasn’t as deep. He felt you tighten your hands slightly around his waist, before you fell into a comfortable silence.  

The horse held a steady pace, rocking you in a soothing rhythm in the saddle. The day was bright and sunny, almost blinding against the snow. Joel had never gone down this way before, never seen the stone face of the mountain up close, the way it cried glittery winter tears when the sun shone.

“There’s a river down here somewhere,” you suddenly spoke, breaking the silence that had built between you. “There’s a nice little spot down there where we can camp.”

Joel pulled at the reins, following in the direction you’d pointed. “You’ve been down this way before?” he asked.

“Maybe once or twice a year,” you started, “There’s this town, Jackson, maybe a week’s ride south. I’m not exactly supposed to talk about it– they run a pretty tight ship, coming off a little more threatening than they are, but they’re sort of like a commune. Arthur has this deal with one of the ladies, Maria, where we help each other out by trading.”

A frown pulled at Joel’s face, “I thought y’all were all alone out here?” 

“Well, we are, but not really. It’s because of them we still have running water and electricity– we’re connected to the same system they use. And then usually in the fall or in the spring Arthur will go trade with them for things we need like soap, or nails and stuff we can’t make on our own at the farm.”

Joel hummed, and the puzzle pieces of information you’d given him, started to fit into the bigger picture he’d painted of your life at the farm. He could understand why Alma and Arthur still resided at the farm. It was their home, the place where they’d lived their whole life, but for you, for you it was different.

“So… you know ‘em? You’ve gone with Arthur to meet this Maria?” he asked.

“A little, I guess. She’s uh…” you trailed off, resting your cheek against Joel’s back instead.

The river finally came into view, and Joel let you have the silence. He guided Ingydar down towards the riverbank. A wound cut the ice in two where the river poured backwards eternally. The water clucked under the ice as you rode along the edge; was it wishful thinking to think it sounded like the coming of spring?

“She?” Joel prodded gently.

Joel heard you sight before you sat up, no longer leaning your weight on him. “She invited me to come live with them… in Jackson.”

Joel frowned, “’nd you told her no?”

“Well… yes– I just, I can’t leave them alone.”

“Sweetheart–” Joel started, but you cut him off.

“Let’s stop here!”

You didn’t say anything as Joel watched you loosen the saddle bags and sheep skins, while he petted the old horse. He found himself wondering how you’d ended up on the farm, and if you could’ve been happier somewhere else– like Jackson.

He tied Ingydar to a tree, before he waded back to where you were trampling the snow flat. He helped you form a bench out of the snow, cutting through the layers until you found a hard enough crust to hold both your weights. The sheepskin warmed under him, as he sat down with a groan. It made you turn around from where you sat on your haunches in front of the fire you were building, a teasing smile pulling at the corner of your mouth.

“Tired already, old man?” you teased as you stood to your feet and walked closer.

Spreading his legs, Joel made room for you to stand between them, as he tipped his head back to study you above him. Your smile was dangerous, wild and wonderful.

“Old man, huh?” He raised an eyebrow at you, not able to resist the urge to wrap his hand around the back of your knee.

Your teeth caught on your bottom lip at his touch, and a pride swelled inside Joel. Pride at pulling a reaction from you. Before you could answer him, a boldness took a hold of him, and he wrapped an arm around your waist to pull you down into his lap.

You yelped out a giggle and your hands came down to brace yourself against his shoulder. Joel felt a feeling overcome him; one he hadn’t felt in a long time.

Happiness.

It tickled at his heart, teared at something inside, and it scared him.

“You okay?” you asked, your voice coated in concern, and Joel felt his cheeks heat up. He let out a dry chuckle, embarrassed by how easily you could read him.

“Yeah,” he cleared his throat, “I just…” he trailed off, studying your face and watching how your eyebrows pulled together in the smallest of frowns.

He shook his head again, before he leaned forward, not thinking it through as he brushed his lips over yours in a kiss. You reciprocated the kiss immediately, although maybe a little caught off guard. Joel’s arm around your waist tightened, as his other hand brushed up your side. He needed to hold you close for just a second, just to know this was real, that this feeling was real, and that you were real.

You broke away first, breathless with a giggle before you dove down again for another peck. Joel let you kiss him; let you cup his cheek and bring him closer. You shifted in his lap, your core rubbing slightly over his crotch. It could’ve been an accident, but the small gasp you let out told him it wasn’t. His arm around your waist tightened, and he had to pull away.

Wide eyes looked back at him, and Joel couldn’t help but stare at your lips. He felt like a teenager, a teenager sneaking out the house to meet a girl. To finally be with you without the secrecy – to touch you and kiss you openly.

“You’re somethin’ else, aren’t you?” he whispered.

A smile teased at your lips before you leaned in closer, your breath brushing over his ear, “You have no idea.”

Blood coursed south, and Joel felt his cock come alive behind the confinements of his jeans. It was cold enough for a man to freeze his balls off, but desire’s warmth filled him anyway.

He pulled his head away, finding your eyes blown full of lust. A smile teased at the corner of his mouth as he spoke, “Let’me teach ya to shoot before you get too excited.”

“Before I get too excited?” you laughed, and sat up properly in his lap again, “I think that might be you, old man.”

Teaching you to shoot was less of a success than Joel had intended. He’d found a couple of old glass bottles in the barn to use as target practice, but your aim was terrible, missing each shot. To your credit, it wasn’t your fault. He’d taught you how to load the gun, how to stand safely, and with his hand snaking around your body, how to hold it properly.

He could swear his intentions were good at first, he actually wanted to teach you, to make sure you knew how to shoot, and safely, but when he saw how your body shivered from his voice in your ear – he decided to play with you a little.

Maybe he whispered a couple of innuendos in your ear while he dropped his voice an octave just to see your reaction. Or maybe he pressed himself a little closer to your body, showing you how it was done like in those cliché romcoms he’d been forced to watch with Sarah.

It didn’t take long before the empty bottles, or the shot gun was forgotten, as you pressed your lips against his in a desperate kiss, your cold nose rubbing against his own.

But Joel didn’t have it in him to complain.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

The sound at the door jolted Joel from his sleep. He’d almost been dragged under, laying in that limbo state between awake and asleep– not yet in dreamland, but not still among the living.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Joel sat up, letting the duvet fall into his lap and exposing his chest as the streak of yellow light coming through the ajar door cut his bedroom in two. Joel had to squint to see you properly in the doorway as he shed the last grip of sleep.

“Angel?” he questioned, as a tight grip of fear ran through him. He sat up properly now, ready to jump out of bed, his hands already searching for his shotgun resting at the foot of the bed.

With his eyes now fully adjusted to the dark, he watched how you quietly stepped inside his bedroom, closing the door as gently as you could – and the panic seemed to seize just a little. You padded to the edge of his bed, still so quiet, with your hands clasped nervously over where the hem of your sleep shirt met the bare of your thighs.

“I couldn’t sleep,” you whispered.

Joel shifted over slightly and lifted the duvet for you to slip under. An open invitation– one you were quick to accept.

“D’you have a nightmare?” Joel whispered, the wolf hour keeping his voice down.  

You shifted closer to him, your head rested on his pillow, and Joel couldn’t help himself from touching your waist gently – his fingers dancing over the soft cotton of your shirt.

“No,” you whispered back, “just couldn’t sleep.”

Joel hummed and shifted over onto his back, extending his arm for you to shift closer. It felt natural now – touching you. You felt like his, and he felt like yours. He didn’t know where it was going, but he was starting to enjoy the road to you. To get to know you more, what made you laugh, your quirks, and the way your body felt under his hands.

The weight of your head on his chest, Joel welcomed; his other hand quick to intertwine with the one you’d slung over his middle. He just wanted you close now, every chance he got.

“’Just try ‘nd get some sleep, my angel.” Joel pressed a kiss to the top of your head before he pulled back and closed his eyes. With you in his arms now, he knew he’d have no trouble falling back asleep.

“I–” you whispered.

Joel hummed; his eyes still closed.

“I kept thinking about you.”

Curiously Joel opened his eyes to find yours. You had tilted your head to look at him, you mouth slightly parted as you studied him with moony eyes. The way you looked at him stirred something inside him, a warmth pooling in the depth of his core.

“Yeah?” he questioned with a slight cock of his eyebrow, “’bout what?”

Then you got shy all of a sudden, hiding your head in his chest. “Thought about how you touched me,” you whispered.

“Touched ya how?” he prodded, gliding his hand up your arm slowly.

He knew it was wrong to play with you like this. Everything was still new, each touch unexplored and seeking. He couldn’t fuck you, even if he wanted to, and he did, badly, but Joel couldn’t risk it. Not in this world, not at this farm, it wasn’t fair to you.

Over him you held your breath as he teased your skin, eyes fluttering shut as his hand moved down the side of your body, and under the duvet.

“Like… like how you touched me in my dream,” you exhaled in a breathless voice.

Now Joel sucked in a breath, holding it in his lungs as he tried to calm himself down. He had an idea on how he’d touched you in your dream, but he couldn’t hold himself back from asking anyway.

“’nd where did I touch ya in your dream, angel.”

You squirmed against his body when his hand reached your bare thigh under the duvet, and soon your fingers locked around his wrist to guide it up over the soft skin of the inside of your thigh.

“Here,” you whispered.

A small gasp escaped you when he brushed his thumb gently over your clothed clit. Joel felt the wet warmth of you against the pad of his finger, making his cock twitch to life in his pajama pants.

“Here?” Joel whispered back, as his thumb started rubbing small circles over your clit.

“Y-yes.”

The noise you made, the noise he pulled from you from his small touch, sounded like the sweetest melody in Joel’s ear, and he wanted to hear it again. He ran his fingers through your cloth covered folds, and felt the wetness already seeped through.

Fuck.

“My angel… You’re so wet already,” he tutted, “Were you touchin’ yourself thinkin’ ‘bout me in that bed of yours?” he hummed in your ear.

A shiver ran through your body when his fingers found your clit again. Slowly, he started circling his fingers again, and the quiet moan that escaped you filled his chest with desire.

“Yes,” you breathed out, almost a whimper.

His teeth caught on his bottom lip, biting down to stave off the groan he wanted to let out at your words. He needed more of you, to feel the softness of you, to pull more of those breathy whimpers from your breath.

“Tell me, angel.”

In a bold move, Joel dipped his fingers into your panties, gliding two thick fingers through the seam of your folds, dipping into your arousal soiling your panties. His touch made you suck in a quick breath, as your eyes squeezed shut in pleasure. A proud grin spread across Joel’s face. It had been a while since he’d been with a woman, even longer since he’d been with a woman he felt something for.

He’d felt something for Tess, but that had been so complicated – it didn’t work right, they didn’t work right together as more than friends, like the puzzle pieces didn’t quite fit together. But the sex had been good, something to make them both forget for a little while.

Everything with you worked almost too easily, and Joel wanted to make you feel good, you deserved it, he thought.

“I-I,” you said breathlessly, as he worked his fingers slowly up and down from your hole to your clit, “I thought about your f-fingers.”

“Yeah, baby? Where?” He whispered in your ear before placing a kiss to the column of your neck. Joel was playing with you now, seeing how desperate he could get you before he tasted you.

“I-inside… I thought about your fingers inside me.”

Joel smiled into your neck. This felt as good a time as any to slip a finger inside you, so he did, slowly. You keened under his touch, and the sound of the small gasp you let out made Joel’s cock even harder.

“Like this baby?” he teased, pumping his finger slowly in and out of your wet warmth. He felt your hand wrap around his wrist, holding his arm, almost guiding him in his movements. He curled his finger inside you, trying to find that spongy spot inside that made you see stars.

“Y-yes, Joel–ah!”

There it was.

He liked the sound of his name falling from your lips like this, and he intended to hear it again. He couldn’t help but think about the way your cunt would squeeze around his cock, how tight you’d feel around him, as he continued to massage the spot with the pad of his finger.

“That feels good, doesn’t it?” he cooed, and placed a kiss to your cheek.

“Uh-uh,” you nodded, your eyebrows pulling together in a frown of pleasure, “Uh-uh.”

He felt your walls flutter around him, and Joel knew he had you just where he wanted you. Quickly, he pulled out his finger before slipping in a second. Your wetness dripped down his hand, coating him in your arousal with every pump of his fingers inside you.

Your breathing picked up, and small moans escaped you in time with the thrusting of his fingers. Joel had to contain himself from rubbing his bulge against your thigh, chasing any kind of relief.

This wasn’t about him, he told himself, he only wanted to make you feel good.

He knew you were close now, with just a flick of his thumb over your clit he’d have you coming on his hand – but Joel didn’t want it to be over yet. He needed to taste you, he’d thought about it as he’d jerked himself of, fantasized about how you’d taste on his tongue.

Suddenly, Joel pulled his finger out of your cunt. A strangled noise of, what Joel could only describe as disappointment, escaped your lips. It made Joel chuckle.

“Joel,” you whined, and squeezed your fingers around his wrist.

He didn’t answer, instead he sat up, a teasing smile coating his face as he shifted down the bed and pulled the duvet with him.

“Calm down, angel, be good f’me, okay?”

His hand wrapped around your calf to spread you apart for him, and he slotted between your legs. He placed a gentle kiss to your knee and let his eyes find yours where they looked back at him wide with anticipation.

“Are you gonna be good f’me?” he asked as he gave you another soft kiss, but this time to the inside of your thigh.

A breath escaped you in staccato, and you nodded, “Y-yes, Joel.”

“Good girl,” he rumbled, placing fluttering kisses up your thigh until he reached your core.

Joel didn’t want to waste any more time.

He stripped you out of your panties, and threw them to the side to get lost in the bedding. Finally, he got a good look at you, and fuck you were beautiful. Your cunt glistened with your wetness in the low white light of the moon coming through the window. Your hole pulsed when his thumb found your clit, where he pulling the hood back slightly as he teased you.

“Please,” you pleaded, your hand wrapping around his shoulder; searching for something to hold on to.

“It’s okay, angel,” he comforted you, as his finger spread your lips apart, and put you on display for him before he pinched them together. Under him you let out the smallest of whimpers as he played with you.

“I’m gonna put my mouth on you now, baby,” he told you, his finger back to circling your clit. “Gonna taste you pussy.”

His eyes flicked from your cunt to your face, searching for any indication that this wasn’t what you wanted. But Joel didn’t find any, your mouth had dropped open in the smallest of o’s, and your eyes were glazed over in lust.

“Please, Joel,” you begged, spreading your legs wider for him.

A grin spread across Joel’s face, and at last he finally closed the distance between his lips and your cunt, placing a kiss to your clit to start.

A hand found his head, as your fingers dug into his hair, which only made him smile wider. He dipped lower, flattening his tongue to taste you properly. You tasted so good, a sweet-salty taste he instantly craved more of. He licked a stripe from your clit to your hole, gathering up the arousal leaking from you, and hummed in contentment.

The fingers in his hair tightened their grip as he teased at your hole, pushing his tongue inside you a couple of times and earning himself the sweetest moans. Joel made sure to remember every twist of pleasure, and whiny moan.

He continued with a lick up the seam of your folds, which made your hips buck, chasing the swipes and zigzags of his tongue.

“That feel good, angel?” he prodded before latching onto your clit.

“Y-yes!” you gasped as he sucked and flicked his tongue.

The noises he pulled from you went straight to his hard cock. He could feel the precum leak from the tip and staining the fabric of his pajama pants. Shamelessly, he started bucking his hips against the bed.

He had to calm down, this wasn’t about him.

With a sudden move he pulled away, making a breathy whine escape you at the loss of his mouth. Joel sat up on his knees, before his hands found the back of your knees.

“Hold your legs f’me, angel,” he commanded, and pushed your legs up towards your chest. You did as he told you, and hooked your arms under your knees to put your cunt on full display for him.

“Fuck,” he breathed out, “so pretty f’me… so messy– listen.”

He ran a finger down your cunt to prove his point, a slick wet sound filling the air.

“Please, Joel,” you begged again, your voice broken with a breathless whine.

“Please what, angel?” he mocked, a spark of pride filling his chest as he watched you bite down on your lip.

“Please… make me come,” you whispered, and Joel thought he’d never heard anything sound so hot in his life.

He dove down again, consumed your cunt. His tongue lapped at your core, his finger teased your hole, pushing the pad just inside your opening; in and out, in and out. His lips found your clit again, where he flattened his tongue before drawing precise circles. Around his finger your cunt pulsed – you were close.

Joel never slowed down his tempo, determined now to make you come. He continued to lick and suck, thrusting his fingers inside you fully now as he pushed up against the spot he’d found earlier. Your breath picked up the pace, small breathy moans and whines escaping you in an increasing tempo.

“R-right there,” you heaved, your face scrunched together in pleasure. “D-don’t stop– I’m gonna c-come.”

Joel hummed against you, continuing his rhythm with his fingers and his tongue, coaxing you closer and closer to your orgasm. You started to mumble something, but Joel couldn’t hear it clearly between your heaving breaths.

He was determined now.

Curling his fingers again, your eyes snapped open, “Joel!”

Your cunt spasms around his fingers, and then you came around his fingers. Your eyes screwed shut as you moaned, as your body squirmed under him.

You looked so beautiful– you sounded so beautiful.

He continued to massage his fingers inside you, thrusting them slowly as you rode out your high. Making sure to drink in every sound, every squirm and twist of your pleasure as he watched you calm down.

When your breath had started to come back to normal, Joel pulled his fingers from your cunt. His fingers were coated in you, coated in your slick arousal and your cum. With a cheeky smile he brought his fingers to his mouth as he locked eyes with you and sucked them clean. The wide-eyed look on your face was the sweetest thing he’d seen.

“Joel,” you begged, your hand pulling him down over you.

He held himself up with a hand digging into your pillow, and he couldn’t help but smile as he looked down at you. He never wanted to forget the look on your face in this moment, never wanted to forget what you looked like glowing in a post-orgasm bliss.

Your hands cupped his cheek and pulled him down to your lips. The kiss was desperate, wet and messy, and it made Joel’s heart soar inside his chest. His cock was so hard. He could slip it inside you just for a moment, only the tip.

“Please,” you said breathlessly between kisses, “you can fuck me, Joel.”

No, not yet.

With a shake of his head, he came to his senses, “No, angel, this was just f’you.”

Your eyes widened with confusion; a slight frown pulled at your eyebrows as he pulled away. Joel bought himself some time by pulling you closer and wrapping an arm around you, careful not to press his hard cock into your ass.

“There ain’t exactly any condoms out here,” he told you, “It’s just too risky.”

It was a sorry excuse, Joel knew it, and he could tell you did too. His boner rubbing into your ass told you as much. Joel wanted to, he wanted to fuck you, but he just couldn’t, not yet anyway. Not until he knew that it was what you wanted, that he was what you wanted.

A moment went by before he heard you whisper, “You can pull out?”

Joel couldn’t hold back the smile threatening to spill across his face, “I’ve heard that one before, didn’t exactly go to plan.”

“What do you mean?” you asked, turning around in his arms to find his face.

Shit.

“Nothin’,” he shook his head. He didn’t want to think about that right now, didn’t want to feel that grief that’s never gone away, didn’t want it to tear at the happiness he felt in this moment. “It’s just somethin’ from before.”

Your interest seemed to pique at that. You turned around fully in his arms and slung your arm around his broad chest. Your eyes glittered with curiosity, “How was it? Your life before?”

Memories flashed before Joel’s eyes; days of hard work under the Austin sun, drunk laughter at the bar with his brother, pink birthday parties, and singing along to girl groups in the truck.

He held his breath for a moment before he let out a quiet sigh, “Normal, I guess.”

When he looked down at you where you rested your head on his shoulder, it seemed his brief answer had disappointed you, so he decided to elaborate, “I worked too damn much– me ‘nd my lil’ brother we uh, had a business together–”

“Contractors,” you remembered.

“Yeah,” he chuckled, “that’s right.”

“What’s his name?” you asked.

“Who’s name?” Joel frowned.

“Your brother,” you said, the ‘duh’ not spoken out loud, but your tone indicative of it either way.

“Uh, Tommy.”

“Joel and Tommy,” he could hear the smile in your voice. “What’s he like?”

Joel sucked in a breath, “A pain in my ass first of all.”

A playful slap landed on his chest and Joel couldn’t help but smile, “I’m serious.”

Interlocking his fingers with your hand on his chest, Joel opened up to you. “Tommy always wanted to be a hero. He enlisted in the army right outta high school, I was… well, it doesn’t matter– they shipped him off to Iraq a few months later and he…” Joel trailed off, his eyes fixating on a crack in the ceiling.

“What happened when he got back?” you gently asked with a squeeze of his hand.

“Turns out bein’ in the army doesn’t make you feel much like a hero,” Joel sighed, “I watched out for him, kept him outta trouble, made sure he had a steady job.”

“You’re a good brother,” you told him, but Joel felt the opposite.

“I don’t know,” Joel shook his head slightly, “Then the outbreak happens, and Tommy convinces me to join a group makin’ their way up to Boston, which I did, mostly to keep an eye on him, keep him alive. We meet Tess, join a crew ‘nd… did some things I ain’t proud of, but we were survinin’, right?”

You squeezed his hand again, urging him to continue. “Then Tommy meets Marlene. She talks him into joinin’ the Fireflies. Same mistake he made when he was eighteen– wants to save the world. ‘Course, last I heard he quit the Fireflies too. So, now he’s on his own out there.”

“And that’s how you ended up here, looking for him.” You said the words slowly, like you were contemplating each word, “and he’s still out there somewhere.”

A lump of guilt grew in Joel’s throat. Had he abandoned his brother for the safety of your arms? Let Tess die for nothing?

“Yeah,” he swallowed around his guilt, “Last contact I heard from him came from around the Cody tower– in Wyoming.”

“Cody?” you sat up, “That’s not too far from Jackson… maybe that’s where he is? I need to ask Arthur, but there’s no other settlements around here except in Jackson.”

A small glimmer of hope awakened in him, “You sure?”

“Yeah,” you nodded your head, “when spring comes you should go to Jackson with Arthur– maybe he’s there!”

Your enthusiasm was cute; the way you seemed to glow above him. “Maybe,” he hummed, noncommittedly, as he pulled you down to rest against his chest again.

A moment passed in silence before you whispered, “And this Tess… was she your wife?”

“No, she… she was my partner– but she was family.” The words strained in his throat, like they didn’t want to come out, “She’s dead… got bit.”

“I’m sorry, Joel,” you said, your voice gentle as you squeezed him tighter. “I understand… my family–” you cut yourself of, but Joel understood.

Dead.

“Arthur said I wasn’t the first person passin’ through. I’m guessing that was you?”

“Yeah,” you sighed, “I uh, my family and I, we were travelling with a group. It wasn’t very large, but I guess it was big enough to draw attention. One night, uh,” your voice started to tremble, and it broke something in Joel.

“Angel,” he whispered, his hand wrapping tighter around you, “It’s okay, you can tell me.”

“I’m sorry,” you sniffled, “it’s just really hard to talk about.”

“Don’t apologize, I know baby, I know,” Joel soothed before pressing light kisses to the top of your head.

“One night,” you cleared your throat, “We’d camped, had dinner and I… I waited for my parents to fall asleep so I could sneak into the tent of this boy that I liked, Ben. He was the only person my age in our group. I had just turned eighteen and I was in love, I guess.”

You paused, and Joel pressed another kiss to the top of your head. “We were fooling around in his tent when I heard something outside,” you continued, “Ben said I was being paranoid, that I was just afraid to get caught by my parents, but then we heard a gunshot. It was chaos, e-everything, t-they’d killed my family, Ben, e-everyone. I managed to hide behind a tree, my feet were like frozen to the ground, I-I couldn’t run. I saw each and every face of the men who murdered my family. They raided the camp, took e-everything.”

“Angel,” Joel soothed when you started crying, “You’re safe… you’re safe now.”

“I don’t know how I did it, but I managed to get away– I just ran, ran as fast as I could for as long as I could. I’ve never been so cold, or tired or hungry as when I stumbled on this farm. I don’t remember the first days, I was so sick, but Alma and Arthur took care of me– I owe them everything, they saved my life.”

You were full on crying now, and Joel tried his best to calm you. He whispered soothing words in your ear, pressed soft kisses to your skin, and held you in his arm. He let you cry, as he cursed the people who’d done this to you – cursed the world who continued to take, and take, and take.

Joel couldn’t leave you, and maybe deep down he’d know it for a long time. He’d do as you’d suggested and go with Arthur to Jackson come spring, but he was coming back for you.

He wasn’t gonna leave you.

The days came and went and collected into a tranquil rhythm of the cogs in Joel’s routine. He’d wake to the bleeding blade of the sun over the lip of the mountain, or your kisses over his heavy eyelids. After that first night together, you slept in his bed more nights than not, as his bed transformed into a room for just the two of you. A place where Joel didn’t have to think or be anything other than completely himself. A place to laugh and smile, whisper under the bright moon, and hear his name fall from your lips in breathy moans.

Your chest rose and fell in a steady beat, your eyes closed so delicately you looked like a sleeping angel. And you were, his angel. Joel never made a habit of watching you sleep, but sometimes he’d indulge himself in the peacefulness of the hour between night and dusk. By the time the room started to turn blue with the morning light, that’s when Joel missed you too much; wrapping his arms around you with just enough movement to wake you without being blamed.

He’d let you dream for a few moments longer, though. Content to lay in the silence with you before the noise of the day would pull you apart. But the moment of peace could only last for so long, the soft thumps of Alma’s steps down the stairs told Joel it was time to wake up.

Under the crinkling of the sheets, Joel’s hand found the dip in your waist. He was about to kiss you good morning when he heard Alma’s steps come closer and closer. A surge of panic coursed to his chest.

“Joel?” she knocked on his door.

“I ain’t decent yet, Alma,” Joel yelled through the door. The loud bass of his voice made you blink your eyes open, looking up at him with a curious look.

“I’m sorry Joel– I was just letting you know that Arthur isn’t feeling well today.”

Joel sighed. This was the third time in as many weeks Arthur was sick, and now Joel was in for another day alone with the work and the trees.

“Thank you, ma’am. I’ll be out in a second.”

“I’m going to get started on breakfast for you, Joel,” she answered.

When Joel had thanked Alma, and her steps had faded away, Joel indulged himself in a morning kiss. The way your lips slotted against his felt like oxygen rebounding his lungs. 

“Again?” you sighed when you broke away from the kiss, your hand found his hair to brush a curl from his face.

“’s the cold I reckon– ‘nd the work… it ain’t exactly easy on the old man.”

You hummed and cupped his chin. “Maybe I should go with you today? Help you out?” you posed.

Joel heard himself chuckle and shook his head, “That ain’t happenin’, angel.”

A gasp left your lips in mock shock, “Why?”

“’Cause the animals would miss you, and I intend on stayin’ on their good side,” he said, a smile hanging off his face.

You narrowed your eyes at him playfully, intent on making him cave, “They’ll be fine.”

Joel only laughed, “You say that ‘nd the next thing I know I got Colonel Eggsworth on my ass.”

“I don’t believe that,” now you were giggling, “Colonel Eggsworth is the nicest rooster we’ve had!”

“I ain’t takin’ any chances, angel,” Joel pecked your lips.

“Coward,” he heard you mumble under your breath as he got out of bed. It made Joel smile, and a warmth gathered around his heart.

Back in the routine, after another quick kiss, you sneakily slipped back into your room to get dressed. While Joel pulled his sweater over his head, he thought about what it meant to wake up each morning with you and feel three words rive at his heart, never having it in him to say them, to let them spill out his mouth.

Maybe saying nothing was honesty’s default. Maybe it was how he could avoid telling you all the stupid things he wanted to say. So, for now he said nothing. Said nothing at the breakfast table. Nothing when you’d helped him saddle up Ingydar. And nothing as you waved him goodbye.

After months working in the woods, Joel did his work on autopilot. He always started with a reconnaissance round, looking for which trees to chop down. Then, with the weight of the axe in his hands, he’d start his work. Now, after they’d brought the horse out, the work was somewhat easier. He still had to chop down the tree, and clean off the branches, but he could move the trunks much easier now with the horse.

The wind howled like a hound, biting at Joel’s cheeks but the sun was out, and Joel didn’t mind. He’d gotten used to the cold by now, and Arthur had taught him quickly how to layer up. The increasing number of knitted pieces of clothing you’d made him also helped.

By the time the sun was at its highest peak, Joel debated going back for lunch. He’d done so every time he was alone out here, and especially after they’d started bringing the horse. The walk back had been cut in half on horseback, maybe even more than half now that he didn’t have to wade through the snow.

Looking back, Joel almost couldn’t see Ingydar where he’d tied him to a tree. He’d gone deeper into the woods than yesterday. Maybe it wasn’t worth it today? He could eat his packed lunch and finish up a little earlier instead.

The days had gotten shorter and shorter, and the hours of daylight had shrunk in the months he and Arthur had been working. But the sun had turned, Joel felt it. It wasn’t much, maybe a half hour or so, but he felt the difference.

He ate his lunch in the company of Ingydar, feeding him some carrots he’d snagged from the basement. He was a good horse, old and tired but hard working. Joel worked until the sun dropped behind the mountain, a shadow coating the world as it grew darker and darker. He needed to get back before it got properly dark. Joel quickly gathered his things, swinging his gun over his shoulders before he was back on horseback.

The horse knew the way back by itself at this point, even in the dark, but something wasn’t right. What was that smell? Small snowflakes started to fall from the sky the closer he got to the edge of the wood, but the smell only grew stronger.

Smoke.

Thoughts tumbled in Joel’s head, small fleets on a stormy sea. With a kick to the sides of Ingydar, they picked up their pace. The muted rhythm of horse hoofs against the packed snow trail, beat along to Joel’s heart.

A cloud of smoke rose up to the sky, dancing through bright yellow and orange flames. Joel couldn’t get there fast enough, pushing Ingydar to the limit as they galloped up the trail to the house. Joel’s heart was in his throat.

What the fuck was happening?

The flames licked at the sky, devouring the house, moaning and kicking like a beast. The heat was unbearable, the light almost blinding. Ingydar neighed loudly as Joel quickly jumped down, not bothering to tie him to something or calm him down. Joel watched the house burn in total disbelief. Frozen to the ground by shock, his heart beating loudly in his ears.

You.

Where were you? You had to been able to get out somehow, right? Why was everything so quiet?

Something caught his eye then, only a few steps from the porch stairs. His feet carried him without a second thought. Arthur was clad in only his pajamas and his robe. He must’ve been forced out of bed. The snow around him was stained crimson from where the life had spilled out of him.

Joel’s first thought was that he was dead, but then Arthur’s eyes flickered open to find Joel’s. The snow creaking under Joel’s shoes must’ve pulled him from his slowed death.

“Joel?” he croaked, blood spilling from his mouth.

“Don’t try ‘nd speak.” Joel’s voice came out colder than he’d expected. This couldn’t be real. Falling to his knees, Joel worked quickly, placing Arthur’s head gently in his lap as he found the source of the bleeding.

The blood oozed from a hole in his stomach. A bullet wound, most definitely. Joel put as much pressure on it as he could manage. His mittens drank the blood greedily, saturated by red. It just kept coming, the warmth coating his fingers.

What the fuck had happened?

Under him Arthur coughed, spilling more blood down his chin, coating his white beard in red. “Listen…”

Joel shook his head. This couldn’t be happening. This was just a bad dream. If he could just open his eyes, he’d be back in bed with you. He just needed to open his eyes.

“She’s alive,” Arthur managed to say, “They took her alive. Raiders–” another cough, “Broke in. Alma dead.”

The panic in Arthur’s face was almost too much for Joel to watch. His breath was heavy, breathing through this new information as his head spun with questions. Arthur’s eyes glazed over, and Joel knew there wasn’t enough time.

“Where is she?” he hurried, his hand lightly tapping Arthur on his cheek. He just needed to stay alive a little longer.

“Woods.” Was the only word Arthur could manage, as he used the last of his strength to point south.

An awful stench mixed with the smoke, and Joel knew Arthur was gonna die. His body couldn’t control itself anymore, ridding itself of the last of pieces of life. There was nothing beautiful about it. Nothing peaceful or dignified. Not how an old man like Arthur should leave this world.

Joel grabbed Arthur’s hand, it was clammy and cold, but it was the least he could do – Arthur wasn’t gonna die alone. He tried to think of something to say, anything at all, but the words died on his tongue.

“Alma…” Arthur whispered with his last breath, and Arthur’s hand went slack in his hand.

An eerie silence fell over the farm, safe from the fire crackling and moaning. Emotions raged inside Joel, fighting to bubble to the top. Anger, confusion, guilt, grief. A loud crack could be heard, like glass shattering, and it pulled Joel from his shock. He gently laid Arthur down on the ground, before he managed to rise on unsteady feet.

A loud noise started ringing in his ears, and Joel’s breath started coming out in an uneven pace. Shit. Joel tied a fist over his chest, his body tilting forward as he tried to catch his breath over the panic tying up his throat. He took a few shuffling steps before he hurled, gall burning his tastebuds as Joel vomited on the ground.

When he’d thrown up all there was in his stomach, Joel groaned. He ripped off the bloody mittens as quickly as he could, his hands digging into the white snow to wash his mouth of the bitter taste.

Joel burned inside and outside. Standing so close to the house, the heat was unbearable. Everything was unbearable. Sarah was dead, Tess was dead, Alma was dead, and Arthur was dead.

Could he take anymore grief? Joel wondered. How much grief was a man supposed to endure in a lifetime? None of this was fair.

Had he just gone back to the house for lunch, they’d all be alive. Had he not dragged her across the country to find his stupid brother, she’d still be alive. Had he not told that soldier she was hurt, she’d still be alive.

As he stared into the raging fire, Joel felt his own anger simmer to the surface. It pushed away all the grief, and the guilt, and sharpened his senses, made him laser focused. His arms and legs moved by their own accord, tugging the shotgun from his shoulder, before he started moving in the direction Arthur had pointed.

They were gonna pay for this. They’d made his world go up in flames and struck the match on their own life in return.

As Joel vanished into the night, he left a piece of himself behind. He was going to find you. He was going to hold you and kiss you again. Nothing or no one could come in the way of that.

Nothing could come in the way of Joel.

i hope someone liked this? i'm very curious about what your thoughts for the last part will be, so if you have them please leave a comment, reply or an ask. they are always super welcomed, and they make me super happy <3 other than that thank you for reading!!

next part -> here!

© shellshocklove, 2024 i do not give any permission to repost, translate, feed to AI or redistribute any of my writing, with or without credit!

[userlando]

cherry wine — lando norris

lando norris x fem!reader [6.8k] summary: this is what you got for humouring him. lando was bored during the break and needed something to latch onto, it was just unfortunate timing that he’d become weirdly obsessed with your journey to… climax. warnings: 18+ best friends to lovers, explicit smut, experimental masturbation, sex toys, public sex, oral sex (f receiving), inexperienced reader a/n: okay so HEAVILY requested and it was a lot of fun to write this so i hope you find this equally enjoyable to read it!! thank you for all your love lately, it makes my heart sososo happy. as always, don't be a ghost reader, i'd love to hear your thoughts :) ily enjoy

You walked quickly, one foot in front of the other to put some space between you and the restaurant you’d just been spending the past godforsaken hour in. The shoes you were wearing pinched your toes uncomfortably and you willed yourself to hold out for just a few more moments as your phone vibrated in your hand.

I see you, the text read and you looked around the dark street before landing on the McLaren parked by the curb on the other side of the street. It wasn’t hard to miss, given how incredibly flashy and shiny it looked under the street lamp.

You hurried over, like the guy was going to come out of the restaurant and chase you, opening the door and taking a seat with an exaggerated sigh, happy that the night was over and you were in a safe space again. You reached over and slipped your shoes off with a grumble, sitting upright and finally looking over at your best friend behind the wheel.

Lando was giving you a half-amused look, eyebrows raised with one hand on the steering wheel and the other holding his phone. His jaw was working incessantly on the piece of gum, and it was annoying you how it seemed to add to the smugness he was radiating. You gritted your teeth and gestured with your hand to the wheel.

“Couldn’t you have picked another car?” You asked, referring to the over the top McLaren you were currently sitting in.

“You say that as if I have more cars to choose from.” Lando turned the key in the ignition. “Besides, you’re the one who hates the Jolly.”

You grimaced because he was right, it was a humours looking thing and though your friend drove for a living, it was the most unsafe you’d felt while sitting in it. The car didn’t even have seatbelts or doors.

“Can we get smoothies on the way home?” You asked, changing the subject and it didn’t go unnoticed by Lando who threw you a sideways glance as he pulled out of the parking spot. “I’m dying for something cold.”

“Sure.” He nodded slowly and you knew what he was waiting for but you weren’t in the mood to indulge him just yet.

The date had been a disaster, as had all the other four previous dates. You’d let him choose the place, not expecting the extravagant restaurant with the overpriced menu but you’d brushed it off because you - quite frankly - refused to have another failed date. The night hadn’t gone better though.

“So, are you gonna make me beg?” Lando broke the drawn out silence, shooting you a half smile. “What was wrong with him this time?”

“He claimed to have forgotten his wallet.” You sucked your teeth in mild irritation. “We only had drinks before he was shamelessly staring at the waitresses arses and making them feel uncomfortable.”

Lando made a sound in his throat that sounded a lot like sympathy and you were grateful for it. He had a habit of poking fun at your disastrous dates and sometimes you allowed it because they were comically bad. But he could also recognise when the time wasn’t right and it definitely wasn’t, this time.

“He sounds like a twat.” He took a turn into your favourite convenience store and shot you a searching glance. “Don’t tell me you paid for him.”

You rolled your eyes. “Of course not, I paid for my part and then hid in the restrooms to call you.”

Not to mention the fact that the man had become so pissed that he wasn’t even there when you’d gotten out of the restrooms, not even bothering to stay around to hear your well rehearsed excuse. They had started to flow so naturally, with how many times you’ve had to use them.

Something about that made you very bitter and also hopeless.

“Good girl.” Lando reached over to pat your thigh. “Don’t let fuckheads like him walk all over you.”

You huffed out a humourless laugh, swatting his hand away and watching him unbuckle his seatbelt before reaching for his wallet between you. Lando paused and glanced up at you.

“The usual?” He asked, rather uselessly because you never picked anything else than mango flavoured smoothies.

But you still humoured him with a nod and watched him climb out and head for the store. You watched him in silence, tearing your eyes away when they started drifting down and scolding yourself for checking your best friend out. What the hell was wrong with you?

You told yourself it was because of the long line of failed dates. Monaco was full of twats and rich snobs who couldn’t see past their noses. It was hard to not take it personally though and you were starting to enter the dangerous territory of self doubt. Maybe you were the one who was too picky, or boring or even too inexperienced to know what to do with men who showed an ounce of interest in you.

Adulthood was truly a rude awakening.

The scuffle of shoes against pavement drew you out of your thoughts and you looked to your side just in time for Lando to open the door and climb inside. He was juggling two cups and a inconspicuous plastic bag so you hurried to grab the cups from him before he ruined the beautiful and expensive interior.

“What’s that?” You asked, curiosity getting the better of you, nodding at the plastic bag as you took a sip of your drink.

There was something in Lando’s face that unnerved you a bit, making you frown when he plucked his cup from your hands and thrust the bag into it instead. Whatever was in the bag was a little heavy, but your interest was piqued enough to set the cup in the holder and peer inside.

It took a second for you to realise what you were looking at, feeling your body go up in flames when your eyes finally registered what was sitting in front of you.

“Lando!” You yelped, letting go of the bag like it had burnt you. “Why — What —“ You scrunched your nose as your friend cackled, rather amused by your reaction. “Did you get that from the store?”

He nodded with the straw between his lips, looking all kinds of cheeky and you reached over to slap at his arm.

“I didn’t even know they sold things like these in there.” You looked down at your lap where the bag was resting, frowning a little dubiously at it like it was gonna come alive and bite you.

“They do.” He said, rather unhelpfully. “I won’t be able to look Mr. Lorenzi in the eyes after that but it was worth it.”

You let out a small laugh at the thought before you went quiet, separating the flaps of the bag and reaching inside.

Bullet vibrator, discover a happy you.

The slogan made you snort unattractively, waving the packaging in your hand and hearing it rattle as you gave the curly haired man a bemused stare.

“Why would you buy this?” You asked, letting him grab the offending thing from your hand when he reached for it.

He turned it in his hand, looking all too happy about it that it made something weird swirl in your stomach. You busied yourself with taking a sip of your smoothie, but it tasted like ashes in your mouth all of a sudden.

“It’s for you.” He said and you rolled your eyes. “What? It’s a neat looking thing. It’s in coral and it’s got… Twenty functions! Fuck me.”

His voice went up in slight wonder and the whole situation felt so bizarre that you couldn’t even find the right words to use.

“Why would you buy that for me?” You asked, a little irked and Lando must’ve sensed the shift of tone in your voice because he glanced up from where he’d been reading from the packaging, eyes a little wide in the darkness.

“You’ve told me about your problem.” He said, slowly like he was choosing his words carefully. “This might help you along a bit.”

“You promised not to throw that in my face!” You squeaked, feeling your face warm up and Lando jumped when you shot your hand out to slap him.

“I’m not!” He loudly protested. “I’m not making fun of you, I’m just saying. This will make you come.”

You slapped your hands to your face, not even caring about the makeup you’d spent hours putting on, and groaned loudly in hopes to make him shut up. It wasn’t like this was the first time you talked openly about sex, but you didn’t really like it when your masturbation habits were the topic. It was odd.

“I’ll never drink again.” You promised but you both knew it was a lie.

It had been a small moment of vulnerability, one that you barely remembered but you could recount the embarrassing parts and that’s what made you feel a little sick to your stomach. You’d come home after a late night of drinking and the both of you had sat face to face on his couch and talked about anything between the heavens and earth. You didn’t even know how it came up in conversation, but Lando wasn’t gonna stop you as you confided in him about your issues.

Okay, so maybe you had a hard time making yourself finish. Maybe you were more inexperienced than the average twenty something year old, but you weren’t ashamed of it. You were well and truly aware that everyone were in different stages of their lives but it still made you a little sad sometimes.

Especially when your dates turned out to be pits.

“Just take it, bug.” Lando slipped the package into the plastic bag and placed it in your lap. He started the engine and you took some comfort in the rumble of it. “Let me know how it goes.”

* * * *

it’s a 2/10

You fired off the text before you could overthink it, letting your phone fall to your stomach as you glanced at the offending phallic shape on your bed. Maybe you weren’t in the right headspace, or maybe it was just wrong for you. But it definitely didn’t feel right and you’d given up after twenty minutes of nothing but frustration.

The vibration of your phone made you jump slightly and you picked it up.

nooooo

did you give it a real try though?

of course I did, you melt

it’s just not working

The next time you saw Lando, was when Max had invited your group of friends for a pub crawl. Max had already ordered a round when you came stumbling in, a little late and warm from having hurried all the way over from your apartment. You went around to greet everyone with kisses and pats to the shoulders before taking a seat in the booth beside Lando.

He draped an arm over the backrest and poked you in the shoulder, prompting you to look up at him.

“I have something for you.” He said and you frowned at the smile on his face, shaking your head when recognition struck you.

You glanced around the table to make sure no one was listening in before leaning into him. Lando’s eyes flitted to your mouth when you got close and you did your best to ignore it and the flicker of heat in your belly.

Christ, you really needed to get laid. There was no way that you were finding your best friend hot. The very same best friend who’d burp in your face after having fizzy drinks and pee with the bathroom door open because he knew the sound of the stream made your skin crawl.

“Not again.” You whispered, a little sternly because you weren’t going to be put through that again.

But you figured that this is what you got for humouring him. Lando was bored during the race break and needed something to latch onto, it was just unfortunate timing that he’d become weirdly obsessed with your journey to… climax.

“This one’s supposed to be better.” He said, like that’d help you change your mind. “It’s a… stimulator.”

“Do I even wanna know what it’s supposed to stimulate?” You asked quietly, like your cheeks weren’t already fifteen degrees hotter.

It was clear that Lando was enjoying this way more than you were, smile too cheeky and happy and his cheeks were flushed. It could’ve been from the alcohol he’d consumed, judging by his breath but you knew that he wasn’t a lightweight.

Lando glanced down at you and your eyes widened at the smirk playing on his lips, placing both your hands over your crotch.

“I think you know.” He whispered, giggling a little when you pushed at him.

That’s how you found yourself staring at the new packaging on your bed, eyebrows knitted together in contemplation. You didn’t really know how something called a clit sucker was supposed to get you there and you really didn’t want to know where Lando had gotten it from.

You knew that if he kept this up, you’d end up with a nightstand drawer full of sex toys that did absolute fuckall to do their job. Maybe the few drinks you’d had earlier would help you relax a bit.

So with that in mind, you yanked your pants off and laid back on your bed, legs a little spread and eyes fastened on the ceiling. You tried to ignore the dread filling your stomach as you brought the toy between your legs, holding the button with the pad of your finger until it buzzed to life.

“Shit.” You swore quietly as you directed it between your legs, kind of enjoying the buzzing as you moved it around.

The moment it touched your clit, you jumped and moved your hand away. That hadn’t felt as good as you’d hoped, and you sighed in slight irritation.

It was like the universe was in on some kind of sick joke to make your life a living hell, because your phone vibrated on your nightstand and you glanced over to see Lando’s name on your screen. You ignored it, turning yourself around and laying down on your stomach to give it a second try.

The toy was still buzzing, making a sound that was a little bit distracting but also easy enough to ignore as you went under your panties this time. You knew that you should’ve probably worked yourself up or even invested in lube because you were everything but turned on at the moment. And not to mention how the dry silicone only made it all the more unpleasant.

Your phone vibrated again, another incoming text and you buried your head into your pillow to groan out loud before tossing the toy away. You watched it roll over the edge of the bed, landing on the floor with a clatter that made you grimace.

you tried it yet? ;)

I’m guessing by the silence that you have

It took a great amount of control to not roll your eyes at the winky face. You also refused to smile at how you could’ve easily imagined his face right now.

you’re taking an awful lot of interest in my sex life, it’s creeping me out

I’m guessing you didn’t….

???

get yourself all the way over there

Jesus. The amount of embarrassment you felt could probably be seen all over your face and you were suddenly grateful that this wasn’t a face to face talk. You sat up and leaned against the headboard with an exhale.

How were you supposed to say no, I didn’t fucking come, without actually typing the words? Your fingers hovered over the keyboard.

1/10

The reply was immediate, like he’d been sitting with the text conversation open and waiting for your reply.

oh what?! disappointing! we’ll do better next time

You pulled a pillow into your lap and hid a smile in it.

The next time, turned out to be five days later when he’d managed to pull you out of another horrendous date. The date itself had been fine, but the guy was everything but aware of his personal hygiene and it made you grit your teeth every time he smiled and flashed those murky chompers at you from across the table.

Lando laughed until he cried on the way home when you recalled the date, and you had to calm him down before he veered you both off the road. He’d only just gotten his car and you weren’t too keen to see it in a ditch.

“I’m swearing off of men.” You said when he turned into your street, making Lando snort. “What? I am. I’m convinced all the good guys are taken.”

Lando reached a hand out without taking his eyes off the road, pinching you in the side and making you squeak in indignation.

“Thanks for that.” He said sarcastically, referring to himself and his very available relationship status. “And you’re not swearing off of guys, are you mad? You just need to have patience.”

“I’ve already had plenty of patience, thank you. I don’t have any more in me to spare.” You rooted around in your bag for a hair tie, huffing when you found one to tie your hair up and out of the way. “I already put up with your stupid arse.”

“Hey!” He pouted and you smiled in apology. “You love me. And you’ll love me even more when you see what I got—“

He paused to reach into the backseat, and you watched with a slight bemused smile as he dug around until he made a sound of delight, sitting back in his seat. Your eyes zeroed in on the package in his hand, shaking your head before he even said anything.

“Not again.” You said in a whine, pushing the cardboard package away when he went to hand it to you. “We’re not doing this.”

Lando blew out a breath, pushing it more insistently until you relented and grabbed it from his hold. It was surprisingly heavy for such a small box.

“I’ve read that this is a game changer.” He said, looking a little too proud and it made you grin despite yourself. “Look, it’s even shaped like a rose, how cool is that?”

“Mate, you’ve got way too much spare time on your hands.” You giggled when he narrowed his eyes at you. “Fine. But you have to promise to let it go if this doesn’t work out.”

Lando opened his mouth to protest, shutting it quickly at your stern look and nodding once. It didn’t look believable in the slightest.

“Okay. Yeah, promise.” He said and you nodded, reaching over the console to press a quick kiss to his stubbled cheek in thanks for saving you yet again.

You climbed out of the car and closed the door, waiting until he’d rolled the window down all way. There was mischief written all over his face and somehow you knew he was gonna say something obnoxious as parting words.

“I expect updates tonight.” He said, wagging his eyebrows and you smiled, turning around before he could see how absolutely flustered you became.

“Don’t hold your breath.” You shouted over your shoulder, walking up to your apartment complex.

Once you were inside, you grabbed a quick shower to wash the night away and poured yourself a sad looking bowl of cereal before getting into bed with your laptop in your hands. It was still early, too early to sleep so you figured a few episodes of a show wouldn’t ruin your sleep too much.

It proved to be too boring for your overactive mind. You’d devoured the cereal and was now laying, sunken down in bed with your mind wandering and attention not at all on what was happening on the screen. You hit the space bar button to pause, eyes drifting to your nightstand where the newest toy sat, innocently but so mocking.

You narrowed your eyes at it, staring for a minute before you reached for it and pushed the laptop off to the side.

“Fucking Lando.” You cursed him quietly, ripping the package open and fishing the innocent looking rose out.

It was pink, on the verge of red and it looked very pretty to be a vibrator. You located the button, holding it down until it came to life and your eyes climbed to your forehead as you pressed on the button again; cycling through the different powers and rhythms.

It felt like clockwork, sinking down into bed and closing your eyes with a deep breath. A frown etched itself on your face when you reached into your sweats and underwear with it, feeling it buzz away until you located your clit and the strength of the vibrations made you gasp.

It wasn’t too much too soon, but kind of perfect and a spark of hope flared in your chest as you thought that, maybe this was it. Maybe you’d found the toy that would bring you high enough and tip you over the edge.

A little moan left your lips as you closed your eyes, letting the toy do its work and you couldn’t help but smile slightly at the pleasant feeling. You’d never really gotten the joys of female masturbation when your friends talked about it, but you were starting to.

Your newfound hope didn’t blossom into anything bigger though, because it took about ten minutes before you realised that you wouldn’t be taken much further than you already were. It felt good, but it wasn’t mind blowing. And frustration started to seep into your pores before you angrily yanked your hand out and tossed the toy away after switching it off.

You reached for your phone, teeth gritted because you wouldn’t cry out of frustration. You wouldn’t.

maybe a life of celibacy is healthier for me

The response came in a minute later.

don’t be stupid

was it that bad?

it was… fine. but it wasn’t enough

There was no reply after that, and you chewed your lip. Maybe you’d gone too far with discussing your masturbation and lack of orgasms with Lando. You’d been best friends for so long that the lines were starting to blur. You’d never known any boundaries between the two of you, and that’s how you both liked it. But there was something different about this whole thing. It felt different.

Your phone vibrated once again and you glanced down.

I’ll do more research

The text made you smile despite yourself.

we won’t give up

A week later, you found yourself up in the mountains overlooking Monaco. Lando was sitting beside you, dressed nicely in a suit that he’d definitely ruined by sitting on the grass and you were in a dress that looked pretty but was a little stifling to wear. There had been a gala earlier tonight and Lando had begged you to come with him, even though the both of you despised anything that had to do with overpriced champagne and snooty people.

You’d had a good time despite yourselves, bumping into a few friends from the grid and dancing the night away before it was time to call it a night. Lando hadn’t been ready to go home just yet though, so you’d driven out to your favourite spot in the city.

The lights from the houses and the marina was glittering, the water so mesmerising that you couldn’t tear your eyes away. It was a beautiful night, not too hot but pleasantly nice.

“I have another date on Wednesday.” You told Lando, breaking the comfortable silence.

The man in question turned his head to look at you, and you saw his eyebrows furrow in mild intrigue.

“Another loser?” He joked, but his tone felt a little too flat and it made something weird turn in your stomach.

Usually he was way more interested and would fire off multiple questions before asking to see pictures. You chalked it up to him being tired from a long evening and hummed, scooting closer to him to rest your head on his shoulder.

He immediately turned his head and pressed his lips against the top of your skull, like he was on autopilot. It was something he often did, but it still managed to make your heart jump a little.

“He seems nice.” You told him truthfully. “Probably not a relationship type, but he seems like a good time.”

Your hair ruffled when Lando huffed out a humourless laugh and there was something so off about it that it made you pick your head up from his shoulder and look at him in confusion.

“What?” You asked, feeling a little defensive all of a sudden. “I’m trying to think positive.”

“Why don’t you hold off a bit on the dating? Let the guys come to you instead.” He suggested, glancing away from your probing eyes.

You could read him too well and it unnerved Lando beyond belief.

“I’ve tried that, it doesn’t work. I either get someone who doesn’t know what basic hygiene is, or someone who flirts with other people in front of me, a guy who snaps at waiters and not to mention the men who find out I’m friends with the Lando Norris and will go above and beyond to have a chance to meet you.”

“Don’t say that.” He grimaced and you pulled back a bit, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Don’t say what?”

“My name like it’s something inconvenient for you.” He took in your pinched facial expression and softened his tone a bit. “I’m just saying you deserve way better than what these tossers can offer you.”

You stayed quiet, opting to lay down on your back with a sigh instead. He was right, but you weren’t about to say it out loud.

Lando wouldn’t have that though, laying down on his side and propping his elbow on the grass to stare at you. You tried to hold back the smile threatening to spill, because he was hovering over you and looking adorable that it was impossible to stay annoyed.

“Are you mad at me?” He asked, smiling like he knew the answer was in the negative because he was well aware that you could never stay angry with him. “You can’t stay mad at me, I’m too cute.”

You placed your palm against his face and pushed at it, hearing and feeling him laugh against your hand until he reached to grab and yank it away from his face.

He turned your hand and pressed a kiss to your palm, the gesture all too intimate for it to be between two best friends and it took everything in your power to not read into his small gesture. You held your breath when he turned your hand over and gazed at it, face contemplative; Lips downturned in thought and brows knitted together.

“Have you used your hands before?” He asked and you smiled in slight confusion, not expecting the odd question.

“No, I use my feet.”

Lando pinched the thin skin of your wrist in retaliation and you squeaked out a laugh.

“I meant for… Your experiments.” He grimaced at the words and you knew he used that to lessen the embarrassment from your part. It didn’t do much though, not with the way he was staring at you like he was looking into your soul.

You held your breath, staring at his face and you knew that yours was heating up faster than you could blink. But it was hard to look away from the way his pupils were starting to expand, trapping his bottom lip with his teeth in what you knew was a nervous tick.

“I wouldn’t know how.” You told him truthfully after a long stretch of silence. There was no way for you to correctly use your fingers on yourself when a toy couldn't give you an orgasm.

"Do you want me to show you how?" He asked, voice quiet and you could feel your eyes widen before you could stop them.

There was a moment where you thought you'd heard wrong, that your sanity had finally gone out the window but Lando was looking at you like he was waiting for a response and there was some conflict in his eyes that you were sure that your eyes were reflecting.

What did this mean for your friendship? Would this ruin everything? What if he just wanted to satisfy his own fucked up needs and then pretend like nothing happened? Those were questions that you wanted to ask, but it wasn't what came out of your mouth when you opened it.

"Yes."

Lando looked as surprised as you felt, like he hadn't expected you to agree to his insane proposition but it didn’t mean that he felt immense relief. He hadn’t really thought of how he’d react or what to even say if you had turned him down. All he really knew was that this had been playing in his mind ever since that damned night when you’d confessed to him. He couldn’t get the image of him between your legs since then.

He hadn’t expected to feel a surge of jealousy when you started going on your dates, but he’d hated every minute of it. It had only lessened the sting a bit when he realised that they were all essentially going nowhere and that Lando was the one who got to pick you up at the end of the night. Minus the fact that he hated how down you were after the dates. But he had the opportunity to be there and cheer you up whenever you needed it, so he counted that as a win. Anything that involved your smile that he was the reason for, was a win.

They were new feelings, but Lando suspected that they’d been laying dormant since your teenage years. They’d only ever surfaced when you talked to potential boyfriends, but he always managed to squash those feelings before they grew into something ugly and act like nothing was bothering him.

That’s probably why Lando’s hand was shaking a bit when it found a home on your thigh, slowly pushing up the silk of your dress and he couldn’t bring himself to look away from your face; caught in your stare. He could see how nervous you were, bottom lip caught between your teeth and chest moving with every quick breath you took.

Lando stopped momentarily because maybe you didn’t really want this. You looked almost scared, and that was enough for him to withdraw. What he didn’t expect was for your hand to find a place on the back of his head, messing up his perfectly styled curls and bringing him closer to your face.

It didn’t take much to get him where you wanted, and he found himself so close to your face that he could feel your breath against his lips. Lando was convinced that nothing was as intoxicating as that.

“This is mad.” You whispered, lip touching his as you spoke and Lando struggled to not groan out loud at that one brush.

“Definitely.” He nodded in agreement, watching your lips curl up into an enticing smile that calmed his nerves down. “Do you still want this?”

Your eyes flickered between his, like you were trying to gauge his reaction when you nodded.

“Do you?” You asked and Lando couldn’t dig deep enough to find the words, so he did the next best thing.

The small whimper you let out against his lips rattled something in Lando’s chest, pressing his mouth against yours in a kiss that had your toes curling and your hands grabbing desperately at his hair. The slight sting in his scalp made him open up under your lips, and he swore he must’ve died and gone to heaven when your tongue brushed his. It was like his skin was cracking open and you were touching his exposed nerves, feelings so on edge when you hadn’t even done anything but kiss him.

You were so into the kiss that you almost forgot where you were, thighs tensing a bit when your dress was pushed up and cool air hit your naked thighs. Lando pulled back enough to look at you, giving you an encouraging smile as his hand travelled up your inner thigh.

It was a struggle to keep your eyes open and on him when his fingers brushed over your clothed pussy, but it was worth it to see his mouth hang open when he felt the lace. You were warm against his skin, and he had half a mind to say fuck it and bury himself deep inside your warmth.

But he had to remind himself to slow down, take a breath and focus on you because you may have relaxed a bit; But Lando had known you for so long that he could read your body.

“This feels nice.” He commented, running his fingers over the material and you couldn’t help but laugh. “What colour are they?”

You knew it was his way of breaking the tension and hopefully relieve the anxiety blooming in your chest, and it surprisingly worked when you tilted your head up to give him a kiss that he was eager to respond to.

“Why don’t you find out?” You murmured and Lando’s eyebrow jumped, cheeky and excited as he placed his other arm on the other side of your body to straddle you.

He probably should’ve cared that his fancy dress pants were rubbing against the grass when he knee-walked down your body, but he was too preoccupied with staring at you. Your chest was heaving, and he could almost see the pebbles of your nipples against the satin material of your dress. He wondered if you wore a matching, lacy bra or if you’d opted to go without, eager to find out later.

Lando was a man on a mission, pushing your dress up to your abdomen and kneeling between your legs. He glanced down, heat flaring up in his body when he got a peek at the cherry red lace, hiding so much but so little.

He stroked a finger down between where he presumed your lips were, hearing you take a shuddering breath above at the sensation. You were looking at him, feeling turned on beyond belief and the feeling was so new that you didn’t know what to do with it.

The feeling only intensified when his finger located your clit, caressing the sensitive nub in small circles until your legs were shaking, thighs tensing.

Lando was like hypnotised, taking in every hitch in your breath and every jerk of your body until he felt like he’d burst if he didn’t get his mouth on you. He probably should’ve warned you beforehand, but he took a little pride in the surprised squeal you let out when he opened his mouth and slotted it over your pussy, sucking until he tasted your slick through the lace.

“Lando!” Your voice was breathy, scandalised and you put a hand over your eyes when you looked down and saw him staring at you.

He looked… depraved. And it did something funny to your stomach. You'd never seen him like that and you didn't really think you'd ever get to experience it.

You'd thought about it, even allowed yourself a night to fantasise about the way he'd look and what he'd say if you were ever in this position, but those were thoughts you didn't let yourself drift into too often. It was a dangerous thing to imagine having sex with your best friend, yet here you were - experiencing it. Outside, nonetheless.

"Oh, fuck." You stuttered out when he hooked his fingers into the crotch of your panties and pulled them to the side, the cool air hitting the very slick center.

The unexpected feeling had you squirming, bucking your hips up and huffing out a laugh when Lando glanced up at you, feeling a little embarrassed to be so needy.

"You're so sensitive." He pondered, sounding a little amazed before he stuck his tongue out in a crude fashion and licked up your pussy. "You're gorgeous, bug. Those guys are missing out on something great."

That got an eye roll from you, but it didn't stop the zip of heat from racing up your back at his words. You could feel him flattening his tongue to lick every part of you, like he couldn't get enough of your taste before he got your clit into his mouth and sucked.

He tried not to feel too smug when you moaned, head tilted back and facing the sky, like you were praying to whatever was up there. The stretch of your neck was gorgeous, so spotless that he had the sudden urge to sit up and mark the sensitive skin of it with his mouth and teeth. But he sat put, focusing on eating you out with an eagerness he'd never really felt before.

It didn't take you long to really become vocal, and it honestly surprised Lando because he'd always pegged you for a quiet one. Not that he complained; the sounds you were making had his pants feeling tight.

"It feels—" You trailed off into a stuttered moan that made Lando reach down and squeeze himself through his trousers, moaning into your pussy at the slight relief he felt. "Lando, fuck, I'm gonna..."

You didn't finish your sentence, too lost in the multiple sensations you'd never felt before but Lando could guess what you were trying to communicate. He kept at it, watching your face as it scrunched up and your mouth dropped open, groaning out your climax as it washed over you.

It felt better than you'd imagined, stomach clenching up and toes curling as you shut your eyes so tightly that you saw stars behind your eyelids. You weren't sure how long you were out of it, or how your hands had managed to find their way to your best friend's hair. Lando laved his tongue over your center, steering clear of your sensitive clit but he couldn't help but bump against it a few times just to hear your breath hitch.

The third time he did it, you pushed him away with an exhausted grumble, hearing him laugh as he stretched up to kiss below your navel. The pecks were so tender and sweet, a stark contrast to how he'd ate you out like a depraved man just minutes ago, and it filled your belly with so much warmth you didn't know what to do with it.

You made a confused sound in your throat when he hooked his fingers into the waistband of your panties and drew them down your legs, bunching them up in his hands.

"These are mine now." He said casually, cheek deepening into a dimple and you raised your eyebrows.

"No..." You dragged out the word, reaching out your hands to grab the flimsy material from his grip but he was quick to turn away, batting your hands away with small, teasing tuts. "Those are my fancy pair, you twit."

Lando shoved the underwear into the pocket of his trousers, ignoring your protests and silencing them rather quickly by leaning over to kiss you. And shut you up it did, because that was the last thing you expected but it wasn't necessarily unwelcomed.

He opened up his mouth under yours, kissing you deeply and allowing you to taste yourself and something about that made your legs tighten up around his body where they'd been previously splayed out.

"I'll buy you more underwear." He promised after pulling away slightly, giving you a smirk that made your head spin. "Only if I'm the only one allowed to see them from now on."

You huffed out a laugh, pushing his face away with your hand. He rolled over and laid down beside you, and you sat up with the help of your shaky arms.

"You're a walking cliché." You said, shaking your head slightly. "But I won't say no to free stuff.”

He reached a hand out to pluck a leaf off your hair, flicking it away before turning his attention to you.

You suddenly became aware of what you’d done, nerves humming just under your skin and your conflicting emotions must’ve shown on your face because Lando scooted closer to you and grabbed your hand.

“We’re okay?” You asked quietly, staring down at your intertwined hands and how his thumb brushed across the back of your hand. The way he always did when your anxiety was acting up.

“Of course we are.” He assured you, leaning forward to press a chaste kiss to your naked shoulder.

You knew that you’d have to have a longer talk about what this meant for the both of you in the future. But you pushed it to the back of your mind for tonight, snuggling up to your best friend’s side and laying your head on his chest.

You did believe him though. No matter what, the both of you would be okay.

[yenqa]

OH! MY MISTAKE | where you can’t for the life of you, remember to call kozume by his first name.

♫ — currently playing... april

warnings – an ankle injury (briefly went over), lmk if theres more!

pairing – kenma x gn!reader

wordcount – 1094

a/n – hi guys !! hope u enjoyy lmk if u do! also this is mot proofread so sorry if its wordy or theres any typos!

kenma isn’t the kind to make many mistakes.

there are times where he’s bound to make mistakes, like when he’s out of breath and messes up his sets a little, or when he’s been playing a game for too long and too many people are talking and the pixels are moving too fast for his brain.

those are the times where he can make the excuse if that he’s too tired. but even then, he still realizes his mistake.

when you first meet him he can tell you’re the shy type. he’s not stupid after all.

he can see you fidget with anything you can latch you hands on as you're introducing yourself to the team individually.

coach nekomata has that same happy smile that he always displays. he can see you constantly look back at him for reassurance.

when you finally approach him he skips to the most important part. he doesn’t care for the formalities, and he is sure you don't care about the wellbeing of every single person on the team.

“you can just call me by my first name, kenma.”

you were taken aback by his abruptness, you hadn’t even had the opportunity to bow before he introduced himself. his face remained a monotone look, it didn’t seem like he cared for you at all.

“oh—okay! what’s your last name, if you don’t mind me asking?”

he is simply oblivious to you, so he says, “it’s kozume, but i don’t like when people call me it. so kenma is fine with me.”

“it’s nice to meet you, kenma-san. it’s an honor to be the manager this year!” you salute to him, he can sense that every bone of your body is tense, and you’re too nervous for your own good.

“it’s nice meeting you,” he pauses, then adds,”don’t take this position too seriously, you’re new, it’s okay to make mistakes and not know things.”

he figures you’re the type to need reassurance on matters like that, he almost adds that you can come to him for help, but it might’ve come off in a different way. which was the opposite of what he wanted.

a warm smile blesses your face as you nod vigorously, barely getting out a “thank you!” before he walks away.

a small smile adorns his face when he turns around while he’s so blissfully unaware of his fatal mistake.

it’s at the next practice when he first notices it.

he’s out of the locker room first as usual. sliding down the wall, he sits down a foot away from you. you’re focused on something that he isn’t sure what.

you shift in your position, quickly casting a look at him before whipping your head back.

he sees you scribbling hard on the paper, then erasing it even harder. it’s when you let out a sigh when he decides to step in.

“are you okay, y/n? do you need help with anything?”

he usually wouldn’t help anyone else, but you’re next to him already, he tells himself.

“oh! hi kozume-san! no i’m okay—just finishing this sudoku puzzle my friend gave me!”

“i told you to call me kenma, i don’t like formalities like that.”

you can feel your cheeks heating up, as you awkwared cover them with your hand you exclaim, “i’m so sorry kozu-kenma! i’ll call you that from now on!”

“it’s okay y/n. just don’t forget next time, okay?”

you agree immediately, and it works for the next couple of hours. until he makes another mistake.

he’s on the floor before he knows it, he can hear the ball slam on the floor, but he can’t ignore the throbbing pain shooting through his body.

his ankle seems to look fine, but he knows he landed wrong after jumping for the ball. he takes his ankle and massages it, it doesn’t do much but he continues to do it anyways.

he can hear a group of footsteps run to him, but his vision seems to be tunneled.

throughout the many voices he can hear yours, loud and clear. “kozume! are you okay?”

he looks up at you, “kenma.”

the team all looks at him in confusion, a few mutters of people calling him delirious.

but you, you immediately get it, your cheeks turn a slight pink shade as you offer him a helping hand.

“sorry kenma! i’ll take you to the nurse now.” he gladly takes your hand. wanting to feel the softness of it forever, but you let go once he’s up.

everyone watches as he wraps his arm around your shoulder and limps to the door, once you’re at it you look back and yell. “me and kozume-san will be back soon! so keep practicing everyone!”

it’s been four months, but still you can’t seem to get over your habit.

many things have changed over the past few months, one being that you and kenma have been dating for two of those months.

though that habit seemed to stick with you even as time went on.

“kozume!” you exclaim, wrapping your arms around him.

a small chuckle escapes his lips, he wraps his arms around you. “you’re still forgetting to call me kenma, y/n.”

“old habits die hard,” you giggle, “oh! also—you’re late for practice! tetsurou was spamming your phone with calls, did you forget?”

over time, you’ve grown much more comfortable with him, as he had with you. even though at the time his ankle seemed to be the worse thing that ever happened to him, it also happened to be the catalyst of your relationship.

he’s grateful for landing wrong fore without that small flap of a butterflies wing, he wouldn’t have memorized the shape of your lips, or the sound of your laugh, or the small moles adorning your face.

“wait—tetsurou?”

you let out a breathy laugh, “yeah he told me to call him by his first name! you don’t mind, do you?”

“you remembered to say his first name but not mine?”

“kodzu-ken i mean. i think kozume is cute! it rolls off the tongue better. i’m sorry!” you raise your hands in defeat, but he’s already walking ahead of you to practice.

you chase after him, “kodzu—kenma wait!”

planting a kiss on his cheek, you take his hand, skipping happily to practice dragging him behind.

“kozume skip with me!”

“i’m not doing that.”

kenma hates the formality of when someone calls him kozume instead of kenma, but with the way his name sounds when you say it, he can’t find it in himself to mind.

yenqa © do not copy, steal or translate.

[skzstannie]

"Did you know?"

SKZ-> ot8 x 9th member! reader

genre: angst, hurt/comfort wc: ~4,500 cw: slight violence, swearing, reader has to go to the hospital

summary: some online rumors cause turmoil within the group, and it seems the members’ concerns were certainly not without reason

A/N: Here's another angsty 9th member fic for you guys, hope you enjoy! My requests are still open, so if you have any ideas, feel free to send them in!

Likes/reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated!

Part 2 | Happy Scrolling! | Masterlist

Today was the first date of your North American tour, landing you guys in the beautiful city of Los Angeles, California. Your managers allowed you the morning to explore the city, given you had constant security. They made you specifically promise to abide by these rules, as you had a habit of sneaking off to see fans on your own. What can you say? Security could be annoying, and your fans were always the sweetest.

This little habit of yours not only made management anxious, but also your members. They knew you could be innocent and credulous when it came to other people, always wanting to believe there was good in everyone. While this may be true, people's best intentions sometimes went out the window when confronted with their favorite Kpop idols.

"Ok, first the art museum for Hyunjin, then Griffith Park, and then the nice breakfast cafe down the street from the venue. Anything else?" Chan reads off your planned itinerary, glancing upwards at you guys.

"Yea, I said I wanted to go to the Santa Monica Pier. They have the cutest attractions there," you say, repeating yourself for what felt like the hundredth time that day. You were the only one wanting to go, all the other members not wanting to risk getting sick on fair food and carnival rides before the concert.

"Yes, and I already acknowledged the fact that we will not be going there today. And we, includes you, meaning you will also not be sneaking off to go by yourself," Chan pointedly looks to you, raising an eyebrow in challenge.

"What makes you think I'd ever do that?" you give him a cheeky smile, tilting your head ever so slightly.

"Don't look at me like that. You know exactly why I'd think that."

You drop your innocent act, giving him a bored look in return.

Chan gets notified that the vans have arrived, so you all pack up your things and head to the hotel elevator. The boys roughhouse in the hallway, Seungmin almost tackling Jeongin to the ground. This is quickly stopped by Minho, reminding them they can't get hurt before the concert tonight. They roll their eyes at him but oblige.

Leaving the hotel, you all jump in the cars, embarking on the short drive to the art museum. Your van consists of Seungmin and Felix sitting in the middle set of seats, while you're squished in the back between Chan and Minho. The air is weirdly tense and quiet, everyone seemingly too occupied with their phones. Besides Chan describing the itinerary this morning, everyone has been quiet all day.

You feel Chan's watchful gaze slide to your screen, and you pull away, leaning towards Minho. "Do you mind?" you sass.

"I do actually. What are you looking at on there, any cute boys?"

"Give me a break, we have a dating ban," you scoff, turning your phone back off and sliding it into your crossbody bag.

You continue to sit in silence until you arrive, not wanting to deal with Chan's wandering eyes on your Instagram feed.

Finally arriving at the art museum, everyone piles out of the vans. Fans line the sidewalk, and a grin spreads across your face. You step out of line quickly, wanting to go over to a particularly young fan. She looks around 8 or 9, and she has a poster of you in hand with a black Sharpie. What's the harm in giving this young girl a quick signature?

Within your first few steps, your arm is aggressively pulled backwards, and you stumble into Minho. He gives you a stern look, and you know, especially with this many people around, not to question him. You fall back in line, looking back to give the young girl a sympathetic smile as you're guided the rest of the way into the museum.

You guys walk through the entrance of the museum, officially out of sight from all the fans. Minho gives you another pointed look, finally releasing your arm from his grasp. "We told you, no funny business today. Tonight's important, and we need you in one piece for it."

Your eyes widen at his tone of voice, not appreciating the seriousness behind it. You know you tend to break some rules here and there, but it's always light-hearted. You'd never intentionally put yourself or anyone else in danger.

You guys explore the museum exhibits in peace, security doing an excellent job of keeping the fans outside. You, not having much of an interest in art, spend most of your time watching Hyunjin and the way he admires the artwork. He really is an artist at heart, and you love the way he can appreciate each individual piece.

While staring at Hyunjin, who's admiring an intensely beautiful painting of a riverbed with flowers, you suddenly feel eyes on you. You quickly spin around to be met with the stares of Felix, Jisung, and Jeongin. They quickly look away, busying themselves looking at the statues next to them.

You give them a squinted look, walking over to them. "What is wrong with you guys today? Why is everyone acting so funny?" you confront them, furrowing your brows.

Jisung stumbles over his words, opening and closing his mouth like a fish. Felix jumps in, giving Jisung a strange look, "We were just talking about how beautiful you look today." He comes over to you and wraps an arm around your shoulder, pulling you into his side.

You don't stay there long, removing his arm from around you and walking away. "Weird," you mutter to yourself.

You guys finish up in the museum shortly after. Piling back into the cars, you're once again stuck between Minho and Chan. This time, however, Chan keeps constant conversation with you. He rambles on about the concert that night, what he had for dinner last night, practically anything to keep his mouth moving. While this is still strange behavior, you prefer this to radio silence.

Arriving at Griffith Park, you guys make your way up the hill terrain. All the guys want to take pictures, planning to post them to Instagram later that week. You think the perfect spot for pictures would be the Hollywood sign, so you start to make your way towards it.

You don't think to alert anyone, as it's within eyesight, and you prefer to take your own pictures, anyway. You came prepared, bringing your tripod in your backpack.

Before you make it very far, only walking about 25 feet away from the group, you hear your name being yelled. You turn back around, seeing an angry Minho storming towards you.

"What'd we say about going off on your own? Why are you being so difficult today?" he asks, his voice rising with every word he spits at you.

You don't know what's gotten everyone's panties in a bunch today, but you've just about had enough. The atmosphere has been tense all day, and you're officially sick of it.

"Why is everyone being so tense today? Gosh, I'm only going up to the sign!" You throw your arm behind, motioning to the spot only about 50 feet away from where you and Minho stand.

"No, you will not be going up there, especially not by yourself. Stay with the rest of the group and stop being stubborn!" Minho's overly-critical eyes stare you down. He steps toward you, grabbing you by the elbow for the second time that day.

You wretch yourself away from him. "I've had enough with being man-handled today. I'm done! I'm going to wait in the van. Have fun without me!" you yell at him, stalking off towards the parking lot.

You see everyone had stopped what they were doing upon hearing the loud yells, and they're all watching you as you hurriedly make your way back to the vans. Your face flushes, embarrassment taking over your features.

You pull on the door to the van, realizing it's locked. You stomp your foot and whip around, finding everyone still staring at you with varying expressions. "Someone please unlock this door before I have a mental breakdown," you beg, feeling the beginnings of an anxiety attack taking over your body.

The driver, just feet away sitting on a bench, searches for the keys in his jacket, finally unlocking the door for you. You climb in, slamming the door behind you.

You stumble over the front row of seats, laying down in the back away from the concerned gazes of your members and the rest of the staff. Your chest feels constricted, the air in your lungs feeling limited in supply. Tears stream down your face at the unwanted advances of an anxiety attack.

The fight with Minho paired with the building tension all day, along with the nerves for tonight's concert mixed into a deadly concoction in your brain, all too much for you to handle.

You're not left alone with your thoughts for long, the door to the van opening only minutes later. Hyunjin crawls in, shutting the door behind him.

"Hey, hey, shhh. It's ok, everything will be ok," he coos, rubbing your back. He's squeezed himself down in between the middle row of seats, his elbows resting on the armrests beside him.

"I'm sick of today," tears slide down you cheeks, your voice audibly shaking. "Everyone is being so distant and mean. What'd I do?"

"No honey, you didn't do anything. Everyone's just a little stressed for tonight. There's been some stuff circulating around online putting everyone on edge, but it'll all be fine," he reassures you, trying to roll you onto your other side so he can see your face. Your mind is too pre-occupied to register his words, letting them travel in one ear and out the other.

You allow him to turn you around, uncomfortably shifting in the small space. Your glossy eyes meet his, and he's quick to wrap you up into a tight hug, your own arms squished against his chest.

"Everyone's finishing up out there, then we're going to head to the venue a little earlier than planned. Does that sound ok?" he asks, affectionately running his fingers through your hair.

"Yea," you sniffle, pressing your face firmly into his shoulder. "I don't want to sit by Minho. Please don't make me," you cry harder at the thought.

"Alright, alright, shhh. You're only working yourself up more. You know we have to stay in our assigned vehicles, but I'm sure Seungmin and Felix will switch spots with him and Chan."

After a few more minutes of consoling from Hyunjin, everyone else has finished their photoshoots. Hyunjin leaves, but not before giving you another firm squeeze. Seungmin and Felix pile into the van first, both of them coming to sit beside you. You telepathically thank Hyunjin for asking them in passing.

Felix rests a comforting hand on your knee throughout the ride to the venue. Chan and Minho are silent, completely engrossed in their phones once again.

Once at the venue, you stay far from Minho, not wanting to deal with his negativity. You notice the security is amped up a bit compared to last tour, guards standing at every door leading to your dressing rooms. You figure it's because your band has gotten so much bigger, the Stay Family always growing exponentially.

In your dressing room, Felix occupies the chair by the mirror, your stylists brushing shades of brown and pink across his eyelids. Changbin stands nearby, the hair stylist just finishing up with a couple extra spurts of hairspray. You lay on the couch while you wait, playing Among Us with Jeongin and Hyunjin who reside in the other dressing room.

Changbin and Felix offered to go with you to your dressing room, and you gladly accepted their offer. You explained to them you didn't necessarily want to be alone; you just didn't want to be by Minho.

The stylists start to work on you once they're done with the boys. They finish your hair and makeup just in time for soundcheck, applying some last minute powder to your nose before sending you off to the stage.

Rehearsals go by smoothly. You and Minho are able to put your issues behind you for now. Your fans are so important to you, and the last thing you want to do is ruin their night because of some petty argument.

Management sends you off to the dressing rooms once again, satisfied with the quality of the soundcheck. You follow your members off stage before departing down a separate hallway in search of the bathroom.

You walk for another few seconds, taking a few random turns before your met with the door to the ladies' restroom. You do your business and take your time getting back to the dressing room as you guys don't go on for another hour. The venue your playing is beautiful, so you take a slight detour, admiring all the nice architecture.

You're startled from your peaceful thoughts once again by a furious Minho. "I cannot believe you'd go off on your own again. After all we've told you today, how could you possibly think that's ok?" he throws his hands up in disbelief, his tone snarky.

"I had to use the restroom! You guys have never had a problem with me walking around the venues by myself, why now? You have been up my ass all day. Leave me the hell alone for awhile." You push him out of the way, ramming his shoulder with your own in the tight hallway.

"Do you think this is fun for me, huh? Yelling at you all day long? Did you ever stop to think for one second that there may be something bigger going on here?" His voice sounds exhausted, leaving you slightly concerned because you still have hours of performing to do. However, your anger gets the best of you, and your concern gets pushed deep below the surface.

"Well, I'm sorry that I can't read your damn mind. If there's something bigger going on, then why hasn't anyone told me? I'm a big girl, not some toddler. I am a part of this group the same as everyone else, so why are things being kept from me?"

Minho starts to speak, but you immediately cut him off, not wanting to hear the lame excuses you're sure he's come up with. "You know what, I don't even wanna hear it. My mental health has went to shit today because of you, and if I wanna be able to perform in 30 minutes, I need to be away from you. We can talk about this later," you finish, rushing off to your dressing room, leaving Minho standing alone in the hallway.

Everyone seems to have deemed your dressing room the hangout spot until the concert officially begins, as all the other boys have gathered around, making themselves comfortable amongst the laid out furniture in the room.

You all make conversation, laughing at Changbin's cringey jokes; you're happy for the distraction, allowing your mind to wander from the fight you had with Minho.

10 minutes before you go on, management comes to fetch you to get ready, providing you all with in-ears and microphones.

Your pre-performance jitters have made themselves known, but you've been doing this long enough that you can turn that nervous energy into excitement.

5 minutes before you go on, you and the boys gather in a circle. Chan leads, knowing exactly how to get everyone hype before going on.

You're all standing now just outside of view from the fans on the side of the stage, waiting for your cue from management. Once they give it, you all make your way out onto the stage, relishing in the sounds of the screaming Stay that form the crowd.

All is going smoothly as you finish your center part during the bridge of Lalala, and you make your way to the side of the stage, waiting for the part in the song where you re-enter the choreo. With all your attenton focused on the performance, you fail to notice the commotion coming from the crowd just a few feet from you.

Your attention is pulled away from the performance when you're tackled from behind. You scream in agony and fear, having landed painfully on your wrist. If the snap you felt is anything to go by, it's definitely broken. However, this isn't your main concern at the moment. You open your eyes, and they’re immediately drawn to the shiny pocket knife the man has in his hand. He's quick to slash a small cut into your forearm before he is aggressively pushed off of you. Your attacker is taken down by security; they immediately throw a pair of handcuffs on him, taking him off stage.

The crowd has broke out into panicked cries, all of Stay wondering what happened and if you're ok.

Your members are quick to rush over to you, abandoning the remainder of the Lalala choreo. While it's felt like an eternity since you were tackled, it really only took security a few seconds to get the situation under control, and only a few more seconds for your members to surround you.

"What hurts?" Chan panics, crouching down beside you.

"My wrist," you sob, totally overwhelmed from all the commotion. The crowd is still roaring and your wrist throbbing like crazy. The cut on your arm is no comparison to the pain radiating from your wrist.

"Alright, let's move her off stage," a paramedic pushes through the barricade your members have formed around you and helps you stand to your feet. You quickly move off stage, wanting to get out of the crowd's view as soon as possible.

Once off to the side, one paramedic inspects your wrist, gently grasping your forearm to hold you steady, while another wraps the cut on your other arm.

"It definitely looks broken. We should get you to the hospital to get it X-rayed and possibly casted," he explains.

Minho steps up next to you, your earlier arguments swept from your mind. "I'll go with her. You guys finish up here. Probably should cut the setlist short anyway; we're already behind schedule."

You follow behind the paramedics, them leading you outside to the ambulance. Minho walks beside you, providing you familiarity in this uncomfortable situation.

The ride to the hospital is silent except for the beeping of the machines the paramedics have you connected to. Minho holds your unbroken hand the whole ride, your disagreements on the backburner for the moment.

The more time that passes, the sorer your body becomes. Your arms feel heavy, and your back feels like it was beaten with a hammer. You realize you've probably been in shock this whole time, and the attacker did more damage than you originally thought.

You finally find yourself in a hospital room, Minho pulling the chair up beside you.

"Well," the doctor says, pulling your X-ray up onto the screen, "This cut doesn't require stitches, just keep it bandaged and medicated. We'll give you a Tetanus shot for it, though, since it was done with a knife. As for your wrist, it's definitely broken. The good news, though, is that it doesn't look like it will require surgery. What color cast do you want?"

You're expression appears dazed to Minho and the doctor, your mind completely preoccupied. "Black," you mumble, just loud enough for him to hear you.

The doctor nods his head, disappearing from the room to retrieve the supplies to apply your cast and the shot.

You look to Minho, finally feeling like you have processed everything that's happened. "What the hell happened? How did that guy get past security, and with a knife especially?"

"Honestly, we're not sure. Management and security are reviewing the camera footage now. We were trying to be cautious; there was so much extra security tonight. It should've been impossible for anyone to get to you."

You process his words, a realization forming in your mind. "Did you guys know something about this beforehand?" Your eyebrows furrow. If they knew something, they for sure would have told you, too, right? "Is this what you were talking about in the hallway before the concert?"

"Y/N," he sighs, giving you a look full of remorse.

"No. I don't want any bullshit," you snap, "Did you or did you not know something was wrong before the concert? Is that why you have been giving me a hard time all day?" You start to put the puzzle pieces together, the day replaying in your head.

The overprotectiveness, the extra security, them not wanting you to go on your phone- they knew.

Minho looks to the ground, his shoulders slumping. "Look, we find out about some rumors going around online this morning, but-"

"Get out," you say, your voice tense.

His head snaps up, his remorseful eyes meeting your fiery ones. "What?"

"I said, Get. Out." Your unbroken hand aggressively points to the door.

"I'm not leaving you here alone. Let's just talk about this-"

"You had all day to talk to me about this, but now that I'm injured and traumatized you want to talk about it?" Your incredibly angry, and your words are filled with venom. "Get out, get out, get out!"

"Do you really think it's the best idea to be by yourself right now?" His eyes are filled with sorrow, his hands in dire need to reach out to you.

"If you don't leave right now, I will scream."

His watchful gaze rests on you for a couple seconds, before he finally gives in, rising to his feet. He walks toward the door. "We'll send a car to come get you when you're ready. There's security out here waiting, and your manager is out in the hall. I'll see you when you get back to the hotel."

He disappears out the door, once again leaving you alone with your thoughts. How dare they not tell you? There are threats going around online about you, and you're the last one they tell? In what world does that make any sense?

The doctor comes back in the room just a few minutes later. He's quick with putting your cast on, and he sends you on your way, requesting you stop by the front desk to sign a few documents before you go.

You follow him out the door, meeting up with your manager and security right outside the room.

After signing the paperwork, your manager leads you outside to the car that has been called for you.

Fans must've found out which hotel they took to you, and the outside of the hotel is flooded with Stay. Normally, you'd be ecstatic to see so many of them. However, you're exhausted and hurt, so you bring your hood over your head and stare at the ground, thankful for the security that surrounds you.

You climb in the back of the car, your manager following suit. "Why was I not informed about the threats online?" you question, your eyebrows furrowing in anger.

"The concert was going to go on no matter what, so we figured it'd be easier to get you out there if you didn't know about them."

Your jaw drops at her statement. "That is not fair, how can you just assume that? I had a right to know about this," you argue.

"This isn't really up for discussion. It's the way we chose to handle it, and that's that."

You're in disbelief at her careless attitude. "How did the guys find out about it then?"

"Nosy little shits," she laughs, but you're not sure how she's finding any humor in this situation. "They saw them online themselves. We practically had to threaten their contracts to get them not to tell you."

Your heart constricts at this new information. Emotions flood your system, and you're suddenly feeling incredibly guilty for your interaction with Minho in the hospital room. All the arguments between the two of you flood your mind, and remorse rushes your body.

They have just been trying to keep you safe all day. Trying to keep you off your phone, not letting you wander by yourself, the whispers behind your back. It all makes sense now. And you realize you've been a royal bitch all day to the wrong people.

You turn to look out the window for the remainder of the drive, knowing it's useless to argue with your manager. What she says goes. This doesn't mean you're not angry with her and the rest of management, though. This conversation needs to be had in a professional setting, not in the backseat of a car when you're by yourself.

Once you arrive at the hotel, your quick to jump out of the car, wanting to be away from your careless manager. However, you stand directly outside the door, patiently waiting for security to escort you to your room.

They walk you all the way up to your shared room with Seungmin, and you're not surprised to find all of them waiting for you when you open the door.

They're conversations halt, all eyes snapping to you. You walk in and set your bag down on the bed. Your eyes well up with tears for what feels like the hundredth time that day. "I'm so sorry," you cry, afraid to meet their concerned gazes. "Today has just been so overwhelming, and my manager sucks, and my back hurts, and I have been so rude to you guys all day-," your words are cut short by another sob wracking through your sore body. You sniffle some more, bringing your sleeve up to wipe at your face. "Min, I'm so sorry for kicking you out. I should've just listened to what you had to say. I'm such a horrible person."

All the guys are quick to stand, not wanting you to rile yourself up anymore. Hyunjin comes over to you first, gently guiding you to sit on the bed. Everyone else follows, all of you now gathered on the queen sized bed. "Listen," Minho starts, comforting you, "Absolutely none of this is your fault, you hear?" He pulls you down next to him, his arm coming up around your shoulders. "Today has been an awful day, and you don't need to work yourself up about how you treated us."

"Yea, but-"

"No buts, you need to rest. We are not mad at you."

"Not one bit. We love you so much, and we're so sorry you had to go through that. Are you ok? How's your wrist?" Chan asks from the edge of the bed, placing a comforting hand on your ankle.

"It hurts, but the doctor gave me some painkillers to take for the next few days. My cut didn't need stitches, but I have to keep it bandaged until it heals," you explain, your words coming out steadier than before.

Your cries eventually calm down, leaving you sniffling every now and again. Felix notices you've calmed down, and he nudges your leg, opening his arms for you. You crawl into them, relaxing into his calm and comforting embrace. The rest of them are quick to follow, creating one big group hug.

You know this situation is certainly not over. I'm sure you guys will press charges, and you'll probably have to release a statement of some kind. It seems that management and you guys have come to a silent agreement to deal with everything in the morning, and you couldn’t be more grateful for it.

~ ~ ~

Part 2

[itsagoodluckkiss]

Hi, I wanted to make a request about Luffy x female reader. The reader is feminine but clumsy, emotionally-reserved, unexperienced and kind-hearted. Smart and funny, with a soft spot for Luffy. . As for the plot, "she fell first, but he fell harder", slice of life with a little angst would be perfect. I'm desperate for fanfiction about first experience in everything kinda stuff. I'm not a minor, so it would be very good to see some sensual and awkward smut. I would be glad to read anything you'll write about Luffy x female!reader and I hope that you liked my request (^o^)/ sorry for bad english

It's Okay ~ Luffy x F!Reader

First of all, thank you for being my first request, you made me really happy and I'm really sorry for the really long wait, we had a really rough couple of months. Also, it's the first smut I've ever written so read this with patience. English is not my first language either and I'm sorry for any mistakes. Anyways, I had fun writing this, I hope you'll like it, lots of love!

Words: +3k

Warnings: hurt/comfort, op spoilers, ptsd, mentions of character death, comfort sex, smut with plot, oral (f!receiving), virginity loss (both), unprotected sex, cockwarming, fluffy ending kinda?, no use of Y/N

MDNI

Quiet days on The Thousand Sunny were as rare as mythical zoans. Not only because of dangerous encounters but also because of how calm the whole crew was today. Even your walking ray of sunshine captain was not as wild as usual. But you couldn’t really complain as you could focus on your task in silence.

The tailor of the crew, responsible of sewing, stitching and mending every piece of fabric on the ship. And that included the sails. Strong winds the night before managed a large tear and the next island was a couple of days away. So you had a job to do. Standing on a rope ladder, you effortlessly worked through the sails with elegance. Every piece of fabric in your home deserved care, as you’d always say when you mended the torn up clothes of your crew mates.

You were proud you could provide your family with loved and cared clothes and everything else they needed, top priority along with the dream of becoming the best tailor the seas had ever seen. Your mind wandered away to the smile of your captain every time you placed the fixed straw hat you came to love so much on his head, while you automatically repaired the sail. But your gracefulness started and ended at the needle in your hand.

Looking away into the sea for one second resulted in you prickling your finger. The sudden feeling caused you to lose your step and balance and you yelped as you fell from the ladder, expecting a hard fall and a trip to Chopper’s infirmary. But the land never came, arms wrapping around your frame, drawing you to somebody’s embrace. In fear, you wrapped yourself around your savior’s waist like a koala, your flower patterned dress coming up slightly. Your face went to the crook of his neck for one second, immediately recognizing who it was, and you raised your head to look at him in embarrassment.

“Hi there!”

“Luffy, thank you, I’m so sorry!”

“It’s alright. Was on my way to check if you needed help. Guess I was right.” he said laughing.

You smiled and hugged him tightly as he put you down on the deck. You were embarrassed, part of it because of your own clumsiness, another part because of the way Luffy’s hands lingered on your waist before letting you go.

“Are you almost done? Picked up a new card game from the last island and I want to play with you.”

“Oh, ah, I, I still have some, some work to do...?”

You didn’t. You also didn’t know why you said that. You said a lot of stupid stuff lately. You loved spending time with your captain, especially when you knew there wouldn’t be a crazy fight following you in a few hours. Falling in love with his brown eyes, his goofy and brave personality and his loyalty to his friends was the reason you said yes to joining the Straw Hats after you helped them save Robin in Ennies Lobby.

But ever since you returned to Sabaody, it’s gotten harder to contain the feelings for your first love. The other night while you two were keeping watch and talking about things you loved, an “I love you” escaped your lips without thinking, proceeding to an inept attempt to cover it by saying how you loved he is such a loyal friend. You felt the blush rushing to your cheeks as you looked again on his face and noticed something you were seeing more and more these days. His trademark smile was reduced to a small upward line and in his eyes there was a gleam of sadness. You couldn’t have that.

“It’s fine, I’ll see you around later I guess-”

“On another note, I can always finish it later. Let’s go play, Captain!”

And you grabbed his arm, running like a child playing chase across the deck toward Nami’s tangerine trees, laughing as you tripped on your two left feet, Luffy holding you upwards and laughing in the process, always there to catch you.

~

The ship was in motion, light rain falling from the night sky as Luffy found himself walking aimlessly on the empty deck. His black hair tousled, his straw hat dangling from the string around his neck, his posture slumped, trying to find some sort of relief in the breeze that hit his face. His trembling hands grip the railing, his gaze lost towards the vast ocean, unable to back focus on anything but his most recent nightmare. Memories of Ace's death spreading, like poison in his veins, once again. He tried to steady his breathing but failed as hot tears run down his cheeks, silent sobs leaving his body, trying not to wake up his crew. He hadn’t talked to anyone about Marineford. There was no reason for his friends to see him in that weakened state. He could tell that everyone felt guilty because they weren’t there for him, he didn’t want to feed that ugly feeling inside them.

You felt restless, worry prickling your skin like a hundred needles at once. Sleep wouldn’t do you a favor so you hoped off bed to get some fresh air on the deck and some moments of peace to think. Luffy’s sad eyes lingered in your thoughts. You couldn’t help but think about how much he had changed since you first met. You remembered the scrawny, eager, brave boy he was. Now his hair was longer and spikier, and he looked stronger than ever before, he was almost a man. Despite his carefree looks, a lot had changed about him. Yes, he was still as eager and resilient and determinated as ever, yet more mature, as much as maturity applied to him. And that big scar across his chest was the only testament of the fight he gave alone two years ago, as he hadn't talked to any of you about it. Not that he had to. You all knew you would wholeheartedly give him the support in any form he’d need. You’d do what you knew best. Take care of the people you loved. And from the moment you joined the crew, you knew your heart belonged to the straw hat captain.

You spotted Luffy in the front of the ship. It was unusual for him to be up and alone this late at night. Your eyes filled with concern, you walked closer to him as you noticed the trembling in his form, worry rising in your chest. Your hand caressing his shoulder slightly, you didn’t want to scare him or make him feel worse.

"Luffy?" you asked softly, voice barely audible over the wind.

Luffy wiped his tear streaked face quickly and tried to control his heavy breathing, wanting to be like his usual self, even if he knew it was too late for acting.

“I…”

He took a deep breath trying to hold it all in. He was the one that was supposed to help people through their crying and problems, to protect them. He couldn’t protect his friends in Sabaody, he couldn’t save his brother. He swore he’d never let anything like those things happen again. He didn’t want to be seen as weak. Not again. Not in front of his crew. Not in front of you.

“It’s okay, Luffy.”

His eyes met yours, a warm and safe gaze, always inviting and full of love, ready to be a place of comfort and joy to anyone that needed it. You wrapped your arms around his shoulder and back, taking him in a comforting embrace. His arms went immediately around you, his face buried in the crook of your neck as silent sobs left him once again. He hugged you tightly, hyperventilating as he let every last feeling of grief and pain out. You felt your eyes well too, the pain your favorite person carried alone enough to make you want to scream.

“It’s okay… you’re okay… it wasn’t your fault…”

“I couldn’t… I thought you… were all dead… and… I was right there… I couldn’t save him… he left… in my arms… it should have been me!”

Your heart ached listening to Luffy's sobs, tears running down your face as well. You pulled back slightly, cupping his face in your hands, and looked into his red, puffy eyes.

“Listen to me! Don’t say that again, ever! We all know you’d never let us down. You did everything you could, Luffy, you always do, and it’s enough for us." You said, voice shaking, carrying all the sincerity in the world. "And you always were there for him. You gave everything you had! He loved you so much and you saved him because you showed him how loved and cherished he was! You're still doing everything you can to keep his memory alive. That's what he would want! Don’t do this to yourself, please.”

You wiped the tears off his face and squeezed his cheeks like you usually did when you shared food and laughs together, managing to drag out a small smile from the boy.

“How about we go grab some tea and biscuits from the kitchen before Sanji comes down from his watch and go to my room?” you suggested, knowing Luffy would never say no to food.

“It’s on!”

Stealth wasn’t your strongest suit as you somehow always managed to hit on something. And with Luffy beside you, havoc was almost always certain. Getting out of the kitchen as fast as you could, before Sanji’s yells could reach you, you run into the ship, down to your handicraft’s room. The warmth of the cabin enveloped Luffy, feeling a little more like his usual self now, as he took in the room. That’s were all your great works laid, with needles, threads and sewing machines all over the place. From clothes and blankets to large embroideries hanging from the walls. You laid a soft, fluffy blanket on the ground to sit on. You sipped your scolding tea as Luffy munched on a cookie, taking in your works.

“I don’t know how you can make beautiful things like these.”

“I’ve practiced it a lot. And I love it. I’m glad you like it, Captain.”

You smiled widely, gaining a toothy grin from him.

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For always being here.”

You were thinking your next words for a moment before moving the cups and plate from the blanket, taking his shoulders gently as you both laid on the ground, your eyes looking at each other, taking his hand into yours.

“It's alright to not be fine, you know… I'll always be here for you, no matter what.”

“It’s… I’m not thinking about it most of the time… I just have nightmares… it’s hard sometimes.”

“And that’s completely logical, Luffy, you’ve been through hell! I collapsed when I heard the news and couldn’t be with you. I would have run to you if I could. I love you so much and I’m sorry I wasn’t there and…”

You were the one tearing up now, cheeks red from embarrassment as the words slipped through your mouth without thinking. You knew Luffy would be shattered when you heard about Ace. The only thing you wanted was to hug him until you pulled all his pieces back together. He met your gaze. Luffy was never interested in romance. He didn’t thought he needed it. Until he met you and for the first time, he wanted someone to join his crew not only because he wanted them as a friend and they’d be a great addition, but because he felt something different, something he couldn’t quite understand. The only thing he knew was that he loved you a little differently than the rest of his friends. It was his turn to brush the tears off your face now and you melted from his touch. You tried to speak but before you could, his hand, warm and slightly trembling, cup your cheek. His lips pressed into yours, just for a moment, before drawing back only inches from your face.

“I think I love you too.”

Your eyes widened in surprise, heart pounding against your ribs. Never had you thought you’d hear those words from Luffy. Of course, you knew he loved everyone in the crew, but this felt different. You felt like you would burst into flames as you blushed even more.

“You, you do?!”

“Yeah… you’re sweet and strong… always by my side… you’re very important to me…”

You let out a gasp of surprise as you hugged him tightly and crushed your lips into his clumsily, both of you laughing at your enthusiasm. Small, sweet kisses evolved into longer, more passionately ones and soon you were underneath him, his hands caressing your thigh beneath your dress, your hands slowly pushing his vest off of him.

“Are you okay?”

“I am, you?”

“Me too.”

Soon, your clothes landed somewhere else in the room as you felt him caressing your skin everywhere and you gasped into the kiss, him taking advantage of your parted lips to push his tongue into your mouth, tangling it messily with yours. His lips travelled down your neck and lower, soon to be between your legs. A feeling of self-consciousness crept over you as you closed your legs and he smiled up at you as he caressed your thigh.

“Hey, it’s okay, we can stop if you want.”

“No, I want this, I’ve just… never do this before…”

“Neither do I. We’ll find it together. But I want you to be comfortable. You can stop me if you don’t feel okay.”

You smile down at him and relaxed a bit, allowing him to spread your legs and start kissing the inside of your thighs. It felt so good to share another experience with him, and his touch was gentler than you thought it would be. He positioned your thighs on his shoulders and before you could react, his mouth was on you, his tongue licking a stripe before latching onto your clit. Your head fell back immediately as a choked out moan slipped through your mouth, one hand flying to his hair, pulling on his locks gently as the other grasped the blanket beneath you. His eyes were on you, his look was magnetic and focused on the task of making you feel good. A finger circling your tight hole, it pushed inside you slowly as he sucked on your clit, making you whimper from the pleasurable feeling. The stretching inside you new and welcomed, a combination of his mouth and a second finger breaching in has your orgasm approaching faster than you expected. He curled his fingers upwards, hitting repeatedly a spot you had never reached before on your own and it pushed you over the edge unexpectedly. He smiles against you as small moans left your mouth, your whole body shaking, your head spinning.

Coming down from your high, he crawls back on top of you and kisses you passionately, your tongues intertwining. You can taste yourself through the kiss, and it makes you long for more. He breaks the kiss and smiles down at you.

“How was that?”

“Luffy, it was… amazing. How did you know-”

“Didn’t. Just did what felt right. Are you okay to continue?”

You nodded eagerly and he grinned at you, his lips back on yours again. Your hand sneaks between your bodies to grab his dick, gently pumping him up and down, bringing him close to your folds. He moans into the kiss and swats your hand away, gliding himself between your now soaked pussy, his tip touching your clit every time, sending small jolts of pleasure down your spine. He breaks the kiss, his face only inches apart from yours, staring into your eyes.

“You’re sure?”, he whispered.

“Yes captain, please…”

A shiver run through his body as he hears your plead, and he moves his tip against your entrance, pushing in. A small gasp escape you and a sharp hiss leaves his mouth as he slowly slides into you, his movements awkward but gentle, the feeling of your warmth around him making him slightly tremble as he bottoms out. It felt slightly uncomfortable for you at first but the pain you expected to feel was nowhere to be found. His lips were on your neck, nibbling and sucking gently while his arms roamed your body, trying to make you relax as he stayed still, waiting for you to adjust to him. A few moments passed and your hand cupped his chin, bringing his lips to yours in a sweet kiss.

“Feels better now?”

“Yes, Luffy… please, move…”

He smiled down at you and placed another soft kiss on your lips as he began to move, taking it slow and tender, setting a rhythm that made you gasp, the pleasure spreading over you. One of his hands on yours, intertwining your fingers as the other grabbed your thigh to keep you against him, his forehead on yours, eyes closed as you both relished the feeling of your bodies pressed together. His speed picked up slightly as he finds a steady rhythm and you moan his name, your legs wrapping around his waist to keep him close. He smiles widely and kisses you deeply, his tongue exploring your mouth, your fingers running through his hair, gently tugging at his dark locks.

One hand gripped your thigh rougher now, pushing it upwards, the shift in position allowing him to go deeper, the other sneaking between your bodies to rub at your clit. Your face buries in the crook of his neck, trying to choke down your moans, the knot in your stomach tightening as his thrusts grow faster and sloppier, you feel that he’s close too.

Your lips connect again in a messy kiss and your back arches as you come undone, crying out through the kiss, your nails dragging down his back. He breaks the kiss, his lips trailing down your jaw and neck, his hands grab your hips to drag you to him as he fucks you through your high, his hips stuttering, feeling your walls squeezing him tight, pushing him over the edge with you.

You stay like this for a while, hands wrapped around each other, his face buried in the crook of your neck, savoring the moment. He places a tender kiss on your cheek and turns to face you, his head on your shoulder.

“How do you feel?”

“I feel… wonderful…” you say with a sigh as you smile up at him. His hand caressing you cheek, he placed another sweet kiss before stretching his hand to grab another blanket nearby, covering the both of you. He then lies flat on top of you again, his arms wrapping around you, and closes his eyes, still inside you.

“Luff, we…”

“Can’t move, I feel snuggly right now.”

You laugh softly as you hug him back, feeling his breath slow down as he slowly falls asleep, your eyelids getting heavy as well, a content smile playing on your lips.

“Goodnight dummy…”

[azriels-human]

In Your Dreams: I ☁️🌙☁️

Azriel x Reader

A/n: Okay this is my first time writing in years but Az is Bringing me out of retirement. Opinions and ideas are always appreciated. Enjoyy😌

Summary: Az isn’t very fond of the newest member of the Night Court so much so that you even plague his dreams.

Warnings: This is a smut series. MDNI

part II

Song inspo:

“Az, you’re back!” Cassian’s booming voice probably alerts everyone in The House of Wind of his arrival just as Azriel touches down on the balcony.

Az can’t help the small smile directed at his brother. After being away on a mission for days, he appreciated Cassian’s loudness, it means home, comfort, relaxation-

Or so he thought until his eyes land on you, lounging on a sofa, book in hand but your empty eyes set on his own.

His smile instantly vanishes, replaced by a displeased glance before turning away.

Azriel cannot stand you. The newest member, a pick pocket from the Hewn City turned spy pupil for The Night Court. A dark presence that made him physically ill.

It’s no surprise you’re sat in the far corner of the room. Azriel hasn’t seen you speak to anyone beside Rhysand since your arrival. Even then, it was only about the minuscule missions he’d been sending you on the last 3 months.

Azriel simply nods at Cassian and Nesta. Words failing him as that illness returns deep in the pit of his stomach.

He can feel your uncanny gaze still focused on him, despite his obvious distaste for you. He knows that is precisely why you do it too.

Gods, you are the bane of his existence.

With a slight twitch of the brow, Az makes his way toward Rhysand’s study ready to give him yet another ear full about you.

How Rhys had even given you a position is beyond Azriel considering you were a straight up criminal.

Azriel had been on a mission in the slums of the Hewn City, the worst part, in fact. A part so small and forgotten that crimes are a first nature.

He just found the information he’d been looking for and his mood was nothing less than happy knowing he’d be back home soon.

That was until a cloaked figure had bumped him and continued on their way.

Naturally being in a more poor part of the city, Azriel pats his left hip making sure none of his weapons or money had been swiped. But they hadn’t.

It isn’t until he brings his left hand to move his own cloak and double check that he realizes his siphon is gone.

“How the fuck…” Azriel hasn’t been caught off guard like this in a long while. How could they swipe a stone embedded in his leathers without him feeling a thing?

Azriel wasted no time looking over the crowd to find the grey tattered cloak gracefully zipping through the crowd.

He follows just a swiftly. His eyes glued to the figure as he maneuvers past on goers.

The thief, as if sensing him, looks back for half a second before darting through the crowd, ducking and jumping over items and people. Still managing to move past them without bumping into anyone.

Az mutters a breathy, “Asshole” when he takes note of that.

At this point Azriel begins to push past the crowd. He can’t let them leave with it. Something that valuable, not just on market but to himself personally, will not fall into some slick criminals hands.

Just as they are about to round the corner Azriel sends his shadows in a silent command to detain the culprit. The shadows weave through the crowd even more speedy and graceful, wrapping around the hooded figure and yanking them back.

Their back hits the ground with an ‘oomf’ before they quickly try freeing themselves from the shadows constraints.

Azriel grabs their collar in one hand, lifting them up and bringing them to his eye level. The other hand snatching back the hood of the cloak.

He nearly gasps upon laying eyes on you. The bewitching darkness in your eyes bore into his, reaching for his soul as if you’d take it right from him.

Taking advantage of his perplexed state you kicked him in the stomach causing him to let go and his shadows to withdraw.

Azriel groans holding his middle and coughing once, twice.

You don’t hesitate to run down the empty alley but Azriel is quick to snap back.

You don’t make it half way through when he winnows in front of you. You slam into his chest and fall again, mud splattering the two of you. Azriel’s shadows bind your wrists above your head as he straddles your thighs.

You thrash beneath him, growling and clawing. His hands scanning over your arms, sides and hips until he felt the bulge of it settled on your hip…beneath the waistband of your pants.

He looks up at you, amusement dancing behind your wicked eyes as if he were being tested, ‘a will he, won’t he?’

His eyes flicker from yours to your somewhat now exposed navel. He can’t just…reach in there.

But he can’t just let you have it. He wouldn’t be wrong to take back what is his.

He scoffs, reaching under your waistband and pulling up a belt with a pocket attached causing you shriek almost inaudibly.

Azriel pulls the dull blue siphon from the pocket and looks back at you. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t half amused himself.

A strange girl from the slums of the Hewn City stealing his siphon and testing his honor as a male.

Though he is not crazy enough to indulge the amusement. You are a thief. Not just a common thief but a a thief able to pick a very valuable possession off of a very cautious male.

“What is your name?” Azriel asks still hovering over you.

You only glare back.

“I asked what your name is.” Azriel grows impatient above you but you do not respond.

It could have been over. He could have let you go and steal from some other fool who wouldn’t notice but…he didn’t want to. Perhaps your crime against him was too personal and punishment seemed fit.

“Get up.” Azriel roughly pulls you to your feet, shadows still binding your wrists. Your struggles are deemed futile when he whisks you away to his High Lord.

Azriel all but stomps into Rhys study, shutting the door behind him. “Your newest addition has a staring problem.”

Rhysand looks up from his notes to see his irritated brother throw himself into the seat across from him. “What happened to ‘hello’ ‘how are you’?”

Azriel sighs. “Rhys.”

Rhys leans back in his seat, a smirk on his lips. “What harm is a bit of staring? Maybe she likes what she sees.”

“Please.” Azriel rolls his eyes. “She likes nothing and no one.”

Rhys shrugs. “She’s not so bad, Az. You’re just pissed she was able to pick something off of you.”

“I’m pissed that you gave her a job instead of consequences.”

“How couldn’t I? I’d rather have someone that can out sneak my spy master on my side.” Rhysand teases.

“She did not ‘out sneak’ me. Her methods were textbook. Not sneaky at all.” Azriel grumbles his blatant lies. He knows not just any theif, not even an exceptional one, could do what you did.

Rhysand chuckles. “Whatever you say, brother.” He clears his throat. “I assume you found the shop?”

Azriel shakes his head. “I did not but I heard rumors of where it will turn up next.”

Rhys had assigned him a rather odd case, a book of lethal potions stolen from a temple in the Hewn City by a traveling shop now supplying those lethal drugs. Reports saying it makes users hyper aware, a party drug when used correctly but as expected there are those who abuse it, turning them aggressive and eventually killing them when too much is consumed. Azriel has spent the last week trying to track the shop down with nothing to show for it until today.

“Where?”

Azriel’s jaw tightens. “Coincidentally, in two days it will be in the same part of town…she…is from.”

Rhys chuckles at his brother’s pettiness once again. “She must really get under your skin with her staring.”

Azriel shakes his head, “Rhys, I’m telling you there is something off about her.”

“She’s been here for 3 months without incident. What do you suppose she will do?” Rhy asks entertaining the idea purely for the amusement of seeing a riled up Azriel.

“Steal. Spy. Hells for all we know she could be plotting everyone’s death.”

“Well, then I guess I should fear for your life when she accompanies you on your assignment?” Rhysand lifts a brow in mock questioning.

“Absolutely not. She will not be accompanying me anywhere…ever.” Azriel laughs at the notion.

“She knows her way around, she is successful in her missions and you need to get over your bruised ego and get along with her. She is supposed to be your pupil.”

Azriel shakes his head but before he can deny his High Lord, Rhysand continues.

“You will be taking her with you to retrieve the book and shut it down. That’s final.” Rhysand crosses his arms.

Azriel hesitantes but ultimately nods, dreading the thought of having to spend any amount of time near you.

.☁️🌙☁️.

Azriel is sat in the lounge, a book in one hand and a glass of scotch in the other. His eyes read over the page for the millionth time before he slams it shut and rubs his temple.

Sleep had evaded him, unable to stop thinking of this damned mission he has to take you on. At the fact that he must push away the alarms going off in his entire being when you are around.

Azriel knows something is wrong with you. It’s your expressionless gaze, the eerie aura that follows you and the stillness of your existence, even just standing around you’re still as a statue. You’re like a ghost. His own personal poltergeist.

As if on cue, he shadows curl up his neck whispering of your presence.

His stomach drops. He’d be damned if he had to endure you anymore than he has to.

Just as he retreats into the shadows in the corner of the den, you glide straight past the room entirely. Not even peaking into the only lit room of the house.

He knows it’s ridiculous but it irked him that you didn’t even look. Had you no curiosity either? And if you aren’t coming to the den, where are you going?

Regardless, he definitely isn’t going to find out. He has no intention of being anywhere near you. He wouldn’t subject himself to that.

…

But he wants to know. What if you had some secret hobby or routine? Something that made you…a person.

Why should that matter to him!? He doesn’t give two shits about what you do. His own curiosity only further proves how offbeat you are. He certainly will not follow you and he definitely won’t care what you are doing.

…

But what if you were up to no good? What if you were stealing from the High Lord every night after he goes to sleep?

Now that he can’t allow.

Azriel emerges from the shadows, peaking out from the door frame to find you at the end of the hallway. You enter the library and shut the door closed behind you.

He slips through the hallway and into the library, careful not to make a sound.

The empty library felt cold in your wake though there was no sign of you. You weren’t sitting on the sofas or searching for a book. There is only silence in his company.

Azriel strides through each row of bookcases lined throughout the room to no avail.

And now you’ve even disappeared like a ghost.

A beam of light enters at the back of the room earning his attention. The balcony.

Azriel stealthily crosses the room, concealing himself behind the bookcase closest to the balcony.

There you were. Sitting on the marble bench, staring up at the sky. Not causing any trouble.

Well, he has his answer, he can leave. He can go about his sleepless night.

But once again he did not want to, despite those alarms going off and the growing pit deep down. He couldn’t bring himself to move.

So he didn’t for a very long time.

He only watches your ominously still figure watching the sky. You do not look away or blink or breathe it seems. Not even a twitch of the fingers.

You just cannot be of this world.

“Azriel.” You call softly.

His heart drops into the swirling void in his stomach as chills sweep across his skin and the hairs of his arm stand.

You’d sensed him there. For how long? Though he doesn’t care what you think of him, he did not need you telling anyone he’s some stalker creep.

“You can come out.”

Azriel contemplates. He can leave as he should have done an hour ago but you already know he is here. Then again, maybe if he leaves you’ll think you were mistaken.

All of those options fly out of the door when you look back, directly at him.

He winces at his lack of options and being caught. How did you even know? He’s the fucking spy master and now he can’t even hide from you?

Azriel lets out a deep exhale, not even realizing he’d been holding his breath before coming out into your full view.

You look right into his eyes as he approaches you. Each step feels like a crushing weight as he struggles to maintain his composure.

“What are you doing out here?” Azriel asks firmly, not a shred of friendliness behind the words.

You only look back to the sky.

Were you ignoring him now? After telling him to come out?

Irritation begins to fill the void in him. The audacity. HE is the one ignoring YOU.

“What are you doing out here.” A command rather than question this time.

You subtly shrug.

Azriel rolls his eyes.

For a while the two of you are silent. What is he even supposed to say to you? You are the one that called him out here.

He isn’t surprised that you hardly speak but that doesn’t change the fact that it is annoying.

“You don’t speak much.” Azriel states plainly wanting to escape the awkward, silent tension.

“That’s your perception.” You match his blunt tone provoking his wonder. How could it be his perception when you don’t speak to anyone?

“I haven’t seen within 10 feet of anyone here.”

“That’s because you disappear anytime I’m in the same room as you.”

Azriel didn’t know what to make of your straight forwardness. Though he tends to speak directly himself, he’s not fond of such attitude. But coming from you, it seems fitting. “Perhaps I simply don’t enjoy your company.”

“Curious.” You look at him, standing up and making your way back into the library. “No male has ever complained about my company.”

Azriel follows close behind, watching your every poised step.

“As a matter of fact I’ve been told I’m quite the pleasure to be around.” You glance over your shoulder. That familiar sinister delight returning to your eyes, the same look you gave him when he realized where it is you held his siphon.

Azriel nearly trips on over his own two feet. The void beginning to whirl again. He cursed himself for needed to clear his throat. “Is that so?”

You stop abruptly and pivot on your feet, coming face to chest and tilting your head back to look up at him. His stomach leaps at the sudden proximity and your intense stare. He steps back.

“With my bright and bubbling personality, how could they not?” You raise a brow.

Azriel didn’t know if it was relief from the cut tension or the actual joke or both but he lets out a breathy chuckle.

“Not to mention my breasts and ass.”

Azriel’s shock couldn’t have been anymore evident. His lips part unable to form a single word, not that his brain could form a single thought.

Azriel hadn’t thought of you in any way other than suspicion but now, standing before him, he can’t help but notice your deadly beauty. The enthralling darkness dancing behind your eyes and those plump pink lips. The thin strapped shirt clinging to your ample breasts. The outline of your peaked nipples. The perfect angle he has of your soft cleavage.

“That was also a joke.” You clarify and turn on your heel continuing towards the door. “Kind of.”

It most certainly was not a joke.

The loose shorts gripping your waist do nothing to hide the outline of your backside. Each step you take further away from him only giving him a better view of the swish of your hips and the bounce of your ass.

“Goodnight, Spy Master.” You bid farewell without so much as a glance back.

.☁️🌙☁️.

Azriel couldn’t stop thinking of you, yet now it’s in whole different light. He would have never thought you to be so vulgar, in a cruel way maybe but not in a humorous way.

You’re so quiet and reserved and unsettling. He didn’t think you capable of making a joke, let alone a sexual one.

He couldn’t deny that it is a rather riveting piece of information. He should have known when you all but challenged him to reach into your pants a few month ago.

The memory of your tits sitting nice and pretty, your waist and full hips, your ass, all flood his mind.

Lying in his bed, Azriel turns onto his back, shaking the thoughts from his head.

He needs sleep. And he needs it now.

.☁️🌙☁️.

Exhaustion cannot begin to describe what Azriel felt. He needed not just to rest but recharge, and there is nothing better than laying down after a hard days work.

After what felt like forever he finally reaches his bedroom, twisting the nob and shutting the door behind him. He sighs, shutting his eyes and resting his head against the door.

“Azriel.” You call just as softly as you had earlier in the night.

Azriel whips around to find you sat on the center on his bed, feet under you and hands politely placed on your knees, as if you’d been waiting for him.

Azriel scans the room. Possibly a prank brought on by Rhysand but it’s only you in here.

“What are you doing in here?” Azriel hisses, sending a vicious sneer in your direction. And he thought ignoring him was the hight of your audacity but to enter his private quarters at such late hours?

“I haven’t been on my best behavior, have I.” You tilt your head to the side, feigning innocence.

Azriel’s brow pinches. “What?”

“I’ve displeased you in some way.” You slowly stand from his bed. “I can’t have that.”

Azriel swallows hard as you inch closer with every word. “After all, I am a pleasure to be around.”

Azriel can only watch. Your shorts doing little to hide your exposed legs and soft thighs. That fucking shirt hiding your tight nipples.

You come to halt with only centimeters between you, looking up at him with that deceptively virtuous gaze.

He could smell you. An intoxicating scent of amber and jasmine. Like a garden in the fall.

Azriel’s heart thunders in his chest. Not fast but hard. He was sure not only you but everyone in the house could feel it. His whole being pulses with each thump as you reach for his chest.

“Let me be a pleasure.” Your delicate fingers just barely touches his chest, drawing a line down his chest. Then lower. And lower. And lower-

Azriels eyes widen as he snatches your hand in his. His chest heaving, trying to gulp down the air that slips away from him. You, however, seem un phased, eager, if anything. “W-what do you think you’re doing?”

The scent of his own arousal permeates the air he desperately tries to breathe.

With half lidded eyes and a slight pout of your lips, you take your wrist from his loose grip and place your palm over the back of his hand, brining it up to your cheek and leaning into it.

Azriel’s blood turns cold at how tender your touch is, gentle as the embrace of death. Your skin warms his palm as you drag his hand down the side of your neck painfully slow, his thumb tracing the column of your throat.

Gods, he wanted to bite it. To latch himself onto that spot. If it was possible to envy one’s own hand, he’d turn green.

“I see how you look at me.” Your voice low and sultry. “You despise me.”

You move his hand down your collar bone, to your chest, settling between your breast. Something deep inside Azriel twists and knots, his cold blood turns hot as it rushes into his pants.

“Let me fix it.” You groan, trailing his hand further down to your stomach. “Let me show you…”

Azriel bites the inside of his cheek to keep his own sounds at bay. His brows pinch together at the sight of you. The rise and fall of your swollen, flushed breasts. Your bottom lip trapped between your teeth and the look of pure carnal desire.

“…just how much of a pleasure I can be.” You whisper breathlessly when you lead his scared hand beneath the waistband of your shorts.

Azriel chokes back a guttural groan when his fingers reach the slick folds of your cunt. Looking into his eyes with a feral hunger, you guide his fingers in sensual circles around your most sensitive spot. Hushed whines hum from your chest, purring at his governed touch.

His middle finger twitches against your clit, testing for himself. You respond with a low moan.

Azriel’s eyes flutter shut trying to reason with himself.

This was wrong. So fucking wrong. Azriel can’t even stand the sight of you yet here he is with his hands down your pants for the second time, and he felt just as he had the first time, he wanted to ruin you.

Another flick of his fingers causes you to throw your head back.

Azriel growls. A fire ignites in his chest, coursing through every nerve of his body as he gives in to you.

His fingers take a course of their own, rubbing your center with fervor. A noise somewhere between a yelp and moan escape your parted lips. You grabbing onto his arms to steady yourself as pleasure over takes you.

“Fuck, you’re dripping.” Azriel leans forward to whisper in your ear. His warm breath tickling your skin as he asks, “Who made you this wet?”

You only moan, digging your hands into his bicep.

Still massaging your clit, he brings his free hand to strike the fat of your ass earning a very loud moan.

“Tell me.”

“You!” The stinging sensation mixes with your pleasure, encouraging you further. “You made me this fucking wet.”

Azriel hums, gripping your hair and tilting your head back. “Mhm. Keep being a good girl and I’ll forgive you.”

His attacks your neck, teeth clamping down hard in what he knows will scar but he didn’t care. He wanted you marked. Proof that he could take control, even over someone with such a silent attitude as yours.

You hold back a scream. As much as it hurt, he knows you like it. “Dont hold back. I want to hear the pretty noises you make.”

Azriel’s tongue laps at the column of your throat, finally nipping at the spot he craved minutes ago. Your moans vibrate against his lips.

He pulls away to look at you. Eyes shut and jaw hung in ecstasy. His cock twitches in pants at how good he can make you feel.

The sight was anything but dark. Dare he say heavenly.

Suddenly, your eyes open, fixating on his. Lust and desperation laced in your stare as you plead, “I want your fingers in me. Please, Az.”

Azriel smirks down at you arrogantly. “Yeah?” You nod frantically, your moans and pants driving him absolutely wild.

“Whatever you want.” Azriel pulls away from you, sitting at the edge on his bed, knees spread as he pats his lap. “Come here, pretty girl.”

You stand between his legs but before you could straddle him, he grabs your wrist, roughly turning your back to him.

His textured hands glide down your back, feeling every curve until he reaches your shorts, yanking them down in one swift motion and leaving your rear exposed for his viewing enjoyment.

He gathers as much of your ass in his hands as he can, squeezing, caressing and parting for an even better view. Your slit and inner thighs glistening from your wetness.

He does dare to say heavenly.

“So fucking pretty.” He leans forward, placing a soft kiss on your ass cheek and quickly slapping it right on top.

You jerk forward with an amused hum.

Azriel grabs your hip and brings you down to him. Your full weight falls onto his solid cock, strained in his leathers. He moans at the impact.

Azriel’s hands trail up from your hips, over your stomach and under your shirt and to your breasts. You whimper as his fingers lightly trace over your firm nipples and kneed at your breasts.

He should stop. Should have never even started when he hates so much but Azriel revels in it. The way you feel, the way he makes you feel. His lips latch to your neck sucking as he rolls your buds between his fingers.

“Azriel, please.” You breathe, writhing against him.

He groans, flicking your nipple harshly and immediately finding your center. The tip of his middle finger sliding up and down, toying with your hole.

“Please! Please put it in.” You whine, reaching up to tug at his dark locks. The sensation pushing him over the edge.

Promptly, his middle finger plunges into your cunt, pumping at a hungry pace.

“Oh, fuck! Azriel, yes!” You grip his hair stronger, receiving another painful bite and a slap on your tits in return.

Azriel adds another finger and you clench around them. “So fucking tight, angel. I bet you’ve never been fucked so full with two fingers, have you?”

You shake your head and throw it back over his shoulder when his fingers disappear in you to the knuckle.

“One more for me.” Azriel hums, a warning rather than a request as he teases a third finger against you.

“I…I don’t know.” You hesitate.

Azriel guides you to look at him, your face inches from his. His brows pinch and with a slightly patronizing pout he nods. “You can take it. Don’t you like how full I make you feel?”

You bite your lip and nod. “I can take it.”

“Good girl.” He breathes with a smug expression. Azriel can’t get enough of you like this. Pleading. Submissive to his every whim. The satisfaction of seeing that stoic demeanor dissolve because of him.

Azriel slides a third finger in slowly. Hells, you’re so fucking tight around his fingers, he can only imagine how you’d feel on his cock.

You release a long, aching moan and arch your back against him.

Azriel gasps at the sudden movement against his pants. It wouldn’t take more than a minute to make him explode. “F-fuck, y/n. Keep doing that.”

You grind in his lap, feeling his length throb beneath you. “Like this, Az?”

“Gods.” Azriel’s fingers sink into your cunt, over and over. Your screams of pleasure blend with the sopping sounds of your wet pussy.

Azriel was absolutely sure this was heaven.

“I’m so close! Mm, you gonna make a fucking mess out of me?” You rut against his cock.

“Fuck yes.” Azriel’s free arm wraps around you pressing you further into him and he fucks you with his fingers. “C’mon. Make a mess for me, Angel.”

“Azriel!” That’s all it took for you to crumble in his lap. Your entire body trembles and euphoria seizes control of your body. Your screams informing all of Veleris of who made you cum so fucking good.

As you ride out your orgasm, Azriel lifts his own stuttering hips to grind against yours. The full weight of you quivering and fidgeting against him builds a blissful tension deep within him. And with the string of his name still being sung from your lips, the coiling pressure couldn’t hold anymore.

“I’m gonna-”

.☁️🌙☁️.

Azriel shoots straight up out of his bed and on to his feet, panting and looking around his room, illuminated with the first light of day.

But there was no one. No you.

Azriel blinks and wipes his eyes. It was a dream?

He looks around once more.

It couldn’t have been a dream. He’s dreamt of many females but never anything so…real.

He could still feel the weight of your body flushed against him. He could still feel the blissful aftermath of an orgasm.

Azriel looks down at his stained tented pants. His half hard cock still dripping on his thigh.

What the fuck was that? Why the fuck would he dream of that? Of you.

Mor? Sure. Elain? Once or twice, but you? Someone he couldn’t even stand to be in the same room with?

Azriel huffs and makes his way to his bathroom to clean up, angry with himself and his deplorable dream. A nightmare, he decides, considering it involved you.

[paigebuckets6]

Yearning Allegations

Part: 1

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x reader

Genre: Friends to lovers slowburn (Series)

Synopsis: You've liked Paige for the longest time. Is there any chance she likes you too?

Paige Bueckers was your best friend.

She was also one of the most popular players on the Uconn Huskies.

Although many loved her, none of them knew her like you did. Most certainly, none of them loved her like you did.

You had known her since the first year of high school, where you two hit it off in English class, teasing her about how slowly she read. She had just shot some stupid comment back at you, and from then on, you two were inseparable - which is why you were sitting courtside at this very moment, happily watching her play.

"And that's time, another win for Uconn!!"

The announcer shouted loud as Paige threw the basketball at the last second, arcing perfectly into the net. She beamed wide as she turned around, her cheeks pink with pride, scanning the crowd for you. Her eyes seemed to shine a little brighter, or so you thought, upon landing on you.

She grinned in your direction, nodding slightly at you, as she ran past you to congratulate her teammates. They tackled her, nearly knocking her over. The crowd's roar was racious in your ears, their shouts nearly as loud as yours. Uconn had won again. You smiled to yourself, Paige was gonna be absolutely insufferable after this. She always was after games like these.

You waited patiently outside the change rooms, scrolling mindlessly on tiktok, waiting for Paige to finish up. Usually, she stayed a few extra minutes afterward, yapping with the team about whatever, and then would come out with KK, jokingly bickering about some nonsense. You hadn't been waiting more than 5 minutes when Paige came bounding out alone, grinning proudly. You grinned back, amused. She was like a 6 ft tall puppy.

"Yooo y/n, did you see me out there??!" Paige threw her arm around you as you guys started the familiar walk to her dorm. After wins, she'd refuse to let you get any work done so you didn't even bother going back to your dorm at this point.

"Yeah, I saw!!" You say, unable to stop yourself from smiling back. Paige's smile was genuinely infectious.

"Dude, I'm the best hooper at Uconn for reallll hahah." Her laughter echos around the hallway.

You roll your eyes and pat the hand she has draped over your shoulder.

"Ehhhh, I think you're alright"

Paige scoffs at you, eyebrows raised.

"Come on, just alright?? You love me, don't lie. " Her eyes are alight with happiness and you fight the corners of your mouth, looking away.

"That play at the end was eh, I've seen better"

Paige rolls her eyes, scoffing yet again before holding the door open for you, leaning against it.

"You're a terrible liar y/n"

Before you can reply, Paige ruffles your hair, and you bat her hand away, complaining. She grabs your hand, and you bodycheck her, but to no avail, cause she takes off running to her dorm just to annoy you on purpose. But you laugh anyway, cause it's so typical Paige.

---

It's only a few days later when you find yourself at an infamous Uconn house party, and the alcohol in your system is making your cheeks feel warm. Your red solo cup of vodka is half empty, and you peer at it, wondering if you should leave your comfy spot on the kitchen counter.

You're admiring Paige from across the room, watching her talk to some fans.

She looks hot as hell tonight, dressed in a black cropped tank top and low waisted baggy black cargo pants. Her middriff is on display, and a tiny bit of her boxers peak out. For a second you wonder about what'd it feel like to put your hands there but you force yourself to stop thinking about her, nails digging into your palms as you take another sip of your drink.

Your feelings for Paige had only intensified over the years, becoming harder and harder to ignore as you two got older. In high school, you could just explain it all away because she was your best friend, but now? You guys had only become closer since starting at Uconn, and these days resisting the urge to make a move was becoming nearly unbearable, especially with the looming fact that everyone and their mother wanted Paige.

Normally, you'd just go over to her and yap her ear off, but the amount of alcohol you've had tonight makes you feel like being around her might be a bit dangerous.

So instead, you just stare from afar, watching her put her arm around the girl who's exclaiming she's "her biggest fan." You roll your eyes, inner monologue already snarkly thinking that Paige gets told that at least once a day.

You're so engrossed in watching Paige take pictures- she's now laughing with the fan over some stupid joke- that you don't notice KK's slid over to you.

"Damn girl, you really ain't beating the yearning allegations huh"

Her voice shocks you out of your reverie, and you glance over at her.

"Huh!?? What do you mean-"

KK's eyes are knowing, and she just raises one brow as she pours herself a new drink.

"Boo, we all see the way you look at her"

You roll your eyes, trying to play it cool. Although you're pretty sure the whole team already knows how you feel, you still refuse to admit it cause what if that got back to Paige? You want her, but not more than your friendship. You could never forgive yourself if something happened to you two. You resist the urge to do anything about how you feel solely to protect your friendship.. but also because you're scared. What if she doesn't like you like that? It'd probably just make everything awkward anyway.

"I don't know what you're talking about- Paige's just my friend." You keep your voice steady, but your expression darkens as you see the girl is STILL talking to Paige, her hand lingering on Paige's waist as she draws back from a hug.

"Uh huh.. whatever you say, " KK says, leaving the kitchen with her refill.

A few minutes later, you're busy answering some texts when Paige comes over.

"Hey, KK told me you're being all edgy and hiding out in the kitchen instead of having fun at the party. You're scaring off the hoes, dude. "

Paige is always more affectionate than normal when she's drunk, and tonight is no different. She places her hand on your thigh, grinning as she peers at your face, and you look at her for a few seconds before you move off the counter to stand.

"I'm not hiding, I was dancing a bit ago I just got tired-" This is technically not a lie, considering you did dance for a few minutes before deciding to become the next Joe Goldberg.

"Rightttt..." Paige towers over you, an annoying fact that hasn't changed since high school.

You're about to reply with some smart ass answer when some girl walks into the kitchen, cup in hand, her jaw dropping open as she spots Paige.

"Oh my God, Paige Bueckers?!?" The girl's voice raises practically 3 octaves, and you feel so annoyed you resist the urge to just sigh at the sight.

"I love you so much! I was watching you the other day - that final score was so good you really clutched the game-" The girl gushes, her hand resting on Paige's arm. Paige is, of course, grinning broadly. She loves the attention - and you can practically feel a headache coming on from the sound of the girl's voice.

"My head hurts real bad, gonna go back to my dorm-" You murmur as you pass Paige to leave.

"Oh, are you okay?" Her attention is momentarily distracted by your leave, and you try to inject some pep into your voice.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

---

Authors Note: Hope yall don't mind a slowburn! Thought it'd be cute to make a short series <3

Trilogy: Part 2 here / Part 3 here

[aerinaga]

my daddy p.

paige bueckers x reader

warnings: smut (eating out, slight bdsm)

note: in honor of the cake that says daddy p 😙 happy fathers day special

you and paige were on the way to her fathers house to celebrate fathers day.

you were going to celebrate fathers day with her side of the family, since your family was out of the country at the moment. paige’s family was always so outgoing, they never made you feel like you’re out of place.

you and paige were currently in the car, she looked beautiful as per usual. i mean, there wasn’t any day where she looked ugly. her right hand was on your inner thigh, rubbing it in small circles. gosh, that made you wet. you felt butterflies in your stomach.

you arrived at her house, greeting her dad.

“happy fathers day, bob!” you said. you gave him a fine bottle of white wine.

while they were preparing dinner, you and paige headed up to her old room. as soon as paige closed the door, she kissed you like it was the end of the world.

her hands went down to your waist, squeezing it. you let out a small moan, you could feel her smile against your lips. the both of you let go, breaths were heavy and echoing around the room.

“you look so beautiful, i can’t wait to have you later.”

“alright, daddy p.”

“daddy p?”

“yeah, MY daddy p.” you gave her a flirtatious smile, drawing small circles on her chest.

she smirked at you, she knew what was going down later.

the moment the both of you entered your apartment (which was thankfully soundproofed), she grabbed you by the waist and hoisted you up the island table.

she didn’t waste anytime, she was aggressively kissing you down your neck. she was nibbling on every part of your skin, leaving little bite marks. you were hers. your soft moans were getting louder by the second, leading her to kiss you down in between your breasts, squeezing them from time to time just to hear you get louder.

she pulled down the zipper of your sundress, slipping you out of it and throwing your dress on the sofa, discarding your bra and underwear somewhere. she kissed up your lips, not minding the fact that you were a mess already. she just wanted you.

“lay on your stomach for me.”

you obliged, landing your stomach on the cold surface. you felt her rubbing her hand on your ass cheek. you didn’t exactly know what to expect. she landed a stingy slap on your ass. you moaned loudly, who knew you liked this?

“you’re such a slut for me baby, i want you to count for me okay?”

“yes, p.”

“thats not my name baby. what were you calling me earlier again? use that.”

“yes, daddy.”

“good girl.”

slap. “one”

slap. “two”

slap. “three”

slap. “four”

slap. “five” you were whimpering slightly, tears were forming up in your eyes.

“just a little more baby.”

slap. “six”

slap. “seven”

you were anticipating another slap, but instead, you were turned over by paige. she was smirking at you, engulfing you in another kiss.

“such a good girl for me, baby. because you’re such a good girl, i’ll give you a reward.”

she spread your legs wide open, kissing up your legs til she reaches your inner thighs. her kisses were so soft and delicate, eliciting a moan out of you.

her face was close to your pussy, you could feel her breathing. she placed a soft kiss on it, making you grab a handful of her hair. she grunted from the sudden pull on her hair, but she loved it.

she wasted no time licking up a stripe on your clit, circling her tongue on your pussy. she was always able to make you cum just by eating you out, it was insane. she bit your clit softly, making you jolt your legs in between her head.

she used her strength to pry it open wide, her muscles were being put to use.

there was always this spot on your pussy, it made your legs shake, it gets you close to cumming, makes you close your legs from the feeling of soreness, and especially makes your toes curl.

she was hitting that spot. oh gosh, it felt so fucking good. your legs were wrapping around her head, yet she wasn’t stopping at all. she doesn’t plan to.

“oh my god— p, daddy— i’m cumm- oh fuck, i’m gonna cum, daddy.”

the pressure of her tongue was going faster, making your legs shake violently. you exhaled loudly, feeling your release. she looked back up at you.

her nose was glistening with your cum on it. her lips were berry pink, eyes looking like they were in heaven.

you were pussy naked in front of her, legs were spread opened, shaking, your pussy was pink and puffed up.

paige loves this sight.

you swiftly sat up, grabbing her face and smashing your lips on hers. you wrapped your arms around her neck, wanting to be closer to her. you felt her wrap her arms around your legs, carrying you to the bedroom.

“you look like a mess, baby. but we’re not done yet.”

oh.

she held your arms up. using her other hand, she pried your legs open, wasting no time to rub your clit in slow motion. she pushed two fingers in, wasting no time to fuck you.

you were moaning louder by the minute. while she finger fucked you out, she kissed you down your breasts, nibbling on your nipple. she gave you love bites all over your chest, as if it was a blank canvas.

“you can handle three, right baby?”

“yes, daddy.”

she slid another finger in, but this time, she was pushing her fingers in and out of you as if there was no tomorrow.

you were screaming from pleasure at that point, the knot building up inside of you.

“who owns you hm?”

“you.”

“who?”

“you, daddy. you own me. i’m— oh fuck fuck fuck. feels so good, daddy.” you whimper under her.

you were squirming under her, you weren’t sure if you could last longer before you were about to cum again.

regardless, paiges fingers were moving faster by the second. you were moaning under her. your back was arching, your head was thrown back, eyes were meeting heaven.

paige looked at you like you were an angel.

the little scream you let out knew you were going to cum.

you felt the sheets being wet, you see paige looking down at your pussy. you squirted.

paige never looked so proud, her smug smirk displayed on her face. you never felt so embarrassed, you immediately covered your face with your hands.

“it’s alright baby, i’ll clean you up. after all, i am your daddy. right?”

“yes, you’re my daddy p.”

she chuckles and gives you a kiss before heading in to the bathroom to draw you a bath.

[enidette]

MY GODDESS

warnings :: both are 18+, porn no plot (unless you read part one), service top/sub!carl, mommy kink but not much dialogue, worshipping, oral (f!receiving), fingering

carl grimes x fem!reader

read part one.

he nudges you so your back hits the mattress, slow, messy kisses trailing up your abdomen. “let me thank you properly mommy?”

you let out a breath and nod your head, his blue eyed gaze focused on you before he presses his lips against yours, a kiss that's both gentle and passionate at the same time. he brings one hand to your chin, and another to your cheek to caress the side of your face as he deepens the kiss. you can feel how nervous he was, making all the decisions.

he lets out a soft groan, as an arm slips around your waist and pulls you closer, moaning against your lips. he presses his thigh between your legs, satisfied at the noises of pleasure you let out. carl smiles into the kiss and pushes his body further into you. his hands run along your sides, feeling the warmth of your body, appreciating every part of you.

he slowly tilts your head to the side and his lips begin to trail kisses down to your neck, leaving nips and bites along your collarbone. his hands slide down to the sides of your thighs and he grips them. his lips keep their focus on leaving marks all over your neck, his hips grinding down on your leg.

“what if someone sees those?” you tauntingly ask him. he pulls away from your skin with red cheeks. he hesitates, letting his hands go up and down your body slowly.

“let them,” he shrugs nervously. “i don’t care, i want to worship you. i’ll be happy if they know.” you stare at him for a moment before threading your fingers through his hair. you dip your head down to his neck, littering butterfly kisses on his skin.

a soft groan slips from his lips but it's quickly covered up with a breathless laugh. the feeling of your soft lips against his skin is just so good. he closes his eyes and hums, leaning back to brush his nose gently against yours. his thumbs rub your hips, as he looks at you intently, his gaze taking in everything about you.

he’s so infatuated with you, completely at your mercy. his hands slide underneath your top, caressing your skin. he pushes the fabric up a little higher as he presses a heated kiss to your lips. his hands travel higher and higher until his breath catches in his throat.

his face flushes again when he realizes where he’s touching you, his thumb gently stroking over your chest in slow, teasing circles. his eye is locked on you as he does so. he feels you tug at his hair, making his body shiver slightly. soft sighs and gasps escape him and he lets out soft moans from time to time. the feeling of being so close and touching you with the soft caresses of his hands has him reeling.

he bites his lip nervously, “can you take it off?” his pretty, glazed over eye is now avoiding your gaze. his shyness gives away what he wants and you reach back to unclasp your bra. he doesn’t waste any time sliding your bra off to leave your entire upper body exposed to him. he can’t help but stare for a moment, as he always does. taking in your body and appreciating the sight in front of him.

“you’re so pretty, mommy.” he murmurs, still a little breathless. you let out a small laugh before sliding your hand up his shirt, leaving ghost touches along his abdomen. he lets out a groan at your touch, his body twitching in excitement. a shiver of pleasure ripples through his body when your lips nip at a sensitive part of his skin.

with a whine he pushes your body back down, “this is about you, not me.” he places his lips on your skin again, inching lower and lower with every one he places. they trail from your collarbone, to your chest, down your torso, and landing right above the waistband of your pants.

he looks up at you as if awaiting your commands, causing you to giggle. “thought you were gonna worship me? you get to decide what to do then.” he stutters before shutting his mouth and nodding, hands shakily sliding your pants down your legs.

he kisses along your thighs, breathing heavily at the sight before him. you’re clad in just your underwear, you’re piercing eyes trained on him while you wait for his next move. his kisses come back up until his breath is making contact with the fabric of your panties.

he presses a small kiss to your clit thought your underwear, unable to bite bad a prideful smile when you hum out of pleasure. he pushes your underwear to the side and he slides his tongue through your folds.

he moans when your hand tugs at his hair again, harsher this time. he judges his nose against your clit. he can’t get enough of your taste, hands snaking around your thighs to hold them in place around his head.

he feels your hand push down, attempting to control his head. with a soft groan he lets you use his face to get off. the vibrations his noises make has you squirming, your own moans getting louder and louder when a finger slips into you.

your noises turn into tired pants and your hand falls to your side. you lazily grind against his face and he holds your thighs down. you feel yourself getting close and you let out a sigh before tugging his head up by his hair.

he looks dazed and his fingers continue to work inside you, “i’m close, you’re doing so good.” the praise has his head spinning and his movements quickening. he leans up to capture your lips in a kiss, continuing to pump his fingers in and out of you.

he pants into the kiss, his desperate hips grinding into the mattress. he feels your body spasm before you’re cumming around his fingers, biting down on his lip and leaving him whimpering.

he stops and lets you catch your breath, face inches from yours. you go to praise him some more when your eyes catch on the wet spot on his pants. “did you really…” he whines before you could finish your sentence, burying his head in your neck.

“don’t say anything, mommy, please.”

[inklore]

code breaker

premise: there’s always been something there, between the two of you. unspoken and filling in the cracks of those moments where joel is helping you out of a tough situation and your offering up a thank you and sweet smile. if only it didn’t take bloody knuckles and some band-aids to finally crack the code of that something.

pairing: joel miller x (f)reader

word count: 6.2k

warnings: eighteen+ content, unprotected p in v, smut with feelings really, fem receiving oral, friends to lovers, mutual pining, fluff, mentions of violence and blood, alcohol mention, toxic exes and relationships discussed, dirty talk, biting and love marks mention, lots of banter, au (preoutbreak).

note: i meant for this to be darker but it turned out wayyy more fluffy and i’m actually really happy about it. i hella edited this but it still feels choppy so if it is i’m sorry ya girl has bad eyes lmao. gif made by me so don’t be an ass and steal it tysm <3

There’s words you should be saying right now. Expressing. Spilling from your mouth in a heap of thank you, I appreciate you, what would I do without you always being there for me…

But they just can’t seem to come out. The speech part of your brain—and your heart—aching and prompting you to speak. To show courtesy, your vocal cords refuse to let you get out. Like your mouth has forgotten its purpose, your throat hoarse from screaming Joel’s name in the chaos of thrown fists, people shouting, men trying and failing to haul Joel’s weight off of the bloodied body below it.

The blood on his knuckles pulls your eyes in like a neon sign: caked, dark, and drying the longer the air gets to it. If it hurts Joel doesn’t state it—show it as he grips the steering wheel. You’ve never thrown a punch before, have never seen something like this up close and personal. You excelled at resolving conflicts before they arose. Never let arguments get past the phase of unfair yelling. But you would assume his knuckles must be aching, even if only a dull pounding.

You know for certain your ex's face is.

Good. 

You hadn’t expected him to show up at the bar, your job. Hadn’t expected him to start in on the possessive act—coincidently the local patrons were less than surprised at the all-too-cliché behavior. The town having labeled him as bad news ages ago. Something you had to learn the hard way, when you finally took off those rose colored glasses. 

Joel had been staring at you for the duration of the exchange. Even after your ex left to hang out with a group of his buddies in the corner, his gaze lingered on you.

"You alright?" He asked as he slid his glass towards you, his forearm leaning against the bar. A wordless nod letting you know he wanted another. 

"Yeah, he’s not the first creep I've had to deal with. It's in our DNA as women to deal with the lesser species of the male population."

"Can’t tell if that makes me feel better or worse as a father."

"Oh," you send him a sweet smile. Setting his refilled whiskey in front of him, "no creep dare mess with Sarah. I’ve seen her make jocks cry."

"That’s my girl, taught her well." The grin he wraps around the rim of the glass makes something girlish—and foolish—spark in your stomach. 

Maybe if you had a man like Joel in your life, you would be less likely to keep making the same mistakes with no-good assholes who are good for a week and bad for the rest of the 358 days. 

A girl can dream. 

And she has. Embarrassingly. 

The two of you had continued to talk, your hip pressed against the bar as you cleaned a glass; perhaps you had been smiling and laughing too hard at what Joel was saying because your ex was back and grabbing you from across the bar in an instant.

An action that quickly landed him passed out and bloodied on the bar floor, and your boss trying to make sure Joel hadn’t taught him too good of a lesson to have him see God. 

And while the adrenaline of shock had been bruising your heart against your rib cage, your lungs devoid of air—when Joel had put his non-bloody hand against your arm, calling your name (the white noise of the commotion in the bar creating an impenetrable barrier to your ear drums), a warm thumb under your chin pulling your attention away from the limp body on the floor and up into his eyes—that adrenaline melted and turned into serendipity. 

Gratefulness. 

Those girlish sparks turning into an entire flame that quickly engulfed you as he asked if you were okay. As he comforted you with a barely there touch on your arm and chin, concern in his dark eyes. Concern for what? Frightening you? 

When your gaze is drawn to his knuckles, his body language responds with a grimace. When you see the gashes only bone against bone brings. 

He’s worried he’s upset you. As if he's done something wrong.

When he insists on driving you home you don’t argue. Wouldn’t dream of it even if the circumstances were different. It wouldn't be the first time he drove you home because your beat-up car wouldn't start or because the weather was bad and your anxiety was high.

That’s the thing about Joel. 

He was always there. 

If you needed help, he always seemed to find time. 

Because of this, and the aforementioned beating your toxic ex to a pulp, you shouldn't be allowing the silence to spread between the two of you like strangers. Like something in the air was making everything awkward, like you hadn’t sat in his truck a dozen times before. Like he hasn’t gotten you out of a pinch (minus the blood) before. 

And after he’s pulled into your driveway, engine turned off, the cicadas and crickets filling the silence, it’s Joel who finally speaks. 

Who cracks that barrier you have mentally been trying so hard to climb over. 

"I’m sorry if I," he clears his throat, flexes his fingers against the steering wheel. "If I overstepped." 

And the ridiculousness of him even apologizing has your mouth finally moving into action. "Joel, no, oh my gosh, no." Your palm presses against your chest as you look at him apologetically; you should be the only one saying sorry, thanking him, worshiping at his feet for this. "I should be the one saying that. I should have handled it myself or-"

"Or what?" He looks almost angry, shocked at your words. "He had a hold of you, and no disrespect, but I ain’t ever seen you kill a fly, let alone throw a punch at someone." 

"Hey! I could punch someone." 

"Could and would are two different things." 

"You sayin I couldn’t?" 

"I’m sayin' you wouldn’t." 

"Not tough enough?" 

"Your heart's too big." 

"If you knew how hard I was holding back the urge to prove you wrong by bruising that bicep of yours, Joel Miller, you’d think differently." Your scowl and threat only seem to amuse him because he’s grinning at you. "You’re lucky you’re injured." 

"I’m shaking in my boots." 

"As you should be." The laugh the two of you share makes your cheeks burn.  On the outside, many could and have labeled Joel as a complicated man. A man who takes a lot of nudging and persistence to get to know past that surface-level workaholic grump he sometimes displays. But he’s a man who would lend a hand at the drop of a hat. A man with honor embedded in his very DNA.

There’s a list you’ve kept in the back of your mind that has every bullet point filled out and doodled hearts around the edges of all the reasons Joel is a good man. A man you trust. A man you adore.

"Thank you, Joel." He starts to shake his head, but you stop him with your palm resting on his forearm, "thank you. "You're right, I don't think I even know how to make a proper fist, let alone connect it." Your soft laugh makes the corners of his lips tick up. "You didn’t hesitate to help me. You never do. It means a lot to me, I hope you know that."

He nods, his eyes only on your face. Listening. Taking in every word you’re saying, even if you know he hates the fact that you’re thanking him for this. But he deserves to know how much you appreciate him.

Your hand moves to his wrist, gently yanking it away from his vice-like grip on the wheel. Your index finger runs along a vein at the top of his hand—the one spot the blood didn’t cake on to. "Does it hurt?" 

"No. Between the callouses and the whiskey, it’s nothing more than a cat scratch." 

"You should still get it looked at."

"You’re looking at it, aren’t ya?" 

Your eyes roll. "I’m not a doctor, Joel." 

"All a doctors gonna tell me is to be more careful, hand me a band-aid, and charge me three hundred dollars."

"Well, in that case," you drop his hand and grab for the door. The dry summer air ineffective to your already burning skin from the man whose raising his brows at you, "I got band aids in the house, and I didn’t get to finish my shift, which means you owe me three hundred in tips alone sooo."

"There's barely three hundred people in this town, and you’re tellin me you make that in tips?" 

"Joel, just get in the damn house." You order, slamming the door of his truck and walking up the path to your front door. Smiling when you hear him huff and grumble under his breath as he gets out. 

A hiss—and a scowl so deadly it could scare away even the biggest and badest of grown men—has Joel’s hand twitching in your hold as you run a wet cloth along the tops of his knuckles. The fabric pulling up the caked on flecks of dried blood, the surface of the cuts along the bone already starting the healing process from being clotted with red. 

"I thought you said it didn’t hurt?" You smirk playfully. 

"Whiskey’s wearin' off," he grunts. 

"Or," you dab the cloth in the small cap of saline solution you’ve pulled from your first aid kit under the sink. Bringing it back to his skin to press gently across his cuts, his body tensing. "You’re human after all," his eyes roll. 

"Don’t alert the press." 

"Oh, they’ve already been informed." 

His hand rests on your thigh as you ball up some tissues to dry the area around his knuckles. Enough to keep the band-aids—the only thing he would allow you to use because gauze would just get in the way at work, he informed you when you insisted—from falling off. The heat from his palm burns through your jeans, and it's a blessing in and of itself that you're ignoring how it makes your insides feel; how your body's warmth is no match for how hot he feels. His legs are spread, body slouched against your couch, his knee against yours. A closeness he’s never been before. A casual touch and directness between friends that shouldn’t be making you feel feverish and cheeky. 

When he flexes his fingers a couple times and his fingertips run along the top of your thigh, you find yourself wishing you’d worn a dress to work. A skirt. Anything to have been able to feel him do that against your bare skin. A thought you chide yourself for. A thought you hope isn’t written all over your face when you look over at Joel and he’s staring at you. Eyes darker, expression unreadable and stoic, in that way you can never tell what emotion he’s feeling at that exact moment. He gives nothing away but still sends your stomach plummeting. 

After the band-aids have been stuck and you’ve cleaned up the mess on your coffee table you offer him a drink. 

"Unless you have to get back to Sarah, then I understand."

"She’s with a friend tonight." 

"You gonna tell her how you saved the day, all knight and shining armor style?" You tease as you walk back to the living room with two beers in hand, putting one in Joel’s outstretched one and the other to your lips. Taking a sip as you take your place beside him once again, this time a leg pulled under you as you face him. 

He snorts, "don’t know about all that."

"I’m sure word has already gotten around. Her friends are probably gabbing about how heroic Mr. Miller is, a real prince charming." You laugh when you see his grin. 

"Or," he says, swallowing the sip he's just taken. "She’ll give me that death glare that all teenagers possess after puberty, you know the one?"

"Oh, I know the one. Mine was so fierce my mother banned it from our house."

"It’s deadly."

"Truly."

"I’m sure prince charming will be the last thing connected to my actions. Rage and jackass sound more on the money." 

You frown. Watch as he stares down at the result of the rage he thinks will now be accompanied with his name. Tarnishing it that now people will forget the kindness that was once there, the man whose hardworking now turned into something vile all because of an act of heroism some might find obscene; with how much blood and possible damage it has caused to one mans face, you could understand why such an act would be. 

But to you—and those who knew how horrible your ex had been, how he had deserved every bone crunching punch, every spit of blood and teeth choked on—you knew that what Joel did was right. And maybe, somewhere deep down in those morals against violence everyone gets handed out to them at birth, you knew that Joel could be sitting in a jail cell instead of on your couch if those punches had been any worse. If it had been pure untamed rage like some will say. 

"You’re a good man, Joel. So you potentially hospitalized an asshole, who hasn’t?" Your heart leaps in your chest when he laughs, and you thank God that your joke landed. Thank him that this man with his disheveled hair that's begging to have a hand run through it, work shirt and jeans looking like they’ve seen better days—is in your life. Not every girl has someone willing to bruise another man's face while destroying the hand that's needed to do their job properly.

No one had acted as quick as Joel had. 

Joel Miller was a good man. 

"What did you see in him anyway?" Joel asks, taking another sip of his beer. His gaze is drawn to you from the hole he was burning into his hand. 

And if you were being honest with yourself, you didn’t know. 

Couldn’t answer that question with the full truth because you didn’t know why you always went for the assholes. The guys who liked to scream instead of talk it out. Who liked to steal money from your wallet for booze or a habit they couldn’t kick. The ones who never remembered your birthday but made sure didn't forget theirs.

Your father had been a great man. Your mother an amazing woman. You couldn’t take the easy way out and blame it on family trauma. 

So you answered with the only viable reason that came to mind. 

"Loneliness makes you ignore all the bad stuff." You take a sip, swallow it down (washing away the pinpricks of potential embarrassment for being so brutally honest with Joel). "It makes you talk yourself out of throwing all their stuff to the curb or burning it in your backyard, because it’s not always bad. Some days are good. Some of them wait to be assholes before the novelty wears off; others wait until you're two years in and they’ve already slept with half the town behind your back. And some will bring you flowers every time they mess up, until one day you look around and realize you don't have any room to put this new vase and there's dried flower petals all over your floors. But hey, at least you’re not lonely, and your house smells really good." 

The smile on your lips fades when you see the look on Joel’s face. See that he’s finding no humor in this story. And the gulp that swallows down the beer in your hands burns your throat the entire way down. Your cheeks are burning, and you have to look away from him. Distract yourself by picking at the label on the bottle. 

"Or maybe it’s as cliché as saying I haven’t found the right one yet." You try to save, nervously chuckling under your breath. In hopes that he forgets everything you’ve just said and clings to this one shitty joke. 

"Look at me."

You do, and you wish you hadn’t. The roughness of his voice makes your stomach swoop and fall like a rollercoaster of emotions you did not prepare yourself for. Hadn’t imagined this being in your future when you’d walked into work. But you’re looking at him. Meeting his eyes. Seeing the stern glower in them before he speaks. 

There’s a million things you imagine him saying. Telling you how much better you are than that, than all of those meaningless assholes. How you deserve better, and you’ll find it someday. Hell, you expect him to scold you with how low his brows are.

What you don’t expect is to feel his lips on yours. His fingers digging into the skin at the back of your neck, his chest inches from your now-heaving one. And it renders you speechless. Still. Your brain not computing with the signals your nerves are giving off right now. 

When he pulls away and looks at you, it takes you several blinks to meet his gaze. The air in your lungs weighing your chest down. You shouldn’t speak. Should allow yourself to get your bearings in order. To catch your breath and sort through everything you’re feeling right now. "Was that a pity kiss?" 

"A what—pity kiss?" 

"Cause of the," you swallow, lick your lips, "of the aforementioned assholes?" 

Joel’s breath fans across your face when he chuckles, "anyone who’d pity kiss you deserves to be added to that list of assholes. And I might be on many asshole lists, but hopefully not on yours." The fingers on your neck skate forward to your cheek, thumb pressed gently along your jawline. His features grow serious again. "I didn’t just knock that asshole out because he had it comin'. And if you haven't noticed, I’m either working or at home with Sarah. Both keepin' me more than busy."

"Too busy to be making house calls for leaky faucets and tarnishing your good name with your fists?" 

"Exactly." 

There's a long pause between you two, as if you're both waiting for the other to say something, anything, to put these unspoken mutual feelings out there.

"Joel, are you saying you coming over to fix my faucet and staying for the occasional beer was you…flirting?" The grin he gives you makes you laugh, "who taught you how to flirt? And please don’t say Tommy."

"No. If I had listened to him we’d be–" he doesn’t finish. Just shakes his head and chuckles under his breath. 

And maybe affirmative action with your hands wasn’t your forte, maybe you couldn’t do what needed to be done when it came in the form of actions. But when it came to words, to saying what you wanted, needed, craved when it was right here in front of you being hinted and teased at, you didn’t hesitate. 

"Maybe you should have listened to Tommy." Your hand mirrors his own, resting on his cheek. You already knew he ran hot from his palm alone. But his cheek feels just as warm as you do, burning right through to your bones. His gaze falls to your parted lips, and a decision is made in the seconds it takes him to return his gaze to yours.

An agreement. 

"C'mere." His lips collide with yours in a heated kiss of nicks of teeth and tongue that taste like whiskey and beer and something that your brain will forever recognize as Joel. A taste you know you’ll be wanting to swallow down again and again. To feel the burn of his beard against your chin until your skin is raw and blotchy from how hard his mouth is devouring yours. An arm wrapped around your waist pulls you into his lap, and your forgotten beers spill and stain the cushions of your couch. "Shit, sorry, let me," Joel starts, but you stop him with your hands on his cheeks. 

"Leave it, just come here." You insist, lips returning to his. 

"Yes, ma’am." His smirk molds to your mouth, wipes away as his tongue runs along your bottom lip to press against yours. A hand on your ass squeezes and presses you forward so you’re grinding against his lap. The seam of your jeans rubs up against the wet patch that's quickly forming on the fabric of your underwear, becoming sticky and clinging to your pussy. Joel's other hand runs down the column of your neck, gripping and pulling you away from his mouth so that his lips can latch onto your sensitive skin. A gasp leaving your lungs, teeth and tongue making you shudder and cling to his shoulders. 

Shoulders you don't let go of until your back hits the mattress and you're both pulling your shirts above your heads, your fingers quickly working the clip of your bra, joining the discarded pile of shirts and shoes on your bedroom floor.

Your heart feels as if it’s beating a hole through your chest, like it’ll fall into Joel’s hands as he leans over your body, knees between your open legs, as his palms run down your chest, between your breasts. Over the globes of them, calloused thumb circling around your nipple. Your breath caught in your throat as you press yourself up into his touch. He’s taking you in, letting his eyes trail every dip, possible mole, scar, and marking on your skin. How your chest heaves in response to his hand. How your breasts fit in his palm. How you gasp and cry into the air when he leans down and swirls his tongue around one of your nipples before sucking it into his mouth, teeth lightly scraping against the sensitive flesh when he pulls off and does the same to the other one. 

His mouth finding its way back to yours again. His hips canting against yours; you can feel his cock digging into your thigh. And when you let your hand skate between the two of you to give him more friction. A dizzying desire to feel more of his heat and need for you burning through your skin and to your core, where you truly crave him. 

The deep grunt that falls from his mouth and onto your waiting tongue sends a shockwave of arousal through your entire body. Being. You want to hear it again, want to pull every noise from this man with your body and mouth until you are both drained and cursing yourselves for not doing this sooner. And you know he wants to do the same. Wants to catalog every pressure point and sensitive bit of your flesh so he can draw this out, can rile you up with a simple touch, scrape of teeth, run of his tongue along your jugular. Until you tell him how badly you can’t stand not having him inside of you. 

He's leaving a trail of kisses down your stomach, his fingers digging into the skin above your jeans, holding your hips still. Preventing you from moving them the way you want to from each press and prickle from his mouth and beard—scalding the nerves of your skin and making your insides whirl. 

"Lift your hips for me, sweetheart." Joel murmurs into your skin as his fingers curl into the waistband of your jeans. Your body feels barren and cool away from his heat as he sits back on his knees, your hips lifting as he frees your legs from their confines. His thumb runs along the lace of your underwear, dipping lower and lower until it’s pressing into that wet spot. A silent, smug praise tugs at the corner of his lopsided smile as his eyes look up to yours.

If your mind was working coherently and not filled with Joel Joel Joel (the way he smells woodsy and rugged, the way something deep and gruff reverberates in his chest when your teeth sink into the skin of his neck, and how he keeps looking at you like a fine art piece hung in the Louvre. Movements quick and gentle as he pulls your underwear down your thighs, making quick work to push your legs apart, fingers digging into the back of your thigh as he lets himself take his time adorning you fully on display for him) there'd be a sassy remark aimed at him.

The callus of his thumb nicks your swollen clit, eliciting a whimper from your lips, your hips following the descent of his finger as it spreads you apart. Trailing a line from your clit to dip into your entrance, gathering your arousal on the pad of his finger, his eyes on yours as he presses it against his tongue. A burning hunger in his eyes as he sucks your wetness from his fingers. 

You're a panting mess by the time Joel positions his head between your legs, arms wrapped behind your thighs, lips, teeth, and tongue trailing up your inner thigh. Your fingers clench the blanket in anticipation, need, and want. The closer his mouth gets to your center, the more you can feel his hot breath moving in, the potential love bites and marks he’s leaving on your inner thigh—all a certain type of torture you don’t think you’re strong enough to put up with right now. 

You lift your head to start begging, to plead with your torturer, but he’s speaking before you can. 

"Wanna take my time, sweetheart." His tongue swirls at the joint of your inner thigh. And just as earlier, the words you mean to get out, to speak from the storm cloud of lust in your head, die in the back of your throat when Joel runs the flat of his tongue up the seam of your pussy. The torturous muscle wraps you around his tongue, following the slowest path to your clit, until the tip of his tongue flicks, making a pattern of strokes and licks, until his lips wrap around the swollen nerve, making you feel delirious. Keeps pulling gasps, moans, and pants of pleasure and ecstasy from your parted mouth; head thrown back on pillows; legs trembling around his head from the blazing fire that grows and grows the more he consumes you.

The more his nose nicks your clit when he fucks you with his tongue, the more his fingers dig into your quivering legs to keep you anchored to the bed and his mouth. 

It feels like hours with how slowly he goes. Keeps you dangling from the ledge with every stroke and suck. Every soothing indent his fingers are leaving in your thigh. Your skin slicked with sweat, knuckles cramped from its grip in the blanket. When your moans go up in pitch he goes slower in that motion, that spot that has you seeing stars. Then he lets your breath come back to you with slow strokes of his tongue at your entrance, giving attention to the other parts of you that you didn’t think could elicit such erotic noises from your lungs. 

Your fingers find their way into those disheveled strands you’ve been waiting a lifetime to thread through. To pull and keep yourself from the feeling of floating away from the intensity of the pleasure. From your orgasm coming closer and closer until you’re panting his name, "Joel, Joel, Joel–fuck," your body shaking, the cries pulled out from this man burning your throat as you finally fall from the ledge and into him; his tongue coated in you, his chin wet with your essence. 

Your body sensitive and heavy as you come down, a sweaty heat making you feel sticky. Joel’s fingers seem to bypass every sensitive part though, as his palm caresses the tops of your thighs, your hips, your curves, the side of your breast. Until he’s reached your burning cheeks, mouth pressing the gentlest of kisses to your lips. The kiss was slow and gentle. Your arousal coats your taste buds when his tongue meets yours.

The kiss feeling more intimate than before, more heady. Knocking you right back on that loop you just got off of. That ache and throb he just sedated starting again in your belly, moving to where your thighs are soaked. 

"You’re overdressed," you murmur against his lips. Joel kisses you again, your open mouths exchanging a breathy chuckle.

"Do you wanna change that?" 

The question holds more than just the surface level of a joke and an answer of "yeah, obviously."  There’s a seriousness to it that makes you pull back from his lips and stare up at him. His thumb traces a soothing pattern into the bottom of your chin, his eyes holding an unspoken reassurance that he’s fine with it ending right here. With him just pleasing you, getting to take you apart and reassemble you with tender touches and a torturous mouth.

It can be all about you.

It is all about you.

You deserve nothing less.

His eyes and soft grin speak unspoken. 

Your nod is slow and reassuring. Your fingertips copy the motions of his thumb against the patches of skin in his damp beard. "Unless you’d rather help me get the stain out of my couch that you caused."

"I caused?" His brows shoot up. 

"It's to be expected when you can't keep your hands off of me," you say before shrieking as he pinches your side. His lips kissing your scowl away—a problem you foresee in the near future.

The kiss lasts for minutes (centuries you wish). Your fingertips never lift from the other's face, moving along jawlines, chins, and cheek bones. His chest comfortably against yours, giving you that heat you missed so dearly. His cock still stiff and hot in his jeans, grinding slowly against your pelvis. 

Is this how it’s supposed to feel? When feelings haven't even been discussed yet, but you just know? Already know what each touch, kiss, and caress holds behind it. Telling a wordless story in the way he had wanted to give you pleasure first—to taste—and take his time making you feel everything his mouth could do. Everything he wanted to do to you.

He wasn’t thinking about himself after the fact. Wasn’t rushing to put you in a position that made it all about his pleasure. Giving you little to no space to cool down, regain your bearings, and have that fire slowly relight and become more tantalizing, as he is right now.

You really did date assholes. 

Your fingers move to his chest, splaying your palm along his body until you’ve reached where he’s hard and pressing against you. Your fingers curl around the outline of him. Stroking, massaging. 

"I want you, Joel." You breathe into his mouth. 

He growls against your lips in something akin to frustration and agony. It makes something inside of you sink, overthink that maybe he doesn’t actually want to push it past the points you’ve already reached. Maybe it’s too much, all too soon, for this new territory of your friendship—even if it already seemed a little too late with the couch confessions and his saliva still coating your center. 

He must see the thoughts volleying in your head because he’s scolding himself under his breath and shaking his head. A soothing touch placed on your skin. "I feel like I’m some horny teenager again, with how bad I want you." His chuckle soothes your heart, "I don’t have-"

And you can't help but laugh at his waving hand towards his pockets and the sentence he's about to finish.

"Jesus, Joel. Bless anyone who's ever thought you were the ungentlemanly type." Here you were worrying about whether or not he wanted you, the proof being clearer than just his dick against your fingers. While the only thing on his mind was protection. 

"Glad I’m amusin’ to you." 

Cupping his cheeks, you pull him back to your lips. "All a girl wants is a decent man to make her laugh, not break her heart, and be able to make her come. And so far you’ve done all three." You let your tongue slip between your mouths and run along his bottom lip, "I’m good if you are." 

I’m clean.

I take a little pill every day because life is chaotic enough and I don’t want any surprises. 

We’re protected.

Now take me already.

The drag of your tongue, the roll of your hips against him, the little whimper you let out when he bites your lip—speaks for you.

It’s all either of you needs to rid Joel of his jeans: hands tangled in belt loops, tugs, pulls, pushing until he’s completely bare in front of you. Your breath hitches when you feel the underside of his cock spreading you and running along your clit slowly and languidly. The heat of him feels nothing compared to your own, the throb and ache of requisite in every roll and drag. 

And when neither of you can stand it anymore, when he’s grunting and you’re begging, he leans up on an elbow, hand wrapped around his cock, lining himself up to your entrance. Your breath leaves your lungs, stomach falling falling down to where he’s pushing into you. Stretching you, filling you until there’s no telling where either of you ends or begins. Attached by that intangible string of pleasure and bliss of only being able to feel each other.

"Fuck," Joel groans. Mouth finding your shoulder, breath hot and heavy. His thrusts start leisurely, taking his time in that way you’re learning he loves to do. Loves to compartmentalize up what you need—more, faster, harder. Going off of the moans panted into his neck, nails digging into his back. 

There's a hand gripped in the pillow beside your head, another at your breast, his mouth connected to your neck, your jaw, your chin, your lips. His hips slamming against your open thighs, thrusts deep, sharp. His cock hitting places that make your back arch, his name strung together with pleas for more. The slapping of skin and wet squelching of bodily fluids between the two of you making a symphony of lewd delight. 

When the hand at your breast hikes up one of your legs, the cry you let out is swallowed by his mouth. The deeper he fucks into you, the more your body shakes, the more you feel him completely consuming you. turning you into someone who will never get enough of this. Of him. Of how good he's making you feel. 

"Sound s’pretty," his tongue brushes against the underside of your chin, teeth nipping at the bone. A trail of him brought down to the shell of your ear. Where his heavy breaths and grunts fill you just as his cock does. Fills you to the brink of pain turned satisfying pleasure, as each stroke brings you closer to a precipice he’s already pushed you from. "Can’t believe I held myself back from you."

"Joel."

"I should knock out every asshole who thought to hurt you, t’not love you the way you deserve. Put you first," he slips his hand between your slick bodies, palm hot against your pelvis as his thumb rubs fast tight circles around your clit. His words getting filthier, ragged. Becoming heaving breaths against your ear as he fucks you faster. As his thumb matches the pace, as you grow closer and closer. Led by his words and pushed over by his cock. 

"That’s it, sweetheart." He’s encourages as you come. As he fucks you through it, as that white-hot heat makes your body contort against his. Cling and squeeze around him. The string of groans and curses, your name mixed with something incoherent but soft and deep, makes your chest swish—bit into your skin as Joel comes not long after. 

And after the two of you have cleaned up enough to call it satisfactory, two new beers condensing on your night stand. Your cheek pressed into his chest as your bodies lay pressed together under your sheet. His chin resting atop your forehead, a soft brush of fingertips at your spine—there’s cheesy grins on your faces, "Tommy’s going to have a heyday."

"He owes me fifty bucks."

There’s faux shock on your face when you turn and lean on your elbow to look at him, "excuse me?"

"He didn't think I'd ever tell ya," Joel shrugs as his hand caresses your shoulder. A fondness in his eyes, "I never do anything for myself." You press a kiss to his thumb, "I think we both deserve something good for once though." 

"I guess I solved the mystery of how to get Joel Miller to be soft," you joke. Nip at the skin of his thumb playfully. 

"I ain’t soft." He grumbles.

"Postcoitous Joel disagrees with that statement," you say. The dramatic roll his eyes do makes you laugh. Your teeth nipping his thumb harder, a bite this time, you shift so you’re on top of him. Sitting up on your knees. "Since this bet is half at my expense.."

"Expense, huh?" His palm grabs a handful of your ass and squeezes, causing you to rock in his lap. His cock already twitching to life again.

"I think we should get you your money's worth," you smirk.

"That's the smartest thing you've said all night," his fingers tangled in your back hair, pulling your mouth down to his in a hard kiss, before you get the chance to at least pretend to be offended.

[ma1dita]

now that we're older

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

words: 3.5k

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

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

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

—

Luke lets you love him in the nighttime. 

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

And you let him. 

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

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

“You okay, angelface?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Got off the hook, Trouble?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Not a dream, nor a titan.

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

“I love you, I love you, I love you…”

—

You let him love you in the mornings.

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

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

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

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

“Good morning, pretty girl.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Annie didn’t take your lighter?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You both sigh.

“You signed up for offense?”

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

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

“Hey! Oof—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Not if he can help it.

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

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

“What was that baby?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

[actuallysaiyan]

hii baby! I know you're not taking requests right now but maybe if you're looking for inspiration you could do some headcanons or something with the Uchiha's and spending a cold winter night with them? Like what are their favorite ways to keep warm? It can be NSFW or sw hehehe

warnings: smut, unprotected sex, mentions of trauma, mentions of drinking, kissing, non-massacre AU word count: 1.4k pairings: Sasuke Uchiha x Fem!Reader, Itachi Uchiha x Fem!Reader and Madara Uchiha x Fem!Reader a/n: I know this is going against my hiatus mention, but I've been wanting to write this request for so long! I hope you all enjoy, and if it gets popular enough, I might write a part 2 with Shisui, Obito and Izuna!

He’ll act like he doesn’t want the comfort and the company, but inside he’s dying for you to come over. Especially if it’s cold and there is snow falling outside. He’ll wait for you at his home in the old Uchiha compound, a fire burning bright in the fireplace.

You brave the winter cold for your lover, and you find him in comfortable clothes just waiting for you. Sasuke pretends to be nonchalant about the whole affair, but in reality he is so happy not to spend another lonely night alone.

You two settle by the fireplace, and he finds you something of his to wear. Once you’re both snuggled together, he mentions making some stew for dinner and for you both to spend the evening together fireside.

Sasuke and you prepare the food in the kitchen together, humming to some silly songs and bumping into one another every now and then. It puts a smile on his face to see you breathe life into this place after everything that’s happened.

After dinner, you help him clean up. You’re so good to him, it really warms his heart. Then you two head back towards the fireplace, a blanket is wrapped around the both of you. A bottle of wine is passed back and forth.

It doesn’t take Sasuke long to pounce on you. His lips are hungry for you. His touch is desperate. His hand caresses you all over as he begins to undress you. With the wine and the fire, things are heating up so fast.

Then he pushes you down onto the ground, his lips attaching to your neck and kissing down to your breasts as he removes your shirt. You look so beautiful like this, your cheeks so flushed and your eyes heavy with lust. Sasuke feels a warmth so deep inside of him,

He kisses you sweetly as he begins thrusting into you, the blanket on top of you both to keep the heat between you two. He feels so in love right now. Nothing could make this situation any better.

But he’s proven wrong when you cup his face and bring him in for such a romantic and loving kiss. You put so much love into everything you do with Sasuke, and while he thinks you’re too good for him, you prove to him that he deserves love.

He cums so deep inside of you, with a loud cry of love. It’s all so passionate and sensual as he rides out his high. As he slowly comes down, he rests his head on your breasts and catches his breath. Then he looks at you and you see all that love in his eyes. “Will you always stay with me?” He asks, a blush on his cheeks. “I’ll never leave.” He knows you mean it too.

You’re on a mission with Itachi to the Land of the Snow. You knew it would be cold, so the two of you decided to pack for the worst. You knew it could get stormy out there too sometimes. You didn’t want to be without.

Arriving in the village, you and Itachi are glad for dressing very warmly. You pull your coat around you even tighter, and you’re grateful for changing your footwear to something more weather appropriate.

At the inn, you’re given a room with a private onsen. It has lots of windows so you’re able to look out at the beautiful starry skies as you soak in the tub. Before you can even get a good dip, you and Itachi are getting your mission done first.

As you are both very important members of the ANBU, Itachi and you are there to gather intel. He leads you into one of the buildings, and he notices just how much the cold is affecting you. He holds onto your hand tightly, making sure you aren’t too chilly.

After you gather the intel there, you and Itachi move onto the next place. This goes on for a few hours, and Itachi grows even more concerned for you. You’re shuddering as the chilly wind blows harshly and leaves your cheeks all red and chapped.

Once back at the inn, Itachi orders you both some room service. He figures some warm stew and some sake could help get the chill out of your bones. You sit by the heater, warming yourself up. Itachi sits near you and the two of you eat to your heart's content.

After you’ve had your fill of food and a few cups of sake, Itachi suggests a nice dip in the onsen. He helps you undress and you do the same for him, caressing his beautiful body. You’re excited to be here with the love of your life.

The water is just perfect as you both slip into the bath. Itachi keeps you close to his body, his arms wrapped around you as you lean against his chest. His hands slip into the water as he begins kneading your plush thighs.

“Pretty girl,” he purrs against your neck. He nips at your soft skin and you let out a soft moan when you feel his adept fingers brushing against your clit. Itachi has no problem getting you so riled up like this. He could easily make you cum.

Before you know it, he has you sinking down on his erect cock. The two of you let out sweet moans of pleasure as you settle back down against him. You feel safe in his embrace, and more than aroused as he begins to start up his slow and steady pace that has you dizzy. You know this will be the perfect way to end such a chilly mission.

It’s a late winter night, and Madara can’t sleep. He’s plagued with all sorts of nightmares and traumatic thoughts. He sits by the fire, contemplating his life. He wonders what he could have done to make things different for himself and for others.

As he thinks about this, you wake up in your bed without him. You wonder if he needs some time alone. You aren’t a stranger to the way things are for him. Especially in the dead of the night in the middle of winter. It’s too quiet for him to really get any kind of peace.

You find him by the fire, and you drape a blanket over his shoulders. He hums happily when he feels your warmth. There’s only a few people who can pull him out of this funk, and you’re the one who truly knows how to do it the best. He doesn’t know that he deserves you, but he’s grateful for you.

“Are you alright, love?” you ask in a sweet voice. He leans against your legs for a moment, looking up at you. You’re glad to see his Sharingan isn’t activated, which means he isn’t too caught up in his thoughts. You lean down and press a soft kiss to his forehead.

“I’m just lost in my thoughts, darling.” he says truthfully. He lets out a breath he was holding, and then you sit behind him. You wrap your arms around him, pressing your face in the wild mass of his hair and inhaling his beautiful scent.

He doesn’t need much more to calm him down. He turns around to face you, pressing soft kisses all over your pretty face. Madara is so enamored by you, he knows that you’re the most precious thing to him in this life. He’d do anything to keep you close and safe.

He lays you down on the blanket you brought to keep him warm. The wind blows loudly outside, making you both shiver. But the warmth of him pressing himself against you quickly warms you up. You kiss him passionately as he settles himself on top of you.

Your fingers tangle in his hair as you begin making out. His saliva tastes so good to you, it’s making your heart race like nothing else. You’ve always loved the way he kissed you like he was so hungry for you. It makes you feel so special and so desired.

His eyes are dark with lust, but the moment he undresses himself and he’s able to push his hard cock into your slick heat, his Sharingan activates. You’ve always told him not to waste his powers on you, but he’s admitted that it happens involuntarily sometimes whenever you two are intimate.

He rocks his hips as his cock fills you up. Madara feels all of his stress begin to melt away as you wrap your legs around him. Naughty words as well as sweet praises fall from his lips. He’ll be able to sleep after he fills you with his sticky seed a few times tonight.

[marvelfilth]

The Witches Trap

Part 2

Pairing: dark!Wanda Maximoff x f!reader

Warnings: ghosts, description of death, paranormal activity, gore, blood, a bit of horror ig, typical ghost hunting stuff, nothing too scary tho

Words: 5.5k

Summary: you go ghost hunting with Peter, Yelena and Kate. What could go wrong?

A/n: first time trying out some spooky stuff, so bear with me. Heavily inspired by Sam and Coby on YT.

Masterlist

The way Yelena drives is far from smooth and sound, but she vehemently refuses to let Peter behind the wheel, so here you are, yelping and griping the sides of the driver's seat headrest like your life depends on it. You hiss when your head meets the roof, and Kate sends you another toothy smile from the front seat, her eyes flickering to look at Yelena every few minutes. You look to your right to check on Peter, but he is busy fumbling with equipment, his camera carefully stored away in a bag as he keeps checking the microphone.

You sigh and relax against the seat when the road finally smoothes out, and think about why you even agreed to this. Peter asked you to tag along for a new video for his YouTube channel, and by asked you mean begged you with his best puppy eyes and a bag of goodies in his hands. Apparently, if you agreed to go, Kate will go too. And if Kate goes, he won't even have to ask Yelena.

He was right.

So now the four of you are on the way to one of the most haunted places of America - Westview hotel.

"Are you sure this is the right way?" Yelena asks, turning her head left and right.

"Yes," Peter answers, glancing up for a second.

"Honestly, this is too creepy already," Kate mumbles, her eyes locked on the numerous dolls pinned to the trees surrounding the road.

"The owner probably made someone do that. No way they had this type of dolls back in the eighteenth century." You try to reassure Kate as much as yourself.

"Actually, the first doll like that was made-" Peter finally looks up with an excited glint in his eyes, and you immediately press your palm against his mouth, "No. I don't need to know that."

"Ha! Little Y/n is scared," Yelena laughs, but her laughter is cut short when a twig hits the side window, making her shriek like a maniac.

"This never happened," she grumbles when the laughter finally dies out.

Relaxing against the seat you try to remember everything Peter told you about this hotel.

It got notoriously famous in the late eighties, when a high schooler got possessed by a demon and later died in a psych ward. The room the girl stayed in was closed off for twenty years after that. You wonder if Peter managed to book it.

Another thing you remember is numerous sightings of a dark, cloaked figure appearing in most random places, whether it's a supply closet or a presidential suite. It always managed to scare the shit out of anyone who was unfortunate enough to catch its interest. You shudder at the mere thought of encountering that particular entity.

"We're here," Yelena cuts off the ignition, and leans against the wheel to take a look at the building.

Your breath catches in your throat the second your eyes land on the magnificent hotel. At seven stories high it stands proudly on a hill, overlooking the vast grounds. The facade is noticeably worn, but no less majestic - a blend of dark wood and stone, a balcony stretching along its entire length. A dark figure on the corner of the rooftop makes you squint, and you gasp when you realize it's a gargoyle, albeit a very rickety one. You make a note to yourself not to walk under it.

Yelena ushers you along, shuddering as she notices the stone figures. “The air here is kinda thick,” she mutters.

You nod, feeling your chest tighten. She's right - the air grows heavier with each step you take. You hope the hotel itself is ventilated enough.

When you finally step inside you take a deep breath, looking around the foyer and spotting who you presume is the owner.

"Welcome to Westview Hotel! My name's Agatha, I'm the owner of this happy little place and your guide for today. Hope you have the worst time of your life here!" Her voice is too cheerful for the late hours, and you cringe at the full on villainous laugh she lets out.

Peter goes to speak with the woman while the rest of you look around. Yelena plops on the loveseat, her backpack thrown on the carpeted floor near her feet, and Kate just stands beside you with her mouth hanging open - you're sure you're wearing a similar expression.

While the outside of the hotel looked somewhat old and weathered, the inside completely blows you away with its beauty. It's elegant, if a bit eerie, with a grand chandelier and high arches that make the space feel even bigger.

You frown, sensing someone's eyes on you, and notice Peter glancing in your direction every so often. You send him a questioning look, but he only shakes his head, his lips pressed together and his cheeks puffed.

"Do you think he's going to sacrifice one of us to that witch? Scarlet Witch, right?" Yelena muses.

"Yeah, but I don't think you're her type." Kate winks at the blonde.

You snicker at her annoyed expression, and stumble back, accidentally bumping into someone. You turn around, an apology on your tongue, only to choke on your words when you are met with an empty lobby.

Your friends stare at you quizzically, but Agatha seems to be lost in thought, her eyes trained on the space right above your shoulder, then she slightly shakes her head, her lips pressed in a tight line.

"Sorry. I thought I bumped into someone…" You trail off, your back burning, an eerie feeling settling in your stomach.

"Sure thing, buttercup." Agatha winks at you, her mood changed back to normal in an instant.

You shudder, looking back at your friends. Yelena whispers something in Kate's ear that causes the younger one to chuckle, and Peter has his camera pointed at you.

"We already got some paranoid activity ten minutes into the night," he blabbers behind the camera, motioning for you to explain what happened.

"Um... It felt like I bumped into someone?" Talking to a camera is weird, but you manage to explain what you felt. "... I think it was nothing though, just my nerves acting up." You force a chuckle, your eyes moving to meet Agatha's stare.

She moves closer to be in the frame, and tells everyone about how much the Scarlet Witch loves to mess with younger women, her favorite pastime in this hotel seems to be entertaining the ladies. However, her idea of entertainment slightly differs from yours, and you gulp when Agatha mentions her choking sleeping guests and locking them in elevators.

"This is going to be incredible, guys," Peter says to the camera, his excitement too contagious for you to worry about your safety.

×××

The next two hours are spent walking behind Agatha and listening to her stories about various tragic deaths that occured in this hotel over the past hundreds of years. She stops every ten minutes or so in front of different rooms, each story worse than the previous one, and you shudder when she tells you a story of a woman buried alive in one of the walls, Agatha's hand casually resting on said wall.

She is telling you another story about a guy that danced on a ledge to impress a girl and fell on one of the spikes in the lobby, when you suddenly feel a tug in your chest. You stop, checking to see if anyone else felt that. Kate is staring at the ledge with her mouth wide open, Peter's busy filming Agatha and butting in with commentary (much to Agatha's displeasure), and Yelena grips Kate's hand so hard, you are sure she couldn't possibly see anything other than the wall in front of her.

You exhale and look around, trying to spot anything interesting, even though you've been looking at the same set of stairs for the past ten minutes. Strangely enough, you notice a door that surely wasn't there before, because you would've noticed it right away if it was.

While every part of this hotel was renovated, this door looks like it belongs in the past, with heavy iron hinges and a weird looking handle. There are no signs on the door, nor any numbers or words, and when something tugs on your hand, you follow the feeling.

You walk almost in haze, your friends' voices blurred in the background, unfamiliar warmth surrounding you, your chest lighter than it ever was and your mind in a euphoric state. You turn the knob and it gives in, the door rattling loudly as you tug it open, but before you could even glimpse inside, a hand slaps harshly on the wood, the door closing with a loud creak.

You blink owlishly, warmth gone and your head suddenly clear, as you take in Agatha's furious expression.

"It says 'Employees only'," she hisses through gritted teeth, and you step away from the woman.

"No, it doesn't, there's noth-" you choke on your words when you look back at the door, because now it looks like every other door in the room, 'Employees only' written in bold.

You look back at Agatha and apologize, but it seems like she doesn't hear you, her brows furrowed and her eyes flickering between you and the door.

"Okay that's hella creepy," Kate breaks the silence, her unoccupied hand digging in a pocket of her jeans to present a cross. "God will protect us." She puts it around her neck, and nods to herself.

"You don't even believe in God." Yelena jams her in the ribs, not letting go of the brunette's hand.

"You really should," Agatha casually advises, tugging at your elbow to move you further away from the door, "follow me, I'm going to tell you the story of the Scarlet Witch."

You cast one last look at the door and follow her down the hall to the very last room, something warm pressing at the low of your back to lead you. Shuddering at the feeling, you wonder why it is only you who feels something weird. Kate keeps sending you worried looks, but, other than that, she seems okay with Yelena's hand pressed firmly into her side. Peter isn't fazed at all, excitingly recording everything in sight.

Exhaling, you try to relax. If something here wants to harm you it wouldn't use such a gentle approach.

Or maybe it's just luring you in.

When you finally stop in front of room number 208 you feel a poke in your ribs, Yelena nods her head for you to look at Agatha, and you confusedly look up. Apparently, she wants you to open the door. Gulping, you move forward, your hand reaching on its own accord. You turn the doorknob with some hesitation, your hand trembling slightly. When you're met with a sight of a regular hotel room, you let out a quiet breath.

The walls are painted an unassuming beige, with green and brown accents, the earth tones bringing a feeling of calm. The four poster bed is pushed against the farthest wall, with nightstands on either side, and you could already imagine how soft it would feel to sleep in it. But the only thing that truly gets your attention is a floor to ceiling window and a french door, which hopefully leads to a balcony you spotted from the outside.

Agatha walks past you into the room, resting her weight against the foot of the bed. "It was locked," her eyes seem to be glued to yours as she speaks, "second locked door you opened today. I find that… interesting."

You are aware of Peter's camera being shoved right in your face, you're aware of Kate's hand reassuringly clasping your own, aware of Yelena's calming presence, but you are focused on something else entirely. There is this feeling again, now familiar warmth taking root in your chest, almost singing to you. You briefly close your eyes, savoring the sensation, wishing you could feel more.

"This is our most active room," Agatha says, "last year some teenagers decided to use a Ouija board in here and it got even worse. So you're in for a wild ride."

"This is nuts," Kate says from the other side of the room, trailing her hand over the painting of a burning witch.

"Oh, this actually happened here," Agatha drawls, taking note of your surprised faces, "almost a hundred young alleged witches were burnt at the stake here, on these grounds…" Agatha continues on with the story, but your eyes are stuck on Kate, on the other side of the room, your body frozen in shock. You can still feel what you thought was Kate's hand on your own, but with her standing on the other side of the room, and Yelena looking at you like you've grown two heads, you decide it's enough.

"Can you tell them to stop?" you shriek, stepping further into the room.

The warm feeling in your chest intensifies, the ghost of a hand sliding up your arm to settle on your cheek, turning your head to look at the painting. It's so gentle, so soft, it makes you lean your head in search of more.

"Them?" Agatha's voice grounds you. "I believe there's only one witch who is interested in you."

"What's going on?" Kate asks, moving away from the painting. Panic starts to rise in your chest, making you struggle to breathe. "Y/n, are you okay?" Kate's by your side in an instant, hands rubbing your sides, and you lay your head on her shoulder, silently reminding yourself that no ghost can hurt you.

"I thought you were standing beside me, I felt you take my hand, but you were on the other side of the room," you whisper against her shoulder.

"No. We're going back home." Yelena pales and tugs at your elbow, smacking the back of Peter's head with her other arm. "Your idiotic idea is going to give her a heart attack," she hisses and leads you to the door, hurriedly turning the knob.

It doesn't turn.

"What the fuck." She tries to open it again, and again, and again, until Agatha gets pissed and yells at her for trying to break the door.

"If she wants you to stay, you'll stay." She places her palm on the wooden door, and gives everyone a stern look.

"Say the word and I'll break that door open." Peter reappears by your side, looking guilty as ever, his camera now hidden away.

You take a deep breath and look around, now feeling much safer with all of your friends (and Agatha) by your side. The room looks like no one has touched it in years, and the warm, calming feeling in your chest only intensified after your little break down.

Maybe the witch just wants some company.

You meet Peter's eyes and manage a smile. "I survived Yelena's driving, I'm sure I'll be fine after this."

"Are you sure?" Yelena and Peter ask you at the same time.

"Yes, guys, I'm fine. I'm just not used to it like you are," you smile at Peter, and he nods in understanding.

He spent his college years filming in haunted places, a little hobby turned into a full time job as his channel grew bigger and bigger. Usually he invites his friend Wade to film together, but this time he really wanted you to come.

"Glad we settled that. Now sit," Agatha commands.

You take a seat on the bed, Yelena and Kate immediately placing their arms around you. Peter settles in a comfortable looking chair by the window, and Agatha stays standing, clearing her throat before venturing into the story of the Scarlet Witch.

"I'm sure you know that being a redhead, green-eyed, and exceptionally smart young woman in the 17th century meant one thing."

"Barbecue," Yelena mumbles, earning a scathing glare from the older woman.

"Yes. But here's the thing - the Scarlet Witch was never burned at the stake, and not because she was so good at staying hidden, but because she has never had a physical presence in this world, at least one that we know of. There's no proof of her existence, no paintings and no pictures, no sightings either."

Yelena shifts beside you. "Then how do you even know-"

Agatha cuts her off with another scathing glare, before continuing on. "We know because every single one of these poor women cried out her name before their inevitable death. They begged her to save them, but she never did."

"That still doesn't-"

"For the love of god, just shut up and let me finish!" The older woman shrieks, throwing her hands in the air. Momentarily closing her eyes, she clenches her jaw. "She never saved any of these poor girls, feeding on their fear, anger and desperation. She enjoyed what was happening. Hell, she spurged it on, manipulating minds, changing people until they became unrecognizable, and after this hotel was built she took charge, driving owners and residents away, leading people to their inevitable death, and lately possessing unsuspecting women. All of those poor people had one thing to say - 'it was the Scarlet Witch'." She shifts on her feet, turning to look out the window. "Hundreds of years of terror, but there was one good thing she's done. There was a particularly nasty witch trial, the poor girl was accused of seducing a priest's daughter. Imagine the horrors she was bound to be faced with if they got their hands on her. They never did, she escaped their clutches, and every single man involved in the hunt on the girl was brutally murdered. The girl died of old age in the safety of her own home, forever protected by the magic of the Scarlet Witch." Suddenly, her eyes lock on yours. "There's no trace of the Scarlet Witch, but there's a painting of the woman she saved. I'd show it to you, but for you it'll be the same as looking in a mirror, so I'll save myself the trouble."

Peter suddenly sits up straighter, nodding along to Agatha's words.

Kate slides her hand away from your shoulders. "Don't want to make her jealous or anything," she whispers, looking around.

"Do you say this to everyone or..?" You hesitantly speak up.

Her eyes turn serious, causing a chill to run down your spine. "Oh no, buttercup, you're a spitting image of the only woman she deemed worthy enough to save."

"She's not lying," Peter says, "that's actually the reason why I asked you to come." He sends you a sheepish smile, and shows you a picture on his phone. It's an old painting, weathered by time, but undoubtedly beautiful.

The woman looks just like you.

You gulp, your heart hammering in your chest. "Well, I'm not her."

"Maybe not. It's not like it matters." Agatha mumbles, standing up, a faraway look in her eyes. "She must've had her reasons to save the poor girl, and I suspect they were far from noble. Be careful." She looks at you one last time before turning to Peter. "Well, it's been fun entertaining you, but it's nearing midnight, so I'll leave you to your ghost hunting, or whatever it is that you're doing." Her lips purse at the numerous cameras Peter's unloaded from his bag.

"Wait!" You jump up, stalling Agatha. "How do you even know about what happened at the trials? Is there some kind of document?" You're aware of the absurdity of your questions, after all you are the one who experienced all of the activity so far, and while some of it could be blamed on your nerves or your brain playing tricks on you, the door accident still burns at the back of your mind.

"You don't believe me?" Agatha smirks, making you shift uncomfortably. "Don't worry, you'll see, you have a long night ahead." She sends you one last look, and easily opens the door before disappearing behind it.

You fall back on the duvet, pressing your palms against your face. The past hour puts an uncomfortable weight on your chest, and you struggle to wrap your mind around the fact that you're probably going to be targeted even more as the night goes on, either by your terrified, overly anxious mind, or the Scarlet Witch.

The warm feeling you felt when you first stepped into the room slowly disappeared, leaving you to wonder if it's done its job in luring you in.

"Okay, it's time to-"

"We're not using a Ouija board."

"- light up some candles." Peter says, looking quizzically at Yelena. "I'm not stupid, you know." He huffs, rolling his eyes.

You snort, shaking your head at your friends' antics. "Why do we need candles?"

Peter rolls his eyes. "To communicate with ghosts."

"Don't you have some fancy tech for that?"

"I prefer to keep it simple," he shrugs.

You share a look with Yelena. "And we'll be left talking to the AC," you mumble loud enough for Peter to hear and send you a middle finger.

"There's no AC in this room. Some people use flashlights, but I prefer candles. We'll also use a spirit box."

"We're not catching any spirits in a box, right?" You sit up, eyes darting between your friends.

Peter sighs and goes on a rant about his tools, explaining how everything works. To your great relief, you won't have to catch anyone, just put on a blindfold, some noise canceling headphones, and let some spirit talk though one of you.

"Sounds fun," Kate gulps.

"I'm not doing that." You shake your head, crossing your arms.

Peter looks up from the floor, where he adjusts the rem pod, the piece of equipment going off when he touches it with a tip of his finger, calibrating the sensitivity. "Yelena will do that."

It's almost comical how far Yelena's jaw falls. "And why is that, Parker? Why don't you let some spirit use you as a radio?"

"Um… my tarot reader told me you'll do best out of all of us."

Kate starts cackling like a maniac, clutching her stomach and bending over. You can't help laughing either, burrowing your face into the pillow to keep quiet.

Yelena continues arguing with Peter, and you decide to leave them to it and satisfy your curiosity. You smile at the questioning smile Kate sends you, and gesture to the balcony door.

You were right, it is the balcony you saw from the outside, stretching all the way to the other side of the hotel. You sigh and lean against the railing, taking in the view. If you thought it looked terrifying on the way here, it looks even worse from high up. Moonlight shines on crooked trees surrounding the land around the hotel, dark and menacing, broken branches hanging on the last threads. There is a well within walking distance, not too far away from where you parked the car. You swear to yourself you won't let Peter drag you over there, it looks way too creepy.

You finally relax, letting your eyes fall shut for a second, but a blurry movement to your left forced them open. You grip the railing, squinting.

Nothing.

"What the fuck." Kate's voice sounds from the inside, and you rush back just in time to see her exit the adjoined bathroom, snapping the door shut with a terrified look on her face. "No. Oh fuck no. Oh no, no, no."

Peter sits up, alarmed. "What is it?"

"There's blood on the mirror," she whispers, her hands shaking violently, "and in the tub, and on the floor."

Peter immediately gets up, taking the only camera that's been filming the whole time with him. You follow your friend, not paying attention to your shaking hands and your hammering heart.

When the door opens you see a pristine bathroom, so clean it's almost mocking. He inspects every corner from every possible angle, only to come up short.

"Guys?" Kate calls out from behind the door. "Are you good?"

"There's nothing he-" you freeze mid sentence when your eyes land on the mirror.

It's fogged up, one word clearly written.

Your name.

You reach out - not of your own violation, your hand guided by some unseen force - and touch the reflective glass right where your name is. You're hit with a vision, bits and pieces of what feels like distant memory escaping the prison your mind put them in.

You see a wrinkled face of an old man, his expression pure disgust as he spews something right in your face. The scene changes abruptly, and now you're in a dark cell, with only the moon to keep you company. Your heart clenches at the pure anguish you're hit with, the desperation drowning you, leaving you no room to breathe. There's a sudden blur, and everything turns blinding white, and then… you feel that warmth again. A woman stands in front of you, reaching out, her eyes glinting red. She looks ethereal, her skin pale, almost sheer, her unruly hair pushed back by a red tiara. You gulp, feeling the power radiating from her, chest aching with the need to submit to it.

You stumble away from the mirror. There's no warmth in your chest now, only pure, unconcealed dread. You lean against the door, palms pressed to your face. Peter doesn't dare breathe, his hands only shaking slightly as he makes sure to get it in the frame.

"Where did you just go?" He whispers, not daring to speak any louder.

You shake your head, blinking back tears. "Tell me you did this. Tell me it's a prank."

He looks at you, eyes full of fear. He bites on his lower lip, eyes wide. "I did this. I totally did this." He nods rapidly, ushering you out of the room.

Kate and Yelena wait on the other side, each holding a candelabra. You don't even bother to ask where they found them, heading straight to the balcony for a breath of fresh air while Peter explains what happened.

You look at the full moon, rubbing your chest in tight circles.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Again, and again.

The floorboards of the balcony creak, along with the railing, and you wonder if it's all gonna fall to the ground, and bury you in a mess of wood and cement. Maybe that's what the witch wants - for you to stay here forever.

You feel the remains of that need, that hunger for the witch. You long to see her again, even if it's just a glimpse, a whiff of her presence.

When you come back, the lights are off, and Peter is already asking questions, Yelena's terrified expression telling you everything you need to know about the answers they've been provided with.

The candle on the nightstand goes out, and Peter blinks, looking at you. "Weird."

"What?" You ask, looking around, hair on the nape of your neck standing up.

"He asked the ghosts if they wanted us to leave." Kate answers.

"That means they do." Yelena points at the candle.

You shiver, a breeze from the balcony making you curl in on yourself, eyes flickering to every dark corner of the room, flinching whenever you see shadows from the moonlight that look a little too ominous.

Someone is watching you, you're sure. A part of you hopes it's her.

"And why is that weird?" You ask Peter, watching as he collects the candles. You sigh in relief, glad to have missed the conversation.

"I thought they liked us - you - at least," he mumbles.

"Maybe they want us gone so the witch can have some alone time with Y/n." Yelena's brows jump up and down suggestively, and you can't help, but laugh, some of the tension finally seeping away.

That is, until the last candle on the nightstand lights up again, completely on its own.

Peter staggers back, dropping the stack in his hands. "No fucking way," he whispers, "that never happened before."

He pulls back to check the camera, making sure it's still recording.

"That's a yes, right?" Kate gulps, looking at you with wide eyes. "She wants you wants you. It's not a coincidence."

You take a seat on the rocking chair in the corner and close your eyes, reminding yourself that nothing here could ever hurt you. It doesn't really work when you still feel eyes on you. Your hands tremble, and your legs feel too heavy to stand on. Every sound is amplified, your senses going into overdrive, so when a clock stops ticking, you immediately notice.

The clock reads 12:08, the hands still for a moment, before resuming their course.

You're slowly starting to wish you never agreed to come to this place.

Agatha's words ring in your head. What if the witch thinks you're that poor girl? That'll explain the witches' interest in you. Maybe she made you see those visions to help you remember.

But… What if it's not even her that's been following you? What if it's one of the dark entities Agatha told you about? The thought makes you even more uncomfortable - you'd prefer the Scarlet Witch to haunt you instead of some dark, trapped soul, no matter how absurd it sounds.

"Hey," Kate approaches you.

You blink, and offer her a hesitant smile. "Yeah?"

"Are you okay?" She bites on her lip, her hands on your knees.

You nod, and take her hands in yours. "I'm fine. Just a bit shaken up."

She sighs heavily, head falling to rest on your lap. "Same," she mumbles, "I feel like a prey."

You rub her shoulders, hoping to ease some of her tension. "We'll be out of here in the morning."

She looks up, smiling. "Actually, we're not sleeping here. Peter said we'll try to talk to them one last time and then go."

You hum, wondering why the information makes you feel worse. Shouldn't you be relieved to leave earlier?

"Okay, come here," Peter calls, putting noise canceling headphones on Yelena's head.

Kate jumps up, her eyes lightening up at the sight of Yelena sitting rigidly on the chair, a blindfold and headphones in place. "Oh, this is gonna be good," she smiles, settling in front of the blonde.

Peter looks at you. "I think you should ask the questions."

You nod, biting on the inside of your cheek. You think of something appropriate to ask - something that would reveal information without offending any of the spirits here.

"Are we here alone?" You ask, and everyone turns to look at Yelena, awaiting an answer.

Yelena's head bobs up and down, like she's listening to her favorite song, but you know for sure it's just white noise.

"Hello," Yelena says, smiling slightly.

Not alone, then.

You nod, and Peter gestures for you to continue.

"My name is Y/n, what is your name?"

It's quiet for a little while, occasional squeaks from the balcony making you jump up and look around.

When Yelena doesn't answer, Peter decides to speak up. "Did you follow us here from the lobby? Was it you-"

"Shut up," Yelena barks.

Kate stumbles back on the floor, and settles against the foot of the bed. "Oh fuck."

Peter takes a step back, raising his hands in surrender. "Okay, okay. Sorry." He nods at you, urging you to continue.

"Do you not like him?" You ask.

"In… in the way…" her voice is unsure as she trails off.

"Peter's in the way? In the way of what?" Kate speaks up, looking at you.

"Deal," the blonde whispers, "owe."

Peter frowns. "You made a deal and you owe someone?"

Yelena purses her lips, tilting her head to the side like she can't quite figure out what is being said.

The bathroom door slowly creaks open.

"Are you in the bathroom?" Kate's voice shakes, and you take her hand, shuffling closer to the girl.

"Blood."

You exhale, looking at the open doorway with wide eyes.

Kate nods rapidly, her hand trembling. "There was a lot of blood. You scared the shit out of me."

Yelena chuckles, "Feed."

So whatever is here has been feeding on your fear.

"Who are you?" You ask again.

"You know," Yelena replies. "You all do."

"What's behind that door?" You have the strongest urge to go back there.

Yelena chuckles, shaking her head. “Go see for yourself.”

Light starts flickering, tears spring to your eyes, and you fight the urge to curl into a ball and cry. Yelena turns her head and sits up, leanings towards you.

"You forgot."

"Forgot about what?" You shudder, eyes darting between the door and Yelena.

"Our deal."

Peter darts to the other side of the room and snaps the door to the bathroom shut, his mouth set in a flat line. "We're leaving."

"She can't," Yelena singsongs.

"There's no deal. You're mistaken," Peter snaps, collecting the equipment.

"What deal?" You hesitantly ask.

Lightning strikes outside, a loud boom of thunder following. The painting of the burning witch falls.

"I own y-"

Peter tugs off the headphones, Yelena's mouth snaps shut. She tugs off the blindfold and blinks, brows set in confusion. "Are we gonna start any time soon?"

Kate groans, falling face first to the floor. "Fuck my life."

_______________________

Before you yell at me - yes, there will be a part two

[allfearstofallto]

Always Under Skin, Even When it Gets Removed

Yandere! Childe x Reader

Part of {Mai Playlist}

Childe was a nuisance. Persistent. A vermin. Childe was a pest. Like an infestation of roaches, you could do everything in your power to get rid of him, but he'd still be somewhere nearby. Determination was one of his strongest traits, and he was determined to ruin you.

Being married to him was never in your cards and if you could've never met him at all, you would've been happy. Yet for almost a year, you were forced to be his doting wife. Only managing to steal yourself away after months of planning and a few close calls. The taste of free air, even if it was the air of Snezhnaya, was the best thing on your tongue, better than even your favorite food cooked to perfection.

You didn't think you'd live the life of a nomad, but it seemed easier. Paranoia was second nature to you now, and staying in one place seemed dangerous. He could be anywhere, around any corner, close by, but not showing himself until he knew it would fuck you over. Was living life on the road considered freedom? You didn't know, but anything would be better than another day with Childe.

“How far will this take me?” You held up a good ring to a carriage driver, making sure to keep your face covered beneath your hood. You took a lot when you left, mostly jewelry, things that were small and expensive.

He eyes the ring over before dropping it back into the palm of your hand, “It'll get you pretty far, but where are you even trying to go?”

“Anywhere is fine,” you said quickly.

The man helped you up into the back of his wagon, where he kept his wares. Mostly agricultural things, fresh produce and hay. It wasn't the best place you'd ridden before, but it was far from being the worst.

You understood why people were weary of you. You weren't making much of an effort to not come off as strange, but you weren't out to make friends. The wagon swayed as the sun began to set over the horizon, he didn't tell you how long he'd be driving and quite honestly, you didn't care. At the next port, you'd stow yourself away onto some other vehicle, never stopping, not even for a breath.

You let your head rest back against the hard wooden wall, you let your arms fall to your side, you let the movement of the wagon sway you to sleep. Morning would come and you'd be awoken by the well-known feeling of the carriage lurching to a stop and sunlight beaming through the cracks in the wall. Outside sounded like a bustling city, although you didn't know where, quite honestly it didn't matter.

“It's back here, sir,” you heard the voice of the carriage driver say as you watched shadows fall over the doorway. You can recognize Childe. Recognize his smell, his voice, a strand of his hair if you were to find one, and most importantly, you could recognize his footsteps. Slow, drawn out, and precise. Your blood went cold, noticing that the driver wasn't walking alone.

The door was slammed open and before you could even make a break for it, cold metal was pressed to your neck. Sharp enough to slice your head right off your body if you made any sudden moves, you could already feel the steel biting into your skin.

“Already running away again?” You didn't even want to look at him, but he used the tip of his blade to tilt your head up. Still wearing a smile as he looked down upon you, “I will admit, I'm proud of you. You managed to stay away longer than I expected,” the blade pushed a lot harder into your neck, “I missed you, my angel.”

You could say nothing as he took you by the hand, pulling you from the cart and onto the ground. You weren't treated gently, not when he was angry. His anger was a menace to deal with. The bigger the smile, the words his rage, and he looked practically elated to see you.

“You took everything, but this,” he tossed your wedding band down, it fell onto your body and landed on your thighs. The ring was warm, like he'd been clutching it in his hand. Knowing him, he probably hadn't let it go since he discovered you were gone.

Without much of an argument, you slipped the ring back on your finger. The small band felt more like a shackle, than something meant to adorn your body. With it, your taste of delicious, true freedom was ripped from your mouth almost as quickly as you'd gotten it. But you'd never get to taste it again.

Childe was all smiles and laughter as he helped you into his own carriage. That smile not reaching his dead, hollow eyes. The ride to Snezhnaya would be a long one, you wonder how long he could contain his anger till then?