#the things i’d do to have these men in real life

[junior-april]

Reaching peak insanity rn bc

what would you ACTUALLY do if ur fav character just spawned in front of you??

No bc I’d immediately assume they’ll disappear soon aswell so assuming u have little time what ru doing??

As a joke i first thought I’d immediately try sleep with bakugo or eren BECAUSE WHEN ELSE WILL I BE ABLE TO? It just logically feels stupid not to bc hellooo??

But actually if the situation was real is it their anime characters or fanfiction characters (assuming they’re manifested from you and your perception of the character) bc if it were the actual bakugo/eren or smt from the mha/aot world they will not fuck me.. they’d need a debrief of the real world and they probably wouldnt believe me or like me at all anyway.

Ok so what if its fanfiction bakugo/eren and they’re compliant, hate me less as a stranger and can actually be romantic; assuming they still have human sense and emotions I STILL CANT FUCK THEM RIGHT AWAY,

guys what to do??????????

[whimsiwitchy]

Controversially Young Girlfriend 

Hugh Jackman x popstar!reader 

series masterlist & main masterlist

summary: y/n is a globally beloved pop star. She is known for her talent and dedication towards her craft. Recently, she has also been known for her preference for older men. After a breakup with her former older boyfriend, she had a run in with the hottest dilf right now, Hugh Jackman. Y/n tried to warn him, but what can she say, she has an effect on hot, older men. 

warnings: age gap (23/55), cursing, y/n used, implied shorter reader, afab reader, she/her pronouns. 

warnings will change as the story progresses! all descriptions of real people in this story are FAKE. i do not know these people and this is purely fiction. Please let me know if I missed anything! <33

authors note: this is an idea I had that I really needed to write. I’d love to make this a series if you guys want more, just let me know! This is only my second time writing fanfiction and my first time writing for Hugh, please be nice lol. Thank you for reading! <3

Part one: breakup and new beginnings 

Being a young girl living in the middle of bumfuck nowhere made it seem impossible to live your dreams of becoming a singer. You grew up in a tiny little town in Louisiana called Minden. With a population of less than 15,000 people, the closest ‘big’ city being Shreveport, growing up was pretty boring. You had big dreams of making it big and making it the fuck out of the country. Minden wasn’t always so bad. It was a nice community that had fun things here and there, but you craved more. 

Once you graduated highschool back in 2020, you focused on working and saving as much money as you could, only buying essentials and equipment to help make music. You took a few online classes on producing and tried your best to make whatever song was bouncing around in your head come to life. It took a year for you to feel confident enough to release your first few songs out into the world. So in July of 2021, you teased a song on TikTok to your small following. You started to gain a few more followers here and there, it was exciting. At the end of August, you released your first song titled ‘to the point’ and it blew up on the clock app. You gained a hefty following after that, on the brink of hitting one million. 

By the end of 2022, deciding on Los Angeles, you had finally saved enough money to move, so you were packing your bags and heading out. Your agent was ecstatic about the move because it meant more opportunities for your career. After releasing a few more songs over the past year, you hired Stacy to help you manage everything. 

Fastwording to 2024, your dreams have come true and you have been an established and respected artist for almost two years. You started to build a reputation as someone who was dedicated and passionate about their craft- always being involved in any creative process. It was bliss. Lately though, you’ve gained another reputation, the controversial young girlfriend, a whore, a gold digger. Since you’ve been in the spotlight, you’ve had your fair share of dating history and if they all happened to be older men, so what? It wasn’t something you had planned on but older men were just built differently. They were so much sexier and put together than the guys your age. They knew what they were doing and how to treat a woman right. You were so tired of being asked out through instagram direct messages, you wanted someone who wasn’t afraid to talk to you in person, and that seemed to only come from men twice your age. You weren’t complaining though, you enjoyed it. 

Your last ‘scandalous’ relationship ended up being far more public than you intended it to be. In the beginning, the men you were seen with were never anything serious, just dates or one night stands. Though with Pedro it was different. You dated him for six months before it all came crashing down and you felt heartbroken. He was the sweetest man you’d ever been with and it all ended because the hate from fans on our age gap was too much for him. It was an ugly breakup and you were positive that he wouldn’t want to be associated with you anymore, even as friends. 

-

“I should have picked a different song.” You huff in frustration. Today you were going to be performing on BBC’s Radio 1 Live Lounge and as requested, you'd be performing your own song and a cover of your choosing. When Stacy first presented this opportunity to you, it had only been a month after your recent breakup and naturally you chose to cover ‘THE GREATEST’ by Billie Eilish. Now that you were mostly over Pedro, the song seemed silly to sing and you weren’t feeling as vocally confident now that you were here. 

“Babe, you’re gonna kill it! Just let your emotions flow, give the fans what they want.” Stacy is sitting across the room as she comforts you. She’s fidgeting with your vocal humidifier, attempting to put it together before you start warming up. Her advice isn’t terrible, she’s right. You’d been pretty silent on the subject matter, steering clear of social media so you wouldn’t say anything stupid. Rumors of your breakup had been all over the headlines but there hasn’t been confirmation from either of you. Singing this song today would definitely stir the pot again and make everyone realize that it is done between you two. 

“You’re right.” 

“As always. Here, start warming up the money maker.” She laughs while handing you the humidifier. 

“I really hope he doesn’t watch it. I’d literally smash my head into a brick wall out of embarrassment…” 

Placing the humidifier over your mouth and nose, you sit there letting your mind wander. Having your personal life exposed to everyone really sucked and hiding your boyfriends wasn’t something you wanted to do, but you knew that in the future it was something that would have to happen. 

“I think I’m taking a break from men.” You let out proudly, glancing over at Stacy. 

“Whatever you say girl.” You could hear the doubt lingering in her tone and the roll of her eyes. 

“Ugh… You don’t believe me do you? I can totally break off from men and be my own person for once.” 

“I’m not trying to doubt you babe. It’s just…You tend to attract men like a magnet and you have some severe daddy issues.” She's typing away on her laptop as if she didn’t just completely disrespect you. 

“I don’t have daddy issues.” You say flatly. “I happen to have a very loving father who was always present in my life, so the whole dating older men thing does NOT stem from daddy issues. Thank you very much.” You say matter of factly. 

“Hm..Well I give it a week.” 

-

After a few sound checks for your mic and band, you perform your first song. You chose a more upbeat song off your debut album to start, given that you were about to lay your heart out of the line. It was honestly kind of awkward performing in this setting. There was a booth in front of you that had the sound board and all of the other electronic stuff that you didn’t understand. Then right to the left of that, the cameras were positioned with a group of crew members sitting behind them. It always felt awkward performing to smaller audiences. 

The first song went by smoothly, earning a few cheers from the people in the room. As the band prepared for the next song, you could see the door in the booth open and two figures walk in. You weren’t wearing your glasses or contacts since it was supposed to be a short day, so you really couldn’t make out who had just walked in. You assumed more workers came in and brushed it off. 

“All ready?” A man behind the camera asks and you give a thumbs up. 

You somehow managed to get through the song without having any vocal mess ups. It was a challenging song and you'd definitely have to text Billie later to give her some credit. A few tears slipped here and there, feeling the emotions that you thought were gone slowly be released. You pulled yourself together and you felt really proud of the performance as a whole, showing the world the potential your voice had. 

A few soft claps are dying out as everyone starts cleaning up the room. You’re reaching down to grab your water bottle when you feel someone rushing up towards you. 

“Ahhh you did great babe but um two hot dudes will be walking through that door any second!” Stacy is whispering and all you could do was give her a confused look before the door opens. You squint trying to make out the two figures. 

“God you’re talented!” You hear the voice before you see the face. 

“Oh um, thank you so much.” You let out not really sure who you were speaking to. Once the two men get into view, your jaw drops slightly. 

“HOLY SHIT!” You yell a little too loudly. Slapping your hand over your mouth, you hear a very rich man laugh coming from a very good looking man. For some reason, whoever is in charge of the fate of the universe has blessed you with the presence of Ryan Reynalds and Hugh Jackaman. 

“Oh my god i’m so sorry, that’s literally so embarrassing. I just couldn’t see who you were at first.” 

“It’s okay sweetheart.” They both wear big smiles on their faces. 

“I’m y/n, it’s so nice to meet y’all, i’m a big fan!” You gush out, trying your best to refrain from fangirling. 

“We’re big fans as well. We were next door interviewing for the radio show, when we heard you were recording over here. We ran over here to try to catch you.” Ryan lets out. 

“No shit! That’s so cool. I really appreciate it.” Before the conversation could continue, Ryan is being called over by someone, leaving Hugh and yourself alone. 

“Hows Pedro, haven't seen him in awhile.” Hugh asks genuinely, giving you a small smile. It caught you off guard completely. You racked your brain trying to think of a time in your six month relationship that Pedro mentioned Hugh at all but nothing came up. 

“Oh I uh- I wouldn’t know. We aren’t together anymore.” Your voice is soft, trying not to make this any more awkward. 

“Shit. I’m so sorry, with the way he spoke about you, I thought you’d be together longer…” He trails off. 

“Yea me too.. he couldn’t handle the heat I guess.” You shrug. 

“Well, his loss yea?” He smiles trying to cheer you up. 

“Yea..” You say softly, your voice matching your smile. You take a moment to really look at him and he’s beyond handsome. He’s aged but in a way that makes you wish you were able to see the years go by with him. He was tall, almost towering over you, and his muscles were practically popping out of his shirt. 

The same guy that was walking to Ryan, gathers the three of you for a picture for the BBC socials. You stand in the middle, both men placing their arms behind either side of you. Hugh’s hand was placed on the small of your back. You looked up at him quickly, his face already smiling at the camera. You hear the camera go off a few times, causing you to look that way as well. Once the cameraman was satisfied, everyone gave their goodbyes and the room cleared out. 

-

Later that night you were scrolling through your phone when a text popped up from Stacy. 

Stacypoo <33: I told you. You couldn’t even go a week. ;) 

The text is accompanied by a screenshot of a notification stating that “‘thehughjackman’ started following you!”. You rushed to open instagram and went to your followers to search from his name. You stared at his page for a few minutes before following him back. 

While you had control over your own social media, someone handled all of your business related content. You went on your page to see that the picture that was taken at BBC earlier today was already posted with one comment standing out beyond the rest. 

Thehughjackman: Great meeting you sweetheart! :)

Thank you for reading <3

part two

[beneathashadytree]

RESPONSIBLE DADS - LOVE AND DEEPSPACE MEN X READER

Warnings : autistic!Zayne with his autistic daughter, all of them are girl dads here (except for Xavier who has twins), cuteness-aggression bites, one mention of a gun (no one is harmed!), no mentions of pregnancy (their kids can be interpreted as biological or adopted), this isn’t proof-read, reader is gender-neutral!

Genre : so much domestic fluff ☹️🫶🏽

Word count : 2.3K words (holy shit???)

Additional notes : This is a combination of two asks I’d received a month or two ago about the LNDS men as dads while their partner is away, and Zayne in particular struggling with his own autism vs his child’s autism. The brain rot was real in this one😭 To anyone else reading this, my requests are still closed!! These are just old requests I had in my inbox🫶🏽

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“She went down without much of a fuss,” Zayne said, slowly closing the bedroom door behind him as he set his phone on the dresser and got ready for bed over the video call, despite the time zone differences. He’d tried to convince them to just let themself rest instead of staying up past 3 AM, but they’d paid him no mind and insisted on seeing him last thing before bed.

They hummed, watching him slip out of his button up through their screen with a fond gaze. “She is really quiet compared to what I’ve heard about kids her age.”

In the midst of folding his shirt, he paused, a slight crease between his eyebrows. “A little too quiet.” At his concerned face, they straightened up in their seat and leaned in closer to their phone. “I think… she has difficulty connecting with me.”

Their expression was unsure at that. “I don’t know, Zayne. You know she loves you…”

“I do,” was his swift answer, pausing as he pulled his pyjama shirt over his head, then popping out with his hair adorably mussed. “But maybe she feels like I wouldn’t understand her.”

No matter how much he wanted to seem stoic and unaffected by the prospect, there was no hiding the conflicted emotions swimming in his eyes. With an almost sad smile, they asked him, “Even though anyone that sees you two says you have so much in common?”

With a slight flush (was it out of embarrassment as he noticed his messy hair, or was it a twinge of pride in being so connected to his daughter?) he began to apply his minimal skincare that he’d grown used to with them, scarred skin deftly being cared for after years of neglect.

“Autistic girls have different experiences than autistic boys, and their struggles are often overlooked because of these differences. Maybe she subconsciously feels that we can’t bridge that gap.”

Resting their head against their hand, keen eyes bore through him. Zayne would never go unheard as long as they were there. “Do you feel that gap?”

He shrugged, swallowing thickly as he wiped the excess off on his hand towel. “It’s not about me. Studies show that—”

Shaking their head, they sighed a little in affectionate exasperation. “It doesn’t matter what studies say. You’re overthinking it because you want things to be perfect. It’s sweet, just… not very realistic.”

“Mm. I know,” he softly conceded, combing through his hair with a distant glimmer in his eyes. It wasn’t so easy, navigating the emotions and ideas of a child that one already struggled with for decades.

They apologetically smiled at him, then added, “She trusts you with her life because she knows how hard you try to understand her, no matter how difficult that may be sometimes. You give her the space to be able to communicate her needs properly, and that’s why she loves you beyond measure, Zayne.”

He looked away for a few beats, but that was enough time for them to see the misty-eyed wonder in his eyes as he looked at the crooked drawing on his bedside table that she’d made of him holding her in his arms.

His sweet daughter who carried a piece of his heart everywhere she went.

“Then she’s just like you. Very open with her affections.” Huffing out an impossibly tender laugh, he picked up his phone once again and began to climb into bed, his shoulders sagging with relief; like he needed that reassurance to be able to nestle his body into the mattress, cold as it was without his lover. “Sometimes I wonder what I did to deserve it from you both…”

“You’re gonna get sick like that, and guess who’ll be cleaning up that mess?” Rafayel frowned, grabbing his daughter by the scruff of her neck and carrying her off before she got her pretty dress drenched by the wave that came crashing down where she’d been standing.

“I can’t get sick from water, daddy, and you know it,” came the reply between giggles, her eyes closed as she relished in the spray of seawater.

With a grunt, he fumbled with his phone a little as he switched to carrying her against his hip with one arm, before turning back to the ongoing video call. “Holding down the fort?” they teasingly asked, arching their brow at their daughter’s windswept hair and inevitably sandy fists curled up against Rafayel’s chest.

“She likes to bully me.” He pouted as he saw two pairs of mischievous eyes looking at him. “No guesses as to where she picked that up from.”

“Are you sure that your six year old daughter—who, mind you, is as cute as a button—is bullying you?”

“Daddy’s just silly, Lemurians are fine with water,” his daughter tried to reason with what she felt was perfectly logical. “He just doesn’t want to wash my clothes again if I get them wet.”

“And why should I?” he indignantly huffed out at the grin that showed she was definitely up to no good. “They’ll get dirty ten seconds later anyways. It’s such a pain.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t leave paint buckets everywhere, then I wouldn’t be on my fourth dress of the day.” Her sassy mutter under her breath was the last straw, and then his instincts took over and—

Chomp!

His teeth nibbled on her round little cheeks, cuteness aggression washing away any possible annoyance (which he’d been feigning, anyways) at the prospect of having to do the laundry all over again. She cried out in protest, though her shreaks of laughter and tighter hold on him gave away the fact that—not unlike his partner—she loved every bit of it.

“You got my face all dirty,” she whined, wiping her cheek against his silk shirt as he walked them back up to the house, much to his dismay.

A chuckle came from his screen, and he flushed under the sweet gaze and the grin he missed so much. “There goes another round in the washing machine. Y’know, Raf, it’s not the smartest move around to wear your favorite clothes around your kid.”

“No kidding,” he grumbled, though there was no bite behind his words. In fact, the tender look in his gem-like eyes only spoke volumes of the adoration he held inside. And maybe his little girl felt it, and decided it would be the perfect moment to press a kiss to where she could reach, right over his heart.

“I don’t mind the paint, daddy. You always make the prettiest things with it, pretty just like you,” she softly said, her tiny index finger toying with the pearlescent button on his blouse.

How much more did she want to squeeze his heart in his chest? He didn’t think he could possibly love her any more than he already did, and yet here she was, proving over and over again that she was the greatest gift he could ever be blessed with after all these years. Walking into their home with sandy feet and salty skin was no longer a dream, but a part of his quaint little life.

“Even if you did ruin my favorite dress and sandals.”

“Papa’s been asleep for three hours now,” she whined in a low voice, her bottom lip jutted out as she looked back at Xavier curled up in a ball in the middle of the unmade bed, legs tangled in the messy sheets. She then turned back to the videocall at hand. “Can’t you wake him up, please?”

Her twin brother popped up from behind her and patted her shoulders in what he hoped was a soothing manner. “He’s tired after he played with us. Let’s leave him for a bit.”

With a downcast gaze, she reluctantly nodded and walked out with him, the phone shaking as it was a little too big for her small hands.

Now out in the living room, they could finally raise their voices a little. “Papa cleaned up in the morning too. We probably shouldn’t have asked him to play with us.” He looked a little forlorn as he fiddled with his fingers. Painfully shy, it often showed when he was doubting himself. “We tried to help him after lunch, but—”

“That’s okay, what matters is that you both tried to lend him a hand,” they sweetly reassured them as they smiled through the screen. “And I’m sure if he was too tired to play with you guys, he wouldn’t have offered it in the first place.”

Their daughter gasped, eyes shining in awe at that. “How did you know that Papa was the one who came up with the game?”

“Because he waits for playtime every day, just to spend time with you guys. He’s always so excited, y’know?”

With matching grins (though one was more bashful than the other), the two seven year-olds looked significantly lighter than they had been when the call had first started. The precious moment was soon interrupted by a yawn from behind and a tuft of blonde hair taking up half the background.

“Did you two sneak off to have them all to yourself?” came Xavier’s sleep-addled voice, as he shuffled to pull them onto his lap and readjust the camera. “Cheeky, taking advantage of my nap.”

His daughter laughed, her hands going to loop around his neck. “We weren’t! Promise.”

Her brother reached up to pat down Xavier’s bedhead, gently combing through the soft locks. “You looked tired, Papa. We didn’t want to wake you up with our voices.”

At that, Xavier couldn’t help the upwards quirk of his lips, all the love one could contain threatening to burst through as he held his world between his fingertips—and the best part of him miles away but no further from the heart.

“You’re sweet, just like a certain someone we all miss,” he said, before kissing their foreheads and ruffling their hair, earning little grumbles of protest. Turning his attention back to the videocall, Xavier’s eyes softened. “How long until we can take naps together on the couch again?”

His partner sighed, glancing at the calender on the wall for a moment. “Should be three days. It’s hell without you guys. Maybe I’ve gotten used to waking you all up for an hour in the mornings.”

“Hey, it’s all because of Papa!”

“He does sleep in twice as long as us…”

“And it’s gotten even worse now that you’re gone.”

He chuckled at their sulking feeding off each other, and the collective agreement that things just weren’t the same when his lover wasn’t beside him where they belonged. “Then maybe this should be enough to convince them to hurry back to us so we can get up early every day, hmm?”

“Tell me why Luke and Kieran frantically called me up and told me stop you from endangering our one year old girl. Now.”

“Well, hello to you too, sweetie.” Sylus rolled his eyes at the clearly enthusiastic greeting. “I’ve missed you too. I’m doing good without you for two weeks. Thanks for asking.”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t give me that crap. You’ll live.” Scoffing, they crossed their arms in front of their chest. “Less avoiding the topic, more explaining why your seconds in command are treating you like a ticking bomb.”

“They’re more like lackeys, you know.” A hint of irritation climbed up his spine. Luke and Kieran were more like lost puppies that would be a danger to themselves—and society—if they were left to their whims. That’s all that they were (or so he tried to convince himself).

They waved him off, knowing that his half-assed words weren’t to be taken seriously. “I beg to differ. Now, where is she and what happened?”

Silence settled for a few moments, but then he realized it wasn’t in his favor to not quickly come clean. “She was playing around with me in bed, then seemed fascinated by my left pocket. Said pocket… may or may not have had a gun.”

Leaning in close to the camera, they sighed heavily, and pinched the bridge of their nose. “And I’m assuming her magic little fingers found the trigger.”

“More or less yes,” he mumbled under his breath, swallowing thickly as he met their dead-eyed stare. “Had to whip it out and fling it across the room… which may or may not have caused it to slam into the new bookcase and send it toppling.”

It didn’t matter how many people he’d managed to fearlessly face down; pinned underneath his partner’s disapproval, he found himself unable to move. “And that’s where they came in?”

Sylus hummed, flipping the camera and showing them the fractured remains on the floor. “Sorry about that, sweetie. Didn’t have the time to clean it up, what with feeding her and getting her ready for bed.”

“It’s fine, I can build another one.” Their quick dismissal was followed by the furrowing of their eyebrows. “What matters is that you prioritized her safety first.”

“Of course,” he was quick to reply, turning the camera back to himself, before he chuckled a little, sweetness seeping through his voice, “Though I do admit, seeing her have no self-preservation instincts really did make her strikingly similar to you in that regard.”

“Really flattering, hearing you praise her brashness and compare it to mine.” Their expression then grew more serious, and they worried their bottom lip between their teeth. “But… please. Don’t keep any weapons in the same room as her. She’s naturally curious.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” he murmured, having had his dose of sheer panic at her tiny hands. He couldn’t remember a moment in his life when he’d been as terrified as he was earlier, his blood turning to ice at the thought of endangering her because of his own fast-paced life.

“I know you’ll be more careful. You’re so good to her—and me,” they quietly mused, a grateful look on their face as they admired him—tired ruby eyes, unruly silver hair, and all.

And Sylus had no control over his own lovesick stare, perfectly content with dancing in their palm for the rest of their lives. After all, he’d found the only two people in this world he could forfeit his life for. There was no shame in admitting it—and so he did, ever so softly. “I suppose you can take pride in knowing that you both have me wrapped around your fingers.”

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[coryosbaby]

i’d do ANYTHING for a part 2 of life lessons

Teacher

synopsis: Coryo oversteps some boundaries with himself (and doesn’t regret it).

♡ content warning . Threesome, more Sejanus x coryo in this? (the genderfluid in me screaming rn) + some sexuality questioning and inner homophobia, handjobs, praise and degradation, cum eating . Dom! Sejanus, switch! Reader, sub! Coryo <3

He didn’t think it would happen again.

Not in a million years. Not after that one night, when him and Sejanus had let go with you watching. When Sejanus had punished him for taking your orgasm from him. When they touched each other. He thought their friendship was ruined.

Oh boy, was he wrong.

Sejanus has him sprawled out on your bed now, the pink sheets that made Coryo let out a snort before the other boy had scolded him silky and soft. Coryo’s cock lays against his stomach, red and aroused to its fullest capacity. You’re on your stomach, your cheek nuzzling Coryo’s thigh, leaving little kisses on the meaty skin there. You’ve grown fond of him, this handsome blonde boy, and you know Sejanus’ adoration has only increased since that one night.

And that’s why Coryo has allowed him to touch him again.

It’s not as intimate or close as it was that one night. No— this is easier, simpler. Coryo feels less pain slicing through his stomach when Sejanus’ face isn’t towering over his own. When it isn’t a fight— a rough, desperate battle of tongue on tongue and skin on skin. When he’s not seeing a boy above him.

He has no problem with men who like other men. He finds it stupid to worry about such a dumb, small thing, to be in other people’s business like that. But those words from his peers, the hatred towards such people, it makes his gut twist with guilt.

Guilt because he likes men. Guilt because he likes Sejanus.

He likes you, too. At least sexually. Maybe a little romantically too, but he doesn’t know how comfortable Sejanus would be knowing that, so he keeps his mouth shut about his feelings. About it all.

He shakes the thoughts out of his head. There’s no reason to think these things right now, not when Sejanus’ fingers are wrapping around his cock and tugging, something he’s oddly good at and Coryo suspects he’s probably done this before. His precum drips over the other boy’s fist, wet and warm and perfect. You keep giving Coryo these teasing little eyes, challenging him to do something, anything to test your limits, to test Sejanus’, and you know that once Coryo is challenged that he’ll try his hardest to win.

He tries to move away from Sejanus’ hand. He doesn’t want to. It takes all his willpower to pull his hips away. But he does it, and he does it because he wants Sejanus to put him in his place and not because he wants to stop. Sejanus knows this, because if he really wanted to stop he would use the safeword. He grunts, his big arm grabbing onto Coryo’s lean body.

“Stop it,” he growls, burying his chin in the boy’s golden curls. “Don’t be a brat.”

Coryo smirks, his nails digging into the other boys equally bare thighs.

“Or what, Sejanus? It’s not like you have any power, anyway. She’s wanting to suck my cock.”

Oh, he’s done it now. Mentioning you in his little tantrum, claiming some kind of territory over you. Sejanus hand goes up around the boy’s neck, the kind of grip that Coryo didn’t expect from him. His teeth scrape against his neck and his hand goes back down to his cock.

Only this time, he slaps him. Hard.

Coryo grits his teeth. A groan escapes him, and his cock reddens under Sejanus’ hand.

“What did I tell you?” The brunette warns him.

“Mmm…” Coryo lets out a sultry little whine, his hips humping up into the open air with precision. “I’m sorry.”

He says it with no real meaning, a faux tone in his voice. Sejanus scoffs, and his hand wraps around him again. You watch the whole scene with an amused look.

“You’re gonna be,” Sejanus says, and his eyes direct to you. “Open your mouth, sweetheart.”

You obey, all sweet and innocent. Sejanus’ hand furiously rubs over Coryo’s cock, and the boy gasps, his hips lifting up as he groans throatily. You think he looks gorgeous, abs pulled taught, wet cock threatening to squirt into your open, awaiting mouth. Sejanus’ hardness rubs against the boy’s back as he watches the scene, his best friend and his girl getting each other all hot and bothered. Coryo’s face is contorted in intense pleasure, and he knows he’s close. Can feel it in the way his balls draw up tight, in the way his ears begin to ring from the force of his upcoming orgasm.

When he cums inside your mouth, your tongue laps him up greedily. You’re a slut for cum, all salty and creamy and thick, and you can’t wait to get Sejanus’, too. Coryo pushes your head forward, demands you lap up the rest of it. Sejanus lets him. You clean his cock up in no time.

But Sejanus gives you a look. A look that tells you not to stop. You know your boyfriend well, after all, and you can read practically any expression he makes.

So you don’t stop sucking him. Coryo tries to move your hand off, tries to get you to stop, “‘s too much,” he says in that whimpering tone. But Sejanus grabs his fingers and holds them down so he can’t take you off of him. He cries at the overstimulation, literal tears flooding his blushing cheeks, and Sejanus kisses his neck.

“It’s okay, Coryo,” he says softly. “Gonna cum again, yeah? Gonna cum for us?”

And how can he resist that?

So with a mix of pleasure and pain coursing through his cock, he makes himself let out weak spurts of cum onto your tongue again. But your mouth doesn’t stop— again. And no, no, it’s too much, it hurts, but how can Coryo resist?

So he sits back, lets Sejanus move down to play with that space behind his cock, and submits.

[imamotherfuckingstar-lord]

imagine logan seeing you again, pt. 2

logan x reader

summary: In his universe, Logan and you were in love. Then you died. Now he's in a different timeline and you are very much alive.

warning: some deadpool x wolverine spoilers. this takes place after the movie. under 1k words.

Part 1

The street was typically crowded for a Wednesday afternoon, but the hot dog in your hand lathered away all the annoyance from being shoulder checked every so often. The first bite awakened your entire body, and you felt amorous joy. It was a mild weather day and Wade had given you the task of entertaining his new roommate. Logan stood in front of you, seemingly annoyed at the way you were ignoring him and making love to the wiener in your mouth.

“You eat like a pig.”

“Oink…oink…” you murmured, finishing the dog with another anxious bite. He looked disgusted and you amused, as he checked his watch. “Stop acting like you have somewhere to be, you have nothing going on in your life at the moment.”

“Aren’t you a bed of roses.”

Ignoring him, you wiped your hands off and tossed away the napkins. “So, I personally think this is a major waste of time since I gather, you’d rather just hit up a local bar and gorge yourself into oblivion. But I told Laura I’d at least try to get you to do something fun.”

Logan, being the ray of sunshine he was, grunted but then asked how the young girl was doing. “You didn’t have to take her in.”

The two of you starting, well, just walking. There was no real plan for the day, you just picked up Logan from Wade’s apartment and told the Wolverine he was going on a little walk. Like the good little doggy he was – of course, he didn’t appreciate that last bit, but he didn’t object to the idea.

“I honestly don’t mind. It’s nice having a roommate, she’s quiet though. She’s teaching me Spanish, so that’s nice. Are you hungry?”

“You just had a hot dog.”

“It’s called an appetizer, Logan…I know a really good burger place nearby.”

He said nothing and the two of you fell into a silent pace, Logan feeling beside himself. Even a bit ashamed for stealing glances your way. You looked just like her, you – it was confusing and ultimately, he wasn’t sure what to feel. At the party, he thought he felt something and when he saw you afterwards – helping Laura settling into your apartment, it had killed him. Seeing you happy, like you always wanted. In a small apartment, instead of a huge mansion with no privacy. The X-Men were your family but there had been plenty of times when you had confessed to Logan for some peace and quiet. It wasn’t like you wanted to abandon the school, the people you loved – you just wanted a place for Logan and you. As he watched that day, moving things around for Laura, he felt peace. At least, in this universe, you got what you wanted.

“Logan?”

He apologized. “Burger sounds good.”

The man looked conflicted, and you wanted to make a funny comment, observation but something in you decided not to. Instead, you stole little peeks, he wasn’t as old as the Logan from this world, but he had some miles on him. He wasn’t exactly hard to look at either with that whole hard ass guise to him. Wade had highly under played Logan’s attractiveness and what a petty bitch he was. This thought made you chuckle loud enough to gain a look from your companion. He asked what was so funny, you said nothing.

“So, what are your plans now that you’re anchored here?”

“That would be the million-dollar question.”

“I could hook you up with an old team of mine?”

“Absolutely not.”

You began to rattle off different occupations Logan could take up – line cook, bounty hunter, librarian. The latter piqued your interest a little too much with the mere thought of Logan wearing studious glasses and a gray knit sweater making you warm. “I would definitely read more.”

He laughed, maybe even smiled. “Not a fat chance.”

“A girl could try,” you shrugged, nodding ahead. The diner was in view and Logan followed you across the street. He opened the door, and you thanked him, slightly embarrassed that you were feeling some type of way. Horny? Yikes. Maybe. It had been a while and you hardly knew Logan but that might have been the thrill. Feeling silly, you lead the man to a booth in the corner and you settled across from him. The waitress came over and slipped menus to each of you. Logan asked for a coffee while he gazed down at the limited selection of food, and you asked for a Diet Coke. You watched Logan curiously, trying to guess what he’d ordered. He didn’t seem like the type to be experimental with his meals. So, a burger combo would be the best guess and you were completely right. When the waitress came back to take your orders, Logan ordered a burger combo while you asked for a BLT. He thanked the woman and relaxed against the vinyl booth, looking out the window as people walked by.

“Is it different?”

He answered with a quick no, and you apologized for repeatedly asking that. “It’s just crazy to think about other universes, other versions of ourselves out there. Would it be weird to ask if I looked the same?”

Logan stared at you and felt his heart sink. You were beautiful, you were but he could see the differences between the woman he loved and the woman in front of him. Your eyes were filled with energy, hair a lighter tone in color, skin darker – it was like he was seeing an inverted version of the you he knew. Here, in this world, you seemed more carefree, and he was happy about it. Back home, all you ever did was worry. He never really saw you truly happy and he wondered if it was because he had loved you. In this fuck of a place, Logan and you had never interacted. Your paths never crossed and maybe that’s why you were so content. He managed an uncomfortable smile and shrugged. “Pretty much the same.”

Your face fell as the waitress arrived with the drinks. Logan took his and sipped the coffee, hoping you’d move on. It had taken much effort to even look at you now, his heart racing so fast he wanted nothing more to do than leave. Like a coward, run away. It would be so much easier than facing whatever look was in your eyes – what answer did you want? What did you want to hear? Logan felt like somehow you knew the truth and that this was all just a ploy to extract it from him but then you smiled, and a nerve was hit. A good one that had Logan glancing out the window.

“I was hoping I’d have green hair or something,” you laughed lightly. “Oh, well. Green isn’t really my color.  Listen, thanks for being such a good sport in all this. For that, how about I take you out for some beers tomorrow night? Unless you got something going on? Which we both know you don’t.”

No.

If he wanted to be a good person with his second chance he was given, that’s what he should have said. No drinks, no weird lunches, no stolen glances. He should have never agreed to even see you again, if he really wanted to change then he would have said no. In fact, he should slowly ease himself out of this friendship you were trying to establish, because what good could come of it? Everyone he loves always dies, his version of you did. Right in his arms, the last thing you felt was his warm embrace. That thought alone should have sent him packing but your eyes on him – understanding, the way your fingers played with the straw from your drink in anticipation and the friendly smile on your face, it was too much for Logan. How could he resist?

Was this a form of self-torture?

If so, he was in, but he was going to need a buffer.

“A few beers sound great, but only one condition.”

Surprised, you agreed. “Anything.”

Logan sighed. Deeply. “As much as this pains me, you gotta invite numb nuts.”

.............

leave comment for a tag. (I tagged those from the OG post who seemed interested in seeing a second part)

@pushingdaisies1 @johnnysilverhandeeznuts @murderhousemuse

@carolinameinicke @abysswhiskey11 @weallhaveadestiny

@cosmiccandydreamer @airwolf92 @fidgetingbee

@bananarepublic58 @ilove-sexydilfsnmilfs @an-tkc @wotcherboo

@theslvttysimp @cauqhtz @ittoscumdump @sad0ni0n

@lostinspace33 @corpse-ihte71 @somekale08

@britthiddlesbatch @doradora8008 @aheadfullofsteverogers

@erikaafernns @justkennadi @tinalbion @tomukit

[korasonata]

So I work at a post office and somebody called me today and asked if they could ship fish to the US, and I wasn’t 100% sure, so obviously I went “let me just check the prohibited goods section of my shipping binder real quick”. Flipped all the way to the US section, found what I was looking for and sent them on their way. But of course naturally after they’d left I’d still had the book open, so naturally I was curious and decided to check it out, and let me tell you, there is some WILD stuff in this book.

•You’re not allowed to ship playing cards to Italy.

•Antarctica simply says refer to Australia. The epitome of logic.

•Andorra is just sad. You’re not allowed to ship artwork, drawings, books or toys of any kind, musical instruments, sheet music, cutlery, furniture, several types of paper, shoes??? It has the longest list of restrictions I’ve come across so far and it’s a country that has a total population of less people than my local college.

•Apparently you aren’t allowed to ship clothing to Ireland, but it only specifies men’s or women’s clothing, so like non-binary people stay winning.

•Only a handful of countries specifically mention that you aren’t allowed to ship asbestos, so like RIP to the rest of the world I guess.

•The US has some very specific things prohibited, including “a knife, gaff, or any other sharp object attached or intended to be attached to the leg of a bird for use in animal fighting ventures” ????

•Canada is the only country I have found so far that specifically states that you cannot ship hate propaganda, which I thought was nice. But then again, it also specifies that you cannot ship any beekeeping apparatuses, but do you know what you CAN ship? LIVE FUCKING BEES.

•There are several countries which seem to be in direct competition with one another, ie pairings of countries that have specifically stated they will not accept anything made in the other country and vice versa.

•You can’t ship things to China that were made in China.

I’m having the time of my life right now.

[queen-of-the-avengers]

Slippery Rendezvous

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.5k

Warnings: none

Summary: Natasha doesn’t approve of your feelings for Bucky despite your many attempts to convince her that he is the man for you. What else can you do when she forbids you to date any of her friends?

Squares Filled: natasha romanoff / black widow (2021) for @buckybarnesbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are greatly appreciated <3

x

You wake up to an empty bed. What did you expect? That he’d stay? Bucky isn’t known to spend the night after fucking you but you keep wishing he would. You run your hand down his side of the bed and feel the cool sheets. He must have left early in the morning so that your sister wouldn’t see him.

It’s not like she hates him but she hates the idea of you being with any one of her “coworkers”. Natasha isn’t shy when it comes to relationships and often encourages you to go out and have fun with different men. She loves dating even if she doesn’t show it, and you love telling her about all the dates you get to go on. The issue is that she doesn’t want you dating anyone she knows. She knows the baggage that comes with the men she knows and doesn’t want you mixed up with it.

You went to University to get a degree as a voice actor. You’ve gotten gigs across the country but ultimately settled in New York where you got a job working on a popular animated television series. You’re already in your third season and have no plans of stopping anytime soon. Natasha loves to tell you how normal you are and how different you are compared to the shit she goes through every day.

You’re not a spy and you have no desire to be a spy. You’re not Natasha’s biological sister because you came into her life well after she got done with the Red Room training. She was on a mission to kill your father for all the bad shit he has been doing. You hated the man and had always wanted to leave. However, your mother died at birth and you were a minor at the time. He always hid his shady shit which is why he didn’t get convicted for anything.

She saved you and she adopted you a couple of years later. You don’t blame her for your father’s death even if she did pull the trigger. He’s a bad man who is rotting in Hell and you’re better off for it. Now, you have a successful job and are in love with the infamous Winter Soldier. Only he doesn’t know it and if he does, he doesn’t do anything about it.

You two met when Natasha was having a party at the Avengers Compound. She didn’t want you to go but you insisted that with her by your side, you’ll be fine. It’s not like the Avengers are going to pick a fight with you or anything. Even Bruce had his alter ego under control, so she relented and let you come.

Her world is and was much different than yours. She told stories of how she went to space, how she kicked someone’s ass, and how she infiltrated an organization. All you have to show for is the work you’ve done for entertainment. You’re not nearly as special as any of them but Bucky makes you feel like you are.

He kept to himself in the corner of the room drinking something that wasn’t alcohol when you approached him.

“Hi. Do you mind if I join you?”

“No, go ahead,” he clears his throat.

“I’m Y/N. I’m Natasha’s sister. Adopted sister, actually, but she feels like a real one to me. What’s your name?”

“You seriously don’t know who I am?” he chuckles.

“I know who you are but I’d thought I’d be polite and let you introduce yourself instead of assuming I know everything about you.”

“Right,” he nods. “I’m Bucky.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Bucky.”

You two fell into conversation that lasted well past the party. Natasha had a secret thing for Steve and didn’t mind staying over as long as you were safe and okay with staying. You left that night with thoughts of Bucky and when the next time you were going to see him, but Natasha didn’t share your enthusiasm.

“Listen, I don’t want to tell you what to do but I don’t want you seeing Bucky.”

“Funny. That sounds exactly like you telling me what to do,” you scoff.

“I mean it, Y/N. Bucky is a good guy now but he wasn’t always like this. He’s not all the way back yet and I don’t want you getting hurt. With any of them. They have too much baggage and you don’t need something like that in your life.”

You look out the window in annoyance.

“I just spent the last two hours talking to a guy who made me feel like I was the only woman in the world. I’m not saying I want to marry the guy but I felt something that I haven’t felt with any of the guys I’ve dated.”

“I knew bringing you to that party was a bad idea,” she scoffs. “You’re not seeing Bucky. End of story.”

“I am an adult, Nat. Let me make my own decisions. Let me decide if he’s worth the heartbreak.”

“He will do more than break your heart. He will break you. He didn’t get his name for nothing. His body count is well into the hundreds if not thousands. I am not worried about him breaking your heart. I’m worried about him killing you. I mean it, Y/N. Stay away from that one.”

You tried, God knows you tried, but there is something about Bucky that you couldn’t stay away from. You formed friendships with Wanda and Thor which gave you an excuse of going to the compound where you knew Bucky was living. Wanda caught on pretty quickly at what you were trying to do since she can read minds and all that, and she agreed to keep your affair with Bucky from your sister.

You’re not trying to hurt Natasha but you fell for Bucky and fell for him hard. He just never stays the night like you hope he does.

You get out of bed and walk to the bathroom where you hear the shower going. Natasha must be in there. You slip in and knock on the door to let her know that you’re inside the bathroom with her.

“Hey, Nat, I’m just going to brush my teeth. I’ll be out shortly.”

You slip in, close the door behind you, and walk over to the sink.

“I’m not Nat.”

You tense when you hear Bucky’s deep voice but then smile when you realize he slept the night in your bed. The curtain slides to the side just enough for him to peek his head out of it, and you turn to face him.

“I thought you left last night.”

“Nope. I wanted to stay the night with you. Is that okay?”

“It’s more than okay.”

He closes the curtain again and resumes cleaning himself.

“Got any plans today?”

You’re about to answer when you hear the front door slam open and shut. Natasha is the only one who has a key so she must be back. If she found out Bucky has not only been dating you but secretly fucking you, she’d have a heart attack and probably kill him.

“Y/N? Are you in there?” The bathroom door shakes and you do the first thing that comes to mind. You quickly hop in the shower, fully clothed, and look at Bucky who smirks. The door opens and Nat walks in. “Y/N?”

“I’m in the shower!” Bucky’s mouth opens so you place your hand over it so he understands he needs to be quiet. “What do you want?”

“Listen, Steve and some of the guys are having a cookout at Clint’s farm. I was wondering if you wanted to come with me.”

“Really? You’ll let me go?”

“I feel bad and I shouldn’t keep you away from your friends.”

“Is Bucky going to be there?”

Bucky nods and looks at you with mischievous eyes.

“Yeah.”

“Then I’ll go.”

“I invited you because Wanda and Thor will be there. They’re your friends.”

“I know.”

“Y/N…”

“It’s fine, Nat. I’ll hang with them.”

“Okay. We leave in an hour.”

She leaves the bathroom and you remove your hand from Bucky’s mouth knowing you didn’t need it to be there. He knows Natasha’s opinion of him and how she wouldn’t approve of you two dating. He just wanted to feel your hands on him if he’s being honest.

“Great, now I’m all wet. Look what you did.”

“I like it when you’re wet,” he smirks.

You shove his shoulder and scoff playfully but he grabs you and pulls you into him. He slides his hands into your hair and kisses you. He must forget the situation you’re in because you can feel his growing arousal on your stomach.

“No, Bucky, we should stop. I will not be tempted into shower sex again. Remember what happened last time?”

“Damn, my arm malfunctions one time and you’re triggered.”

“Can I trust you to keep your hands to yourself at this cookout?”

“No,” he chuckles. “It’s gonna be hard not to. Now I’m picturing you wet.”

“Hurry up and leave before she finds you in here. I’d rather not know what a fight between Black Widow and the Winter Soldier looks like.”

You slip out of the shower and back to your room without your sister noticing. While you’d like your relationship to be out in the open, sneaking around is just too much damn fun.

x

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[reverie-starlight]

{the proposal- kuroo}

on today’s episode of “rev accidentally disregards the polls she made”, we have this fic :3 I actually adore this one, it was so fun to write!! hope you enjoy <3 also… thank you sm for 1k followers 😭🫶🏻 that’s huge, I appreciate everyone sm 🥹

gn!reader, no physical descriptions. fluff fluff fluff. alcohol mentions, drunk reader. dialogue heavy at the start.

“You need to propose to me.”

Kuroo, who is enjoying his drink, begins to choke. “I what?”

You roll your eyes with a barely concealed smile.

“Not for real, silly, just a fake one.”

He looks at you like you’ve gone insane. “I’m not following.”

“We’re broke university students, do you really think we can afford to pay for more than two drinks tonight? If you propose, I bet people would make a drunken mistake and offer to buy us a celebration round.” You wiggle your eyebrows at him as he continues to give you that same incredulous look.

“That’s-“ he cuts himself off before he can finish that thought and starts with a new one. “I doubt that would work. I mean, maybe at a restaurant with free dessert, but a bar? Really?”

“I’ve seen it done in stranger places!” You defend yourself. “Besides, you’ve been sipping on your drink for the past 25 minutes. If the ice had poison in it, you’d be dead by now,” you lean back and cross your arms.

Your boyfriend just shakes his head. “Your mind is a very interesting place. Alright, fine. We’ll do it, but if it doesn’t work that’s going to be really embarrassing. Hand me your ring, I’ll do it when more people are around.”

You only have to wait another ten minutes before a group of business men having a meeting a couple of tables over appear to be drunk enough to invest in young love.

Your boyfriend nods once to signal that he’s going to do it and soon enough he’s on one knee, fake tears forming at the corners of his eyes and a dusting of pink on his cheeks that make you want to kiss them.

(Your heart jumps that the thought that he could do this for real one day).

“You’re the love of my life,” he begins, and you make a mental note that he either has a bright future in acting or his drink really is too strong, despite his insistence that he could handle it earlier.

A lady one table over gasps and draws more attention to the performance in front of the customers.

“And I absolutely adore every single thing about you. I had a whole plan for this, but with the way you’re looking tonight, I can’t wait a second longer. We’ve managed to get many years together already, and I’d be honoured to spend the rest of our lives just like this. Will you marry me?”

You’re genuinely touched at his words and the sincerity in his tone almost makes you forget it’s fake.

Not wanting to make your audience wait much longer, you make a big show of nodding your head and jumping into his crouched form with a loud “yes!”

Drunken cheers are only background noise while you press against his chest. His heartbeat eliminates the chance of you focusing on anything but him.

Kuroo tips his head down to whisper, “think we pulled it off?”

You nod against him and start to get up. He looks over to see one of the drunk business men coming over to greet you.

“Congratulations on your engagement! Let us buy the happy couple some drinks!”

The man’s face is flushed and he gestures to his table. “Order whatever you’d like, it’ll be put on our tab.”

You fake surprise. “Oh my goodness, that’s very generous of you, but we could never take advantage of your kindness like that!”

Beside you, your ‘fiancé’ stifles a laugh but the man doesn’t notice. “No, I insist! You should celebrate.”

This time Kuroo takes over. “Ah… well, thank you, sir. Rest assured we won’t go too crazy.”

The man laughs and claps him on the back. “What a polite couple of kids you are! Reminds me of me and my wife,” he winks before heading back to his table, whistling some tune.

You spin around and look up at your boyfriend with a smug grin. “So what are we getting first?”

A couple of hours later, you’re both stumbling into your campus apartment, giggling and trying to shush each other despite not having any other roommates.

You somehow manage to get through your night routines and fall back into your bed soon after. You’re a far more wasted than Kuroo is (he always drinks less than you to be able to take care of you), so he tries to get you to sip on some water.

He watches you with a silly grin as you fiddle with your “engagement” ring. You’ve since slipped it back onto your index finger where it originally was this evening, but you move it back to your ring finger and fiddle with it.

“I think…” your words are slightly slurred and laced with sleep. “I mean, I know… that I don’t want my real engagement ring to be diamond.”

His grin widens so much his cheeks begin to hurt. “No? So what will it be, baby?”

You form your own smile. “I’m sure I’ll love whatever you come up with. You know me best after all.”

He forces you to take another sip of water when your words don’t get any less coherent. While you drink he thinks of the ruby ring tucked away somewhere at Kenma’s house. You’re far too good at sniffing out clues and he’s never been good at keeping secrets from you.

You’re still in university, it’s far too soon to get engaged for real- you’ve both always said you wanted to wait until you’re done with school- but he’s been saving up for that ring since high school. he’s always knows you would be the one for him.

So when the time comes he’ll be ready. With a speech much better than whatever he said tonight.

“Alright, let’s get some sleep. You’re going to have the worst hangover tomorrow, you haven’t had that much to drink in a while.”

You tug at his wrist before he can shut the lamp off. “Wait, don’t you want to celebrate our engagement?”

“Sleep, baby.”

You pout a bit. “Don’t you think we celebrated enough tonight?”

You stare at him and he sighs. “There’s plenty of time for celebrating our fake engagement some more tomorrow,” he shuts the lamp off and wrangles you down with him. “Now it’s time for sleep.”

“‘m not tired,” you mumble, obviously lying. “I could go all night.”

You settle onto your pillow and he strokes your cheek. “I know, sweetheart, you’re a fighter.”

You nod as you begin to doze off.

He notices the ring still on your finger and he smiles softly.

The hangover you’ll be sporting tomorrow will definitely have been worth it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

ty for reading!!! i hope you enjoyed <3

tagging: @emmyrosee @luvring @dira333 @tetzoro

[yellowbrokenblue]

The Club - Part Two

Maya returns to the club to see Harry, unaware that his friend would also be waiting there for her…

Harry x Niall x OC

read part one here

cw: smut, oral, degrading, threesome, idek all u need to know is this is the filthiest thing i’ve ever written thank me later

Harry didn’t stop watching the club entrance. His eyes were glued to the door all night, and since he’d been here, he had asked the bouncer at least three different times if she had arrived yet.

But it wasn’t until 11pm he noticed her, the same blonde bouncy curls shining under the dim lights. He couldn’t wait to have her again.

“That’s her?”

Harry turned to his left, where his friend was sat in a booth, with a glass of whiskey clutched in his hand.

“Yeah. Maya, her name is.”

“She’s hot.” 

“Uh, huh.”

He stood up and weaved his way through the crowd of people towards her, his hand grabbing her waist from behind as soon as he reached her.

“You told me you’d be here an hour ago.” Harry said into her ear, startling her with his presence. “You’re late.”

“Harry.” She breathed, turning around to face him.

“Maya.” He replied.

 A mere 24 hours ago they were stood in the same place on the same dancefloor while he fucked her with his fingers, and as much as he’d love to repeat last night’s event, Harry had other plans for her tonight. 

He took a step closer to her, his lips brushing over her ear.

“You look so good, Maya.” He said, “This little bralette and your short skirt.”

He smirked, hearing a small whimper escape her lips.

“Did you get dressed up for me?” He asked, “All for me?”

“All for you, Harry.”

Harry breathed her in, closing his eyes as he inhaled the scent of her and her perfume. He couldn’t wait to have her again; he didn’t plan on wasting any time.

“We’re doing things a little different tonight.” Harry said, “I don’t do this with everyone.”

“What is it?”

Harry smirked.

“There’s someone I need you to meet before we can get started.”

He led her over to the booth, adjusting his pants as he walked. The anticipation had reached his dick.

They reached the table, where Harry’s friend was sat waiting for them, his eyes following Maya as she walked. Harry gestured for her to sit in the booth first, and he slid in next to her.

“Maya, this is my good friend Niall.” He said, placing a hand on her bare thigh. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Maya. Harry has told me about you.” He said, in a thick irish accent, “He’s told me what a good girl you are.”

“Oh,” Harry said, squeezing her thigh, “A real good girl.”

Maya looked between the two men sat with her. They were probably the two most attractive men she’d ever seen in her life, and they were both staring her down like they wanted to completely devour her.

Her lips parted, with another small whimper.

“D’you mind if I share you with Niall tonight, gorgeous? I can’t always keep a pretty little thing like you to myself all the time.”

“Share?” She questioned, “You both…?”

“We both want you, Maya.” Niall said, “Do you want us?”

Her panties were soaked just from looking at both of them. She wanted to moan just from their words.

She nodded in reply to them.

“I wanna hear you say it, baby.” Harry said, “Tell us you want us.”

“I want you.” She said to Harry, before turning to Niall, “Both of you.”

“’Atta girl.” Harry grinned. 

Mayas attention turned to Niall as he began to speak.

“Now, Harry got you last night, but I haven’t had you at all.” He said, smirking, “So I’d like some proof that you want me, Maya. Show me how much you want us.”

Confusion spread over her face, but she wanted them both so badly she was willing to do pretty much anything.

“Do you want me to…” She gestured towards his pants.

Niall chuckled, “No, honey.”

“Niall likes his girls to work for it.” Harry interrupted.

“Work for it?”

“Yes.” Niall said, “We’re gonna stay here, at this booth, until you make yourself cum, and then Harry and I will give you whatever you want.”

“Have you made yourself cum before?” Harry asked. “You’ve touched yourself before?”

She nodded, “I haven’t made myself cum before…”

“You can do it,” Niall said, “And then we’re all yours.”

Maya reached for her skirt, hiking it up as far up her hips as they could go, before sliding her panties all the way down her legs, taking them off completely.

Feeling brave, she lifted the panties off the floor and placed them on the table. Both of their jaws clenched.

Maya felt their eyes on her as her hand slowly crept towards her dripping wet pussy. She was soaking for them, and Niall and Harry both knew it from the state of the panties she had placed on the table.

The let out a soft moan as she ran a finger through her folds, before reaching her clit. The fact she was in a club with hundreds of other people didn’t even bother her in this moment, all she wanted was to please the two guys next to her.

“Look at her, Niall. Moaning already.” Harry said, “She’s so desperate for us she’s gonna jerk herself off just cause we asked her too.”

“So compliant.” Niall said, “So needy.”

Two of her fingers slowly circled her clit, applying the right amount of pressure for her to moan at her own touch.

“That’s it, Maya.” Harry said, “Keep going.”

“Oh!” Maya groaned, her fingers speeding up.

“Do you feel good, Maya?” Niall asked, “Do you feel good touching yourself? Do you feel good with your fingers in your cunt?”

“Uh, huh.” She moaned, her hips bucking against her own fingers.

She wasn’t close yet, and if she wanted these men to fuck her then she was going to have to make herself cum. In another attempt, she took her other hand and tried to mimic Harry’s actions yesterday, pushing two of her own fingers into her entrance, and pumping them in and out as fast as she could.

“Oh, she’s desperate, Ni, you gotta see this.” Harry said, gesturing for Niall to move next to Maya. “She got two hands going now.”

Niall sat next to her, his dick rock hard as he watched her touch herself.

“Are you imagining Harry’s cock inside ya right now, imagine him filling you up?”

She nodded, desperately throwing her head back as she cried out.

“I’m close.” She said, “I’m so close.”

“Keep going.” Harry said, “Cum for us, baby.”

“I can’t.” She cried, “Not without you, Harry.”

“Yes you can, Maya. Just keep those fingers moving in your pretty little pussy. Niall and I are right here for whatever you want when you finish.”

“Oh!” She moaned, her clit pulsing with the pressure.

“How ‘bout I have a little taste of that pussy of yours later,” Niall said into her ear, his voice sending a shiver down your spine, “And maybe you can suck Harry off while I’m doing it.”

“Does that sound good, Maya?” Harry asked, “You ready to be a dirty little whore for us?”

Harry’s words seemingly were all she needed to tip her over the edge. Her orgasm came crashing down on her, and she cried out both of her names as she came. She rested her head against Nialls shoulder, regaining her breath.

“Oh, you’re as good a girl as Harry told me.” Niall said, “Can’t wait to try you out.”

Harry grinned, wrapping his arm around her waist and shuffling closer, his mouth moving to her neck. Niall smirked at his actions, and done the same, both men attacking either side of her neck.

Her cunt was aching for them, all she wanted was for them to wreck her. She didn’t care what the done to her she just wanted them so bad that it hurt.

She moaned as they sucked on her skin, and Harry grabbed her hand, pressing it against his crotch.

“Need you get you upstairs, baby. I need you to sort this out for me.” He said.

“Take off your skirt though.” Niall said, “It’s dark, no one’s gonna pay attention. But I wanna see that cute little naked ass climb the stairs.”

“That’s barely a skirt, Niall.” Harry said, “Our dirty little slut dressed in barely anything because she wants to fuck us so bad.”

“What’s upstairs?” She asked, as Harry slipped his fingers under the waistband of her skirt, pulling it down off of her legs.

“I got a room up there. Nothin’ special, just where Niall and I like to fuck pretty girls.”

The three of them left the booth, and Mayas legs were shaking so much with anticipation that she barely made it to the staircase. Harry took her by the hand, leading her upstairs, and Niall pinched her ass, grinning as they approached the bedroom.

“Get your shirt off.” Harry said, “Bra too. There’s too much we want to do to you, we’re not wasting any time.”

“C’mon, c’mon, Harry.” Niall teased, “Take it slow, take it slow. I haven’t even kissed the girl yet.”

Without warning, Nialls lips were on Mayas. He tasted of the whiskey he’d been drinking, but smelled of expensive cologne. His fingers were tangled in her hair when she felt Harry come from behind, sliding his hands around her waist, kissing down the back of her neck.

Her aching cunt was screaming to be fucked, and her hips absentmindedly bucked against Nialls, grinding against his erection.

He pulled back, smirking.

“Someone’s eager, hm?” He questioned, in which Maya responded with a nod, “Get on the bed then, on your hands and knees.”

“Thought you were gonna eat her sweet little pussy out?” Harry questioned.

“I change my mind. I need my cock in her.”

“I’m gonna fill you up with my cum, baby girl, and you’re gonna suck Harry’s fat cock while I watch it drip out of you.”

She swallowed, her big eyes looking up at the two men.

“You heard him,” Harry said, “On the bed, Maya.”

She climbed up onto the bed, crawling on her hands and knees.

“Aw, look at her, Niall.” Harry said, “Her pussy is fuckin’ dripping for us.”

Harry pulled his pants off, along with his briefs, letting his erection spring free before kneeling in front of Maya on the bed.

“You think you can take it?” Harry asked, “Daddy’s big cock in your mouth?”

She nodded, eagerly.

“Let me make you feel good,” She begged, reaching for his dick.

“Not yet, baby. Not till I watch the look on your face when Niall shoves his dick all the way up your pretty little body. Wanna watch you.”

Taken by surprise, Niall was already positioned behind her. He quickly lined his cock up with her entrance, and pushed himself all the way in.

She screamed with ecstasy, the feeling of his dick all the way inside her making her feel pleasure she’d never felt before.

“So fuckin’ tight.” Niall said, “Your pussy feels so good on my dick, Maya. Taking it like a good little whore.”

She moaned as he pulled almost all the way out of her, before quickly thrusting inside of her again.

“Can’t wait to fill you up with my cum.” He moaned.

Maya groaned, her head looking upwards to look at Harry. Their eyes met and she moaned.

Niall’s thrusts became faster, Mayas mouth wide open as she took him.

“Get Harry’s dick in your mouth, Maya.” Niall said through a moan, “I want him to cum in your mouth the same time I cum in your cunt.”

Maya wasted no time listening to Nialls demands, and reached for Harry’s dick, taking the tip in her mouth.

“All the way, Maya. You can’t take me.” Harry said.

Harry came closer to her, forcing his cock further down her throat. She moaned as it hit the back of her throat, holding back a gag.

“Oh, Maya. Your mouth feels so fuckin’ good.” Harry moaned.

With hollow cheeks, her lips pressed tightly on his dick, his hips bucking forwards as she sucked him off.

Maya was ridiculously close to an orgasm, struggling to concentrate on anything, but she knew Harry was close to finishing. Niall fucked rough, and she wasn’t going to be able to hold on for much longer.

“Don’t worry, Maya.” Harry said, “I got it from here, you done such a good job, baby. Now let me watch as you cum all over Nialls cock.”

She dropped Harry’s dick from her mouth, and allowed herself to be ruthlessly fucked by Niall. She screamed their names over and over until she snapped.

The most mind-blowing, insane orgasm of her life washed over her, soaking Nialls cock with her cum.

“Look at me when you’re cumming, Maya. I want to see you.” Harry said in front of her.

Their eyes met, Mayas mouth hanging open as cum dripped from her pussy.

She moaned, her body falling limp and her head crashing into the bed as she rode out the last of her high.

Niall continued to thrust into her, his hips bucking against her until he came inside of her, moaning as his cum filled up her pussy.

The three lay on the bed, catching their breath, for a few minutes.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, baby.” Harry said. “We can’t have a pretty thing like you looking all messed up like this.”

“But Harry,” Maya said with big eyes, “I haven’t had your cock yet.”

Harry swallowed. Her smudged eyeliner, her swollen lips… He was down bad.

“I want you to fuck me up.”

masterlist kofi

[ham1lton]

─── WE CAN’T BE FRIENDS (WAIT FOR YOUR LOVE)

pairing: max verstappen x driver!reader

warnings: 18+ content - [oral f. receiving]. mentions of injuries. slight mention of cheating. toxic relationships. a lot of flashbacks, be prepared.

summary: you both grew up together as fellow drivers and the relationship always toed the line from friendship until something more. until a bad accident on the track damages your relationship beyond repair.

author’s note: remember this is an au so things may not be 100% accurate to real life events. don’t be surprised if anyone is acting ooc.

want to be updated when i post? join my taglist!

part one | part two | part three.

[ we can’t be friends / but i’d like to just pretend ]

FIFTEEN YEARS AGO.

sometimes you feel like the loneliest girl in the world.

you sit down on the damp grass and start to play around with the green strands as a means of distracting yourself.

as the only girl in your current group, the boys would barely want to co-exist with you. let alone spend precious play time entertaining someone like you.

this meant that a lot of the time, you were alone. when you told your father at nine years old, that you wanted to be a formula one driver one day, he patted your head and smiled benignly at you.

“you can do whatever you’d like kiddo. just be prepared for the weight that comes with it.”

the weight would never feel as heavy as it did when you were excluded from the group.

you’d already exhausted all your entertainment options. you looked across the field to see all the boys playing with each other, roughhousing and kicking a football about. you had finished your book, you hadn’t been allowed an ipod until you were at least sixteen as your mother had warned and now you were bored.

until someone came and sat next to you.

you look up to see a boy that you knew vaguely. the one that had just beat you to narrowly win the go karting race. he looks at you and smiles, sheepishly.

“is it okay if i sit here?”

you nod. you didn’t have the luxury to turn away company. his arm was bruised, as you look at the motley of blue and purple on his fair skin. he sees you looking and hides it, laughing awkwardly.

“it’s nothing. the guys are just rough. that’s why i’m here.”

“i’m y/n.”

“i know.” he says. when you look at him blankly. he stammers again. “i know, i know because we race together a lot. i’m max. i’m not a stalker. i don’t think so anyways.”

“i didn’t believe you were. i just didn’t think you’d know who i was.”

“you’re really good. i always have to keep a look out for the competition.”

“thanks.” it was something about his matter of fact statement that made the warmth spread through your body. if the best thought you were good, that had to mean something right? maybe the sacrifices were worth it.

“no problem.”

you didn’t say anything else after that, but you knew you’d found a kindred spirit within him. the loneliness didn’t seem so lonely when he was there.

SEVEN YEARS AGO.

“hey maneater.” a tall guy with dark hair leaned over and grinned boyishly at you. “saw that race, you were good.”

“i try.” you smile, chagrined. you hated parties. you hated clubs. you hated anything that put you in the path of men like this. the ones that were oily and greasy and would slip out of your grasp whenever you wanted them.

ever since you had started racing actual cars, and beating records that had been in place for years. the media had given you a nickname, ‘maneater’. max had laughed when he saw the news spread and when you jokingly tried to bite him, you both ignored the shiver that went through his body.

he had already started your dream. he had been a rookie driver for about a year when you still were working your way up. a small part of you resented him. was he simply the better driver or was he deemed so by everyone else?

max comes up to you, face flushed with laughter and alcohol as he he wraps an arm around your waist and buries his face in your neck.

“y/n. i’m tired.”

thankful for the distraction, you mouth a pretend apology to the random man and move your position to a more comfortable one. max always smelt the same, you couldn’t pinpoint the smell but it was always something so undeniably max that it took everything not to intertwine you both together.

“i did tell you to cool it with the drinks.”

“but i won. i deserve to celebrate.”

“sure you do.” you hum, stroking a hand through his slightly sweaty hair. “tomorrow you won’t think this is much of a celebration though.”

he turns up to look at you. eyes wide as he looks at you, as if he’s seeing you for the first time. you smile down at him.

“it’s always a celebration when you’re here.”

“is that so?”

he nods. settling his head down on your exposed thigh as your dress had slightly rode up.

“if you win more races, that’ll just give us an excuse to celebrate more huh?”

FOUR YEARS AGO.

you had finally made it. you were going to be a formula one driver. you had done every stage of celebratory measures. you cried in happiness for your baby self. you called all your family members up, you called your friends and you called max. max insisted on sending a massive bouquet of flowers and a cake around. even though now technically you’d be rivals, he said it wouldn’t change anything.

you swore it wouldn’t either.

SIX MONTHS AGO.

it had been at the abu dhabi grand prix when the incident happened. it started as how every race did. you arrived, you prepped for the race, you interacted with fans and followed whatever inane social media trend your team made you do. you did your pre-race rituals, and listened to your playlist.

the race shouldn’t have been too difficult. you were feeling confident. when you signed a little girl’s poster for you, it made you more excited to go out on the track and make history again.

when max gets competitive, he gets nasty. you knew that. you had always known that. so when you’re leading the race and a car comes hurtling towards you and causing a collision that sent your car spinning off the track, you had a sickly feeling in the pit of your stomach that it was him.

so after you woke up in hospital, as your parents spoke to the doctors. you went through your social media, seeing the crash splashed everywhere. it was trending on three social media sites. the photos of your unconscious body being wrangled from the car by paramedics had been posted by many big figures with prayers. for you.

(“ladies and gentlemen, this is a dark day for motorsport. our hearts go out to y/n and her family.”)

your father came in, his mouth set in a firm line. he looked at you and his eyes were sad.

“hey kiddo. you’re awake. i’m glad.” he smoothed some hair away from your face. you knew he was hiding something from you but you weren’t sure if you should press.“the doctor said you’re going to have to sit out this season. possibly the next too. the crash left you with too many internal injuries. you’re going to need more time to recover.”

you couldn’t move. you couldn’t breathe. you could only listen to the static of the small television in your room. the sound of your heartbeat and the sound of your dreams cracking in half.

“no.”

“no? honey, you can’t. the doctor won’t be able to sign you off.” your mother places a warm hand on yours. “i’m sorry but we need to focus on getting you better. you’re lucky you didn’t die.”

“if i can’t race, i might as well be dead.” you want to scream. to cry. to punch something. to punch someone. “no. you can’t stop me. i’ll drag myself in the seat if i have to.”

“your team has already signed you off honey.” your mother looks upset at your face. “they said to focus on getting stronger again. you’ll bounce back.”

“NO!” you screamed. “i’ve worked my whole life for this shit and he took it away from me? no. no! no, no, no, no.”

you start to sob. your whole body curls in on itself as tears flow uncontrollably down your cheeks. your parents attempt to console you but what use is it? you’ve lost your first love.

you don’t even notice max standing behind the door.

SIX YEARS AGO.

you find yourself in the awkward position of being max’s date at some charity gala. you find this demeaning but max says it’s a chance to get your name and face out there. interact with the higher ups or something along those lines. he very clearly didn’t acknowledge your introverted tendencies when he said that.

the dress that you bought, hangs loosely around your legs. it’s cinched in at your middle to give the illusion of an hourglass figure. your body has been hardened by all the workouts and you desperately needed a night to dress up. yet, when you get the wrong sort of attention, you start to regret it.

(“you haven’t gotten a boyfriend yet honey. are you not into guys?” your mother had asked one night, as she helped you peel vegetables. your mother had never been a tactful person, but still, you spit out the carrot piece that you had been chewing on in shock.

“no! i mean i am. i am. i’m just, i’m focusing on me.”)

the truth was that you were in love with your best friend and it could never happen. he had a girlfriend for starters, you were attempting to claw your way into a man’s club and you knew that meant you couldn’t date any of the guys without the media hyper focusing on it.

you could imagine all the headlines if you’d threw caution to the wind and dated max. they’d all go after you and not after him. you thought for a moment if you could handle it. you knew you couldn’t.

you wanted max but you doubted it was mutual. you wanted max but it’d never happen, it could never happen. as long as you wanted a career, you couldn’t have the guy.

he walks up to you, grinning as he turns to the bartender and orders your favourite.

“what are you smiling about?”

“nothing. just, happy you’re here.” he hands you your drink and clinks them together. “i missed you.”

“i’m here. i’m always here.”

“so? i miss you even when you’re here. i think about when you won’t be here and i get upset. i’m thinking of glueing us together.”

“wouldn’t be very helpful when we drive our cars.”

“we’ll figure something out.” he takes a sip of his glass. thinking to himself for a moment. you wish for a moment you can read his thoughts. is he thinking about you? about the dress in his favourite colour? the fact you hired a makeup artist for tonight? that you spent hours on your hair? is he thinking about her?

“wanna ditch?”

“huh?” you ask confused. “we can’t. you said that this was important.”

“i spoke to everyone worth speaking to.” he shrugs. “we can stay if you’d like.”

“no, no. let’s go.”

he smiles at you, eyes crinkly and you want to kiss him so badly but you don’t. you can’t.

you leave the room together. giggling like kids as you attempt to sneak out. no one notices, or if they do, they pretend not to. when he reaches for your hand, you wrap yours around it.

as a shy, precocious child, when max had effectively taken you under his wing, you’d do whatever he’d ask. even as an adult, you’d do the same. when he kissed you in his hotel room that night, you kissed him back.

“is this okay?” he whispers, as his hand was on the zipper on the back of your dress. you nod and kiss him again. he groans as you press yourself down on him.

you step out of your dress, as he plays with the waistband of your panties. he smooths his thumb against the exposed skin as you stand in front of him. he leans in and kisses your hip.

“is this for me?” he looks at your matching lingerie set. you don’t know what to say. it was to make you feel sexy but he’s doing that for you now with the way his eyes darken as they look at you.

“do you want it to be for you?” he nods and you grin. “it’s always for you.”

“lie down.”

“why?”

“i want to eat you out. lie down, please.”

something in the way he sounded in that moment made you immediately listen. he sounded desperate. desperate for you.

losing your virginity to the man you’re in love with was never in the plan, but as you lie against the pillows as his face sits between your legs, you don’t care. you almost sing for him as he goes down on you. he presses his ring finger and middle finger in slowly and you shake as your legs lock in on his head.

the aftershocks tremble through your body as he crawls up and kisses you. smoothing his free hand against your skin.

“what about your girlfriend?” he shoots you a side-eye.

“now you ask?” he grins as you giggle. “we’re not together anymore. i never thought she was really for me. i don’t know. i think i compare every girl to you.”

you freeze. he kisses you goodnight and falls asleep but how could you sleep knowing that?

a week later, they’re back together and you try to swallow the hot tears that threaten to show. you channel all the energy into the race and place higher than him.

deserved.

yet, it still doesn’t get rid of the pain in your stomach when he posts her on his instagram with the caption - “my greatest prize.”

[zoeykallus]

Hi, Zoey! Are your requests open? I had an idea after watching Kenobi.

There’s a scene in Kenobi where the Inquisitors show up to a market place in search of Jedi. They throw a knife at the shop owner knowing that the Jedi hiding among the patrons will stop the knife from harming him. It would be interesting to see that with Hunter.

Maybe Hunter and Cid’s bartender have a relationship. Bartender was weary of the clones at first but warmed up to them and liked Hunter. They just started dating when Inquisitors show up. They use the knife trick on someone (maybe even Omega) and bartender is forced to expose themselves as a former Jedi.

I’d love to see how Hunter would react to that.

oh oh oh oh... I got something in my head!

*Running in circles*

I actually had a scene like this in my head for a while now, I put the whole batch in there but focus on Hunter as a love interest.

Hunter x Jedi/Reader - One-Shot - The Things We Do For Love

Warnings: Angst/Canon Typical Violence/Blood/Fluff

No one knows about your past with the Jedi order. You are forced to drop your cover, when you try to save Hunter's life.

_______

Ko-Fi (If you feel like giving me some coffee)

_______

It's strange, life after Order 66 - hiding, pretending to be someone else. And it doesn't get any easier every day as you'd hoped, at least not at first. Cid's Bar, that's where you ended up at some point. You work behind the counter. You serve all kinds of strange clientele. Cid's Bar is like a meeting place for all kinds of scum in the Galaxy. Life has changed, a lot. Priorities change. The code after you've lived so long is nowhere near as important as surviving and belonging somewhere so you're not completely alone in this universe. But you can't open up to anyone, not exactly the most decent people come and go here. So you keep a low profile. You even flirt here and there to keep up appearances, but at the same time, you keep everyone at a distance. And then, to make matters worse, these clones turn up. Automatically, every alarm sounds inside you. Order 66 flares up in your memory, sharp and painful. It takes so much willpower to stay calm, to not let anything get to you, so much trauma hangs in every thought of clones. No one knows who you are, no one even suspects that you were part of the Jedi Order.

And yet these men surprise you, especially one of them who leads the group. He is so thoughtful, so serious. Hunter always seems to be lost in thought, trying to keep everything under control, to ensure safety. He rarely leans back and really takes a breath. He's almost always worried and tense, you can feel it in the Force. But eventually, he thaws out, you somehow strike up a conversation, and you quickly learn how much depth and kindness lie beneath that brooding, skeptical exterior. Hunter can even be funny, very observant and above all else, he's decent, probably one of the most decent people to ever come and go in this bar. You catch yourself admiring him. Your eyes meet more and more often, you talk to each other more often, even flirt. But this flirting is different, it's not fake, it feels real, exciting and for you, with your past, completely new and almost reckless. You are both obviously interested in each other, just as you are both shy and cautious in a certain way. Weeks, even months go by before your hands touch for the first time, and he asks you out.

You can see it in his face, he can hardly believe it himself, hidden behind his smile is a nervous boy who is incredibly afraid of being rejected by you. The big, brooding leader has a great weakness, you. Of course, you say yes, you can hardly resist this special man, clone soldier or not, Hunter has so much good in him, he attracts you like a magnet, not to mention his good, bold looks do the rest.

It starts like any other evening. More or less. After your first date, Hunter usually comes into the bar smiling, automatically seeking your gaze as soon as he walks through the door. You can't help it, you smile back every time, accompanied by a warm tingling in your stomach, warmth rising in your cheeks and ears.

But something is different today. There is a presence in the room, dark, determined, hard as stone, surrounded by sharp edges. You sense this presence in the Force, its intransigence. You look around in alarm. The bar is a little busier today, your gaze wanders more or less inconspicuously around the room. Then you see him. You meet cold eyes, eyes as blue as sapphires, their gaze steely and sharp, so intense that you automatically lower your own gaze and distractedly clean a glass. But you know this person has already noticed you. Right now you're feverishly thinking about your next steps and how to get out of here alive without putting anyone in danger. Hunter frowns worriedly, watching you. He can tell something is wrong. Tech is talking to him, but he is focused on you right now. He leaves the table where he was sitting with his brothers and is about to come over to you when he hears a voice say clearly and distinctly, not shouting but loud enough, "CT 9901"

You feel hot and cold, a shiver runs down your spine, you're sure Hunter feels the same way, you can see it on his face. All the heads at the Bad Batch table look up in surprise, shock and alarm. Hunter turns to the voice that seems to be coming from one of the other tables a few meters away. A man suddenly stands up, slowly, unhurriedly, confidently. Like a predator who is sure of his prey, who has no reason to be afraid, no need to hurry. Neither you nor Hunter like the body language. What surprises you, however, is that this man, in his strange, dark uniform, is not looking for you as you expected, but obviously for Hunter and presumably his brothers. "All 99ers in one room, this must be my lucky day. And not only that, I feel like I'm getting a little something extra on top of that," the somber stranger says, his voice deep and clear, almost melodic.

The room falls silent, as if the presence of this man demands it. With a confident little smile, the man pulls a knife from his belt, the first movement is slow, almost sluggish, but the throw comes so suddenly that you barely have time to react. It has become so quiet in the bar that you could hear a pin drop. But when the blade suddenly seems to stop in mid-air barely a centimeter from Hunter's eye, a murmur goes through the room. You're sure you can hear someone whispering the word Jedi.

Hunter only lets out a quiet, "What the hell", he can't help but stare at the blade for a moment. He should be dead, he realizes, that vibro blade should have drilled into his skull, but there it is, hovering right in front of his face. Out of the corner of his eye he sees your outstretched hand, your concentrated gaze, and he begins to understand. You stopped the blade from killing him, you stopped it in its tracks. The stranger's cool voice draws you both back to him. "I knew I sensed a Jedi in the room, and I knew you couldn't resist to show yourself" In the next moment everything happens very quickly, there is no time to think, to process, to make plans. The man reaches out his hand, and you feel his grip on you in the force. You are swept over the bar counter, with a pull on your body, trough the force, knocking over two tables on your way to the floor. Everything around you happens in a haze, you hear Hunter cursing angrily, blaster shots, the distinctive buzz of an awakening lightsaber, screams from the other patrons. A red glow fills the room. The smell of burned flesh.

Your left side hurts. You landed hard on the tables when the Sith Force-wrenched you over the counter, maybe you cracked a few ribs. There are shards on the surrounding floor from the glasses that went down. As you try to pick yourself up, you accidentally reach in and cut your right palm. The pain is sharp, clear and distinct, bringing you back to reality from your surprise. You jump to your feet, skillfully, supported by the force that flows through and envelops you. It's been a long time since you've used the Force and your abilities in this way, but it's as if you've never let it out of your fingers, the lightsaber sliding into your hand, its blade glowing blue with its characteristic hum. Blood runs down the hilt of your weapon from the open cut on your hand, it burns, but you ignore the pain. You feel Hunter's gaze, he is still confused. He knows what you are now, but he certainly hasn't processed the news yet. At the moment, you all have other things to worry about. Did the Sith come alone? Are there Stormtroopers waiting for you outside the bar?

You concentrate on the force, on the intentions of your opponent. Everything you feel emanating from him is sharp, dark, glowing hot. He is driven by rage, and the moment your lightsabers cross, you feel all the hatred in his attacks, which are admittedly much stronger than you expected. You've never fought a real Sith before. The first touch of your lightsabers is like an electric shock, an incredibly hard impact, a wave of fury that seems to roll over you from your opponent. The hilt of your weapon is slippery with your own blood, you have to grab it hastily with both hands so that the sword doesn't slip from your grasp or your opponent will decapitate you. For a moment, Hunter's concern penetrates your perception, but you shut him out and have to concentrate. A quick exchange of blows follows, attack, parry, retreat, attack, parry... The handle of your weapon becomes increasingly slippery with your own blood. Then it happens, another hard blow, you parry, the impact of the blades causes your weapon to slip away.

You hear Hunter yell out, hear the shock in his voice, the terror in that simple word, "No!" His blaster lies on the ground, sliced in half by the Sith's blade. Hunter has pulled his knife from his belt in a split second, lunging in the Sith's direction. The blade of your attacker hovers just in front of your neck, you hold the Sith and his weapon in this position with all the strength you can muster with body and force. Your heart races, adrenaline flows through your body. There are only millimeters between your life and death. Millimeters before the red lightsaber could sever your head from your shoulders. Hunter reaches an arm around the Sith's neck and jabs his knife into his side. The sergeant's voice is dark and smoky as he rasps, "Not on my watch"

The red lightsaber goes out and falls to the ground. Hunter kicks it aside, away from the Sith's hands, and lets the mortally wounded attacker slide to the ground. You see Hunter's chest rise and fall, still electrified, while your adrenaline suddenly subsides and your hands begin to tremble a little. You concentrate on the force, your center, and banish the trembling from your limbs. With a sigh, you look at the man on the ground, who is taking his last breaths, his cold, sapphire eyes still looking up at you with hatred, but there is also reluctance in them, surprise, defiance. Echo kneels down next to him, feels his pulse. "Quite dead," he says dryly, and with a glance at your extinguished lightsaber, he asks, "Care to explain?" "Take it easy, Echo. I guess it's obvious why we're only finding out now, it would have been dangerous to reveal the truth," Hunter says calmly and steps closer, carefully grabbing your hand and looking at the cut.

"That needs stitching," Tech says with a sideways glance and adds, "I can do it when we get to the Marauder, we should get out of here, more will come" The others lead the way, Hunter and you follow at a slight distance. You can't quite believe it yet. CF99 accepts you into their midst, no ifs, no questions, yet. Admittedly, Echo is still a little skeptical, but he always is. But you're part of it now, you're no longer alone. The thought spikes a feeling of euphoria in you. "Looks like Clone Force 99 has its own Jedi now," Hunter says with a wry smile. You crack a smile, liking the idea, forgetting for a moment your bleeding hand and the drops of blood that fall to the ground and on your tunic. Crosshair, who is walking ahead of you, casts a jaunty glance over his shoulder and says dryly, "Just don't expect me to follow your orders, General." He says it with a wink, even if his words sound a little hostile, he is friendly to you, you sense his intentions in the Force.

You say quietly, "I wasn't going to give you orders, you have a working system as a group, I wouldn't dream of changing it" The Sniper laughs softly, "Clever Jedi" Hunter drops back a little, and you do the same, sensing that he has something to say to you. After a little while, on your way to the Marauder, he says seriously, "You gave up your cover to save my life, thank you" You chuckle and say softly, "The things we do for love" Hunter listens in surprise and asks, "So our dates aren't part of your cover?" You've opened up to him in the force, feeling his pulse, the tingling under his skin as if it were your own. "I would never play with your feelings, not even as a cover," you say seriously. Hunter breathes a sigh of relief and asks, "So nothing will change between us?" "I'd like us to continue our relationship and see where it takes us," you reply with a warm smile. You feel his relief, his affection, and you breathe a sigh of relief as well.

"That's what I want too," he says, carefully grabbing your hand and taking another look at the wound. "That looks really bad," he says, frowning. Wrecker comes rushing up and murmurs, "Now hurry up, or our Jedi will bleed to death!" Impatiently, he grabs you and lifts you off your feet to carry you to the Marauder. You make a small, startled noise. "Wrecker," Hunter says softly, admonishing. "What? The little Jedi got hurt!" Wrecker returns unperturbed and carries you to the Marauder. "It's just a cut on my hand," you say, waving it off. "It's bleeding a lot," Tech comments as Wrecker sets you down next to him and points at your stained tunic. Tech already has medical supplies ready, including a needle and thread, but first Echo cleans the wound. You grit your teeth, because the cleaning stings a lot. Echo says knowingly, "Don't worry, it'll be done in a minute"

Wrecker asks curiously, "Is the Jedi officially with us now?" Hunter sits down opposite you and watches as your wound is taken care of, he says, "I think so" "But I'm not really a Jedi anymore. There is no longer a Jedi order and I haven't been following the code for a while now, at least not to the letter," Hunter's eyes meet yours at the last words. Your heart beats faster as a smile twitches at the corner of his mouth. "We're not really regular clones either, we're not really soldiers anymore," Tech says lightly. Crosshair sticks a toothpick in his mouth and mutters, "Welcome to the defect squad, I have a feeling you'll fit in perfectly here"

Ko-Fi (If you feel like giving me some coffee)

________

@rintheemolion

@andyoufollowyourheart @clone-whore-99

@brynhildrmimi @kaliel2310

@misogirl828 @tech-deck

@meshla-madalene

@chxpsi

@thebahdbitch

@nahoney22 @ladykatakuri

@darkangel4121

@ttzamara

@arctrooper69

@padawancat97

@agenteliix

@allsystemsblue

@palliateclaw

@either-madness-or-brilliance

@ortizshinkaroff

@andy-solo1

@hunterssecretrecipe

@heyitsaloy

@greaser-wolf

@extrahotpixels

@hated-by-me

@hunterxcrosshair

@malicemercy

@bebopsworld

@echos-girlfriend

@cpnt616

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@jediknightjana

@pb-jellybeans

@antishadow2021

@sleepycreativewriter

@projectdreamwalker

@1vlouds

@clonelovr

@bandnerdlevel43

[simpjaes]

As someone that agrees Jake would be around average..maybe even smaller, would you ever write something about degrading Jake for having a small dick but he enjoys it because he knows you actually love his little dick and wouldn’t want anyone else

wc: 1k WARNINGS: jake has a 4 inch dick, reader has big-dick aversion, mentions of sunoo getting sick, little dick humiliation, internally tho u kinda worship it. not proof read.

MDNI!

Are you one who typically cares about the size of the cock slamming into you? Well, yes. Though, it’s not what it looks like. It’s really, really, not what it looks like. 

You have an aversion to big dick. It’s painful, always has been, probably always will be. You’ve tried the size training, you’ve tried letting crushes and boyfriends do their best to no avail due to the size difference and the way it… just doesn’t slide the way you need it to.

Enter Sim Jaeyun, or Jake, as his friends call him. 

Upon seeing him at that party and gaining little to no interest due to the fact that as soon as he walked through the door, he slipped and tipped himself over onto an entire table filled with everyone’s fresh drinks? Yeah, it’s safe to say you avoided him that night so you didn’t end up sticky and sweet like everyone else who meets him. 

When you actually met him though, it felt like an immediate crush. He carried himself so well despite the clumsiness of the night you first saw him. Pouty lips and big pretty eyes, a mess of hair on his head, slender fingers that held your books to and from each end of campus. Yes. After the first real meeting, it’s like the two of you were stuck together at the hip. 

And unfortunately, you knew too well of your aversion to certain sized appendages on men so the crush you had…you didn’t really act on it aside from borderline flirting and letting him run around for you like an errand boy. 

Why? Because Jake just looks like he’s packing. There’s no way he doesn’t have a fat cock, truly. It pains you to think such things, and even makes you wanna maybe…try size training again. 

Shoot to the night Jake confesses his own feelings for you. Where the two of you are outside of Sunghoon’s house pretending you don’t hear Sunoo wailing out on the street because he feels like he’s going to throw up. 

Another party, of course. It’s normal while living the college life, and Jake is quite fond of attending to hang out with his friends, also quite fond of inviting you and not speaking with his friends at all.

You didn’t know how to tell him. Like, you couldn’t just bash your lashes and be like “I’d reciprocate except i think your cock might be too big for me.” 

Gotta think rationally. So, you just…didn’t tell him. Which led to him in your bed later that night, whipping out a nice little four incher that was clearly in need of some love. To your delight, you gave it. 

To his delight, you didn’t make fun of him for it. 

And all of that leads to now.

The pretty boy lying on your bed, messy sheets half covering his face where he wipes the tears away. You know it’s more from sensitivity than the humiliation he’s come to love. He only likes it because he knows you’d have him no other way too. Literally.

“Awh-” You mock him in a pout, tilting your head and gripping his weeping length easily with one hand. “Is your cute little cock too sore for more?” 

Jake whimpers out a moan in response, the heaviness in your hand twitching at your words. 

You smirk, squeezing him tighter, knowing that he’s near spent if the past forty five minutes of trying to let him gag you with it says anything. 

“Couldn’t even make me cry, couldn’t even make me gag.” You blink down at him adoringly, loving the way his lashes clump together when he squeezes his eyes shut in a blush. “Can you make me cum this time, Jake? You tried so hard last time.”

His eyes shoot open with a frantic nod, a small and broken whisper of the words, “Please, I promise.”

You release his cock now, watching him wince at the pain of the air in the room amplifying his sensitivity. Your finger shoots to your chin as you look up, as if you’re thinking hard. 

“You promise?” You look back down at him, now throwing one leg over his hip and straddling him harshly. Seating yourself directly on it, forcing his cock down and allowing your folds to smother it. “You think you’ll make it reach this time?”

Jake immediately shoots his hands to you, holding you still on him as he continues to try and convince you.

“Ah, you should be embarrassed, we both know you can’t fuck deep enough.” You comment this time. 

“I-” Jake swallows around his words in a gasp when you slide forward against his strength. “I’m not!” 

You tilt your head again, continuing to slide, relishing in the sweet sounds of your favorite boy beneath you. “Hm?”

“You like it.” Jake counters you in another moan, his confidence somehow always shining through the humiliation. “You know I can get you off, I always do.” 

“Hah–” You nod out, unable to lie about the truth he’s arguing for. “You’re so sure of yourself.”

There it is, that little flicker in his eye. 

Both of you know very well that every single time the two of you have been locked in a room together, Jake has done everything in his power to get you off before he does. No matter the sensitivity you force upon him, no matter the humiliation, the size– it doesn’t fucking matter when he’s so eager to please.

And it’s the best part, really. When he’s let you have your power and control of him. When the fun you’re having comes to an end and he takes over. The best fucking part.

The way he overpowers you now, using that same strength to knock you onto your back. His hips sliding whatever he has to offer straight into you. No pain, and just enough to make you clench around it. 

With Jake, it’s never “not enough.” It’s never “Almost there.” No. It’s always just right. 

His dick does reach where you need it, and half the time he doesn’t realize it. He slams his hips so hard in an effort to get you to feel something, anything. You’ve yet to tell him you feel all of it. 

He knows you get off though. He’s felt it on his tongue, on his fingers, and yes, on that perfect little cock too.

[millervrse]

❝ BY THE COFFEE MACHINE ❞ javier peña x reader

summary: Javier Peña doesn’t like you. You’re too nice, too bubbly, and you get on his last nerve. He didn’t get how anybody in this line of work could be so goddamn cheery all the time. Though aside from your, in his eyes, forced and fake kindness, you had no bad features, and perhaps that, added to your beauty, is what ticked him off so much. Could he learn to like you the more time passes, or would you do this dance of hatred forever?

pairing: javier peña x afab!reader

warnings, notes: EVENTUAL 18+ smut, r! has a bit of an established backstory, a few uses of y/n but only when necessary, r! has a dog, references to narcos and thus real life people and occurrences (pablo escobar, the cartel, dea, etc), ENEMIES TO LOVERS but it’s one sided because javier hates r!, r! has an established personality, grumpy x sunshine, workplace setting, javier and r! are coworkers, use of cigarettes

word count: 2.6k+

LYN SPEAKING! so this is the first chapter of, again, a finished piece that was written nearly a year ago. you can read the prologue here! and again, this is all from javier’s pov, but i’m going to throw in some nsfw chapters using second person for the economy so, yeah! enjoy! lyn out!

DO YOU WANNA KNOW? @bishtrouille @axshadows @troubledsoul-black let me know if you’d like to be added!

“Coffee,” I said simply. Her smile softened a little, and she raised her eyebrows in confusion. “What?” she asks. ❝ YOU'RE BLOCKING THE COFFEE MACHINE ❞

CHAPTER 1: FIRST IMPRESSIONS

COLUMBIA, SEPTEMBER 1982

For once in our lives of chaos, the madness had died down, and there was no new news regarding the man who had been the focus of our missions for months now.

Pablo Emilio Escobar Gaviria: A drug dealer, and a major pain in my ass.

In the years that I’ve worked Escobar’s case, the man has put the DEA, and the whole of Columbia, for that matter, through hell and back. A war of drugs has been going on under our noses, and the man behind it is an evasive ghost.

We haven’t found him because he doesn't want to be found.

Days in the office have been passing by slowly. With no new leads, and little for us to do, we’re at a loss here. Can’t tell you how much time I’ve used clicking my pens or looking through the same case files over and over again, just to see if something appears that wasn’t there before.

It hasn’t happened yet.

For the third time that morning, I got up from my seat to get a cup of coffee, since having drained mine. Murphy’s eyes snapped to mine from where he sat across from me, and he raised an eyebrow.

Murphy was the guy I’d been working with on the drug cases for a few months, and we’ve come to be pretty friendly with each other during that time. Thus, his first words when he sees me get out of my seat.

He let out a small chuckle, shaking his head at me. “You’re gonna give yourself a heart attack with all that damn caffeine,” he remarked, crossing his arms as he leaned back in his chair.

I shrugged, throwing away the paper coffee cup that I’d been drinking out of. “Murphy,” I scoffed, crossing my arms to mirror him. “If there’s a damn thing in this world that’s going to give me a heart attack, it’s going to be Escobar, not coffee.”

Murphy sighed in response. I could tell the guy was just as done with Escobar’s shit as me, even if he was better at not discussing it than me. He shrugged and rubbed his forehead before responding, “Yeah, fair enough. Drink away.”

I nodded at him, then made my way to the door.

As I made my third journey that day down to the coffee machine, I passed by the hallway where the ambassador’s office was. What was already a shitty day only worsened by the feeling I got in my gut only by looking at her door.

It was hard at the DEA, Murphy and I being the main people assigned to this case, the only two men in the world who knew as much about Escobar and his cartel as the man himself.

And regardless of that, what we knew was minimal.

While the ambassador wasn’t really our boss, just walking by her office was enough to remind me of the drug cases: And that we weren’t getting a damn thing out of them.

I shook off the feelings that crossed over me then and there, and just went on walking.

I was veering the corner to go to our break room, where the coffee machine was, when I heard and saw a view I surely hadn’t when I clocked in this morning.

“Where can I put my things?” a feminine voice rang out from down the hallway, the voice filled with a sort of cheer that wasn’t very common from those who worked here in the DEA building.

My eyes snapped to the speaker before my brain could even process it.

There was a woman at the very end of the hallway I was in, holding a brown box, presumably the “things” she had been referring to mere seconds ago. My eyebrows raised fairly quickly: I had never seen her in the office.

Because I’m sure I’d remember a face like that.

It was impossible to miss her. Her eyes seemed to mesmerize the man she was speaking to, because he was looking at her with an expression usually saved for old, married couples.

He wasn’t the only one.

I couldn’t take my damn eyes off of her: I was drawn to her appearance, and she wasn’t releasing her hold. There was a serious and assured, yet honeyed way about her. Her eyes and smile spoke volumes to what I assumed was a kind persona, but her attire, a white collared shirt, black slacks, belt, and tie, vouched for her professionalism.

It made me uneasy to get so much from her based on her appearance alone. So that was when I whirled on my heel, all but jogging back to where Murphy was.

I loped back to the room with a concerning pace, closing the door quickly behind me. Murphy’s head snapped up, and he looked at me with a concerned expression.

“Hey, hey, hey, Murphy,” I said in a hoarse voice, a little out of breath from getting here so quickly. I took a second to relax, then asked, “Who’s that girl?”

Murphy’s eyebrows raised up, and he looked at me like I’d just asked him to marry me. “What girl?” he asked as his face scrunched up in cluelessness.

I let out a huff and opened the door again to see where the woman had gone. Then, I came back in the room and waved to the window. “That girl there. All the way down the hallway,” I clarified.

Murphy got up and looked through the window that showed the hallway outside of it. His eyes landed on the woman’s, and a look of realization crossed over his face. “Oh. Oh, yeah. That’s the new girl. I think her name is Y/N,” said Murphy.

I looked at Murphy with a furrowed brow when he said that. “You knew?”

Murphy shrugged and nodded, walking back to his chair and sitting down. “I heard some folks whispering about her. She was pretty popular in her old job, I think, skilled in her field. That’s why everyone’s talking about her,” he shrugged, like the fact was common knowledge.

“And no one was gonna tell me?” I asked, crossing my arms over my chest.

“Uh, no, I guess not. Why would it matter, anyways? She won’t be working with us that much,” he responded.

“She won’t? Why not?” I asked curiously. Why was she up here, then?

“No, she’ll be working with the coaches, training the dogs for drug sniffing. She’ll be around, but—” Murphy explained, but then he suddenly cut himself off. He cocked an eyebrow. “Wait a second, why does this even matter to you, Peña?”

That got me to shut up real quick.

For one of the first times in my life, I was at a loss for words. I licked my lips as I tried to pick my brains for a response that would make sense.

But my mind was abandoned, way too preoccupied to give him a reason. Sooner or later, I just shook my head, giving myself a way out of this conversation.

“It doesn’t,” I shrugged, walking over to my desk. I ruffled through the drawers for a second, before grabbing the final cigarette from the box that I always had with me.

I took a deep breath as I made a note to myself to get more, before saying, “I just wanna know who I’m working with.”

Murphy nodded, though he didn’t really look convinced.

But the good thing was, if there was one thing Murphy knew about me, it was to never push my words. He picked up the case file that he’d been working on when I walked in the room and simply mumbled, “Yeah, okay.”

I sighed in relief, glad that he had just dropped the issue; I seriously didn’t want to talk about this right then and there. Talk about a woman.

I left the room without so much as another word, perching the cigarette in my mouth before I had even made it out of it. I usually smoked in the office, not giving much of a shit to our boss’ wish for me not to. 

But today, I obliged, making my way down the lift to go outside.

When I walked through the lobby and through the doors to exit the building, I mulled over the morning that I’d just had. Escobar’s doings may not be in plain view now, but a new sense of chaos was clearly ready to take the podium.

I lit the cigarette as I leaned on a pillar in front of the building, rubbing my forehead as a migraine began to form there. I exhaled puffs of smoke from my nose and lips, praying that it’d ease all the tension in my figure.

Fuck, what was even going on with me? Who was this girl, and why the hell was one glance her way driving me crazy?

She was just a woman. That’s all she was. And I’ve had countless experiences with women, an art that I knew like the back of my hand. I knew my way around them, and I wasn’t looking to get wrapped up in one at any point, at any time.

I’d just have to pray that this wouldn’t cause any problems in the workplace for me.

I’d have to have hope, and a hell of a goddamn lot of it.

I was walking back up to the breakroom after I’d got back to the building half an hour later. After all, I hadn’t even gotten that cup of coffee I’d been craving before leaving to have a smoke.

But when I walked in the room, I didn’t envision the first person I’d see inside of it.

The new girl.

There she was in front of me again, the same vibe that had emitted from her earlier in my presence once more: Only, it was closer to me now. She was conversing with a male coworker of mine, and they seemed to be engaged in some happy go lucky discussion, because the woman was grinning from ear to ear.

“Yeah, I figured, why not? My dog is my best friend, and I don’t want to leave her home all of the time while I’m working, you know?” she giggled as coffee poured from the coffee machine she was next to.

The man, whose name I didn’t even know, chuckled in response. “That’s crazy. So they just let you bring her, huh? And you’re gonna train her up with the other dogs?” the man asked her.

She nodded, flashing him a smile that seemed to glare off the walls. “Yeah! Pretty cool, isn’t it? I’m glad they let me. I wasn’t really sure they would,” the woman laughed, picking up her cup and taking a long sip out of it.

The man was about to answer, when his eyes finally met mine, acknowledging my presence for the first time since I’d walked in the damn room. This caused the woman to look at me too, only smiling at me.

“Yeah, well, I’m sure your dog will do well. Shepherds are pretty big, and the ones we already have do a good job,” he murmured, looking down at the ground. “Anyway, I should get back to work. You have yourself a good day, Y/N. And good luck.”

So that was her name. Guess Murphy didn’t lie.

“Peña,” he said with a professional nod and awkward smile. Then, he left the room.

When it was just her and I in there, we looked at each other for several long seconds. My eyes glazed over her, fully analyzing her appearance now that she was so much closer to me.

I furrowed my eyebrows. 

I don’t know what it was about this girl that was seriously getting to me.

She was just different. 

And I couldn’t tell if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

“Hi, I’m Y/N,” she smiled widely at me, putting her coffee cup down to offer her hand to me before giving me her last name. “I’m new to the DEA, if you couldn’t tell. It’s my first day. What’s your name?” she asked.

Her kindly demeanor unsettled me, being both refreshing and alarming. Most of the men and women on this job worked with somber faces. No feelings, small talk, laughs or smiles. Just work, work, work. It was bizarre to see someone in the DEA building beaming, like we worked in some candy shop.

Didn’t she have any idea what this job encompassed?

“Coffee,” I said simply. Her smile softened a little, and she raised her eyebrows in confusion.

“What?” she asks.

“You're blocking the coffee machine,” I clarified for her. Sure enough, she looked to her side to see that I wasn’t lying about that. She murmured a quick, “Sorry,” then moved out of the way.

“Yeah,” I groaned in response. I grabbed one of the paper coffee cups near the machine, then got to fixing myself a cup.

To my surprise, she didn’t leave the room. She crossed her arms behind me, and I could see her looking over me out of the corner of my eye. I could tell she had the urge to speak, but didn’t know how to do so.

Black coffee poured from the maker when she finally opened her mouth. “I haven’t gotten your name yet,” she murmured.

I let out a sigh, wondering why she even needed to know it. “What does it matter?” I replied without a care in the world, looking for creamer in the drawers below the machine.

“I don’t know. It doesn’t, I suppose. I just want to know,” she answered. Then, she perked up, looking at me with a new sense of hope in her eyes. I craned my head towards her for only a second, just to see that same pearly white smile she’d been wearing across her face earlier. “Do you work on this floor, too?”

I closed the paper cup with a lid as she spoke, not even realizing that I’d forgotten to add creamer to it. “Name’s Peña. Javier Peña. And I don’t do small talk,” I replied composedly, turning my body to face her. Clearly, I had yet to get used to her appearance. I’m pretty sure my heart dropped down to my ass when I laid my eyes on her again.

However much I didn’t want to talk to her, there was a fact that remained true, regardless of how it was I was feeling.

She was fucking gorgeous.

Even with my semi rude remark, she smiled at me nevertheless, giving me a little shrug. “Fair enough. It’s not everyone’s thing, especially early in the morning. I get it, Peña—”

“Agent Peña. And no, it’s not,” I said back to her. I was just about ready to leave the room, when she grabbed me by the arm, causing me to pause in my tracks.

“Wait,” she said, clearly doing her best to cling to this conversation for as long as she could.

“What?” I snapped. Though, I didn’t move her hand away.

“Do you know an Agent Murphy? I’ve been looking for him,” she asked very quickly, tilting her head. I raised an eyebrow: She had my attention with that one.

“Murphy? Yeah, he’s my partner. Why, what do you want with him?” I asked curiously, facing my body back towards hers.

“He was supposed to give me some case files on drugs, mainly cocaine. I’m going to be working with the dogs, training them on sniffing out drugs and things like that, so I kind of need them.”

I sighed, trying not to roll my eyes at her. “He’s in the office down the hall. I’ll take you there,” I annoyedly offered. That’s where I was going, anyways, so I didn’t have much of a choice.

“Great! Thank you so much. Lead the way,” she grinned in a brilliant smile, signaling to the door. I grumbled and nodded, before making my way down the hall to Murphy and I’s shared office.

What was it I was saying earlier about hope?

if you made it to the end of this, i really hope you liked it! please consider leaving a reblog, as they help my work immensely <3 kisses!

[veturiusofserra]

when you know, you know | s. r.

𑁤 synopsis: in an interview she opens up about how easy it is to be loved by Spencer, sharing the story of how they met and how his love inspired her music.

𑁤 pairing: spencer reid x singer!reader

𑁤 words: 1.090

𑁤 disclaimer: This was 100% inspired by something my bf said a while ago, and I love the song. I hope you will enjoy it too <3

“As we reach the close of our conversation, one thing’s bugging me. In your song “Margaret,” there’s this line ‘when you know, you know.’ Like, how do you just know someone’s the one? I’ve been through my share of relationships, yet I haven’t experienced that kind of thing you sing about. In your song, it’s all so clear-cut, like you can predict the future. It reminds me of a kid believing in the tooth fairy – sweet idea, maybe not quite real. But that’s probably what makes the song so good. It talks about this perfect love where everything just clicks, and all your worries disappear. Maybe that’s what I’m still looking for, or maybe it’s just for some lucky people. Either way, your song paints such a strong picture of love that it makes me wonder if I’ll ever have a ‘Margaret’ of my own.”

“It’s funny, right? The answer everyone gives is so simple: “you’ll just know.” Like love hits you like a lightning bolt, destiny calls, happily ever after guaranteed. But maybe that’s the problem. We get this picture-perfect idea of love from movies and books, and then we miss the real thing when it’s right under our noses. We set these high expectations, these checklists of what “the one” should be like. And if someone doesn’t tick every box, we write them off. It’s like searching for a flawless diamond, forgetting that even the most beautiful gems have tiny imperfections. Because guess what? We all mess up. You make mistakes, I make mistakes, everyone does. Maybe that’s what makes a real connection so special – accepting someone, flaws and all. Speaking of which, there’s this story I wanted to share with you.”

“We're all ears!”, the interviewer and the crew smile with waiting faces.  

“For the longest time, I believed I was destined to give love, but never receive it.  Maybe because... well, let’s be honest, I can be a bit self-absorbed, lost in my own head and neglecting others. But even with the no love life mantra, there was always this yearning for a family, a deep desire for children I could call my own. The ‘what ifs’ terrified me, though. Would I be a good parent? Would they be happy? Could I provide for them? Eventually, I resigned myself to a life of music, making people happy through my art, having a few friends, maybe a tragically young death – you know, the artist’s curse. 

Then, I found him. We both know Penny, but run in different circles. He’s in law, I’m an artist – about as different as you get, except for maybe a shared love of fancy vocabulary. We met at Penny’s birthday party, and while he claims it was love at first sight for him, I just thought he was the most handsome man I’d ever seen. But that was it. He was too shy to introduce himself, and I was sworn off men at the time. Funny how fate works, right?  We never crossed paths before, but after that night, it seemed like everywhere I turned, there he was. That’s when I decided to take a chance, and boy, I was so scared!

All those stories about soulmates and butterflies? They weren’t for me. Anxiety had been my constant companion for as long as I could remember. Butterflies just meant another battle brewing in my head. What I craved was peace, a steady hand to anchor me until I was ready to set sail. So, I built a friendship with him. We shared secrets, dreams, and vulnerabilities. He turned out to be a brilliant mind, a walking encyclopedia with an IQ of 187. Yet, he never made me feel inferior. He found humor in my quirks, and we seemed to complement each other perfectly. The more time we spent together, the more his words resonated: “We were designed for one another.”

And then, it hit me. Love. Deep, unexpected, and all-encompassing. It felt effortless, a perfect fit. But fear gnawed at me. It was all so new, so unfamiliar. Just as I was drowning in uncertainty, Penny, our mutual friend, reached out. She had something to show me – “Margaret.”

“She wrote it?” she asked, intrigued.

“Well, she started it,” I clarify. “Inspired by him, she penned the first lines that night after the birthday party. She couldn't shake the image of his longing gaze, a sight she’d never witnessed before. It felt sacred, a raw glimpse into his heart. The initial draft, rough around the edges, went something like this: ‘just writing for a friend. My shirt's inside out, and penmanship is messy. He met her on the rooftop, and she wore white. He said, ‘I think I’m in trouble.’ He saw flashes of the future.” A gentle smile graces your lips. 

“Seriously, that’s adorable.”

I nod, a blush creeping up my cheeks. “Right? Her words sparked inspiration within me. I wrote the rest, my mind consumed by-”

“By him.” she prompted, leaning in.

“He made love feel simple. Loving me was effortless for him, a stark contrast to the struggle I’d always imagined. It was like breathing, a natural and easy rhythm. He helped me discover the light that had been hiding within me all along.”

“There’s a saying,” the interviewer began, “to be loved is to be changed.”

I smiled. “I prefer a different one: to be loved is to be known. Because maybe, just maybe, he saw the affection within me all along, the part I couldn’t quite see myself.”

“You are indeed full of affection,” she said warmly. “Thank you for sharing this story with us.”

“Thank you for listening. I know it's a cliché, but there truly is someone out there for everyone. You never know what tomorrow holds, but deep down, a tiny spark ignites within us, guiding us towards that love. Trust it.”

“That wraps it up for our interview with the lovely Y/n! But before we say goodbye, there's one more message for her. Can we play it, Jonah?” A nod later, the studio fills with the sound of a familiar voice.

“Hey there, love. Just wanted to say congratulations on the album! You poured your heart and soul into it, and I’m incredibly proud. But hey, can you come home soon? Two days feels like an eternity without you. Miss my other half. Love you tons, sweetheart. And everyone listening, stream Ocean Boulevard! Dex says hi to mom, too.” A meow erupts in the background, eliciting a laugh from you and the studio crew.

thoughts? or prayers idk

[silkscream]

resurrection

yuuta okkotsu x reader

ੈ✩ wc: 1.5k

ੈ✩ tags: smut (18+, ageless + blank blogs will be blocked), yandere!yuuta (ish), obsession, death (yuuta literally brings you back to life), best friends to lovers, dubcon just to be safe (ur both so out of it lol), angst, not edited we die like men

ੈ✩ a/n: idk where this came from ok. runs away

you hadn’t prepared for death.

it was foolish of you. the prospect of it crossed your mind from the moment you stepped foot into jujutsu tech, yet it didn’t truly seep into your brain until your last few breaths. you were too busy wrapped up in the world of sorcery, naive and easily excited. you didn’t know how to be selfish.

evidently, neither did yuuta.

this is why you wake up in his arms, heart nearly hammering out of your chest from adrenaline. a corpse reborn.

you assumed death wouldn’t be so gory, that you’d go out in a blink and be welcomed with darkness. you never thought there would be a possibility for you to come back. it feels more like purgatory than reality, to be honest. and yet, the feeling of cold hands on you is more real than anything else — the touch makes your insides churn. your skin hot.

he shakes as he says your name. a pleading thing.

your mind swims with fog. your guardian angel is awfully pretty. pale, delicate skin with a split lip. black, shaggy hair hanging down over his dark blue eyes. long, slender fingers that grasp you with urgency. you blink twice and the angel is made in the image of your best friend.

“y-yuuta?”

“you— you’re okay,” he sobs. his teardrops fall onto your cheek.

“i’m okay,” you repeat.

you’re surprised when he kisses you square on the mouth, feverish in his movements, desperate in the insistence of his tongue past your lips. you stay like this for a bit — mindless and wrapped up in him. tasting copper and mint. he releases you when he hears you whine.

“yuuta—”

“fuck, i’m sorry. i’m sorry.”

“it’s okay,” you whisper. you hang your head on his shoulder with eyes closed. the stench of blood surrounds you. the spills of cadavers that aren’t able to curse anyone anymore.

“i love you so much. couldn’t let you leave me. i’m sorry.”

“you’re apologizing for bringing me back to life?”

his eyes are wide like a deer running from a gunshot. you’ve never seen him like this. yuuta was often a ball of anxiety, but his strength always made up for it. at the moment, his fear makes him look younger.

“i didn’t want to hurt you. i could’ve… killed you if i didn’t do it right.”

“wasn’t i already dead?”

he swallows the lump in his throat, nodding. face full of dread. everything about him is so delicate despite his strength. everything about him is lithe, tender. you feel guilty for not dying.

“i’m sorry,” you stammer, despite knowing you don’t have anything to apologize for, even with your stupid guilt plaguing you. your train of thought runs off its tracks. the only constant is the boy in front of you.

“i love you too, yuuta.”

the way he stares at you is terrifying in a way that you can’t put into words. you still haven’t grasped reality in a way that makes sense since waking up in his arms, which continue to tighten around you. there’s lust in his eyes — like he wants to devour you. you know you’d let him, but your disorientation holds you back.

your best friend brought you back to life, and waking up in his arms feels like heaven. for some reason, it also feels like a courtroom. you think that the devil must be lurking around the corner awaiting your judgment.

yuuta must sense your fear because he kisses you again, more gently this time. your apprehension dissipates, melts into nothing as you revel in the touch of his hands roaming your body. despite being blood-stained, heavy with dread, you feel light and bare with him. you want to be bare with him.

“don’t ever leave me again,” he presses with a hard gaze. as if your dying was your fault. (later, you'll blame yourself.)

“i won’t,” you whisper.

“you know i’d do anything for you, right?”

“really?”

“yeah. anything you want.”

“why’s that?” you blink at him slowly, still out of it slightly. his warmth brings you back to reality in doses.

“because i think you deserve it.”

you’re lost in him. consumed in all of him — from the softness of his hair underneath your fingertips to the feeling of his breath on your cheek. it sends butterflies to your core, makes you delirious in your post-death state. he’s all you know right now.

“what do you think i deserve, yuuta?”

he gnaws on his bottom lip, tries to regulate his breathing. yuuta is definitely not thinking about you on his lap right now. of course not.

“don’t ask me that when you already know the answer,” he rasps. “don’t even — i can’t even put it into words. everything. everything good in this world.”

it’s you who kisses him first this time, hard enough that he loses his balance and doesn’t bother to maintain an upward stance. instead, he lets you straddle him, his back falling onto the ground as your hair falls from your face and tickles his forehead. you lap up his sighs with your mouth and your tongue. the groan that reverberates from his throat excites you.

you’re reckless. a grind of your hips has him panting and you want to tear him up. maybe you’ve been fooled and this really is the afterlife.

but no, everything about yuuta beneath you is so fucking real. his breath. his calloused fingertips trailing along the bruised flesh underneath your torn shirt.

it doesn’t matter, you think to yourself. whether you’re drunk on the strongest liquor or if you’ve ascended to heaven after a gruesome death, you think that god has a soft spot for you. it's the only way you could indulge in this kind of softness, isn't it?

yuuta pulls away from your mouth, a centimeter in distance from you, just to mewl your name.

heaven. you’re convinced it’s heaven. you had died and no one saved you, you think, but your best friend is there to greet you before you settle into your grave. in this case, you'd be fine with your death.

“need you, yuuta,” you whine. “need you so bad.”

your guardian angel would do anything for you, wouldn’t he? he’d spoken his vows to you just moments before, and he intends to follow through with them. but not until he taunts you in the slightest bit.

“what do you need, baby? hm?”

you groan, grazing your fingernails into the flesh underneath his shirt. squeezing at the muscle. pleading. you don’t register what comes out of your mouth. something like a prayer, of wanting him inside, of him fucking you back to earth. in your dreamlike state, you don’t care. as long as the proximity between you and your angel is close in distance, skin to skin. you’d live inside him if you could.

(he had thought the same of you since the moment he met you.)

time slows. you blink a few times, eyelashes fluttering until you’re met with the deepest warmth you could ever feel. a collision of nerves.

yuuta buries himself inside you and you cry out to the universe. he drinks up your moans with his wet mouth, arms clutching your body tightly so that you can’t move.

although he’d brought you back to life, he thinks he could die just from the feeling of being inside you. your warmth could lay him to rest, with blissful peace on all sides.

you — his best friend, his lover, his executioner.

and him — your best friend, your lover, your deity. the one who brought you back to the living.

he hushes sweet nothings into your neck as he cradles you. successions of i love you, i love you, i love you—

and you come undone. it’s the first time tonight you truly feel like you’ve come back to life. power surges through your veins as your eyes awaken to the sheer attention that the earth demands of you.

you inhale once, then exhale, and your eyes meet midnight ocean blues blinking back at you. this is when you feel alive again. maybe the most alive you’ve ever felt in your short life.

“yuuta,” you breathe.

“i’ve got you, baby,” he coos, wrapping you in his clothing. wrapping you in his arms. “let’s go home.”

__

when you wake up in yuuta’s bed the next morning, it all feels like a bad nightmare that only haunted you in your sleep. yet the evidence is all there — bruises on your sides, dried blood on your thighs.

(it was the violent curse that killed you, for sure, but you have flashbacks of yuuta and wonder how strong his hands actually are.)

“yuuta,” you whine.

“baby,” he responds, his voice groggy. “it’s so early, isn’t it?”

“maybe.”

”we can celebrate your new life in a few hours. promise.”

“what if i die again within that time frame?” you pout, curling into him. he lets you, meshes your body into his side.

“i wouldn’t let that happen,” he rasps, kissing your temple. “you’re not allowed to die again. and if you do, i might curse you. and you know how that goes.”

[loliwrites]

II. Strength | Edelweiss

pairing: joel miller x f!reader  rating: explicit, 18+, minors dni  warnings/tags: jackson era!joel, sharpshooter!reader, age difference [joel is mid 50s, reader is early to mid 30s], joel lives forever fight me, reader being a bona fide badass, canon compliant violence, hunting mention, infected and terrible humans present, mention of death, blood, and murder, hunger, passing mention of trauma-induced menopause, DUBCON [mention of a previous event], quick flirting bit with jackson!male oc, female reader, no physical description, protective!joel, joel’s really just a big softie, no use of y/n. word count: 5.2k series masterlist

⌾ ⌾ ⌾ ⌾ ⌾

It wasn’t that you didn’t appreciate all they were trying to do for you. You did. Truly. In a time when not giving people the benefit of the doubt and becoming entirely xenophobic was not only the norm, but easy, Tommy and Maria encouraged the others within Jackson to treat you like one of their own. At least for this month. During your trial period. Probation. And you appreciated their patience with you as they tried to assimilate you into the culture. Dina hadn’t grown frustrated when your lack of upper body strength made feeding and watering the livestock difficult. Seth only made mildly offensive comments toward you when you fumbled orders at the Tipsy Bison and poured a pint of beer that was nearly all foam. Maria managed to hide her disapproval of your lack of enthusiasm to what you could only refer to as Jackson beautification. In reality, just a small handful of the townsfolk delegated to cleaning up the commune. Landscaping. Trash pickup and disposal. General maintenance. And of course there was Wendy who never balked or complained when your greenhouse shifts turned less into an act of work, and more into a study of the edelweiss.

The real problem was that you knew you could never serve them in the capacity they hoped for like this. Maybe in a different life under different circumstances, you could’ve played this role perfectly. A yearning for something else wouldn’t have been present, and you could live a somewhat normal, happy life in Jackson. And with just a week left of your trial run, you told Tommy as much. Told him that you really did appreciate him, but this wasn’t working out. Told him that you’d never been good or reliable at anything except with the use of your gun. Told him that the men in the other group hadn’t brought you along on scouts only because you were a good lay. You didn’t need to be a good lay, it’s not like they cared one way or the other. It was because you were a sure thing with your gun. Told him that he was right – you didn’t miss very often. And told him that if they wanted you to be useful to the community, they were going to have to trust you enough to get you out on patrol. That you wouldn’t go rogue and shoot your partner.

Tommy nodded. Diplomatic. And said you were right. That he’d been denying the thing he knew to be your true talent. That he’d give you a shot and let you take his place on patrol for a day. Joel, however, wasn’t as enthusiastic when his brother told him the news. Something muttered over his shoulder as he pushed past you to get into the armory, like, if she fuckin’ shoots me, Tommy, I swear to God…

You followed him into the armory, where metal cases on the wall, currently unlocked and unlatched, held a line of rifles and handguns. All looked a little different, coming from all walks of life before they ended up in Jackson. Somewhere behind you, you heard Tommy yell back at his brother, at this point, I’d fuckin’ shoot you, Joel. But it all drowned out to nothingness because the very real discovery in front of you was that your rifle wasn’t among the others in the cases. Yours was gone and a fury started to grow inside you. Which one of these scummy, good for nothing…

“Here,” Joel said gruffly, nudging your arm. 

In his hands, outstretched in your direction, was your prized possession. You grabbed it from him without hesitation; fingers running over the wood and metal, searching for anything that hadn’t been there almost a month ago when you’d last touched it. Anything that clued you in to the fact that someone else had put their mark on it. But you found none. And while still examining it, Tommy led you out of the armory and toward the gate with the other patrolmen.

“You and Joel are at the ski lodge today. It’s about a thirty minute ride north. Usually not too many sightings of anything up there, but the infected start to migrate in with the colder weather so you gotta stay sharp,” Tommy handed you the reins to a horse, which you immediately went to mount. And once settled atop it, with your rifle in one hand and the reins in the other, he spoke again, “hate to say this as you’re heading out, but… that’s my brother, so if somethin’ happens to him, I’m comin’ after you.”

“Yeah and if he does somethin’ to me, who’s goin’ after him?” You tugged the reins to the left, angling toward the large wood gates that you’d stepped through for the first time three weeks ago.

In a community yet not part of the community. It was a weird limbo to be in. That hadn’t happened in the last group – even if that was only fueled by their desire to get in your pants. Maybe that was the reason you weren’t part of this community yet. And you couldn’t even blame Tommy. Had you not killed the man who’d obliterated your family three weeks ago? Had you not taken the chance to hunt him when it was presented to you? Why would Tommy be any different?

You weren’t sure if Joel only spoke under the veil of darkness. The most words he’d ever spoken to you were on the porch that first night. Every other time – during the day – it seemed he went out of his way to avoid getting near enough to have to speak to you. But here and now, on patrol, there was nowhere for him to go except the same place you were going. And though he rode even with you (you took it as a great success that he didn’t remain a few paces behind you with a gun pointed in your direction), his eyes remained fixed straight ahead. His lips pulled into a thin line.

“She’s your daughter?” you chirped, almost too happily given that the response you’d get in return was an icy glare. “The one I saw on the first day. When you jammed my gun into my back,”

Joel returned his gaze to the wide open space in front of him. The lodge so close now. The muscle in his jaw clenched; teeth gritted.

“She hangs ‘round the barn a lot. To see Dina. Always has something to say about you. You two in a fight?”

“Drop it,” he growled.

You smiled to yourself, taking his verbal response as a win. You forced him into speaking. “I was a teenage girl once. Nothing seemed to piss me off like my parents could. They weren’t even bad parents. I suppose it would’ve been different if they had been. But that’s the thing about teenage girls,” you dug your heels into your horse and got it trotting away, toward the lodge, “they always run home to father.”

⌾ ⌾ ⌾ ⌾ ⌾

It was more spectacular of a place than you ever thought you’d see. A real-life palace. High ceilings. Big windows. You were sure at one point the furniture would’ve been considered luxury. Now it was worn and dusty and showed its age.

Joel approached a small table off to the side and flipped open the cover to a leather bound notebook. He scanned through the pages until he settled on one about a third of the way through. There must’ve not been anything particularly interesting in it, because it was just a quick glance before he closed it.

“So what do we do?” You looked up, inspecting the high-points visible from this great room. Rifle angled down at the floor.

His answer came delayed as he angled his head to the left, seemingly listening for something. When he finally spoke, it was in a hushed tone, “clear it, then post up on the upstairs balcony. You take the second floor. I’ll clear down here,”

“You’re not gonna shoot me, are you?”

Joel turned his back on you and started toward a large doorway at the opposite end of the room, “not on purpose.”

Inspecting your new surroundings once again, you found the stairway to the second level and slowly ascended it, rifle poised and ready. God, it felt good to have it back in your hands again. It had been like you’d had a limb missing for the last month. You were complete again. Restored with the bountiful confidence that maybe was foolish to have in this day and age. Hell, you could turn a corner and a clicker could be in front of your face. Coming back to that reality, you got your head back on your shoulders, your focus on the task at hand, and every one of your senses tuned in. 

Each new room you entered, it grew harder to keep that focus. It was all so grandiose, and maybe even in the very back of your head, you wondered when this patrol was going to take the turn that all previous patrols had taken. You remembered the very first one – with George and James. They’d made you prove your skills by taking down a mountain buck a quarter mile down the barrel of your gun. It was child’s play. Almost insulting that they’d think that was anywhere near a hard shot. And of course you made the kill. An hour later after you walked to it and the men finished field dressing it, James pushed you up against the nearest tree not covered in deer blood, and ripped your pants down your legs. At the time you didn’t know to fight him on it. Maybe fighting him on it would’ve gotten you in the same position as the deer. But if you had known that was going to become routine, maybe you would have.

Now this was your first patrol with a new group. With a man no less. And a man that seemed to wield a great deal of power in the community. A man that, if he went back to Jackson with something bad to say of you, meant that Tommy would be comin’ after you. An eight year sentence had already been served, what was a little bit longer?

Joel called your name from what you assumed was the stairwell; his voice distant but growing nearer. You spoke up to give him a clue of your whereabouts, and only a few seconds later, he entered the room you were in. The sling of his rifle over his shoulder. You’d found yourself paralyzed in thought in what you only knew to describe as a library. A long wall of books, some sad-looking, broken lounge chairs, and a long velvet upholstered couch. Dusty and in desperate need of a cleaning, you figured it was still a better option than up against a tree.

Joel looked up at the wall of books and closed the gap between you, “y’read much?”

You could sense him right behind you. Over your shoulder. The energy was buzzing off of him, and you figured this was it. “Not really,” you turned to face him, and set your gun down at one side of the couch. “How do you guys do this?”

“Do what?” His eyebrows furrowed, ultimately confused.

Hands gesturing between your bodies, you almost felt annoyed at his level of coyness. Couldn’t he just get on with it? “The sex,”

Joel choked on his breath and hacked out a cough, “what?”

“It’s just been a month, so it’s gonna be…” your hands migrated down to your pants and swiftly undid the button. Joel’s hands quickly flew to your wrists and held them still. You caught his eyes on you and the look made you want to disappear into thin air.

“We don’t do that,” his eyes flicked down to his hands where they held yours, and he released them and stepped away from you in one fell swoop. “How many times did they do that to you on patrol?” Joel's entire expression fell.

“Every time,”

“Fuck,” Joel scrubbed his hands over his face. He knew people were terrible before the outbreak. Knew men found ways to press their will onto innocent women. But there was nothing like the apocalypse to make people even worse. He couldn’t relive this memory… of finding Ellie after David and the sheer look of fear and panic on her face. And then when he removed his hands from his face and looked at you again, whatever memory he didn’t want to relive, was emphasized by how much he didn’t want you to relive it.

“Sorry,” you murmured.

“No,” Joel cut you off, shaking his head almost angrily. “No one’s gonna do that to you here. ‘nd if they try, you send ‘em my way, alright?”

You nodded sheepishly.

“Alright,” Joel reached past you and picked up your gun from the couch. He thrust it back into your hands, “balcony’s out this way.”

⌾ ⌾ ⌾ ⌾ ⌾

“You ever think someone could see your head stickin’ out from above the railing?” The question came with more sass than you thought it would. That type of tone would’ve gotten you something terrible with James and George.

You were belly down on the deck, barrel of your gun positioned between the wood slats of the balcony railing; well concealed. Joel, however, was kneeling next to you, head above the top of the railing, with a pair of chunky binoculars in front of his eyes. And from the corner of your eye, you saw him yank the binoculars away and look down at you with a lopsided grin. 

“When you’re my age, it’s a little harder to get down like that. Might never get back up,” he chuckled and lifted the binoculars up to his eyes again. “‘Sides, don’t you think I’d see ‘em first?”

“No,”

That made Joel laugh a little harder and he relented to abandoning his post as it stood, and turned over, ass down on the ground with his back against the railing. He took a deep breath and set the binoculars beside him. A quick glance to the side at you – which you caught from your periphery again.

“How long have you and your daughter been in Jackson?”

His eyes widened, and at that, you pulled your eye away from the scope and returned his gaze. You thought the new eye contact would send his focus elsewhere, yet you were the one who folded first. Too nervous to withstand more of that ice cold, death stare. You set your cheek back on the gunstock and looked down the scope, scanning the treeline west of your position.

“Ellie,” Joel huffed and turned over onto his stomach. Propped up on his elbows, he picked up the binoculars and looked through the slats in the railing. “Awhile,”

“How long has she been ignoring you?”

“How do you know she’s ignoring me?” Neither of you looked at each other, but in the silence he continued, “not as long as we’ve been in Jackson.”

“And how much longer do you think it’s gonna be ‘til you spot the two runners?”

Joel snapped to attention; the ferocity of his movement heightening as he moved the binoculars vigorously, searching. “Where?”

“Half mile down the edge of my nose,” your sight stayed locked on the two runners, hobbling out from the treeline. It took Joel an extra moment. Time for them to come out into the open. Then the rustling beside you began, and you knew it was Joel scrambling to get his gun. “Don’t worry about it,” you mumbled, pulling off the glove on your trigger hand with your teeth, then quickly chambered a round. But he still kicked and went for his gun, vibrating the old wood beneath you. “Stay still, goddammit!”

Whether it was because no one had ever dared to speak to him that way before, or because he just didn’t expect it from you, Joel did pause. Now standing straight up and holding the binoculars to his eyes, spotting the runners, it allowed you the chance to take action. A slow and steady inhale gave you the opportunity to line up your sight with the head of the first runner. An even steadier exhale as you got ready to apply pressure to the trigger. And then when your lungs were empty, you paused your breathing and squeezed the trigger. Your shoulder absorbed the recoil of the gun, and a second later through the scope, you watched the first runner fall lifeless to the grass. Without much rush, you chambered another round to go for the second, while beside you…

“Shoot!” 

Joel was as good as tuned out right now. Nothing could have rattled you short of your gun being physically ripped out of your hands. Inhale. Exhale. Shoot. Only when the second runner collapsed to the ground, a victim to your skill, did you pull your eye away from the scope, and brush the shell casings away from your side. Clambering up to your knees and eventually into a standing position, you looked out toward the trees. 

“C’mon,” you tilted your head to the side, urging Joel to come with you. “If someone’s out there, they’ve seen my muzzle flash twice from this position. Let’s move,”

You turned to re-enter the lodge, figuring you could just as well post up at one of the upstairs windows. Joel fell in step even with you, holding his gun at his side. “How long’ve you been shootin’ like this?”

“Twenty-some-odd years,” you mumbled coolly, re-entering the library. “How long’ve you been hard of hearing in your right ear?”

A smirk flashed over his face. It was there and gone in an instant and was quickly replaced by something resembling pain. “Twenty-some-odd years,”

⌾ ⌾ ⌾ ⌾ ⌾

The rest of the patrol was quiet. Thankfully. Though you had complete confidence in your skill, it was always a better day when you didn’t have to rely on it. Having to rely on it meant you were in, or were shortly going to find yourself in, a sticky situation. As the mid-afternoon sun beat down hard, you were relieved by Jesse and Astrid – two people you’d only happened upon in passing in Jackson. Before leaving the lodge, Joel showed you how to fill out the log book, writing down your names, and documenting what had happened. When he noted “two runners spotted and downed at treeline”, you insisted he write your name there, clarifying that you had been the one who killed both infected. He begrudgingly agreed.

The ride back to Jackson was even quieter than the rest of the patrol had been. Whatever camaraderie had been established at the lodge seemed to have been put on ice the closer you got to the tall gates of the commune. It was almost as if Joel found it acceptable to be a friend to you as long as he wasn’t near the rest of the town. The first words actually spoken on the ride back was when he instructed you to stop your horse. He pulled two flags out of his pocket – one white and one red. Instructed you that white was all clear, and red meant… well, you know… not all clear. Told you that you better wave that flag high and proud when you were coming back from patrol. More than once in his early days in Jackson, someone on lookout on the wall had taken pop shots at him when his waving of the white flag wasn’t up to snuff. You glanced up at the wall and took stock of the guards there – two on either side of the gates, moving to open it up, while their partners remained at high attention, for anyone or anything that might’ve been trailing you back.

It was almost like you had forgotten that the worst part was about to happen. You’d dismount your horse and have to carry on into the armory, whereupon your rifle – which you’d just proved was your best asset – would be ripped from your hands and showcased up on a wall for the taking of any regular joe. Surely that would happen. Because just one foot crossed the threshold before Joel was ripping your rifle out of your hands, steadily moving up to one of the cases on the wall where he replaced his gun. You knew you were about to see yours right up alongside it. But then the strangest thing happened. Instead of stowing your gun next to his, he took yours back deeper into the armory, into another dark room. And too timid to follow him, you remained frozen in place, eyes locked on the doorway until Joel came back through it empty-handed.

He ambled back to you, his arm bumping against your shoulder, “c’mon, I’ll walk you home.”

And he did. And you let him. Trust was always a choice and though not many people had deserved yours in the last handful of years, you chose to give Joel – and Tommy and Maria – the benefit of the doubt. If there were shades of Joel that resembled the men of your last pack, you figured they would’ve come out while on patrol today. Away from everyone else. When you were still new enough for everyone to take Joel’s side instead of yours. But he’d treated you kindly. Like a human. God, wasn’t that just the absolute minimum. The bar was in hell.

Though Joel knew where your cottage was, and probably knew the quickest route to get there. He let you dictate the path. One you were sure wasn’t the fastest one. One that meandered through more of the quiet house-lined streets than was necessary. But it had been your preferred path. Almost like you were doing a neighborhood watch. The sorts you’d done on your family’s land long before George and James scooped you up. It gave you a sense of normalcy; and in it, the strength to turn your head and look up at Joel.

“What’s in that back room in the armory? The one you left my gun in.”

Seemingly catching your gaze out of the corner of his eye, Joel shifted his focus to his feet, kicking up dust with each new step. “Tommy’s got a chest,”

“A safe?”

“S’not that high tech. Just a box with a lock on it. If I’m bein’ honest, it’d be pretty easy to break into,” he looked up from the ground and into your eyes, finding you already nodding. “I know not having your gun on you here was a sacrifice. Least I could do,”

Lips parted and ready to speak but nothing came out. You ascended your porch and nudged the front door open. Maybe the action itself caught Joel off-guard because he hadn’t assumed anyone would leave their property unlocked, but when you looked back at him, he was approaching the threshold with a furrowed brow. “Actually, it’s not the least you could do,” you stepped further into the house and left the door open for him, figuring – knowing – he’d follow. “Reckon you could do far less. So… I appreciate it. Thanks,”

And then, pulling open the refrigerator (a true luxury in this day in age), you remembered the hunger. And just how much you were lacking in the ‘ability to host guests’ department. The appliance was mostly devoid of contents. Just a spare apple and a handful of carrots you’d managed to sneak out of the greenhouse. Maybe that wasn’t the way to go about things in Jackson. But to be honest, you weren’t really sure how to go about it. In a rush, you closed the door so Joel wouldn’t see just how struggling you were. But when you turned to face him again, you found him by the modest wood table. Fingers nudged the “Diva Cup” box off to the side.

“You can give that back to Maria,” you mentioned off-hand. So much so that Joel nearly jumped backward. 

He pulled his hand back and shoved both into the pockets of his jacket. With a gulp, he swallowed down a breath. “Might need it. You– I mean– the women– we don’t got any of the other things here,”

You forced a smile, “I don’t need it.”

“‘Kay,” Joel nodded and took another breath. As soon as the fresh air filled his lungs, he had something else to say, “you don’t need food neither, or you’re on some weird apocalyptic diet?” He grinned a little wider when the look on your face turned positively pained. 

“I don’t have anything to trade for food, so…”

The crease between Joel’s eyebrows intensified in his confusion, “when’s the last time you ate a full meal?”

You shook your head, fearing that if he saw you in the slightest bit weak, it’d mean you’d be cast out. “I’m fine. It hasn’t been that long,”

“When,”

You looked up at the ceiling and shook your head again. “Tommy and Maria asked me to eat with them at the dining hall,”

“When?” Joel insisted.

You shrugged your shoulders as if you’d had so many full meals recently that it was hard to pinpoint this one. When in reality… “Last week sometime,”

Before you knew it, forks clinked on porcelain. Porcelain. Another luxury. You couldn’t remember the last time (outside of Jackson), that you’d eaten on a real plate and not some tin container or by picking things off a spit and putting them directly into your mouth.

Yet the tableware was really the least interesting thing about this. The meal – prepared by Joel. The whiskey – real. The setting – his fucking house. How different it was from your modest dwelling. Yours, impersonal, sparse with nothing there that was really yours. But a little bit of Joel was in everything here. The tattered boots being dried by heat from the fireplace. The guitar laying on the couch. The wood trinkets that sat on almost every imaginable surface. After asking about them, he confessed that he’d taken up whittling with all his new free time now that Ellie wasn’t talking to him. 

And through it all, you couldn’t help but feel nostalgic for how domestic this all seemed. Imagined this was what you would’ve been up to at this stage in life if the world hadn’t screeched to a halt and done a 180. You could see yourself at a table just like this with a husband a little bit like Joel. Big. Brooding. Could see yourself sitting in front of the fireplace with your husband. Reading, catching up. How was your day? Oh I just ran a couple errands. And when the catching up was done, you could see you and him going up to your shared bedroom, having some passionate entanglement, and then passing out. In another reality, you imagined you could really see yourself enjoying sex. 

“You don’t have to trade anything for food,”

You looked up from your plate and over at Joel.

“You’re working in the community. Goin’ on patrol, putting your life on the line to protect the group. That’s why you get to eat. Not ‘cause you got something else to give,”

“Didn’t want anyone to think I was bumming for handouts,”

Joel shook his head and scooped through his food despite using a fork instead of a spoon. “You’re workin’. So grab yourself some things from the greenhouse, and I can help you butcher up some meat. You’ll need the strength,”

His mention of the greenhouse sparked your memory. Of something you’d meant to ask him on patrol. But after the embarrassment you’d faced propositioning sex, and then the adrenaline of having to prove your skill, it’d slipped your mind. “You been to the greenhouse lately?”

He shook his head again and looked up at you, reaching for his glass of whiskey, “I’m pretty much on patrol full time.”

“Wendy’s got this flower there. Edelweiss, she calls it. I’ve never seen anything like it. She said Jesse found it on patrol and brought it back. Was wonderin’ if you knew where he found it?”

Joel took a quick sip and set the glass back down, quickly moving back for his fork. “Probably fuckin’ poisonous or somethin’,”

“No, it’s pretty. Little. She said it sometimes grows right on rocks. Kinda weird, don’t you think?”

“I think it’s kinda weird Jesse’s out pickin’ flowers when he should be focusing on a patrol,”

You giggled. Joel had a point. Of all the things of importance in today’s way of life, gardening seemed to be the least of it. And yet… “I think it’s kind of romantic of him. Maybe he picked ‘em for his partner.” Then, staring at Joel from the corner of your eye, “you got a girlfriend?”

Joel coughed at your abruptness. He set his fork down and took up his whiskey tumbler. “Tommy’s tried settin’ me up with a couple women,”

“No one serious?”

He smirked and shook his head. Picked his fork back up and stabbed at a carrot – your only contribution to the dinner. “They all seem to come to the conclusion that I’m cold,”

“No,” you elongated the end of the word with feigned disbelief. “Not with your sunny disposition,”

Joel laughed. Admittedly it was a little shocking at how easy it seemed to come from him. “Big talk from someone who just spent the last eight years with a bunch’a scumbags,”

“Yeah, well, I’m fucked up.”

His smile lasted a little longer. Long enough for you to both get your wits about you and where you’d brought the conversation. “You ever have a boyfriend in that group of assholes?”

You shook your head with a grin. Consider one of those guys a partner? Absolutely not. “Never had a boyfriend, period. Sounds like a feat but it’s actually not hard when the world shits the bed in your adolescence and your entire existence becomes warding off strangers or muddling through some bad dick just so they don’t shoot you.” With one last bite, and now sufficiently full, you leaned back in the chair, satisfied.

“Jesus,” Joel wiped his mouth with a napkin and leaned back to match your posture.

“But you… I bet you were batting off women left and right before the outbreak,”

Another fond smile swept over his face, “I had a daughter so my escapades sorta tempered out there.”

“Ellie’s not that ol–”

“Ellie’s not mine biologically,” he stretched out and stared at his hands. “Guess she’s really not mine at all. Just a kid I met along the way. Can’t even get her to look at me,” Joel finished off his whiskey in one big gulp and set the glass back on the table with a heavy clink. “Did’ya mean what you said earlier? ‘bout teenage girls?”

Your eyes flicked back to Joel’s face. He looked pensive, almost hopeful that you had. That Ellie would run home to father. And even if he wasn’t actually hers, that she would indeed come back to him. “I did,” you assured and leaned forward in your seat. With hands outstretched across the table, you reached out for Joel though you knew he wouldn’t reach back. “There wasn’t one thing in life I didn’t run back to my dad for. Dad could fix anything. F’I didn’t know how to handle something… if I couldn’t handle something… he always picked it up for me. That’s what good fathers do and I reckon you’re a pretty good father. She’ll come around. Everyone runs back to safety,”