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joelmillers-whore · 1 year ago

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I'll Be Here In The Morning

summary: after a heated argument, you try to go to sleep alone, but joel knows you can’t and he doesn’t like not sleeping next to you. he comes back and the next thing you know, the two of you can’t keep your hands off of each other.

Recommended Song(s): Sweater Weather - The Neighbourhood

Word Count: 4.2K

Series or One-Shot

Warnings: 18+ explicit, minors DNI, joel x female!reader, no mention of Y/N, no outbreak, slight relationship insecurity, they have a fight but it’s not shown, SMUT, joel calling reader darlin’ because why not, joel reassuring them and being sweet, also age gap i guess, canon divergent, praise kink, unsafe sex (don't be like joel, use a condom)

A/N: hey ya’ll! this is my first TLOU fic and i am so excited to post it here (also my first time posting on here). i am an AO3 user through and through but i thought it was time to broaden my horizon so to speak. i was so overwhelmed with how many of you wanted to see this type of fic, so please don’t hesitate to tell me what you think or request anything you want to see. i’ll try to get to it/ i’m trying to be more active. i’m not sure if my asks are open so let me know if that works lol. anyway, i hope ya’ll enjoy this!!

Slamming the bedroom door behind you, you crossed your arms over your chest. You were angry, furious even, mostly with yourself but also with your boyfriend. Anger was coursing through your veins, pumping white-hot rage through them that made your chest constrict when you thought back to the petty fight you’d had with Joel not ten minutes ago.

It was mindless, stupid bullshit but you’d gotten angry over it anyway. You weren’t even a hundred percent sure just how it started, but you did know that you had been a simmering pot, ready and waiting to explode. So you had needed to get out of there, away from him. You didn’t fight with Joel often, even though your clashing personalities would beg to differ. When you did get angry though, there was no holding either of you back.

You and Joel each had your own way of dealing with anger and most times, you chose to walk away, not wanting to accidentally say the wrong thing or to say something hurtful that you didn’t mean in the heat of the moment. So, here you were. In the bedroom. Fighting back against your racing heart and rising body temperature.

You had come back home after a long day on your feet and something mundane had set you off, and Joel just happened to be in the line of fire. Before long, you and Joel had gotten into it and not in the fun and sexy way you found yourself always wanting from him, regardless of what kind of mood you were in.

You thought back to the argument and how dark and endless Joel’s eyes had looked, how they seared into you when you were fighting, keeping you locked in and firmly in place. A shiver ran up the length of your spine as you imagined how he had crossed his arms, clearly in frustration, but how even when you were angry, you hadn’t been able to look away from his broad chest or how the material of his shirt had been pulled so tautly over his bulging muscles, making you bite your lip.

That annoying little flutter in the pit of your stomach made you groan in exasperation because even when you were upset with him, you couldn’t deny the sexual chemistry you and Joel had.

You shook your head, trying to shake yourself from your lust-induced daydream. You were overtired from work and clearly still reeling from an argument that you hadn’t been expecting to come home to. You glanced over at the clock; it was later than you had realized it was. How long had you and Joel been fighting for?

The all too familiar feeling of regret settled into your bones. You hated fighting with Joel, with the one person you considered to be more of a family to you than your actual family. But what was done was done and there was no going back now.

Neither one of you held onto anger for long, both of you deciding a long time ago that if either one of you were still angry in the morning over what had transpired the night before, you would agree to sit down and hash it out. That rule had probably saved your relationship more than once, and anger between the two of you never lasted for more than two days at most.

Rolling back your shoulders, you held firm to the idea that holding onto what you had said and dwelling on it wouldn’t help you now, so you thought about something else instead. You thought about how your muscles ached and how a migraine was slowly forming. The only cure that could help you now was sleep.

You knew that come the morning you and Joel would be back to bickering lovingly with each other and laughing over breakfast, just like how it always turned out. He was bound to forgive you, you hoped. But what if this fight was the one that tipped him over the edge? What if when he left, he wouldn’t come back?

Your heart sank into the pit of your stomach like a thousand-pound boulder. You bit back the sting of tears and honed your hearing, listening for anything in the darkness that enveloped you. Disappointment manifested quickly when you heard nothing, except for your harsh breathing. Fuck.

You had fucked up royally, laying into him like that. And he wasn’t even there so you could fix it, there was really nothing you could do at the moment. You debated for a minute about calling him but you decided against it. He needed time to cool off— you both did. And you wanted to give him that time.

With a heavy heart, you started getting ready for bed. Maybe if you went through the motions, pretended like everything was fine, and sped through the night, Joel would be there when you woke up, smirking like you were his whole world again. So you rid yourself of your clothes and changed into something more comfortable; one of Joel’s shirts that went down to your knees and some sleep shorts. You lifted the hem of the shirt to your nose and inhaled, getting lost in the scent of him that still lingered.

It was warm and clean with a faint hint of coffee. It was Joel to the core and you rubbed your thighs together when you thought about how that scent crowded you when you and him made love, or when you had first started seeing each other, you had stayed up during a rain storm and just talked for the whole night, staying awake on black coffee and powdered donuts.

Mindlessly, you climbed into bed and settled in, trying to fall asleep despite the gnawing feeling in your gut. You sighed heavily, flipping over the pillow and then fluffing it, repeating the motions until you made your head spin. You never could sleep alone. Even before you had met Joel, you hated it. And right now, you hated it even more, especially when you reached over to his side, feeling for him.

But there was nothing there except the coldness of the sheets. You grew annoyed at yourself for how needy you felt without him snuggling next to you, his body heat warming you up better than any blanket could. You wanted Joel here, not anywhere else. And he knew it, which was why he almost never left you to sleep alone if he could avoid it. Almost never. Until now.

You closed your eyes and tried to count sheep, thinking that it could help. You tried not to concentrate on how alone you felt or how you missed him so much it hurt. Counting sheep must have helped because before you knew it, you found yourself in a dreamless sleep, tossing and turning for the majority of the night. Your ears pricked up when you heard a noise, thinking you heard the bedroom door open. You stiffened, attempting to remain calm and closing your eyes tighter.

Whoever it was moved around in the dark, their shadow fidgeting with the dresser before they climbed into bed next to you. They nudged themselves closer to you and relief washed over you when you recognized their scent. It was Joel. He came back. Just like he always did.

He shuffled his body closer to you, his solid front melding to your back, as his face snuggled into the crook of your shoulder, just how you liked it. It confirmed that he was there and he wasn’t just a figment of your imagination.

“You still mad?”, Joel mumbled, his Southern drawl coming out gruffer as he tried to keep his voice low. He nuzzled your shoulder deeper, planting a soft kiss there.

You shook your head, as best as you could in the position you were in. You were well past the anger stage. And right now, you just wanted him beside you, with you. Right here. You felt Joel’s growing hardness rest against your back and a dull throbbing started in your cunt, making you squirm.

“I thought you weren’t coming back”, you croaked, the shroud of darkness acting as a shield against how scared you were at the thought of Joel not coming back at all.

Joel held you tighter, his arms flexing as he wrapped them around you in the same way you were used to. His gesture of keeping you close was more of a comfort to you than any of his words could. You craned your neck slightly, trying to make out the expression that was on Joel’s face, but it was hard.

The bedroom was mostly dark except for a tiny sliver of moonlight that shined through the window, and even then, it was tough. You could make out the tiniest of details in the low light; like the imperceptible way that his eyebrows creased when he was focused on you, or how you could tell that he was still smiling because of the way his eyes crinkled, despite being unsure of your mood. God, you loved this man.

Joel was there for you and you let out a tentative and shaky breath, grateful that he came back to you. You let any remaining tension drain from your body, and shifted your hips, which earned you a sharp groan from Joel, his hand flying to hold your hips in place.

“I’ll always come back to you, darlin’”, his voice was gruff and came out strained. His hot breath fanned over your ear, “Always”.

“Promise?”, you asked, grinding back into him again. It was the last confirmation you needed and then you would drop it, let the argument fade away.

You could hear the smile in Joel’s voice, “Promise”.

The tightness that had been sitting on your chest was no more and you were feeling bold, and a little more than turned on. The idea that Joel would always come back to you made you wet, and you rubbed your thighs together, trying to alleviate some of the pressure you felt between your legs.

As if sensing your arousal, Joel’s hand wrapped around your middle, pulling your ass flush with his erection, his hand splayed across your clothed stomach, holding you to him.

You felt his short stubble run along the side of your neck, and your jaw, the abrasive sensation making your pussy flutter with the idea of that stubble rubbing against you harshly, until you were swollen and red down there.

“Baby...”, Joel protested weakly, his half-hearted attempt at drawing out the tension between you two. But there was tension and it was a string that was being pulled taut, ready to snap at any moment.

You grabbed Joel’s hand that was on your stomach, guiding it lower and lower until you stopped at the waistband of your sleep shorts, your chest on fire from your choppy breathing.

“Please, Joel”, you whined, grinding your ass back into him and moving your hips in slow circles, spurring him on. “I want you to make me feel so good like you always do”.

You were back to guiding Joel’s hand past the waistband of your shorts, into your underwear where he could feel how wet you were for him. He groaned, the vibrations from it making your skin tingle. An almost non-existent fuck was whispered as Joel’s hand found your soaking cunt, his deft fingers sliding through your folds.

When you removed your hand from his, letting him take charge, he hesitated. But when his thumb found your clit and you moaned, throwing your head back, he continued, not stopping for even a second.

“This good?”, he asked, as he teased your hole with his thick digit, pulsing the finger in and out, just enough to taunt you with pleasure and then rip it away when it felt too good. It was frustrating but you figured you somewhat deserved it for the fight from earlier.

You hummed, “Mo-more”, and you bucked into his hand, gyrating against it as you searched for more friction.

Joel sucked the pulse on your neck hard and you groaned, your head rolling to the side in pure ecstasy as he licked the spot when he pulled away. Fulfilling your command, he continued to work you over, work you to the edge. Your moans mixed with the sound of his finger, which soon became two fingers, pumping into you, a squelching emanating from you with every pump.

He was stretching you out, trying to prep you for his cock. Even this far into the relationship you needed some prep, he was that big. But you wouldn’t want it any other way. You loved his size and his girth and how deep he could go.

“Can you come for me, darlin’?”, Joel asked, as a groan slipped past his lips.

You flinched when his fingers curled, bringing you back to the moment as a tingle started low in your belly, the pressure building and building until it was too much, it was all too much.

“Fuck—”, you cried, cutting yourself off as your orgasm slammed into you, making you see stars. It was searing and hot and violent.

Your hips stuttered as they rocked into Joel’s hand, finding comfort in the fact that he was still lazily pumping into you, helping you ride out the aftershock.

“That’s my good girl”, he praised, thumb whispering over your swollen clit. You whined from the added pressure, feeling another orgasm start to build.

You had just cum and yet Joel was ready and willing to give you another one. Even when his engorged cock was nestled into your back, twitching with the need for his own release. He wanted— no, needed to give you your pleasure before he could seek out his own. Joel teased your clit again, pinching it as you yelped.

He removed his hand from your underwear and brought it to his mouth. You still weren’t facing him but you could hear the obscene sounds coming from him as he licked and sucked his fingers clean of your juices, not letting a drop go to waste. Fuck, you were so turned on already it was positively insane.

Joel gripped your waist and turned your body toward him, positioning himself so that he was slotted in between your legs, his upper body resting on his forearms, so as to not crush you with his body weight. Both of your chests were heaving at this point as another shot of excitement and arousal shot through you.

You brought a hand to Joel’s cheek, thumbing over his scruff and savouring this tender moment between the two of you.

“I’m sorry”, you said, swallowing your nerves.

In the softness of the moonlight, Joel’s eyes glimmered when they looked down at you. It wasn’t quite lust or amusement in them, but something else, something closer to love and adoration.

He dipped his head down and kissed you. It was tempered and subdued but sweet as he licked your bottom lip, asking for entrance into your mouth. You granted it to him, letting him explore your mouth like it was the first time. A swallowed-up moan left you and Joel pulled back.

“Me too”.

It was simple and yet he meant it with his whole heart, you were certain of that. Picking up where you left off, Joel palmed your breast through your— his shirt, making you tremble beneath him. He pinched your nipple and it made you arch your back off the bed, both to escape and chase that feeling.

“Let’s get this shirt off, hmm?”, Joel mused, playing with the hem of it. You nodded and lifted your upper body off of the bed as he helped you out of it, tossing it somewhere behind him.

“Your turn”, you said, almost breathlessly, and Joel obliged. He sat up on his knees and stripped himself of his own shirt.

You couldn’t help but pause and appreciate him and his physique. He wasn’t insanely built like an athlete or someone who stuck to a strict diet all so that they could get a six-pack. Joel’s body was sculpted from years of manual labour and although some might not be turned on by a broad chest and a toned stomach, you certainly were, and you were enamoured by it.

Your hand seemed to have had a mind of its own because you were raking your fingernails along his chest and stomach, drawing a line all the way down to his waistband. You watched as his muscles tensed from your touch, his eyes snapping shut like he had to concentrate on restraining himself.

Your hand remained on his waistband, your index finger playing with the dark line of hair that led all the way past the pants and to the straining member, you knew awaited you.

“If you don’t quit staring at me like that, darlin’, this might be over before either of us want it to be”, he drawled, quiet and low.

Your eyes snapped to his, which were dark and endless pools filled with lust. He looked like he was ready to devour you and your thoughts came to life when he gripped your thighs forcefully and spread them apart, making quick work of peeling you out of your shorts and drenched panties.

Joel groaned above you, “Such a pretty pussy, and ‘s all for me, ain’t she?”. He bit the tender flesh of your inner thigh, making you jump. But you didn’t go very far, his grip on the back of your thighs holding you close to him and keeping you in place.

You wiggled your hips, trying to get him to hurry up, “All for you”, you whine.

Joel chuckled, but didn’t tease you for much longer, answering your silent prayer as he dove into your cunt, lapping and sucking like he was a man starved. You writhed beneath him as he continued, not letting up as he brought you to the edge of another orgasm.

“How you feelin’, baby?”, Joel asked, as he came up for air. You nodded fervently, feeling like you could die if he didn’t continue what he was doing.

He chuckled as he went back in, the vibrations making your head swirl and your toes curl at the sensation of his tongue fucking into you. You were so close it hurt and Joel could tell.

He shushed you before bringing his thumb to your clit and massaging it in tandem with his tongue, making you mewl and bury your hands in his short hair, pulling at his scalp as you begin to grind yourself on his face, practically riding him as you chase your high.

“I’m gonna—”, and you do.

You cum hard and quick, this orgasm ripping into you like a hurricane. The blinding wave of pleasure had all of your inhibitions clouded, as a light buzz started coasting through your body, leaving you sated. Your mouth is agape, a mix of a whimper and a shrill moan escaping you.

You felt as though you had just run a marathon, your body was on fire and yet there was a calm as you came down. You revelled in the aftermath of your orgasm, feeling drunk off of it. There was a slick layer of sweat that coated your whole body, but you didn’t seem to care. Your mind was quiet as you listened to your breathing, your heart hammering below the surface.

Running a hand through your hair, you felt the mattress dip when Joel shifted his body weight, his beard glistening with your slick. You reach down and grab his face with both hands, bringing him to your lips. You groan when you taste yourself on him, the tang fueling your growing desire to be filled deep with him.

Joel murmured something against your lips but you couldn’t hear, your heart beating too loudly. “What?”, you asked.

“I need to be inside of you”, he whispers again, and you moan as he ruts into your bare core.

“Then do it”, you said, looking at him through hooded eyes.

Joel bit his lip, shaking his head as he stripped out of his jeans and then his boxers. His dick was thick and angry, the tip a bright red as it leaked pre-cum. You followed a drop with your eyes as it trailed down the shaft and you licked your lips at the sight.

Joel chuckled, the noise shooting straight to your needy core. You sat up slightly, reaching out for his cock but he stopped you, “Not tonight, sweet thing”, he stated, “I don’t know how long I’ll be able to last if you start suckin’ me off”.

You keened at his words, desperate for some sort of relief. You snaked your hand from the pillow all the way down your chest, rubbing your nipple as you moaned, Joel’s eyes never leaving you. His eyes on you felt right, like you were putting on a show just for him, and in a way, you were. He watched your hand slide lower down your stomach and finally disappear between your legs.

“Goddammit”, Joel hissed, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed thickly, “What’d I just say?”.

He ripped your hand away from your aching cunt, pining it above your head as punishment. You let out a choked sob, “Please...”.

Joel’s cock twitched against his stomach at your plea, and he released you. He gripped his length and tugged harshly, letting beads of pre-cum dribble all over his hand.

You watched him throw his head back as he panted above you, finding a rhythm. As you opened your mouth to whine and tell him that you needed him, he grabbed the back of your legs and folded you in half, thrusting his hard cock into your pussy.

The force of him slamming his cock inside of you without much warning was enough to make you cry out. You couldn’t focus on much more than the pleasure that he could provide. It was as if you could never be fully satisfied, not when it came to Joel. You would always want him as desperately as he wanted you, each and every time. His hips snapped into yours, almost to the point of pain as he set a demanding pace, burying himself deeper and deeper into you.

“So”. He grunted with a thrust. “Fucking”. Another snap of his hips. “Needy”. Thrust.

Joel was never one to deny you, and you knew that. You might have been needy but he was willing to give you whatever you needed. And most times, all you needed was him. Him and that fucking delicious cock. So, he made sure he delivered you another orgasm. You chased your release, the desire striking you like a bolt of lightning— fast, powerful, and all-consuming.

It started in your toes and rushed in. Joel’s thick cock pumped in and out of you hungrily. He was both providing you with another orgasm and trying to find his own release. Each thrust was more punishing than the last, each angle hitting the right spot, and guiding you both to your release.

“That’s it, baby”, he groaned, manhandling you until you were basically straddling him, his hands on your back, holding you steady.

“Can you gimme another one?”, Joel purred into your ear as he fucked up into you, his hips losing their rhythm and you knew he was close.

“I’ll try”, you said, snaking a hand in between your bodies, and rubbing your cunt in time with each pound of his hips.

“That’s it, you’re doing so good”.

He barely finished his sentence before you were shaking in his arms, finding your orgasm from his praise.

Drunk on only two orgasms, you didn’t even know what you were saying at this point, too sensitive and too sated at the same time, “Mmm, love when you make me come”.

Joel laughed with adoration as he continued fucking you, chasing his own release. “And I love makin’ you come, darlin’”.

You felt your walls clamp around his cock, milking him for all he was worth. With a final few pumps, he groaned, letting his head fall against your shoulder. Joel tensed slightly and his body shook as he deposited ropes of cum deep into you.

Your head lolled to the side, feeling his body grow slack against yours. His was flush against you, trying to control his breathing as you did the same, your arms wrapped around him as you stroked his back.

A long moment of comfortable silence passed before he lifted his head up, scanning your face. You smiled tiredly at him as he kissed you, letting the bliss wash over you both.

Joel kissed your forehead and slipped out of you. You in turn whined at the loss of being full of him. Your limbs were heavy as you melted into the mattress, feeling Joel collapse next to you. His arm drifted around your waist, pulling you into his side.

He kissed your temple affectionately, “‘m sorry about our fight”.

You nodded, snuggling closer to him. “I know”, you bit your lip, contemplating your next words, “I just worry that one day we’ll really get into it and you’ll never come back”.

Joel stiffened for a moment, before he turned to you, whispering into your hair, “You don’t need to worry ‘bout that ever, darlin’. Because I’ll always be here in the morning”.

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pedrospatch · 2 years ago

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what he didn’t do

Preoutbreak! Joel Miller x Female Reader

summary: You’re very recently divorced, but that doesn’t stop a certain handsome, brown-eyed neighbor from taking you out on a date.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. divorced reader, no massive age gap (no specific age is mentioned, but reader is in her early 30’s and Joel is 35) slow burn, 10 year crush kind of deal. reader talks about her past relationship. mentions of food and alcohol. soft, caring Joel. first date fluff.

word count: 5.1k

a/n: so um how are we all doing after today, we still alive out there? 👀 no one asked for this, this fic is purely self indulgent, my lonely single ass is convinced that pre out break Joel would be just the most amazing gentleman on a date, he would be so perfect and just take the best care of you and treat a girl right…so here is what i whipped up.

He’ll treat me right, put me first, be a man of his word

stay home ‘cause he wanted to

always fight for my love

hold on tight like it’s something that he can’t stand to lose

Joel wasn’t all too sure how it even happened.

Earlier that afternoon, he’d gone on over to your place to deliver a piece of mail that the postman had accidentally put in his mailbox instead of yours. While Joel was there, you’d kindly asked him if he could recommend a good plumber that you could call because you had a stubborn leak under the kitchen sink that you needed to get looked at sooner rather than later. Wanting to save you both the hassle and the expense of having to hire someone, Joel had told you to hang tight for a minute and rushed back over to his house, only to return with his yellow toolbox in hand so that he could fix it for you, which he’d done in fifteen minutes flat—and now, just a few hours later into the evening, he was getting himself ready to take you out to dinner.

And the real fucking kicker of it all was that he had been the one to ask you out, proposing the offer while his head had been buried in the cabinet underneath your leaking kitchen sink. At least that way, if you had rejected him, you wouldn’t have been able to see the look of complete and utter embarrassment on his face. But much to Joel’s surprise, not to mention, his relief, you’d eagerly accepted the invitation and even suggested tonight would be the perfect night if he didn’t have prior plans or commitments.

Hell, even if Joel did have prior plans or commitments, he would have canceled them for you without a single ounce of hesitation.

He’d discovered he would do just about anything for you.

Joel shrugged into the light tan, button up shirt that Sarah had helped him pick out earlier just before he’d jumped in the shower. At thirteen, she lived with her nose buried in fashion magazines lately and she didn’t trust him to successfully choose a proper outfit for the occasion on his own without guidance. It had been well over a few years since Joel had been on a date, as she had so kindly pointed out to him while she’d rummaged around through his mess of a closet. Although he insisted that it wasn’t a date, his teenager had scoffed and called him out on his bullshit. “Well, what else do you do you call it when two single adults go out to dinner together alone?” Sarah had challenged him as she held up a couple of different shirts up against his chest, searching for the perfect one. “Especially when one of those two adults has had the most obvious crush on the other one for what, like ten freaking years now?”

“It wasn’t that obvious,” he’d muttered to her in response. Peering at her curiously, he couldn’t help himself as he had asked her, “Was it?”

“Dad, your crush on her has been about as subtle as a brick to the face.” Letting out a huge laugh, Sarah had shoved the shirt she’d selected into his hands and tossed the losers right back into his closet. “Here, wear this one with those dark jeans, the bootcut ones. Don’t roll up the sleeves like you always do. And for the love of all that is holy, at least make an attempt to run a comb through that hair of yours,” she’d advised on her way out the door, leaving him to it.

Joel sighed and buttoned up the shirt, then tugged on his dark blue jeans and a pair of black leather boots—the only pair he owned that weren’t totally worn down to the soles. He finished getting dressed and proceeded to roll up the long sleeves of his shirt up to the middle of his forearms, tucking in the cuffs as neatly as he could. He could already hear his daughter scolding him over it, but screw it, Joel wanted to be comfortable, especially now that warmer weather had arrived in Austin.

After rubbing just the slightest hint of his favorite sandalwood cologne on his neck and on the insides of his wrists, Joel finally left his bedroom and made his way downstairs, trying his absolute hardest to pay no mind to the nerves that were threatening to creep up on him. He entered the living room where he found Tommy sitting on the couch with Sarah, a plastic blue bowl of popcorn nestled between the two of them. Sarah, who had been busy shuffling through a stack of movies in her lap, looked up when she heard him walk into the room and narrowed her green eyes at him. “Come on, man! What did I say earlier about the sleeves?”

“You told me not to roll ‘em up. But I chose not to listen to you,” Joel quipped, eliciting an annoyed sigh from her.

Tommy smirked at him. “So motherfucker, you finally did it, huh? You finally asked her out on a date.” His smirk widened. “Only had to wait, what, about ten fuckin’ years?”

Joel glared at his younger brother. “How did you even—?” He stopped abruptly and his dark brown eyes flickered over to Sarah, who shot him a guilty smile from where she sat. “Really? You just had to tell him?”

“Sorry,” she apologized, sheepishly. “It slipped.”

“Damn, big brother. Y’know, word on the street is that she just signed the divorce papers at the courthouse earlier this week,” Tommy remarked, taking a swig from his bottle of Lone Star as he leaned back into the couch. “You’ve got some real big fuckin’ balls to ask a freshly divorced woman out on a date that quick. I’ve gotta admit that I’m actually pretty fuckin’ impressed with you, Joel. Didn’t think you’d have it in you.”

“It ain’t a date,” Joel muttered out the lie, picking up his keys from the coffee table. “We’re just goin’ out to dinner is all.”

“That’s a date,” Tommy and Sarah stated together in unison.

Joel let out a heavy sigh, deciding that it was better for him to ignore their antics rather than to play into them. “You.” He pointed an index finger at Sarah. “Might not be school night, but I don’t want you stayin’ up too late. And you.” He turned his attention to Tommy. “I don’t want you havin’ any of your little female friends over while I’m out tonight, especially not while Sarah is home. That understood?”

“Yes dad,” both their voices chirped together once again.

Rolling his eyes, Joel bid them a quick goodnight and left the house, making his way across the lawn and over to your place. You lived in the smaller, single story yellow house right next door to his.

You’d moved in next to Joel and Tommy several years ago—Sarah had still been a toddler then and he had just started getting used to life as a single father. Joel would never forget the first time that he laid his eyes on you. He had been in his driveway, taking a look under the hood of his old truck, a hunk of garbage Ford Ranger from the nineties that he’d finally gotten rid of a couple years back and replaced with a Chevrolet Silverado instead; it hadn’t been much of an upgrade, but at least it didn’t break down on him as often. Joel had noticed a moving van in the driveway of the house next door, but he hadn’t given it a second thought. He had been so engrossed in what he’d been doing, but at some point, he looked up from the engine and turned his head at the precise moment that you happened to walk by with a cardboard box in your arms. You’d caught his gaze and offered him what had to be the most beautiful smile he had ever seen in his entire fucking life. Joel had just set his wrench down and was about to head over to offer you some help when a man emerged from the back of the moving van with another box. He gave you a quick kiss on the cheek as he led the way into the house.

Turns out, that man had been your husband.

To say Joel had been sorely disappointed by the fact that you were married had been an understatement to say the least.

It hadn’t taken all too long before Joel met his new neighbors, although he often saw more of you than he ever saw your husband—the man traveled across the country for business and he would be gone for several days, even several weeks at a time. You were a homemaker and to help make life a little less mundane, you’d started something of a daycare in your home, offering to help fellow neighbors who needed someone to watch their younger children during their nine to five work schedules.

When Joel found himself putting in a brutal number of hours in at his construction job, he had struggled to find someone who was willing to look after his then three year old for such extended periods of time. You’d happily volunteered to help him out and you would watch Sarah from sunrise to about sundown for him without a problem. When she started kindergarten two years later, you continued to help Joel out, going as far as taking her to school for him and then picking her up afterwards. You’d never had any children of your own, but you still had maternal instincts, and as Sarah grew up, whenever she would need a woman’s guidance, she would go straight to you without hesitation and you were always there for her no matter what, no questions asked.

Joel couldn’t have been more grateful for you.

He’d seen and spoken to you just about every day for the last decade—he’d even go as far as saying that the two of you were good friends, though since day one, he found himself longing for a hell of a lot more than just your friendship. Joel had thought he would have to shove his true feelings for you down for the rest of his natural born life, that is, until several months ago when he’d noticed the moving truck parked in your driveway one late afternoon as he and Sarah came home from one of her soccer games. Nearly in tears, Sarah had immediately hopped out of the pickup before Joel could even cut the engine and ran over, demanding to know why you hadn’t told her that you were moving—that’s when you fessed up and explained to her that you weren’t going anywhere, but your husband was.

Through whispers in the neighborhood, Joel discovered that you had filed for divorce and although no one knew the exact reason why, many suspected it had been your husband’s constant traveling for work that had done it. Denise, the nosy blonde woman who lived across the street from him swore up and down that he must have had some kind of adulterous affair behind your back—Joel simply told her she needed to lay off her dramatic daytime soap operas.

Regardless of the reason why, you were now officially single.

And Joel was taking you out to dinner.

Whether it was an actual date or not, that hadn’t exactly been established.

He made it up the front porch and inhaled a deep breath, exhaling it slowly through his nose before he knocked on your front door. When you opened it just a few seconds later, all of the wind had been knocked out of his lungs by an invisible force.

You wore a sky blue sundress with a sweet, white floral pattern printed all over it. Thin straps tied together at your shoulders and the hem of the skirt fell right to the middle of your thighs revealing a lot more of your silky smooth legs than he had ever seen before. You’d kept your makeup fairly light, and your hair fell loosely and naturally around your shoulders. Joel noticed you wearing a silver necklace, a butterfly pendant hanging from the chain. He recognized it, because he’d bought it for you, although it was Sarah who had gotten all the credit. She had given it to you as a gift for your birthday that passed by a few months ago.

“Hey!” You beamed at him. “You’re right on time.”

“Hey.” Joel swallowed dryly. “You look really beautiful.”

You smiled shyly. “Thank you. You don’t look so bad yourself,” You returned the compliment, admiring the way the sleeves of his shirt hugged his biceps. “I have to hand it to you, you definitely clean up well, Joel.”

“Next time that you see Sarah, you’d best thank her. She deserves the credit,” he stated, eliciting a small laugh from you. “Are you all ready to go?”

You nodded, grabbing your purse and keys from the small glass table beside the door. You stepped out onto the porch, closing the door behind you; after making sure that you’d locked it properly, you followed Joel across your front lawn and over towards his driveway. He led you to the passenger’s side of his dark blue Silverado and opened the door for you, holding his hand out to help you climb up into the seat. The gesture prompted you to shoot him a strange look.

He frowned a little. “What’s the matter?”

“No, nothing,” You quickly assured him. You placed your hand in his larger one, the contact causing a jolt of electricity to shoot up the length of your spine.

Joel helped you up into the truck and closed the door before making his way around the front of the vehicle and climbing into the driver’s seat. He shoved the key into the ignition and the pickup roared to life. He watched as you put on your seatbelt and then reached out, giving it a tug to make sure you were buckled in well enough. “Just makin’ sure you’re safe is all,” he uttered softly as you tossed him another puzzled glance. He reached over his shoulder for his own seatbelt and buckled it in before finally pulling out of the driveway.

Out of his peripheral vision, Joel could see you wringing your hands together in your lap in something of an anxious manner—were you nervous?

In an effort to comfort you and ease the nerves, Joel reached out and turned up the volume of the radio. He normally kept it on his favorite country station and was just about to ask what station you preferred when you let out a tiny, excited gasp and turned to him, a radiant smile breaking out onto your face.

“Oh, I love this song!” You told him, bringing your hands together in an enthusiastic clap. You then started singing along to the familiar lyrics. “Heads Carolina, tails California, somewhere greener, somewhere warmer, up in the mountains, down by the ocean—”

Joel turned briefly, raising an eyebrow at you. “Nineties country fan, huh?”

“Duh,” You replied playfully. “Nineties were and will probably always be the golden age of country.”

He grinned, turning his attention back onto the road. “I knew there was a reason I liked you.”

Biting back another smile at his words, you turned to look out of the window, nodding your head and tapping your foot along to the beat of the song as you watched the streets of Austin pass by in a blur of lights and people.

Joel had chosen to take you to Antonio’s, a locally owned Italian place that was somewhere between casual and upscale dining. “Wait,” he told you, noticing you reaching for the door handle as soon as he’d parked in front of the restaurant. He jumped out of the driver’s seat and walked around, opening the door for you. Just like when he’d helped you into the truck back at his house, he offered you a hand to help you out of it. He kept his dark brown eyes on your feet, making sure you that didn’t fall or lose one of the brown sandals you were wearing. “Careful.”

“Thank you,” You said kindly to him as he closed the door behind you. Your breath hitched in your throat when you felt him place his hand on the small of your back as he ushered you inside of the restaurant where a hostess led you to a small, round table out in the back patio. You thanked her and reached for your chair, but Joel instantly stopped you.

“Let me,” he insisted, pulling it out for you. He helped you into the chair and noticed you give him another strange look, similar to the ones you’d given him when he’d helped you into the truck and when he’d checked your seatbelt. “Why do you keep lookin’ at me like that? Do I have somethin’ on my face or what?” He asked jokingly as he took his seat across from you.

You hesitated, but then confessed, “I’ve never had someone pull my chair out for me. I’ve never had someone open the car door for me or make sure I’m wearing my seatbelt.” You offered him a small, sheepish smile. “You don’t know how nice that is, Joel.”

Joel stared at you in complete disbelief.

Before he could say anything, a younger waitress appeared at the table to take yours and his orders for beverages. “I’ll just have a cabernet, please,” You ordered, politely. Not wanting to be the asshole who ordered a beer at an Italian place, Joel asked her for a glass of red wine too. She returned moments later with the drinks and then offered to take your orders for food. Both you and Joel decided on a chicken penne pasta dish that looked absolutely delicious. As soon as the waitress took your menus and disappeared back inside, you looked up at Joel and noticed his eyes were fixed intently on you. You felt a slight heat flood your face. “What is it?”

“Nothin’,” he answered, shrugging his shoulders innocently. “You just look really beautiful, that’s all.”

“You said that already,” You reminded him, letting out a breathless little laugh.

“I know.” Joel picked up his glass of wine. He took a quick sip before adding, “But someone as pretty as you deserves to hear it over and over again.”

The night went by fast, much too fast.

One minute, you were both enjoying your dinner and digging into delicious pasta, and the next, the table had been cleared completely, and so had all the other tables surrounding you—you two were the very last patrons in the restaurant. You and Joel had been so lost in conversation that neither of you had realized it was almost eleven and the restaurant was about to close in five minutes.

“We’ve been sitting here talking for three hours,” You gasped lightly.

Joel chuckled. “Time flies when you’re in great company.”

You looked the bill on the table, which the waitress had dropped off over an hour ago, and reached for it, but Joel was quick to snatch it away from you.

You pinned him with a stern look. “Come on, Joel! You fixed my kitchen sink for free, paying for dinner is the least I could do—”

“A lady never pays on a date.”

Your lips parted slightly in pleasant surprise. “Oh. So this is a date?”

Joel laughed as dug his brown leather wallet out from the pocket of his jeans. “I mean, it doesn’t have to be a date if you don’t want it to be. But I still ain’t lettin’ you pay.”

“I do.” You told him softly after a minute. “I do want it to be a date,”

Joel’s eyes met yours across the table and he smiled, looking relieved. “Good. ‘Cause I would’ve been kinda crushed if you’d said otherwise.”

He dropped a couple of twenty dollar bills on the table and stood up. He noticed you about to do the same when he shot you a warning glare.

“Oh. Right.” You giggled and waited until he stood up and held his hand out to you, helping you out of your chair.

As the two made your way out of the restaurant and out to his truck, Joel didn’t let your hand go.

“Thank you again for inviting me out to dinner tonight,” You said sweetly as Joel walked you up the porch steps to your front door. You rummaged through your purse and pulled out your house keys, pausing for a brief moment as you peered shyly up at him through your eyelashes. “Would you like to come in for a drink?”

Joel’s heart skipped an anxious, but eager beat. “I think I’d really like that.”

You turned back to your door and your hand trembled slightly as you jammed the key into the keyhole to unlock it and judging by the way Joel let out a soft chuckle beside you, you were certain that he’d noticed it. You pushed the door open, closing it behind you once the two of you had slipped inside. Setting your purse and keys down, you gestured for him to follow you into your living room where you nodded for him to have a seat on the dark blue velvet couch before you walked towards the kitchen. “What’s your poison?” You called out to him over your shoulder as you began rummaging around in your cabinets for two glasses.

“I’m partial to scotch,” he called back. He then added, “If you’ve got it, of course”

“How do you take it?”

“Neat’s just fine.”

You giggled as you prepared a glass of scotch for him and a glass of red wine for yourself. “Oh you’re just so classy, aren’t you Miller?” Before anything, you did a quick mirror check in the stainless steel toaster on the kitchen counter, making sure that not a single hair was out of place. You then took a deep breath, picked up the glasses, and walked back out into the living room. Handing Joel his glass, you took a seat beside him on the couch; you sat close to him, so close that his arm was pressed against yours. Somehow that wasn’t even remotely close enough. You wanted to be closer and hoped he felt the same.

“By the way, thank you again for fixing the sink for me,” You told him after taking a sip of your wine. “You probably saved me a couple hundred bucks.”

“Oh, it’s nothin’ really,” Joel reassured you. He nudged your arm. “If you ever need me to take a look at anythin’ around the house, please don’t hesitate to call me. I don’t want you reachin’ out to plumblers and electricians, those crooks will see a sweet little lady like yourself and see nothin’ but fuckin’ dollar signs. I don’t want anyone takin’ advantage of you, so when you’ve got a problem, you call me first alright?”

You gazed down into the burgundy depths of your glass, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “I really appreciate that, Joel.” You brought yourself to look up at him, admitting, “Now that I’m living alone, it worries me. Having to take care of this house all by myself.”

Joel gripped his glass tightly, a hesitant expression on his face. “Can I ask you somethin’?”

“Of course.”

“You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to. And if it offends you in any way, you’re more than welcome to just give me a good kick in the—”

“Joel!” You rolled your eyes, shaking your head at him. “Just ask me the damn question already.”

“What happened between you two?”

The smile on your face faded away, but you didn’t seem upset at him. “Well, what all have you heard?”

Taking a sip of his scotch, Joel shrugged. “Couple of rumors here and there, but I ain’t the type to believe in gossip. Would rather hear the truth from the source.”

“What did Mrs. Adler have to say about it?”

He snorted into his glass. “That you two probably could have saved your marriage had you just gone to church.”

You couldn’t help but laugh—Mrs. Adler was nice enough, but that woman could really be something else. She was always telling people they had to get right with Jesus.

“So?” Joel prompted you. “What did he do?”

You sighed and turned your body slightly, angling it towards his. “He did quite a bit. Put me through hell, to be honest with you. But you know, I’m not the type to air someone’s dirty laundry. So, I’m not going to tell you what he did.” You paused, your fingers lightly tapping the sides of your glass. “But I’ll tell you what he didn’t do.”

Joel nodded silently, but in understanding.

“He didn’t treat me right. He didn’t treat me the way I deserved. He never wanted to spend time with me. He never wanted to be home with me, which is all I ever wanted from him. He’d travel so much for work, and when he would finally come back after being away, I would be so excited to just be with him.” You scoffed bitterly at the thought of it. “The minute he landed, he would drop his luggage off and head straight to some bar with his buddies. All I’d want is for him to just stay in with me for a night, watch a movie with me, talk with me because I missed him so much while he was gone. But he never chose me. He would never put me first, no matter how many times I asked.” You shrugged and leaned over, setting your glass of wine down on the wooden coffee table before leaning back into the couch. “It probably sounds really stupid but—”

Joel placed a hand on your bare knee, causing your flesh to erupt in goosebumps. “It doesn’t sound stupid at all.”

Finding a bit of courage, you placed your hand on top of his and continued on, “He never made me feel like I was someone worth fighting for, you know? Like my love was something worth fighting for. He made me feel like nothing, Joel. It got to the point where sometimes I believed it—I felt like I was nothing.”

Joel gave your knee a gentle squeeze. “I sure as hell hope you don’t feel that way now,” he said, his lips tugging down into a frown. “Because you’re fuckin’ everythin’.”

Your eyes flickered up to meet his and you had to silently remind yourself to breathe.

Leaning over, Joel set his glass down on the coffee table right beside yours. He turned to you and lifted his hand, touching the side of your face, his thumb delicately sweeping over the silky skin of your cheek. “A woman like you deserves the world and nothin’ less. You know that, don’t you?”

“Joel?” You whispered out his name, your heart racing in your chest at a rate that you were certain had to be much too fast for the human body to withstand.

“Yeah?”

“Can you please kiss me?”

Joel’s hand cradled your face gingerly as he obliged, leaning in so his lips could meet yours in the kiss that he’s been aching to give you for the last yen years. He was gentle and he was sweet with it, but after a minute, he found himself lightly nipping at your bottom lip with his teeth, silently asking permission for more. He felt your lips part slightly against his and he eagerly deepened the embrace, his hand moving to the back of your head while his other found your bare knee again.

Another wave of courage washed over you and you placed your two hands on his chest, pushing him back against the soft, velvet fabric of your couch. You swung a leg over both of his and straddled his lap, your hands now clutching fistfuls of his shirt.

Joel’s own hands went to your hips and he groaned into your kiss.

You pulled away from him, the tip of your nose lightly touching his as the two of you struggled to catch a breath.

“Let me be the one to treat you the way you deserve,” he murmured after a minute, lifting one of his hands to brush your hair back behind your shoulder; his fingertips lightly brushed against the strap of your dress, and it took every ounce of strength he had in him not to pull it down your arm. “Just give me the chance and I’ll hang the moon for you, darlin’—hell, for you I’ll hang the entire fuckin’ galaxy.”

Your heart swelling at his words, you grinned just before pressing your mouth to his once again.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Joel chuckled with a smile against your lips.

You clung to him with fervor, kissing him with a passion that had the both of you seeing stars. Your hands were everywhere, touching, feeling anything part of him you could, eliciting another groan from him as you started grinding down into his lap. Your fingers went to the buttons of his shirt, desperate to feel more.

“Whoa, whoa.” Joel caught both your hands in his and let out a breathless laugh. “Hey. Slow down, sweetheart.”

You looked at him with wide eyes. “Oh I’m sorry, I-I thought you wanted—"

“Oh I do want it, trust me. Pretty sure you can feel how much I want it.” Joel chuckled again, knowing damn good and well that you could feel how hard he’d become for you as you sat in his lap. His hands toyed with the hem of your sundress. “Seein’ you in this dress all night, trust me I want nothin’ more than to have you right here, right now. But I like you way too fuckin’ much to risk messin’ this up by movin’ too fast.”

You pouted at him.

“Oh c’mon darlin’ put that lip away.” Joel lifted his hand, taking your chin between his thumb and index finger. “All I’m sayin’ is that we ain’t gotta rush this. Trust me, you’ve got me hooked already and I don’t plan on goin’ anywhere, alright?”

You almost groaned out in frustration.

He just had to be a fucking gentleman when it came to sex, too.

You sighed in defeat, resting your hands lightly on his chest. “Fine,” You relented with a tiny eye roll, causing him to grin in amusement. You playfully poked his sternum. “But if you don’t fuck me senseless by the third date, we’re going have a problem, Miller.”

Joel groaned, feeling himself grow even harder at the way such a filthy statement had come out of a woman with the face of an angel. “Keep talkin’ like that and you’re goin’ to make it impossible for me to wait that long.”

“Maybe that’s the goal,” You winked at him.

“Just stop talkin’ and c’mere.” He pulled you forward, fusing your mouth to his once again.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x you #joel miller x oc #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pre outbreak!joel #joel miller x original character #joel miller fluff #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller imagine #joel miller tlou #joel miller hbo

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wardenparker · 1 year ago

Text

Private Dick

Tim Rockford x plus size reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Rating: E for Explicit! 18+ Word Count: 11.8k Warnings: Plus size female reader with anxiety and internalized fatphobia/dysphoria. Tim is divorced with a shitty ex. Food/alcohol. Biting, fingering, shower sex, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, blink and you'll miss it vague reference to a pregnancy kink, brief mention of body shaming/bullying, a lot of talk about one character being vegan. SO MUCH FLUFF. Supportive love is a wonderful thing. Summary: Things are getting serious with your boyfriend, and that means that it's time for your anxiety to come out to play. But if there's one amazing thing about Tim, it's how much he cares. Notes: We just really needed some supportive fluff and hot smut this week, guys. I don't know what else to say ❤💛🧡

“So uh, there’s gonna be a get together at my mom’s house this weekend.” Tim fastens his watch and looks around for the toothpick that he had set down. He swears he has to lay off the pepper beef, the shit always gets trapped in his teeth, but every time they order from Happy Dumplings for the office, he gets the same thing. Standing up, he slides his boxers back up over his hips and looks over his shoulder. “I might have told her that I would bring you.”

"You told your mom about me?" You were halfway out of his bed and hunting around the floor of his bedroom for your panties when he said it and your head snaps up to look at him. God, the man really has a fantastic little ass.

“Well…yeah.” Tim frowns as he reaches for his pants. “She tried to set me up with some chick from her church, says I need a good woman to take care of me.” He snorts, remembering how his ex-wife used to say she would take care of him until the late nights and crushing pressure of the job had sent her into Tommy Litchfield’s bed. The divorce hadn’t been pretty and he had seen the kids four weeks out of the year. “Figured we had been…. seeing each other long enough, so I told her.”

It's been almost seven months since you and Tim started seeing each other, as he puts it, and you know the time right down to the day. Six months, three weeks, and one day. That was the best accidental first date of your life, and even though his job is demanding, you don't mind. You have hobbies and friends - your family and your own job - all to deal with. Time with him has been the icing on the proverbial cake. Hell, the first time he called you his girlfriend was barely a month ago and you had nearly giggled yourself silly, still in that first blush of happiness in your relationship. "So...what kind of get together is this?" Your panties had gotten hooked on his bedpost and you delicately pull them down with a smothered snort. "Should I be dressing up or are jeans okay?"

“Backyard party.” He tells you. “My brother-in-law pretends he can grill worth a shit, while he gets drunk off his ass.” Tim chuckles. “We eat burnt hamburgers that a dog wouldn’t touch while the kids play in the pool. Or just lounge around it and bitch now that they are older.”

"The kids...as in...your kids?" You know the rundown - the divorce, the custody negotiations, all the bullshit that he went through ten years ago. His ex-wife had been awarded primary custody of his then ten-year-old twins and she had barely allowed him to see them each year since. In fact, he had gotten to see his niece and nephew a hell of a lot more, and as such he has a pretty good relationship with them as adults.

“Yeah.” He shrugs into his shirt and starts to button it up. He has to go back to the office to go through witness statements. Barely getting enough time for lunch and a quickie, he hopes that you aren’t tired of him yet. “They are home for the weekend from college.”

"Okay." Your agreement is instant, although it's muffled somewhere inside your dress as you pull it back over your head. Both of your lunch breaks are almost over and you both have to get back to your offices. "Yeah. Count me in. Absolutely." Well...this is gonna be all you think about until the weekend...

“Good.” He flashes you a grin when your head pops through your dress and he reaches for the gun that’s on the nightstand to loop back through his belt. “Make sure you bring your bathing suit.”

"I don't—" Oh god...that's right...he mentioned a pool. A quiet panic wraps itself around your heart and squeezes your chest, and you duck down to find your shoes so he won't see it in your eyes. "Uh—right. Bathing suit. Got it." You'll just have to pretend you forgot when the day comes, that's all. No harm there. Just silly and forgetful old you.

“Fuck, we need a longer lunch break.” Tim grumbles, stepping over to zip up your dress and he kisses the back of your neck. “Want me to come over tonight if it’s not too late?”

"I always want you to come over," you admit softly. He really does have that effect on you - always reducing you to a puddle of a grown-ass-woman when he's sweet and affectionate like this. "Baked pasta for dinner? I can warm you up a plate if it's late when you get out." There are strains of real domesticity in your relationship and you like that it's stayed functional. You're separate people with separate lives, but they're starting to fuse together in little ways.

“I love your pasta.” He admits, reminding himself that you are far too good for him and despite the fact that he was often beaten up by his workload and the grim reality he deals with on a daily basis, you are becoming a safe haven for him. “But if it’s too late, I just want to slip into bed with you.” He admits. “Wrapping my arms around you and falling asleep.”

"Here..." Your purse is sitting on his bureau against the wall by the door, and you pad over to it to pull out your keys. It's a great big, giant gesture to make, but you unclip your house key from the ring and cross the room again to hold it out to him. "I think we're both adult enough to make this step, don't you?" There's a spare key in a little ceramic rock positioned specifically in your front garden that will make its way onto your key ring when you get home, but you want to make this step. You want to show Tim that you're serious about him – especially if he wants you to meet his family this weekend.

He frowns at the key as he looks down at it, noticing the logo of the manufacturer. “I’m going to change your locks this weekend too.” He decides with a grunt. “These locks are shit.”

Even as you’re rolling your eyes, you can’t help but smile. His way of showing affection isn’t always obvious, but you’ve learned to see the signs. “Just take the key, baby. Accept the gesture and take the key.”

“Here.” He digs into his pocket for his own key ring. There’s already a spare on his other key ring, so he quickly works the key off and hands it to you. “You know, for when you plan to meet me and maybe you need to pee. Or you want to come over and jump me in the middle of the night.” He jokes with a small wink.

“So…for all the time?” It’s less sexy and more awkwardly charming when you throw a wink back at him, and you reach up to give him a kiss. “Come on, sexy. We have jobs to get back to.”

He chuckles and pats your ass he you turn around. “I’ll give you a call, m’kay babe? Let you know about what time I’ll be over.”

"Sounds good." As much as Tim always insists he likes your ass, you always have to bite back a small frown when he pats it - there's just too much of it. Too much of you in general. Nope...don't go down that road right now...just check your reflection in the mirror to make sure your hair is okay and reapply your lipstick before you get back to the office. You'll be fine. "See you tonight, baby."

“Wouldn’t miss it.” He promises, watching you walk towards your car with a small grin on his face. While he had made mistakes, been married to his job for too many years, he was trying to do right by you. Wanting this new relationship to work. He’s crazy about you and he can’t wait for you to meet his family.

******

It's four excruciating days of worry until the day of the get-together at Tim's mother's house is finally here. He came over late last night after an interrogation and climbed into your bed to wrap himself around you and fuck both of you into exhaustion. To that end, he is still asleep upstairs while you putter in the kitchen. Coffee made, a pan of apple cobbler in the oven and whipped cream made from coconut cream because he had told you months ago that one of his daughters is vegan. There's a great big container of cold peanut noodles with all kinds of veggies in your fridge, too. All that nervous energy you have has gone into cooking, and you frown behind your coffee cup when you remind yourself that habits like this are why you hate looking at yourself in the mirror.

Tim has gotten used to waking up in your bed, probably far faster than he should have, but there is a connection with you that he hasn't felt in a long time. So it doesn't take long for his hand to seek out your soft, warm skin in his sleep. He had pulled your nightgown off of you and tossed it on the floor, both of you staying naked after he had fucked you. His frown precedes his eyes opening when he finds nothing but the cool spot on the bed where you should have been. Where did you go?

Heavy footsteps on the stairs are your giveaway, and you pour a cup of black coffee for Tim after turning down the volume on your music yet again. “Morning, handsome.”

"Why didn't you wake me?" He squints at the bright light, your curtains and blinds already opened. He could kiss you when you offer the coffee and he does, reaching for you to pull you close for a quick kiss to thank you.

“It was early.” Even though you shrug apologetically, the kiss is welcome and so is the place in his arms. “And you work hard, so you deserve the sleep.”

He hums and rubs your back softly. "Would rather spend time with you." He kisses your forehead and then pulls back, taking a sip of his coffee. "It smells good in here." Standing in your kitchen in his boxers should look odd, but it feels normal. He's been here enough that he knows the layout pretty well.

“I made my apple cobbler that you like…” you admit with a sheepish shrug of your shoulders. “But I made it vegan so your daughter can have some. And…my peanut noodle recipe is vegan anyway, so that’s in the fridge.” He had insisted that you didn’t need to make anything to bring to his mother’s house today but here you are, cooking up a storm.

It takes a moment for that to register and then he's sighing softly. "You are too good, you know that?" He asks, setting the coffee cup down again so he can pull you in for another kiss. "I – you are amazing and thoughtful." He knows he wouldn't have even thought about making something for Zara. Not because he's neglectful, but because he wouldn't even know where to begin making something vegan. "Everyone is going to love you."

“I hope so.” You’re not naive enough to think that his grown kids will automatically love their father’s girlfriend for any reason, and you’ve got just enough in the way of self-esteem issues to be worried. But you fully intend to make the best impression possible today.

"Do you want to shower?" He asks, smirking slightly. "I brought my overnight bag." He routinely keeps a bag in the trunk of his car in case of overnight cases and needing a change of clothes. "We can swing by my apartment to change into something more casual on the way."

"I keep telling you to put clothes in that overnight bag." The offer of a shower is tempting, though, and you glance at the timer on the oven. "The pan comes out of the oven in two minutes. Then I'm all yours."

"I do have clothes in the bag." He grumbles at you. "Work clothes." He watches as you move gracefully around your kitchen, admiring the way you work so efficiently. There's a small smile on your lips that he's pretty damn sure you aren't even aware that you have, but it makes you look even sexier in his eyes.

"Then we'll stop at your apartment on the way." His divide between work clothes and civilian clothes is stark, and you don't begrudge him that for one second. You certainly have two sections of your closet, and hardly ever wear work clothes on the weekends.

The timer goes off and he smiles, sipping his coffee as you rush over to pull the pan out. "Now it's my time." He growls playfully, setting down the cup and moving behind you as you set it down on the oven mitt.

Even as he hauls you backward you have the urge to remind him not to try to pick you up. Thick thighs and too much tummy and saggy arms that you hate are too much for his perpetually bad back and knees after decades on the force. "Come on, handsome," you laugh softly when he presses a kiss to the juncture of your neck and shoulder. "Let's go take that shower."

The softness of your ass against his groin makes his cock start to harden. Making him groan as he pushes it into you with a suggestive thrust. "Mhmmmm, we could get dirty first." He chuckles and nips at your pulse. "Or would you rather I fuck you in the shower?"

"I thought that's what showers are for?" Your shower, anyway. The cramped space in his apartment is no good for anything but being functional. Your house, however, has a large shower stall with excellent water pressure and a separate overlarge tub in the master bath. It had been half the reason for buying the house in the first place.

"That's what should happen in every shower we take." He groans, smirking into your skin before he pulls away to take your hand. "What do you think, baby?"

"I think you're a menace," you tease, lacing your fingers through his. "And I am absolutely here for it."

He laughs as he walks a step behind you up the stairs, still holding onto your hand and cannot resist slapping your ass with his other when you move up an extra step and it's in his face. "Fuck, I love your ass." He grunts.

Too big, your dysphoria supplies immediately, and you're glad he can't see your face as you climb the stairs together. You've never been skinny but it seems like since you got past your thirtieth birthday, everything got a little bigger out of protest. Everything except your tits. "I'm glad you like it," you manage, hoping you sound bright and teasing.

"Next time I have you on your stomach, I'm going to bite it." He threatens playfully, slapping it again right as you reach the top of the stairs. His cock twitches at the thought and he’s halfway toying with the idea of seeing if you would let him fuck your ass. It's not been talked about, and he's not just going to ask.

"Wouldn't be the first time you left teeth marks in me." That actually makes you laugh, remembering the first time your best friend had noticed the imprint of Tim's pearly whites when you had gone to her house after leaving his place. It was how she found out you were seeing someone, and you hadn't lived it down for weeks.

His growl catches in his throat and his hand tugs you back, spinning you around and pressing you up against the wall so he can kiss you again. This thing with you has progressed to the point where those three little words dance in his head when he is thinking of you. Still not quite voiced, they are there. Making him crave you even more when he has you nearby and he transfers that into the pressing of your lips together.

It's a sigh and a muffled groan from you, and your arms come up around his neck easily to encourage him to take whatever he wants. He's fucking irresistible and while you still can't quite grasp why he seems to want you, you're not going to question it and ruin the best adult relationship you've ever had. You're almost grateful to the idiot that broke into your office building and caused all of you to have to make statements to the police.

You had seemed to think that you needed to wear fancy lingerie when he first started sleeping with you, but the loose nightgowns you wear now are just as sexy and far easier to access. Thankful that you had taken his word and started wearing them to bed at night. His hands plunging underneath so he can cup your tit, his other hand twisting to slide into your panties as he groans into your mouth.

Tim's fingers are thick and nimble, and you never would have thought gun callouses could be sexy until you felt them slide through your pussy the first time. The hand fully encompassing one of your tits squeezes in earnest and you groan, hips already rocking against his other hand. "Fuck, Tim."

“That’s it, baby.” He grunts, kissing down your jaw and biting your ear. “Fucking love how wet you get. Pussy is gushing for me.”

Broad shoulders, broad chest, thick fingers, quick tongue, a smile that can leave you in a daze. How would you not be absolutely gushing for him? "Always," you sigh out, breath catching when he curls his fingers against your g-spot expertly. "Need you so bad, baby."

“Just what I want to hear.” His cock pulses against your soft belly and he wants nothing more than to lift you up and fuck you against this wall. Except you would squawk the entire time to put you down. Instead, he pumps his fingers diligently, eager to make you cum so he can fuck you in the shower.

The press of those thick digits inside of you has you gasping and clinging to him as he thrusts two fingers inside of you, adding a third to make you squeal and shake even harder. His eagerness makes perfect sense considering you weren't in bed beside him when he woke up, and you let your forehead drop forward to his bicep as you ride his fingers closer and closer to cumming right there in the hallway of your little house.

“You gonna cum for me baby?” He asks, always loving when you come apart for him. It’s a gorgeous sight. “Gonna soak my fingers? Squeeze them tight?”

"I—fuck—" Three fingers in your cunt and his thumb against your clit is too much all at once in the best way possible, and you're nodding against his arms as that tingling feeling at the base of your spine explodes and you start to shake apart. For a man who claims not to have dated a lot and have been rusty on intimacy when you had first gotten together, he never lost that muscle memory of how to be an amazing lover.

“So fuckin’ pretty when you cum.” He coos in your ear, feeling your cunt sucking his fingers in deep and starting to squeeze them. “Cum for me baby.”

Your fingernails bite into his arms as you grasp him tightly, entire body tensing completely before falling apart completely – flooding his hand with cum and slumping backward against the wall so you aren't too heavy on his arm. "Goddamn, baby..." you pant with a small giggle when you can breathe again, the orgasm exploding like shooting stars behind your still closed eyes.

“Fuck, I need to be inside you.” He feels the slick coating his fingers and wants to sink inside your quivering cunt. “Shower?”

“Shower.” It doesn’t matter that your legs are jelly, you can make it ten more feet into the bathroom. Your nightgown is pulled off of you before you hit the door, and his own boxers pushed down and kicked off. Leaving you in your panties as he opens the glass door to turn the shower on.

“Just what I needed today.” You’re only half teasing as you strip off your panties and toss them in the nearby laundry basket. “To be freshly fucked when I meet your family.”

He grunts, crowding you into the shower when you climb in and turning you around to face the wall. “You want to talk to my mama with a load of my cum in your pussy?” He grins, biting your neck again. “I can make that happen.”

“You can’t just say shit like that to me.” It earns him another moan and you back your ass up against his hips eagerly. “It’s gonna be all I can think about all day.”

“Good.” He chuckles roughly as his hands grip your hips and he presses closer. His cock folding up against his body and pressing into the cleft of your ass insistently. “It’s gonna be all I think about too. Imagining you dripping. Licking you clean.”

“Gonna have to slip away to your old room to get handsy.” You tease, knowing that his mother still lives in the house he grew up in.

“Fucked my first girl in that bed.” He grunts, silently acknowledging that it would be fitting that he fucks his last girl there too.

“Gonna make me another notch on that bedpost, Rockford?” You grin over your shoulder at him as his hands knead your ass. “I bet it was some homecoming queen. Or cheerleader. Do baseball games have cheerleaders?”

“Sometimes.” He smirks and shakes his head. Aware that you have some notion that he was some kind of stud when he was younger. “But maybe that new notch will be fun.” He poses as he rocks his hips back to take his cock in his hand.

"Getting you all riled up until you fuck me is always fun." All of Tim is thick. From his muscled limbs and shoulders that test the limits of store-bought shirts, all the way to his cock. The feeling of his head pushing your pussy open makes you moan, and you brace yourself against the wall of the shower for him to take as much as he wants from you. There's a certain amount of bliss involved in being intimate with Tim and you can usually push away your insecurities in favour of seeing - and feeling - just how much he enjoys touching you. Right now, the thoughts drop away and the only thing left is yes and more and oh god.

“Fuuuuuuuuuck.” He groans as he splits you in two. “I fucking love this pussy.” His breath is heavy in your ear and he rolls his hips until he is buried deep. “Perfect, baby, you’re fucking perfect.”

Perfect. Nobody had ever called you that before, and you had instinctively laughed the first time Tim had used the word. Since then you've tried to be a little kinder with yourself, and accept that just because you don't think you're perfect doesn't mean that he can't think so. "Just for you," you groan happily, reaching back to squeeze his hip. "Only for you, baby."

His lips trail over your skin and he can’t help but continue to kiss you. Loving how you clutch him deep inside your body and the softness of you against him. Reaching for your hands, he laces his fingers with yours and lays them against the wall, sliding his feet closer.

The cold tile against your front and Tim's hot skin at your back is an intense combination that you love – an extra reason to moan with every thrust. His body seems to cover every inch of you, enveloping you in his presence, and it's almost hard to move except to grind back against him every time he fills you up. It's a gorgeous feeling that you so easily get lost in.

“Fuck, how does it get better?” He pants into your ear. “Every fucking time, you feel even better. Addicted to you.”

"Perfect." He is the perfect one, and you won't hear anything to the contrary, panting out words with every slap of his hips against your ass. "Perfect cock. Perfect fuck. Perfect man. I—" For a moment, in your rapture, the words almost slip. Thank god you manage to swallow them quickly. "So good, baby."

“I know you’re gonna cum for me again, aren’t you?” He asks, rocking his hips forward to slap against your ass as he picks up his pace.

“Just like that.” You know it won’t take long now, not if he goes just a tiny bit harder like he does when he gets close, and the begging in your voice always gets him, too. Every time. “So fucking perfect, baby. Please let me cum fo—oh fuck— so close!”

Tim hisses, squeezing your hands as he rocks up into the balls of his feet. Thrusting harder into you. “Yessss, fuck, cum for me baby.”

Bearing down on his length this time, you can practically feel his pulse through the prominent veins of his cock as they scrub against your walls. The pressure is just as perfect as the rest of him and before you know it there are stars erupting behind your eyes.

Tim groans your name when he feels you start to cum. Loving how you whine and whimper as he works you through it. Sex with you has been amazing and he hadn’t been lying when he said it just kept getting better. When that final thrust comes and you are pressed tight between Tim and the tile, the feeling of his pulsing cock filling you full of sticky cum scratches that very private, very secret dream you have of one day actually having a family with this man, and you shiver a little with personal satisfaction when he groans your name into your skin one last time.

“God.” He pants, knowing that while he’s fucking you isn’t the right time to say those words for the first time. “So good baby.”

Laughing under your breath, you groan happily and let your weight go against the wall just to feel him slump against you. “Hell of a way to start the day,” you tease.

“Should start the day this way every morning.” He laughs along with you. “Don’t you think so?”

“Why do you think I gave you a key?” Twisting around just enough to kiss him, you hum against his lips and sigh happily.

He snorts and kisses you again. “So I should just swing into the house every morning as I go into work?” He asks playfully.

The impulse is there. The invitation right on the tip of your tongue. But it’s too soon. Way too soon. He doesn’t even know how you really feel about him yet — so telling him he could just give up his tiny bachelor pad and move in with you would probably send him running for the hills. “So you can stay over whenever you want,” is how you phrase it instead, hoping that that doesn’t sound overbearing or overeager.

“Don’t tell me that.” He warns you. “Your bed is softer than mine and it has the added bonus of having you in it. You’ll get tired of me.”

“No, I won’t.” The answer is too quick. You know that, but you can’t help it. Slowly turning around, the unfortunate side effect of losing his warmth as his quickly softening cock slips out of you is replaced by the benefit of getting to look him in the eyes. “I—I won’t get sick of you, baby.”

He nudges his nose against yours gently and sighs softly. “I hoped that I would make it a little more romantic than this.” He grumbles quietly,

“A little more romantic than being snuggly after sex?” You ask incredulously. Sure you’re not wrapped up in the blankets right now, but it’s still the same feeling.

“Something more romantic than shower sex to tell you that I love you.” Tim tells you quietly. “I’m not good with words or romance.”

When you deflate in front of him it’s out of pure shock, but you push off from the wall instantly to drag him down for a kiss. “I love you, too,” you promise him in that same hushed voice. “I have for—for months.” Since the night that he braved taking you to an Indian restaurant and got through an entire dinner before you found yourselves in the middle of a music festival in the park and he tried to sneak grabbing a hot dog because he didn’t want to admit to you that he didn’t like the restaurant you said you love. “I love you so much.”

He sighs in relief, pressing his forehead against yours and chuckling with joy. “Good. I was afraid I was rushing things. Or reading too much into the amazing sex we have.”

“I don’t think seven months before the first mention of love is anybody’s definition of rushing, baby.” Placing a kiss over his heart, you can’t help the way you grin from ear to ear when you look up at him. “But you’re right about the sex being really fucking good.”

“Yes, it is.” He agrees with a roguish wink. “Now we just need to clean up.” The functional portion of the shower never takes long. You’re both well established in your habits and are clean again in under ten minutes, leaving you to towel off on the bathroom rug together in no time. “So I was thinking that after my mom’s, I could stay tonight?” He asks, keeping his tone casual. “Since I’ll be dropping you off and I have a full weekend off for once?”

“I’m gonna call up your captain and tell him I have you handcuffed to my bed,” you joke, careful to keep yourself covered even while you’re drying off from the shower. It's a habit, and even if he’s just been inside you that’s no reason to force him to look at your whole blob-like body. “He can’t have you back until Monday. Girlfriend’s orders.”

“Careful now.” He warns with a grin. “I might like be handcuffed to your bed.” He’s never really thought about using his handcuffs, despite the ribald jokes from other detectives, but if you wanted to, he would let you. He trusts you.

“You? Give up control?” Raising one eyebrow at him in the mirror, you scoff playfully. “I’ll believe that when I see it.”

“I thought you like when I’m in control?” He asks with a smirk. “But for you? I’d do it.”

“The perfume I wear is literally called ‘Good Girl’,” you laugh, motioning to the stiletto-shaped bottle on your bathroom shelf. “Of course I like it when you’re in charge.”

“That’s the stuff I like?” He asks, intrigued by the name. He never knows that kind of stuff, just that you smell amazing and he always wants to rip your clothes off when he smells it.

“Yup. The little bottle shaped like a high heel.” It’s your treat to yourself. Designer perfume makes you feel a little less like a fat girl playing dress up when you get ready to see Tim or go out with friends, and a little bit more like a full-grown woman. It’s silly, but if that’s what does it, then you can’t be too mad about it.

“I will have to buy you another bottle of that when you get low.” He hums, making a mental note of it. “It smells incredible on you.”

You won’t quibble with him now over the fact that it’s pricey or anything like that. It’s the gesture that counts, and the fact that you’re getting a little bit closer each and every day. “I don’t know how well it goes with chlorine.” With one little joke, you seize the chance in front of you. “Maybe I’ll abstain from swimming today.” No swimming means no swimsuit, which means no having to be partially undressed in front of his family.

Tim sends you a pout. “Nooo, I’m looking forward to getting into the pool with you.” He huffs, eager to see you in your bathing suit and watch you bask in the sun.

“It’s okay,” you insist, trying to play it off like it doesn’t matter at all. “Maybe next time.”

Tim frowns slightly when he realizes that you are serious and you will not be getting into the pool. “Yeah sure.” He nods. “Next time.” He agrees before he moves over to the sink to brush his teeth and shave.

“Okay.” He’s upset. He’s upset with you, and your mind goes straight to the worst possible scenario which is obviously that he’s going to break up with you over it. A lifetime of trying to deal with low self-esteem and self-worth issues but still you go straight to the worst-case scenario sometimes. “Gonna go get dressed,” you mumble quickly, retreating from the room still wrapped entirely in towels, as fast as your feet will carry you.

Tim sighs, wondering where he went wrong this morning. It had been going so well but Trina had continuously accused him of putting his foot in his mouth or being insensitive. He had been trying so hard with you and yet he can tell you’re upset. He looks in the mirror and shakes his head. “Don’t fuck this up.” He orders himself with a groan.

The warm Southern climate means swimming happens all the time, but it’s still October so you put on a light cardigan with your sundress and sandals and try to keep yourself from crying and making your eyes red before you leave the house. The last thing you need is to show up to meet his kids and his mother with bloodshot eyes. “Don’t fuck this up,” you chastise yourself, opening the dresser drawer that holds your one swimsuit just to stare at it for a minute in loathing.

“Baby?” Tim had retreated downstairs once he had dressed, sure that you needed some time to yourself. “Are you ready?” Are you still coming?

“Yeah! One second!” Out of some kind of masochistic instinct, you grab your bathing suit and cram it into your tote bag when you snag it off your dresser and rush downstairs. Clothes, jewelry, make up, all of it is in place to try to make the most positive first impression possible. “Sorry, I—” You immediately focus on getting the food packed up into a reusable shopping bag. “I almost forgot to put on perfume. Stupid, right? After we just were talking about it?”

“That’s okay.” Tim approaches you slowly from behind and he gently takes hold of your waist. “You still smell great even without it.” He promises, leaning in and kissing your shoulder. Offering a silent apology.

“Do I look okay?” It’s silly to be worried. You’re a grown woman and he’s a grown man. But you’re terrified and determined not to fuck up again today.

“You look stunning.” He promises you. “If I hadn’t promised my mother that we would be there, I would keep you here and take you back upstairs to show you how pretty you look.”

“Okay.” Nodding twice, your head hangs between your shoulders for a second before you force yourself to straighten up and take the bag full of food from the counter. “Ready when you are.”

“Are you sure you want to go?” He asks, concerned that he is pushing too fast. It seems like you’re forcing yourself to go.

“Of course I’m sure.” The brightness in your voice isn’t entirely forced. You do want to go, you’re just terrified and self-conscious. And from the look on his face, he knows something is wrong. “I’m just—” Your eyes drop and so do your shoulders. “I’m worried what they’ll think of me, that’s all.”

“Baby.” He shakes his head and sighs softly, happy that he can reassure you. “They are going to love you.” He promises. “Probably love you more than me.”

“They loved Trina.” You’ve seen plenty of his pictures of his ex-wife. Their wedding pictures, especially, and even how skinny she managed to get back to being after having their twins. She’s stunning, and successful, and smart. And you’re a dumpy little nobody who sits behind a desk and definitely never goes to the gym. “I’m not like her. At all.”

“That’s a good thing.” He promises, chuckling at how ridiculous it would be to date someone like his ex.

You let out a half-laugh, huffing at yourself, and shake your head slightly. It sounds so stupid to say it out loud, but here you are in the middle of your kitchen about to break apart at the seams over a first meeting. “She—she’s prettier than me.” In every sense, in your opinion. But especially, she’s skinnier.

Tim frowns and vehemently shakes his head. “That is not true.” He argues. “And it doesn’t matter how pretty she is, she is my ex-wife.” He reminds you. “She left me. Took my kids from me.”

“Right.” Blinking back the impending tears that will ruin your makeup and the mood, you nod your head and take a steadying, if shaky, breath. “Right. I know that. I’m sorry. I’m just—I’m being stupid.”

“You aren’t being stupid.” He huffs, hating how you belittle yourself. You are kind and generous to everyone but yourself. “It is just nerves, right? This is a big step and I’m sure I’ll be shitting myself when I meet your folks.”

“It’s nerves.” You agree, nodding again and resisting the urge to press on your closed eyes to stop the water behind them. It would smudge the eye makeup you put on so carefully. All waterproof, ironically. But not touched-with-hands proof. “I just don’t—” It is stupid, and a part of you knows that. The part that pays fucking attention in therapy every other week. “I don’t want you to finally realize you’ve been dating a cow if I put on my swimsuit,” you admit quietly.

“A cow?” He growls the comment in surprise, rearing back and wondering where the hell that idea came from. “Who the fuck called you a cow?” He demands, furious and ready to punch someone if they’ve insulted you like that.

“Nobody had to.” Your sister. Your grade school bully. The woman at the department store. A girl at camp. A boy you had a crush on in high school. Your parents. Nobody. Everybody. “I’m just a little anxious. It’s fine. I just won’t have any caffeine the rest of the day and it won’t get worse. Please don’t be upset?”

Tim shakes his head and he reaches up to cup your cheeks. “Baby, put your bag down.” He orders you softly. He doesn’t want to leave this house until he’s truly talked to you, and if that means being late, then he will be late. “Please?”

It only takes a moment of silence between you before you swallow your protest and set your purse and the bag of food back on the counter. This is it. He’s going to dump you for being an idiot. At least you got to tell him you love him before that happened, right?

He guides you over to the chair and sits you down, kneeling in front of it and holding onto your hands. “Baby, I don’t know why you are so hard on yourself.” He starts softly. “But I want you to know how I see you.” He knows self-image is just that, your image of your own self, he can’t change your mind for you. “I see you right now, and you are gorgeous.” He nods, smiling as he looks at you. “Generous, pillowy curves that make my mouth water and my cock ache.” Licking his lips, he continues. “I love the way you feel, the way you taste. I love your heart, your kindness. Your thoughtfulness. Your patience.” He stresses. “You are beautiful, inside and out and I wish you could see yourself the way I see you. You say cow, I say stunning, voluptuous goddess that I love.”

“I know that the voice in my head that says these things is intentionally hurting me.” Holding onto his hands like a lifeline, you end up squeezing his fingers in yours. “I’ve been in therapy for enough years to know that. It’s a skewed perspective. But there really are sometimes that I cannot shut it off. It’s like a train going off the tracks,” you explain, hoping he can follow the line of what you’re saying. “I can see the disaster ten feet ahead of me, but it’s too late to stop it. I know I’m going to go headfirst into the worst kind of hating myself, but I can’t stop it from happening.”

“I know what you mean.” He does. He’s seen the department shrink enough times to understand that. It’s like when he blames himself for circumstances beyond his control. “I’m never going to tell you that you are stupid, or dumb for thinking that way.” He promises you. “But I am going to disagree with you, tell you that you are wrong. Because there isn’t one thing about you that I would change.”

"Really?" There's a second where you're too afraid to look up at him, but you can feel Tim's eyes on you and so you raise your head in some kind of silent moment of obedience and it makes you decide to crack a smile and go for a joke. "Not even my broken brain?"

“Not even that.” He smiles at you. “Because I love you, all of you. The good and the negative.” He squeezes your hands gently, “Love you, baby.”

"I love you, too." You lean over to kiss him, half in disbelief that he didn't ask for his key back and walk out your door. "Thank you. For...for listening. And not thinking I'm crazy for overreacting."

He chuckles and leans down to kiss your hand. “Baby, I think you are crazy for putting up with me, not for how you feel.”

"You're amazing, and it's never putting up with you. I love spending time with you." The sigh that comes out of you is deep and long, but you feel better. The weight on your shoulders has lifted, if only for now, and you manage an honest smile. "We should get going, baby. You don't get to see the twins that often and I don't want you to miss a minute of it today."

“Okay.” He waits another moment, searching your eyes and then he pats your thigh gently. “Let’s go. I can quickly change.”

It's a fast enough trip to stop by his apartment on your way to his mother's house, and once he's swapped his work clothes for a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, he slides back into the car beside you and you're off to the races again. At this rate you'll be no more than five minutes late, and that is nothing at all.

Driving the familiar route home, he points out places he used to go as a child and then a teenager. Sharing glimpses into his life. Holding his hand in yours as he pulls up to the two-story house that he had been raised in. “I'm right here with you.” He promises, kissing your hand again. “And they will love you.”

"As long as you love me, I'm okay." That's the pep talk you were giving yourself on the way over, and you're feeling a little more settled after the glimpses into his past. You didn't grow up around here so you can't do any such tour for yourself, but it's nice to see a slightly different side of the town you've lived in for years.

“Are you ready?” He asks after he cuts the engine, turning towards you slightly. “Or do you need a minute?”

"Let's do it." If you sit in the car and procrastinate you'll only give the negative thoughts time to come back, so you lean over to kiss him and buck yourself up. "I'm good, baby. I promise."

“You are always good.” He tells you with a wink before he climbs out of the car and hustles around to open your door for you. Taking the dishes you had protected on the way over so you can get out.

There is plenty of noise coming from the backyard of the beautiful little brick house, and the sound of splashing is already obvious along with music playing and people chatting at various volumes. This is definitely a family party, and it seems like the family is already here.

"Uncle Tim!" The call comes up from the pool first, as his nephew catches sight of him first and waves. "Holy shit! Y'all, Uncle Tim actually left his desk!" The teenager teases with a cackling laugh.

“Yeah, yeah.” Tim rolls his eyes in good fun as he waves back. His hand immediately goes back to the small of your back and he slowly guides you forward. “Come on baby, we’ll put up the food inside and then come back out.”

"Holy shit Uncle Tim brought a girl!" A teenage girl's voice calls after you, with as much excitement as shock, and you're in the middle of a fit of giggles when he opens the sliding door to let you into the kitchen from the back porch. "So that's your nephew and niece, huh?" You snort, smothering the sound with one hand even as you try to stop laughing.

“Brats.” He huffs, his sour look simply for show. “You would think I was a ball-less hermit.” He snorts, setting the travel bag for your dishes down and then opens the fridge to see if there’s room.

"Language." His mother's warning tone is playful from around the corner, but she still means it. Foul language stays outside, it doesn't come inside her house. "Timothy Alan, don't make me send you outside if you're going to be vulgar."

“Me?” He points at himself as he exclaims. “They are being vulgar. And I’m the one in trouble?” His question doesn’t stop him from immediately moving around the corner to engulf his mother in a hug. “Hey Ma.” He kisses her cheek and urges her to come into the kitchen. “I brought my girlfriend.”

"They're outside and I can't hear it," his mother teases, blissfully aware of her arbitrary rules and the fact that nobody is actually in any trouble whatsoever. "Honey." She reaches out both hands to you after giving Tim a hug. "He's been hiding you from me knowing I'm gonna steal you away to have a cooking friend again. It is so good to meet you, sweetheart."

"It's really nice to meet you too, Mrs. Rockford." Even as she envelopes you in the same tight hug that Tim got, you look over her shoulder to shoot Tim a surprised expression.

Suzanne Rockford is far from a petite woman. She is sturdy, hearty. Obviously heavier and he has never told you that, honestly believing that it didn’t matter, but now he wonders if he should have. Maybe you would have been less self-conscious if you had known. He shoots you a smile and a half shrug. “Where’s Vanessa?” He asks, looking around for his sister.

"Upstairs, looking for god knows what in the attic? Unless she’s found it already, and then who knows." Suzanne waves one hand and pays that no mind. "Did Tim offer you a drink yet honey?" She asks you, giving you her absolute full attention. "We've got a whole bar out on the back porch, and the fridge under the car port has beer and soda. But I keep the wine in here." Apparently that is a conspiratorial secret, because she waggles her eyebrows at you. "Whatever you want, I'll grab you a cup."

"I'll grab a soda when we go back out," you promise her, not wanting to start drinking too early in the day. According to Tim, his mother's parties are a strictly all-day affair.

“Ma, she brought an apple crisp and a noodle dish. Vegan, for Zara to enjoy.” He tells her, beaming proudly. “Where do you want me to put them?”

"In the fridge, honey. There's room on the bottom shelf." She looks just as proud as he does, and she reaches out to squeeze your hand. "She's doing well with it, you know," she nods authoritatively. "Talked to her doctor about making sure she gets protein and all her vitamins. Doing some really creative cooking, that one. Once she's got her mind set on something, that's it. It's do or die." Suzanne smirks. "Gets that from her Dad."

“I tried some of that vegan cheese.” Tim tells his mom, shuddering slightly. “The sliced stuff is shit, but the shredded stuff actually melts pretty good.”

“What matters is that you tried.” Suzanne nods approvingly. “Have you two gotten to say hi yet?”

“Not yet, we wanted to get the food put up.” He explains, coming back over to kiss his mom’s cheek again. “I’m looking forward to seeing them. Texting when we get a chance sucks.”

“Go introduce everybody,” she encourages, shooting a smile your way before shooing him off. “There’s things to snack on out there already. Lunch in an hour, or whenever Ricky gets that grill going.”

“Yes ma’am.” He chuckles, knowing that Ricky will fight with the grill for at least ten minutes. He moves over to you and takes your hand. “Let’s go see the kids, baby.”

You let him usher you back out into the bright, late morning sun, and for the first time you get a good look at the backyard in its entirety. There are a lot of people here — more than a dozen for sure — and you can hear another car honk as it pulls up in front of the house. The mood is pure happiness and even a tinge of nostalgia, as people greet each other who haven’t seen each other in ages. The air of absolutely everything is positive, and you take a deep breath to bring some of that into you as well.

Tim sees the first one that he wants to introduce you to. “Vanessa!” He half cups his mouth with one hand to shout his sister’s name. “Get your ass over here!”

"Hi to you, too!" His younger sister rolls her eyes and kisses the woman she was talking to on the cheek before hustling across the lawn. She has a beer in her hand and sunglasses on top of her curls, and she has the same stout and strong figure as their mother but with a little bit more grace in her movements.

He lets go of your hand only so he can wrap his arms around his sister and hug her tight. Making her squeal when he squeezes too tight. “How have you been? It’s been a month or so.”

“Yeah, you’ve been busy.” She raises both her eyebrows at you, waggling them for comedic effect, and then promptly nudges her brother away so she can shake your outstretched hand.

“Sorry if I’ve kept him away from you,” you apologize, not ever wanting her to think that you were intentionally keeping Tim away from his family.

“Are you kidding me?” She laughs, giving your hand a squeeze. “It’s fantastic. I’ve barely seen him sulk in months.”

“I don’t sulk.” His lips immediately form a pout as he glares at his sister. “I was gonna be happy to introduce you to my girlfriend, now you can fuck off.” Even though he says that, he immediately tells her your name before pointing at her. “This is Vanessa, the pain in my ass all my childhood.”

"It's really nice to meet you." He's told you a lot about his sister and you already knew she was a ball buster, but meeting her now feels like a relief. They're close and it's fun to see Tim relaxed like this with his family. "Believe it or not he's actually only told me great things about you."

“Oh, I’m sure.” Her tone is sarcastic and she’s rolling her eyes, but her grin gives her away as she transfers her attention from her brother to you. “I’m a hugger.” She warns you before she pulls you in for a less formal greeting than a handshake.

"It's okay, I am too." It's a far sweeter welcome than you expected to get, both from his mom and his sister, and you let yourself squeeze her back just for a second before letting go. "I'm just really excited to meet everyone."

“I was so excited that Tim told Mom he was bringing you.” She tells you with a smirk at her brother. “It’s been forever since he’s introduced us to someone, and she who shall not be named isn’t exactly ‘fun’.” She confides.

"Oh?" Having been under the impression that his family had liked his ex while they were together, you tilt your head curiously. "Well, uh...we figured it was time," you offer with a shrug. "It's been more than a few months, ya know? And...and things have been really good. Tim is just—" You glance back at him and end up grinning. "He's really amazing."

“He’s a good guy.” As much shit as she gives him, she would be the first to defend her brother and she knows he is much the same way. Siblings in the sense that she can tease him but she’ll kick anyone else’s ass who does. “And he talks about you a lot, so I think he likes you.”

"You talk about me?" Yes, sure, he told you he loves you less than two hours ago, but you still soften in surprise hearing that.

“Oh he doesn’t shut up about you.” She insists, smirking wickedly at Tim who looks very interested in the top of his foot in his flip flops. “Asking if he should take you here, talking about your job. I feel like I know you.” She pats your arm. “He told me he didn’t want to fuck this up.”

"Did he tell you about the fundraiser he let me drag him to?" He's blushing and it's the cutest thing you've ever seen, so if you maybe pick out something to talk about that will make his cheeks turn an even deeper shade of red then that's entirely on purpose.

“Nooooooo.” Vanessa lights up and is nearly about to bust for information. “My brother? At a fundraiser?” She sounds positively scandalized, as if she could never imagine such a thing.

"The nonprofit I work for has dinner dances and black-tie events during the year." You explain, feeling Tim shift self-consciously next to you in the grass even though he's smiling. "He's actually been to two of them now."

“You got my brother to wear something other than those horrible dress pants and button ups?” She gasps. “I swear the ties were from Christmas when the twins were four.”

“We rented him a tuxedo for one event.” The admission brings a dramatic sigh from Tim but you lean over to put your arm around his waist and smile broadly. “You look good no matter what, honey.” Did you climb him like a tree that night because he looked extra good in the tux? Absolutely. But he still looks delicious in his t-shirt and shorts.

“I should just buy one.” Tim grumbles. He hadn’t liked wearing it, although realistically, it wasn’t much different from a regular suit. And you had enjoyed him in it. The sex had been extremely hot once he had gotten you back to your place. “Since you want me to go to those things.”

Vanessa’s eyebrows raise at the offer, and she smirks mercilessly. Hearing her big brother make any kind of comment that trends toward commitment is practically worth celebrating. “Ya know,” She giggles evilly and takes a sip of her beer. “I hear that’s even the kind of shit guys get married in.”

Tim nearly chokes in his own tongue, wishing he had decided to take the crime scene call that had come over the radio on the way here. Even a blood bath would have been preferable to the way his sister is probing for information. He just said he loves you, if he starts talking about marriage, you might think he’s gone nuts.

“Oookay, maybe let’s not pick a topic that makes him want to implode?” You try to joke, squeezing his arm gently, and stifle a laugh. That’s exactly the kind of thing you would expect from a little sister but you don’t want Tim to think you’re crazy the way the idea may or may not have already crossed your mind in daydreams from time to time.

“Jesus, Ness.” Tim huffs. “First time you meet her and you’re picking out our wedding colors?” He rolls his eyes. “Booked the church already?”

“Mom did.” Vanessa laughs, and you can’t quite tell if she’s kidding or not as she blows Tim a kiss and scampers off to keep her husband from blowing the place up while he’s on the grill.

“Oh dear God.” He rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “I’m sorry. I’ll—I’ll make sure Ma didn’t actually reserve the church.”

“Baby, baby—” You grab both of his hands and let a laugh burst through as you pull him closer. “She’s teasing. It’s okay. I’m sure your mom didn’t do anything like that and even if she did, who cares? It’s a funny story we’ll tell someone in the future.” Honestly? It makes you pretty fucking comfortable here knowing that his family is full of ball busters with good senses of humor. And that they’re okay enough with you to include you in those jokes.

“I wouldn’t put it past her.” He grumbles, although he’s leaning in to kiss your lips.

“Then it’s a really funny story we tell later on.” You promise him, happily taking that kiss that he offers you so easily. “I like that your sister is comfortable enough with me to tease.”

“They like you.” He points out with a grin. “Just like I told you they would.” He catches sight of the twins and lights up. “Come on, there they are.”

“This is going on the internet!” Tim’s twin girls are pulling out their phones as soon as they see their father, dramatically button smashing and pointing the devices at the two of you. “Red alert! Dad’s girlfriend is real! This is not a drill!”

“Hey!” Tim lunges forward, snatching for their phones playfully. “Don’t make me throw you in the pool!”

“You can’t.” They’re fraternal twins, and the taller one - Zara - reaches out to hug her dad first. “Your back couldn’t handle it if you tried.”

“I’d try.” He immediately wraps his arms around his firstborn daughter and hugs her tight to his chest. “Hey bug, how have you been?” He asks, kissing her head.

“I got a term paper kicking my ass, but I’m doing okay.” Zara shrugs. Her studies mean the world to her, next to her family, but she tries to stay realistic and avoid overreacting when school is difficult.

“She’s doing amazing, it’s annoying.” The slightly shorter of the twins has lighter hair and looks a bit more like their mother, but that hasn’t stopped Joey from growing up the opposite of Trina; well-adjusted and affectionate. “We need to ask you a favor, though,” she looks at both you and Tim seriously.

“What’s up?” Tim immediately frowns, sure that there is something wrong, something he needs to fix.

“We need you to throw Thanksgiving this year.” Both girls insist in unison, a habit leftover from childhood, before Joey continues to explain. “Gran said she wasn’t up to hosting on her own this year so Mom is trying to make us go to Derek’s parents’ house. But if we tell her you’re throwing Thanksgiving with your girlfriend we’ll be off the hook.” The idea that their grandmother doesn’t want to host anymore has been a bummer for everyone, but an even bigger bummer would be having to deal with their second step-dad’s snooty family.

“I—" he looks helpless towards you, hating that you’ve been put on the spot like this. Holidays haven’t even been discussed and he doesn’t know what you usually do. “Girls, look, even if—”

“No problem.” You cut in, knowing you might be overstepping a tiny bit but for the first favor you might be able to grant his kids, you’ll take that chance. “Even if your Dad gets tied up on a case, my house is big enough and I’m a pretty decent cook.” You do look to Zara though, knowing she can’t be too fond of the main event on Thanksgiving. “We’ll pick out some vegan things together, too.”

His oldest daughter immediately perks up at that idea. “Really?” She asks excitedly. “You wouldn’t mind? I know there’s like, a lot of negativity about vegans, some of them are real assholes.” She tells you. “But I just want to, you know, live pure. But I don’t blame people for eating meat, or if they can’t make me something.”

“I made a couple of things for today that are vegan, it’s really not a problem.” Her enthusiasm and her surprise at being accommodated just makes you want to reach out and hug her, but you look to her father instead. “Is this okay with you, hun? I mean my family’s Thanksgiving is clear across the country and it would be nice to…ya know…do something at home. Instead of being a pity invite at a coworker’s house.”

“What? Yeah.” He nods eagerly, both happy that the girls will be there and that you will be too. “Of course.” He looks over at the girls. “This year won’t be pizza because the turkey’s frozen.” He chuckles.

“Thank you.” Joey is the first to break the ice, reaching out to squeeze both of your shoulders. “Don’t get the wrong impression or anything, our Mom is great at some things, but hosting holidays is not one of them. Which is why it went to her mom for so long, and then whatever guy she’s married to, and—”

Zara practically elbows her sister in the ribs and smiles politely. “This is Joey,” she laughs, waving a hand at her sister. “She talks a lot when she’s nervous.”

“It’s okay.” With a wave of your own hand, you are offering both girls hugs if they want them. “I’m nervous, too. Your Dad loves the hell out of you girls and I’ve been really looking forward to meeting you.”

Zara and Joey both hug you, smiling happily while Tim looks on. He’s relieved that you seem to like the girls. And while it might be unusual that he’s just now introducing you to his twenty-year-old twins, he hadn’t wanted to force things too early. They had resented Derek’s intrusion into their lives when their mom had immediately started dating him, and he hadn’t wanted to make the same mistakes.

Getting to know Tim’s girls is fantastic. They’re good kids, smart as hell, and enthusiastic about their dad being happy again. So enthusiastic, in fact, that it’s easily an hour later when lunch is being announced that you manage to make your way back to his side after being stolen away. You’re at the food table with Zara while she scoops out a plate of your vegan peanut noodles when you give her a squeeze and tell her you’re going to go grab something to eat — and immediately drift away to Tim’s side as he brings over a plate of burgers and hot dogs to the other end of the table.

“Well hey there stranger,” you laugh, slipping one arm around his waist and sighing in relief at having the solid, comforting bulk of him back again.

“Hey.” He grins at you as he sets down the plate. “Sorry, had to rescue the day.” His brother-in-law had actually caught the grill on fire because he hadn’t cleaned it. Tim had taken over and been in charge of the food.

“My hero.” The grin on your face speaks volumes. “Some damn good kids you’ve got there, Rockford. They kept me well entertained, and we’ve got a whole menu worked out for Thanksgiving already.”

“Oh really?” He chuckles. “Has Zara convinced you to make me fry a Tofurkey?” He asks, knowing she might have tried.

“We’re going to do a dish of roasted cauliflower, mushrooms, and butternut squash to add to the table. She got excited about trying out a spice mix in them and said she’d love it for her main dish.” Hell, it sounded good to you as a meat eater, it didn’t surprise you that it sounded good to a vegan. “And she gave me some tips on using alternative milks and vegan butter in recipes so that more of the traditional dishes could be vegan friendly.” Honestly? None of it sounded difficult, and you’re thrilled to be able to do something for his kids. “No exaggeration. I’m looking forward to it.”

“That’s good.” The fact that you are accommodating his daughter is something that makes him fall a little more in love with you. Trina had complained bitterly when Zara had announced becoming vegan.

“I know you were worried when it came out of nowhere, but you don’t need to be.” In fact, after actually getting here and meeting everyone, you’re feeling more relaxed than you had thought possible. “And I—I just wanted to apologize for earlier,” you admit quietly. “Now that I know how nice everyone is, it…how I acted feels even more ridiculous.”

“So you don’t think that I’m going to realize anything more than I’m going home with a hot chick tonight?” He asks, leaning in and nudging his nose against yours.

"As long as you think so, that's all that matters." You don't have to see it, you remind yourself, as long as he does. What had your therapist said to you ages ago? 'You're just not your own type'.

“I absolutely think so.” He winks and leans back to leer at you. “Especially when you look that pretty in your sundress.”

"Oh yeah?" That look is all too familiar to you, and you bite back a grin. It's the same appraising look he had given you at the fundraiser before stealing you away from the party and back to his apartment, which was much closer to the venue than your house.

“Very pretty.” Tim grunts, moving behind you and pressing up against you at the table. “Good enough to eat.”

"Is that a promise?" He has that hungry look in his eyes that you can never resist and you try to school your expression into something innocent.

“Ah ah ahaaaaaa.” Vanessa tuts as she picks up a plate. “Not around the food.”

"Busted," you smirk, pulling Tim away from the table and heading toward the house as subtly as possible.

“You wanna?” Tim groans happily, his shuffled steps quickening behind you. He has zero qualms with having sex in this house, but he had expected you to demure.

“I always want you.” You murmur, practically rolling your eyes at him as you disappear into the house together. “Like absolutely always. It’s a constant state of existence, baby.”

“Yeah?” It surprises him how much you want him. Delights him, but surprises him. He watches you walk towards the stairs. “Last room on the left, baby.”

The upstairs hallway is littered with family photos of many generations, and you quickly look through them as you walk, until one makes you stop dead and “Aww!” out loud. Elementary age Tim in a little policeman’s uniform shares a double frame with a photo of the same man fifteen or twenty years later on the day he graduated from the Police Academy. “This might be the cutest goddamn thing I’ve ever seen,” you grin, pointing to the photos.

“Always knew I wanted to be a cop.” He feels his face burn and he shuffles slightly as he watches you examine the photos. “A little different now, don’t wear the uniform.”

“Nah, you don’t.” You grin up at him and hook your finger in his t-shirt to bring him down for a kiss. “I like the shoulder holster better anyway. Much sexier.”

“Sexier, huh?” He grins against your lips and leans in to press you against the wall. “Want me to wear it for you one day?”

“Maybe.” Your lips quirk against his in a way that absolutely means yes, and your hands wander up under his t-shirt to spread out over his muscles back. “Kinda curious how you would feel about interrogating me, actually…”

“Really?” He pulls back and arches a brow at you. “You want that? Maybe those handcuffs we were talking about? Giving you a pat down?”

The way you muffle a soft groan and briefly close your eyes should be plenty enough of a giveaway. “If I wasn’t wet before I certainly am now,” you grumble, enjoying the fantasy playing yet again in your mind.

“You concealing a weapon?” He asks gruffly, even though he is smiling. He won’t really roleplay with you right now, but you seem to love the idea.

“Maybe…” You can’t help but giggle, taking his hand that isn’t braced on the wall above your head and guiding it under the skirt of your sundress. “Guess you’re gonna have to find out.”

All he can feel is generous, warm flesh. Making him groan and his cock twitches against your hip. “When did you take your panties off?”

“I snuck inside about ten minutes ago.” Your soft little grin turns wicked. “I think I have a domesticity kink, cause I was enjoying watching you at the grill.”

“I’ll grill every night if you stop wearing panties.” He promises with a groan. “My sexy girl.”

“You wanna add another notch to that bedpost, baby?” The two of you are about three feet from the door to his childhood room and it probably wouldn’t be a good idea to get caught fucking in the hallway. Just for basic courtesy’s sake.

“Only notch that counts.” He promises, pulling away from you to drag you into the bedroom.

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit

My Masterlist!

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Tim Rockford #Tim Rockford x reader #Tim Rockford x you #Tim Rockford x female reader #Tim Rockford x f!reader #Detective Tim Rockford #fluff #plus size reader

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percygranate · 2 years ago

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⚠️PSA – ickybatz is back! Predators on AO3⚠️

⚠️TW for Mentions of Child Sexual Abuse, Child Abuse, Minor Sexual Content, Pedophilia, GROOMING, and Pedophile Conversations. PLEASE read and reblog if you can.

IMPORTANT UPDATE: Demobatz is NOT ickybatz, also known as batty-ruski, battyrusk.

I made a mistake by assuming due to the names, and after being in contact with Demobatz, I edited the post. I apologize for this but don't fully regret calling them out, as it helped Demobatz realize they made a mistake and it brought a lot of attention to the issue of predators on AO3 and Tumblr.

In-depth explanation [HERE]!

This 13/16-year-old CHILD is out here asking for pedophilia requests and getting encouraged and groomed by predators.

I accidentally came across it, and I encourage you to report them and everyone interacting with their work. There is a difference between dark romance, dark fics, and straight-up romanticization of children being assaulted.

They write about these children actively partaking and enjoying it, hoping they can please the adult taking advantage of them. These works are clearly written for the type of person that gets off on it.

——— Update ———

Their way of writing to cope with past trauma was groomed and manipulated by predators on AO3.

——— Update ———

——— False Information | Demobatz isn't Ickybatz ———

So much for “Oh, they are a traumatized child and made a mistake.” They now know it's wrong and continue doing it, even worse than before. And people continue to support it.

Their fucking apology was absolute bullshit. And everyone that came to their defense should be ashamed of themselves.

——— False Information | Demobatz isn't Ickybatz ———

↓ Here are AO3 accounts supporting this. ↓

Yes, they put warnings on their work and say “Don’t Like It, Don’t Read It!” But I would like to show you what they are writing, and how they are getting the attention of predators. I am sure you have to agree with me that they and everyone supporting this need to lose any type of platform they own. Demobatz should NOT be in any contact with these men.

⚠️They encourage each others to write this and Demobatz, A 13/16-YEAR-OLD, is actively putting themselves in danger by making “friends” for roleplay, and exchanging social media, with very likely, PEDOPHILES. They are actively getting groomed by people that know what they are doing.⚠️

——————————————————

↓These are their two original works↓

Financial Struggles — The summary says it all. But I feel like I should point out their conversation under their post.

Mother’s Milk — Sexual Assault of a male baby.

——————————————————

↓This is their work in the Stranger Things Fandom↓

Their work “Deceit” which is taking requests and actively posting has, as of May 21st, 16 Chapters.

1 — “Using this as a coping mechanism for my own trauma. Please request, any age is allowed❤️”

2 — Eddie Munson, 25 y/o | Reader, 17 y/o

3 — Uncle Steve Harrington & Eddie Munson | Reader, 6 y/o

4 — Eddie Munson, 20 y/o | Reader, 12 y/o

5 — Steve, 19 y/o & Eddie, 20 y/o | Reader, 14 y/o

6 — Dad Steve | Reader, 8 y/o

7 — Dad Steve & Eddie | Reader, 8 y/o

8 — Big Brother Steve | Reader, 4 y/o

9 — Big Brother Billy Hargrove | Reader, 6 y/o

10 — “Posting this so that you all can give me ideas on what to post next❤️ Anything is allowed/ age can be whatever you want♡♡!”

11 — Billy & Steve | Reader, 3 y/o

12 — Hopper & Joyce | Reader, 4 y/o

13 — !BILLY HARGROVE AND A NEWBORN BABY!

14 — Billy | Reader, 6 y/o & Max, 7 y/o

15 — “It hasn't been a week and I'm almost at 2,000 reads! Thank you all so much♡♡ Feel free to drop suggestions, request or even ideas/blurbs♡♡”

16 — Big Brother Eddie / Reader over the years, starting at 6 y/o

——————————————————

They actively encourage pedophilia and put themselves on a silver platter for predators.

If you are still trying to justify these types of works, please do it off anon and openly so you can be blocked since you are part of the problem.

Do not send threats, bullying, or harassment their way. Block and Report.

If you know one or more of the interacting blogs, call them out.

⚠️UPDATE: 22nd of May⚠️

Dear fellow Bloggers, Demobatz pedophilia fic “Deceit” has been taken down!

Yet their two original works (mentioned above) are still there. I ask you to keep reporting them!

Demobatz is currently using Wit as their social media to exchange ideas for their CSA & incest Erotica, and worse, to roleplay with potential predators.

⚠️Update: May 25th⚠️

AO3 has removed their account or they deleted it themselves. Their Wit profile has been deleted.

Due to this post, my blogs keep getting shadowbanned and reported.

⚠️Update: May 26th⚠️

DEMOBATZ CONTACTED ME AND I CAN CONFIRM THIS APOLOGY TO BE REAL!

In-depth continuation and explanation [HERE]!

⚠️I turned off Reblogs as the original post with false information is still making rounds and therefore people are missing information.⚠️

#ickybatz

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theyluvlyss · 2 months ago

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𝐈 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐈 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭, 𝐛𝐮𝐭...

...you'll be able to find each ghost boy (under their respective section, ofc lol) in the master list all with the same title :). I decided to just do them all one at a time to keep from having you wait any longer/forcing myself to pump them all out in one go/one long ass post lmao.

plus, to hopefully make it easier, I'll just tag you each time as the requester so you know, if that's okay lol♡.

𝐄𝐚𝐬𝐲 𝐎𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐄𝐲𝐞𝐬

《 ♡ 》 headcannons

───────── 《 .°•♡•°. 》 ──────────

𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 :

while it's always fun to imagine (haha, get it💀) what it'd be like for him to be your best friend or your boyfriend, there's times when you yearn for that tension. that something in between that's more than a platonic relationship, but just short of being a lover. and I'm here to revive that feeling of what it'd be like for robin arellano to have a crush on you...

𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 :

fem!reader x robin arellano - she/her/hers pronouns!

𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐦𝐞 :

70s-80s - the grabber doesn't exist

𝐓𝐖/𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 :

cursing - robin lowkey being a menace💀 - him also liking you tho - mentions of fighting/violence - manhandling,,, kind of?? (idk I personally wouldn't call it that, but- 😭✋🏽) - me focusing a little too much on the jealousy stuff lol whoops🧍🏽‍♀️...

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ...𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

───────── 《 .°•♡•°. 》 ──────────

I feel like he doesn't really "crush" on ppl. He finds people attractive and that's about as far as that's gonna go lmfao. If anything, he finds it fun to recognize/point out the difference between when people are conventionally/deemed by society's standards "attractive" vs when HE actually finds somebody to be a good looker to HIM (he wanna be different so bad🙄✋🏽).

But like I said, him finding someone hot doesn't really go anywhere. He doesn't do/say anything about, nor go out of his way to force things, especially when there's no prior connection/feelings there.

On that note, I feel like for him to have a crush on you (reader), two things would need to be an order; You'd have to attract him one way or another. Like, there's gotta be something about you that makes him have that, "Oh, she's fine as hell, I gotta talk to her." mindset towards you, even if he'd have yet to act on it. And, there's gotta be, like I said, a prior connection.

Or, you could get lucky, and a very specific set of circumstances could spark something up between y'all. He's not opposed to a meet-cute😻.

If y'all were already friends/close, he'd deny👏🏽deny👏🏽deny👏🏽 having feelings for so long. Not towards you, but towards himself. He would deadass be lying to himself about liking you romantically, even a little a bit, but unfortunately, it'd be one of those things that sneaks up on him one day and then just all comes crashing down into one existential crisis.

But even after accepting them, he'd STILL not bother to do anything about it - not bc he doesn't think he has a chance (well, maybe a little bit, but see if he'd tell anyone that), but also bc he doesn't want to ruin the friendship between y'all.

He'd hate to lose you just because he woke up "...on some bullshit, bro, I can't believe I like her..." one day, so he's more than likely to keep quiet about it.

Although, he can say that's what he's doing all he wants, his actions kind of prove otherwise; he might accidentally drop a subtle hint or two, and the stuff that he normally does that held the air of friendship and loyalty suddenly becomes a bit more,,, ✨️🧡💫💋, ykwim?

If he's walking with you, maybe crossing the street or something, he could care less about how far you are behind him if it meant getting to the nearest idk Burger King or whatever faster💀✋🏽. Or at school - sure, he might be on the look out for you if he's bored, or should he hear anyone tarnishing your name without you there to defend yourself on your own, shoot them a dirty look. And even just hanging out at the drive-in; it's viewed as more of a casual hangout than anything.

But let a crush develop some,,, let him become a little infatuated with you... Now, all of the sudden, crossing the street is a whole ordeal; checking for cars is routine now, and whether you like it or not, he's got a hand wrapped around your wrist and is tugging you along gently with an alertness that both amused and perplexed you. And at school, he's now taking any free time he may have to actually go looking for you instead of your paths crossing due to natural coincidence, just to act as though he had no time at all to waste with you, and would pester you at your locker whenever he did spot you.

And, as much as he hated the way his hands would clam up and how his heart would beat out of his chest and how he practically had to force himself not to look for your reaction to every single scene of the movie he picked, he was insistent on having a specific schedule for going out to the movies now. And no, he'd never, ever let you pay, even when you really should've and definitely could've.

But...

Say if he hadn't known you beforehand tho, and y'all met through some sort of meet-cute or whatever,,, him starting to like you would be a little easier of a process for him.

Something he wouldn't be so against because there's "nothing" to ruin or fuck up besides his chances with you, so now he can pretty much just focus on not screwing that up.

He's way quicker to drop hints (not saying he's any smoother with it, but that's not gonna stop him from doing it lmfao cuz who finna check him😗😹).

It's things like really obvious (almost bad) flirting, and teasing that isn't in the same way as he might do with his regular friends. If anything, he might use it as an excuse to always be touching you in some way - OMG TELL ME HE WOULDN'T BE A CHRONIC "You got something on your shirt..." JUST TO FLICK YOUR FACE TYPE OF PERSON LMFAO!!

You'd hate it and look at him like, "😐" and he'd just get a kick out of it, looking at you and laughing every single time like he's comedy fckn central💀.

Or if he's telling you a story - probably about the last time he beat someone up - he's using you as "the other guy", gently tapping you with ghost punches and moving you about by the shoulders when need be lmao. And even just in general, when he's not storytelling,,, give him ONE good reason to try and be physical, and he'll take it and SPRINT.

And if you notice that fact (there's no way you possibly couldn't), all he'll do is smirk at you and go, "It's fine, you like it😌."

Bro just slaps on an obnoxious and obscene amount of confidence and calls it a day, basically. Fake it 'til you make it type of thing, and it most definitely works (you wouldn't be reading this if it didn't🤭🤷🏽‍♀️). But of course, let it be known he'd never do anything to make you uncomfortable. I just imagine he's rather cocky in his abilities to woo someone if he really, really wanted it, and well... it's you, so...

He really, really wants you LMFAO😭. Anyways, back on track...

I feel like he's definitely the jealous type, but he won't do anything about it/won't get outta pocket unless your well-being is at stake. Like, if you were clearly uncomfy in a situation, or you specifically came to him on some, "This guy's bothering me..." type shit, oh, it's 0-100 rq. He's absolutely beating the shit out of that person (more so than when he's just in a regular fight).

Because of that, he'll definitely be scary dog privilege, like, I'm sorry, but,,, I feel like he's the type to - once he decides he's gunning for you - that's it. Not in a possessive way, just in the sense that he's totally made up his mind and, as much as he likes to maybe slap on a chill and nonchalant-type persona, he actually cares very deeply about things and people that have an affect on him.

He's also a go-getter, so with all of that in mind, it makes sense that even if you didn't reciprocate his feelings, he'd STILL make it known that he don't play about you lmfao. But even so, jealousy is also one of those things he just deny-deny-denies, will totally brush it off if you bring it up, even if you tease him for it.

But, he is a dork at the end of the day lmao tease him long enough and he'll eventually fold and just be like, "Nah it's just cuz I treasure you and I like you, like... would you rather I didn't care or just ignored it whenever a guy looked at you crazy? Exactly, hush, you love me😌✨️🧡." Once again, it's that seemingly blind confidence that definitely has you shaking your head a lot with a giggles escaping you, but YOU ALSO DON'T SAY NO/TELL HIM OTHERWSIE, SOOO😆🤭...!!

Honestly, with Robin being jealous, I feel like it's one of those things you dk/even realize he's feeling until it's "too late" - he's stalking towards someone you've complained about making you uncomfortable or he's already done what he needs to do, he's coming back to you, and after a short conversation with you pressing him about why and whatnot, it just hits you, and you're like, "Oh...Oh my god, you're jealous🤭..." and he's all "nO😡....."

"You lyin'?😆"

"...yeah😔..."

Although, jealously for you surprisingly isn't often. Like sure, girls dk how to back off, but not only are you both pretty secure, but he's also very reassuring. Both in speaking directly to you, telling you he doesn't really have eyes for them, AND towards the other people. He breaks hearts left and right, and it's highkey not even on purpose...

Bro just doesn't know how to let folks down easy - so much so that sometimes even YOU feel bad😭. Sometimes...

"You didn't have to say it to her like that...!"

"Wha-? But it's true! Should I have lied? Like..."

"No, but I'm just-! ... You need to learn to be more sensitive about these things😭..."

"Fym, I'm the most sensitive guy I know😙."

"...The kid whose nose you broke a month ago would say otherwise, but okay🙃."

But otherwise, if and when you're not scolding him, he finds your envy to be very endearing and validating. It lets him know that you are actually thinking about him in the romantic sense like he is you, and he just likes seeing you get all worked up lmfao. Something about your brows being furrowed and the heated look in your eyes reminds him of, well, himself! And he takes a little bit of pride in that, if he's being honest with himself, especially if it's a rare occurrence.

If you're normally this little sweetheart, and you're not exactly on the violent and/or temperamental side, in those moments where you might snap a little bit, he's DEFINITELY paying the most attnetion and he's DEFINITELY standing there like, 'Omgomgthat'shot-...' 💀😭.

If anything, I feel like these strong emotions from either one of you two could for sure be the gateway into him finding out/realizing you like him back...

Like, you'd definitely slip up one time, say something you weren't supposed to, or he'd reassure you way too much and let something slip, SOMETHING LIKE THAT, and either way, he finds out and he's like "Ohp🫢...AAAAH😃🫵🏽⁉️....YOU LIKE MEEEEE I KNEWWW ITTT🤪😘🫵🏽!!!"

He'd probably be too busy celebrating the fact he "...always knew and I'm always right about these things, blahblahblah..." while you stand there like, "🙄😒..." to remember there's actually supposed to be something following up after a whole ass love confession💀.

But, because you do, in fact, love him, I'm sure you'd be the one to fill in that gap, and short after, a very chaotic yet loving/meaningful relationship would ensue.

THAT BOY LOVESSS YOU, OKAAAY💋🧡✨️‼️‼️‼️

𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐭 𝐥𝐨𝐥...

...as I was writing this one (well, adding onto what had already been written), the app glitched, and the whole thing deleted itself...

shit pmo so bad, I just didn't touch it again for like a whole month😭✋🏽. it's also part of the reason why it's shorter than I actually intended, so I apologize, but I hope all enjoy it regardless🙏🏽♡.

next up is vance, tho !!

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ...𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ...𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 :

@in3rci4

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 :

1,830 words

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐬 :

none :(

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meracyn · 1 month ago

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aaaahahhhj ur already one of my fav writers ur so funny 😭 reading ur work makes my dau sm better

if u dont mind can u write hcs of kaito being shuichis wingman? shuichi tells kaito he has feelings for the reader but is too nervous to ask them out, so kaito decides to take matters into his own hands and help him plan moments where shuichi can confess his feelings

also can I be mochi anon?

kaito as shuichi’s wingman

THIS MADE ME SO HAPPY TYSM I CANT STOP RUNNING LAPS AROUND MY HOUS TY ANON AND YES YOU CAN 🙏 btw this request is so CUTE UGH i might do a fic of it too

off topic but i was about to post this accidentally lmao

ok sorry giys back on topic

when kaito hears shuichi tell him he has feelings for you, he immediately whacks him on the back, congratulating him

“congrats shuichi! you’re becoming a real man!”

cue shuichi debating whether or not he regrets ever telling kaito about his lil crush

now when they both see you around, kaito tells him to go up to you and just confess

“oh look there’s y/n! go ahead and tell ‘em how you feel!” like some dad or something

shuichi refuses, feeling too nervous to even go up to you, so he tries to avoid you and kaito’s pressure to just confess already

which might give you the wrong idea that he doesn’t want to talk to you :(( he’s just so overwhelmed with his feelings that being around you makes his heart want to burst

its ok though kaito motivates him by giving him long pep talks and support, thinking about ways shuichi can get your attention and like him back

although they both dont know you already do lmao

it does help shuichi but his confidence goes away the moment he sees you

“okay i think i got this now, im nervous but im sure i can tell them how i feel”

kaito feels so proud and pushes shuichi further as soon as they spot you nearby

“you got this! remember what i taught you!” kaito says to him before going to hide somewhere to watch the scene unfold

shuichi nervously walked over to you and took a deep breath, closing his eyes

“hey shuichi, do you need something?” you asked with a smile

as soon as he opened his eyes it all went away

poof

just freezes entirely not saying anything

“are you okay?” you asked after a solid minute

“i....have to go” ran off lmao

kaito is so disappointed 😔

“you almost had it man! it was your chance! what would y/n think about you now?” kaito sighs

so now they have to think of another plan

kaito probably turns into a secret detective, watching you from afar to see what your likes and dislikes are

has to be careful or he’ll be called out as a stalker 😭

as soon as he knows enough he gives ‘hints’ to shuichi

“oh wow, looks like something y/n would like” trying to be all sneaky about it

kaito would also “arrange” hangouts between the three of you and suddenly give some shitty excuse to leave you both alone

“you have to learn my son”

“kaito what the fu–”

jk that wouldnt happen

imagining shuichi saying that though is so funny for some reason

sorry i got distracted

back on topic

scolds shuichi for chickening out at the last moment, saying how he had a lot of work to do and stuff

eventually gets tired of shuichi’s bullshit

“alright shuichi do you want to earn y/n’s love? then man up! you aren’t some little kid anymore to run away from your feelings, today is the day you’ll confess, got it? i’ll help you out”

kaito makes shuichi write you a note and leave it in your locker, about meeting each other at the school’s rooftop

before you arrive kaito supports him by telling him what to say, and act towards you

“listen shuichi, this has to be perfect, ya hear me!? it’s now or never! if you don’t man up now, someone else will steal them, do you want that?” kaito got stressed too 😭 mans wants this to be over with already

as you got there, shuichi was standing there mentally preparing himself

“the view is so pretty from up here” you said, trying to make conversation

shuichi took a deep breath, “yeah..um, y/n, i invited you here because...well...uh...i need to tell you something” shuichi starts, trembling slightly

this guy is sweating bullets and his face feels so hot

you, on the other hand was patiently waiting for what he had to say

“..i admire you a lot. there’s so much to admire about you, really–” taking a deep breath he continued, “from your strength, to courage and kindness.. and..because of that.. i developed feelings for you...what i mean to say is i like you y/n, more than a friend”

silence

he did it

HE DID IT‼️‼️‼️

kaito can barely contain his excitement as he silently cheered, he just has a sense that told him shuichi did it

you may imagine what your response is lol

shuichis so happy now

RELIEVED ASF

‘i finally did it, they like me back what do i do now so i hug them or ask if we’re officially together or or or’ — shuichis mind rn

“well..do you wanna go out for a coffee sometime this week? just the two of us together?” you asked

“ah..of course” shuichi is so happy he doesnt even know how to act

all giddy and shi lmao

hes probably the type to scream into his pillow when he gets a text from his crush out of happiness

and acts as if nothing happened afterwards

he needs to show he can be a dominant male 🐺

jokes jokes dont hate me pls

we cant just casually ignore the fact kaito was a w wingman

so once he gets out of his ‘hiding’ place hes already whacking shuichi on the back and saying they need to go out to celebrate

kaito is w

#danganronpa #fluff #danganronpa 3 #danganronpa v3 #shuichi saihara x reader #kaito being a wingman #kaito is w #“kaito is w” we all say in unison #shuichi saihara x female reader #shuichi saihara x male reader #shuichi saihara x gn! reader #headcannons #this was so long #its 10pm and i quickly had to finish this lmao #kaito momota #anime #game #meracyn

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kairiscorner · 1 year ago

Text

ok but imagine miggy with a perfectionist/overachiever/burnt out gifted kid reader

(tw: mentions of light self-starvation, keep yourselves fed babes, you deserve to eat)

(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)

...

summary: you really wanted to keep your number one spot, but at the cost of your well-being? miguel refuses to watch you do this to yourself any longer and takes matters into his own hands.

word count: ~1.7k

it was 2 in the morning, and you were still burning the candle at both ends. you were hard at work memorizing concepts, diagrams, easily mispronounced words and acronyms you'd never use or find useful ever again in your life unless you were on a trivia gameshow.

you were hard at work trying to understand what little was entering your mind already, a little overwhelmed by the concepts flooding your brain, but not ready to get to bed yet, out of fear someone will push you off your throne as one of the top students of the class.

you were intelligent, you had a gift; you heard those words all your life, every tine you came home with a new certificate, medal, trophy–or all three at once. you couldn't help it, school was just too easy for you back then; you could take the tests with your eyes closed and without even studying the night before.

but soon, it got harder for some reason. you originally didn't mind, you still passed with flying colors and with minimal effort–but at the cost of your sleep schedule and eating habits. you convinced yourself it was fine, it was okay, so long as you were on top.

that was all you could think of, "i just need to stay on top, then i'll be fine. nothing's better than showing them all i'm better, i'm smart, i'm... worthy of this, all this."

your mantra worked, but it worked too well that it backfired horribly.

hence, here you were, on an empty stomach that was growling, begging for you to fill it with sustenance, as the clock soon ticked to 2:15 am. the constant ticking of the clock irritating you, and thoughts of getting a digital clock to lessen distractions filled your head–ironically becoming a distraction in itself.

you groaned, you had to face it, you weren't going to get anything done at this rate. you decided to check your phone for something that might help stimulate you, maybe motivate you, even, to get back to studying.

you went online for a little, laughed at a few videos, got interested in some rabbit hole videos, found yourself singing along to some songs that you clicked on from your feed. it was peaceful.

but soon, you were greeted by a flurry of messages from your concerned friend, miguel o'hara.

you opened your latest message notification from him and read it as soon as it flashed on your screen. "what is so important that you should be up right now?" he asked.

you bit your lip as you tried to think of what to say. you knew miguel was the unyielding type of person, if you gave him a bullshit answer, you were going to get bullshit from him. you typed, erased, retyped and re-erased your message over and over again. but you finally came to the conclusion to type out, "why are you up rn?" you texted, sending him a duck emoji afterwards. he hated when you did that.

"it's 2:20 am," he argued. "correction, 2:21 in the morning," you responded. "are you even doing anything worthwhile right now? maybe rethinking which direction your life's headed before graduation?" he texted back, to which you giggled.

"you didn't answer my question," you replied, with a duck emoji again. "i was up because i saw your online status. don't think you're slick, you didn't answer my previous questions, either." he replied. "and what relevance does the duck serve in this conversation? i seriously don't understand."

you laughed aloud at his blunt answer, and in your half-tired daze, you accidentally pressed the call button. it wasn't until you heard his voice on the other end that you realized you accidentally called him.

"hello?" rang his voice from the other end, a little groggy. "um, hi." you responded as he groaned. "why the... shock are you up?" he asked, a little irritated. "we have our finals tomorrow." you replied curtly. "so? that doesn't answer my question. why are you shocking up?" he asked in a more annoyed tone as he shook off the grogginess in his voice.

"por el amor de Dios..." he muttered under his breath. you were a little taken aback by how... captivating he sounded when sleepy. a little grumpy, yes, but you felt like you could listen to his voice be like this every day. maybe you would stay up a little late just to hear him like this.

"go back to bed." he told you, trying to sound commanding. "and why would i ever do that? you know how important the finals are." you remind him. "...and how important being the top student is for me." you murmured out that last bit, to which he raised an eyebrow at.

he breathed a sigh. "i seriously can't believe you'd prioritize being a top student over giving your body a much needed break." he berated you as you hunched your shoulders, a little disappointed that he had a point. before you could say anything to retort, your stomach sided with miguel and let out a deep, rumbling whine.

the sound of your stomach complaining about how poorly you've been keeping it fed alerted miguel as he sighed yet again. "what time was it when you last ate?" he asked you, his voice soft as he tried to keep himself calm and composed.

"ah, well, maybe around... i forgot." you answered honestly. "you forgot?" he asked in a concerned voice. "you really can't live without me, huh?" he asked as you heard the shuffling of bed spreads and his big footsteps as he walked around his room. "what are you doing?" you asked him.

"more important question is where i'm going, and if you must know, i'm headed to your dorm right this–" and before he could even finish, there was a rapping of knocks on your door. you got up as you wondered if the person knocking was who you feared it was.

"–my phone died." he said in a low voice. "hope it rests in peace." you joked in a straight, nonchalant tone as miguel sighed at the bad joke. he entered your dorm without another word and set on your table the big white plastic bag he brought with him.

he didn't change out of his white shirt, dark and light blue striped pajama pants, and wore the jacket you bought for him on his birthday. "sit down." he commanded in a soft voice. "what is th–" "sit. down." he repeated himself in a more solid voice, which shut you up and got you to sit down immediately without asking any questions.

before you could get another word out of your mouth, miguel handed you an empanada. it was a little soft and limp, but it was warm. you could tell this wasn't made by just anybody. no, you recognized this style of empanda wrapping, the way it was golden brown on one side, slightly browned on the other–the abundance of meat in the filling with hardly any vegetables, just the way you liked it.

the only person who knew how to make it this way was...

"well damn, miggy, didn't think you were gonna make me anything." you said as you took a bite of the empanada. he shrugged. "i was going to give them to you today, but you were holed up in the library all day. if not the library, then in your dorm, locking yourself in your own misery." he said as he ate his helping.

you chuckled. "hey, don't laugh. i worried about you all day." he scolded you lightly with a half-full mouth. "oh. is that why you were online earlier?" you asked him, eating your empanada to satiate your starving stomach.

"i... i couldn't sleep." he admitted. "why not?" you asked him. "...a part of me thinks it was because i couldn't stop worrying about you. i didn't see you the whole day and i really, really wanted to know if you were okay. you know it kills me every time when you don't talk to me, let me know if you're alive, at least." he said as he looked up at you, his expression softening.

"oh, mig, i'm... so sorry." you said as you realized the weight of your actions, how it affected not only you, but miguel, and possibly other people who cared about you. miguel put his non-greasy hand on your cheek. "you should be." he said promptly. "but don't beat yourself up over it, you've been beating yourself every day since you were on top, not wanting to lose." he went on as he rubbed the side of your face.

"it's admirable, but please don't lose yourself over it. i think you're good enough already at second, third, or even no place at the top. you'll always have a place in my heart, that's the only thing no one can take away from you. that's the only place you'll always be number one in." he said with a small smile. "please promise me you'll take care of yourself, even if you can't accept losing once or twice or many more times in your life to someone else. i'd rather see you lose at everything but yourself. but i know you're good enough already, you don't have to overdo it anymore, okay?" he reminded you, to which you nodded and rubbed away at your eyes.

tears formed and rolled down your cheeks as he spoke, tears you never realized you were holding in, which suddenly came flooding right out when miguel talked to you. "ah... sorry." miguel apologized as he wiped away your tears with a napkin. "i promise, miguel." you sniffled out. "i'll... i'll try to take care of... myself." you promised as miguel held your face in his hands. "and if you can't... i'm right here for you. i've always got you, no matter what." he said as he kissed your forehead, a gentle and loving reminder that you can be number one at everything all you want, you already are his number one, but never forget that you have to be number one for yourself, first.

a/n: I NEEDED THIS WHEN I WAS 1 POINT AWAY FROM A 98 GENERAL AVERAGE ON MY CARD I SWEAR /cries HOPING YOU BABES LOVED THIS

tags !! @miguelswifey04

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara fluff #atsv miguel #atsv spiderman #atsv #atsv imagines #atsv x reader #atsv x y/n #atsv x you

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gretahayes · 2 years ago

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Favourite tim drake recs? :0

Assuming you mean fanfic recs, I've got probably the most for him and this is long, so it's going under the cut;

This is genuinely one of my favorites, it's set post-Red Robin, and deals with Tim's vigilante stalking habits, his family finding out, Cass realizing there's no photos of Tim, them setting out to take/find some of him (a much harder feat than you'd think) and finally, Tim seeing the photos. It's amazing and sweet, and I can't recommend it enough. (I especially like the Bruce & Tim and Tim & Damian in this)

This is by the same author, also set post-Red Robin. This is Damian and Tim focused, Damian POV, in which Damian sees Bruce's contingency plans for him and the rest of the family, and with nobody else to turn to, runs for Tim. Canon divergent in the way Bruce doesn't have a contingency for his children, neither does Tim for his team, or them for him, but it kinda makes sense in this setting. Their interactions are amazing here, and seems so real.

In this, Tim gets a tonsillectomy. An elaboration in the form of a long fic. A must-read, I feel. It's funny and has so many feels and such good characterization.

!!! Can't believe I almost forgot about this one! Tim is Bruce's assistant, not son, and never became a vigilante. He's incredibly overworked, but no less dedicated to the Waynes. It's heartwrenching and sweet and funny and—words can't do it justice. It's a must read. The Al Ghuls make a cameo but Tim knows how to deal with them. Tim's deeply sad but next to nobody knows and those that do just accept it (including him). Kon is the MVP. Cass. Damian and Tim have an odd bond built of mutual respect and disdain for everyone around them. Luthor tries to recruit Tim every year and fails.

This is funny and amazing—Tim lands in a universe where he's technically considered a drug addict, since coffee is a drug and in the regular universe everyone drinks it.

The YJ fic Ever. I've recced this at least three times, and I will continue to. It's amazing characterization all around—both YJ and batfam—and genuinely is so fun. I love everyone in this. When an unknown enemy threatens Robin, Gotham's vigilantes come together to keep him safe. Unfortunately, they're protecting the wrong Robin. Or: Tim Drake plans his own rescue. Things get complicated.

This is Tim & Damian—Tim gets his overprotective big brother moment :) love love LOVE the way everyone is written here.

This is short and hilarious—Tim has amnesia after a head wound (can only remember back to his YJ days) and tries to bullshit his way out of anyone noticing. He might have succeeded if not for Cass.

This is a time loop fic, switching POVs. Tim's stuck in a time loop in which Jason always dies. The loop before the one this was set in, he accidentally kills Damian out of stress and too-fast reflexes. He breaks down when he sees Damian again, the whole thing unravels, and they resolve to help him out of it.

THIS SERIES MAKES ME FERAL. Jack, Tim and sometimes Dana, set when Jack made Tim quit from Robin. Horror-type elements and beautifully poetic, but centered around Jack's POV of the son he realizes he doesn't know, and him realizing he may be a shit dad. Dana's the best stepmom ever, and Tim's far nicer to her than he is Jack. This is the first work, in which Jack tries and fails to understand this Tim, and realizes that this Tim is Robin, not Tim. This is the second (and last) work in the series, in which Tim hasn't fully quit the lifestyle even though he's not going out as Robin, but Jack has no proof he hasn't. Just a hunch and a few odd occurrences that us, the readers, who are familiar with Tim's hero life will find obvious, but Jack does not. Dana makes Tim happier, more Tim than Tim-Robin, than Jack does, and Jack hates it. Near the end, he starts calling Tim Robin, not Tim. I LOVE it. Even if you hate Jack (like I do) you need to read this, for the Tim characterization if nothing else. Outsider POV, except he shouldn't be an outsider. But he is.

This is so fucking funny. Tim gets a matching tattoo with Kon, and hides it from Bruce. When Bruce—and the rest of his family—find out, all goes to hell.

Remember when I said the Jack and Tim series was only slightly horror? This is horror. Bruce's got a habit of picking up monsters, and this one is about Tim. If you're sensitive to horror, please read the tags and maybe avoid it, because this is delightful but not for everyone.

In this, Tim becomes an unintentional sugar daddy to the caped community. It's a bit iffy in some places, but hilarious.

This is Dick and Tim (surprised it took me this long to rec one with them as the main focus tbh) and it's Dick checking up on his little brother. Pure fluff, and genuinely amazing.

This is Tim & Bruce but also Tim & Tam in some places. Bruce forgets Tim is the majority shareholder for WE and is thus invited to shareholder meetings, Tim finds this very amusing and is generally a menace. You can FEEL the teenager in this Tim. Amazing.

Tim's de-aged to a kid in this, and re-meets his family. Fluff and feels ensue.

This is Bruce and Tim. Bruce isn't prepared for his newest Robin's neuroses.

This has Tim & Cassie meeting at an archaeologist event as kids and having to fight a monster thing :) it's cute

GODDD this fic? This fic ruined me. Beautiful Tim characterization, a gorgeous look at Bruce and how much he fucks up despite caring, and Dick being a stressed but amazing big brother with gorgeous writing. I love their brotherly affections here, and Tim's weird neuroses being shown here. Tim & Bruce is how it starts, and it's very much centered around their relationship, but it tapers off into Dick & Tim, which I'm not complaining about. Kon (and Bart!) makes a cameo and is an amazing friend. Can't rec this enough. If you read none of the other fics, please read this one.

This is Dick and Tim again. Dick forces Tim to go undercover with him to an Elvis convention in a thinly veiled attempt to spend time with the brother who he doesn't think knows how much he loves him. It's set in Tim's POV, though, so until Dick says this, Tim doesn't know. Hilarious and short.

This is Dick and Tim (who's surprised? Nobody) where Dick goes to Robin!Tim's science fair because Tim mentioned it and well, nobody else was going. Short and sweet.

This deals with the batfam finding out about the shitshow that was Tim's BruceQuest. If you're a stickler for canon I'd recommend you skip this one, but if not, it's a great read.

This is Dick and Tim again, and it's amazing. Tim's alone on Christmas Eve. Dick finds out, and does something about it. It's Robin!Tim, so this is Dick, Babs and Tim. This author is amazing at writing their interactions, plus inside Dick's head is a tricky place to write and they nail it perfectly. Mostly Dick & Tim, but since he invites Tim to Babs' holiday party, Babs makes a good number of cameos.

This is Tim talking a jumper off the ledge while Damian watches. Then they talk about it. Tim from Damian's POV is always interesting, but this especially is amazing.

This is a core four fic, Tim's POV! Pure humor. Tim finds a dildo in the dishwasher and he drags them for a team meeting so he can sus out whose it is.

I've recced this before, I think, but I'll do it again. Red Robin canon divergence fic in which Bruce is actually dead, and Tim calls Dick to tell him he thinks he may have been wrong. Dick's POV, short, but the emotion in this is outstanding.

In this fic, Damian has trouble with the transition from Dick's Batman to Bruce's Batman. Tim, who's also had both, is surprisingly helpful. This has so many Tim and Damian feels that I'm literally bursting at the seams. Melancholy, camaraderie, and all the good stuff. Damian's POV, and since he sucks at so much as guessing at what's going on in Tim's head, it's all the more great.

This is Dick and Tim, a soft Christmastime fic.

This is Bruce and Tim. Bruce and Tim have a sort-of game that started when Tim was thirteen. Initially, it was Tim stealing sips (or occasionally whole mugs) of Bruce’s coffee, back when he was too young for Alfred to allow him to drink it. Now, though, Bruce is getting his own back, and steals Tim’s coffee when he can. Sweet and fluffy.

Here, Tim gets a headwound and only remembers back to his Robin days, and forgets to be awkward around Dick and Damian. Tugs at the heartstrings. Dick's reminded of how much he misses this Tim.

This is really funny. Remember that time during the YJ days where the adult heroes were de-aged and the kid ones grew to be adults? Tim didn't reach six foot. In this, he's mocked ruthlessly for it.

Here, Tim goes to high school again after dropping out :) it's core four and hilarious

In this, Tim accidentally kills his dad in self defense—or rather, thinks he does, Jack's still alive but he doesn't know that until Dick shows up—and scrambles to call Dick. He calls Jason instead. Dick eventually gets called and shows up, and the brotherly feels in this are amazing. Tim's in shock for a good portion of it, and it's his POV, so you've got to piece some stuff together. Bad dad Jack, as in worse than canon bad dad Jack. Tugs on the heartstrings, and have I said I love Dick in this? Because I do. Bruce shows up near the end, and to everyone's surprise, doesn't absolutely fuck things up and/or fail as a parent.

Here, Tim is sick and alone. Dick, after not hearing from Tim at all for three days, goes to his apartment, finds him sick, and takes care of him. Eventually he gets dragged to the Manor for some actual r&r. It's sweet, and this writer has an amazing way with words and an intriguing flow.

In this, Bruce knows Tim. They have a routine, have habits, they know each other. This is so so touching, and I love it so much.

Here, Tim and Steph give Bruce a headache. It's amazing.

I..can't even begin to describe this. Bruce is fresh from the timeline, and this is a sort of introspection/character study type thing about him and Tim and how Tim's changed. Mostly, though? Mostly, Bruce just gives his son a hug.

Here, Kon is Tim's work husband. Bruce suffers. Pure fluff and humor, with a touch of feels.

Here, Bruce takes Tim to get his wisdom teeth out. They're both worried, but together, they're alright. Tim cries while doped up on the drugs. He cries a lot.

Here, 90's!Tim Drake wakes up in his Red Robin body. Exhausted from a YJ mission, he chooses to focus on getting through a normal day so as not to disrupt things for his future self. But, y'know, his way. Hilarious and so in-character, if exaggerated for comedy.

This is Tim and Damian—Damian gets hit with truth serum on patrol, and a pissed off Tim has to come and get him. Damian resolves to not tell Tim he's been hit with truth serum. They get closer as a result. Love their dynamic in this.

This is core four again, but just general teenager superhero chaos. Can't rec it enough

Here, Tim tries to build a LEGO Gotham, but his family just can't leave it—or him—alone. He calls a family meeting to tell them to knock it off, and they do not. Fluff and humor.

Here, Tim has appendicitis and gets his appendix removed. The best mix of fluff, feels, and good old complicated family dynamics ever

In this, Bruce tries to navigate giving affection to his odd son, Tim. Touching and funny.

This is Tim and Damian—Damian crashes on Tim's bed in the Watchtower when injured, Tim finds him. They talk, and maybe bond a bit, even though they'd never admit it.

Here, Bruce hugs Tim. Really nothing else to it.

Another fic where Tim wakes up with amnesia and pretends to know his family so he's not rude. He's found out when he correctly deduces Bruce is his dad, but makes the mistake of calling Bruce dad.

This is Dick and Tim again. Tim gets de-aged into a six-month-old, and Dick takes care of him. Soft and so so sweet.

In this, Tim's trying to work in his apartment when his siblings keep showing up to distract him and get him to take a break. It's sweet of them, if very annoying.

This is Bruce and Tim. Tim's injured and lying in bed, Bruce gets him takeout. Feels fuzzy and just...good. You've got to read it to know what I'm talking about, no summary does it justice.

Here, Damian tries to make amends with Tim. He does it very oddly though, so Tim thinks he has a crush on him, and avoids him all the more for it because ew-gross-ew-ew.

In this, Tim gets his teeth knocked out and grabs Dick as a mediator so he tells Bruce. Short and funny-sweet. You can tell this is in Tim's Robin run, due to all the little hints dropped.

This is Tim and Kon, funny and nonsensical. Tim calls Kon in the early hours of the morning, drunk. Kon thinks he deserves sainthood for this.

In this, Tim has road rage and most of his family find that out in the most hilarious way possible.

Bruce and Tim—a test sort of fic? Interesting, definitely.

This is timkon, Tim has memory loss and is amazed by Kon all over again.

Core four go to a gala :)

This is Dick and Tim, Tim breaks into Dick's house, accidentally interrupts his nap, tries to leave out of guilt, and gets wrangled into hugs. So so soft and so so sweet.

Another de-aged Tim fic, but this time with six year old Tim and Bruce taking care of him. This is so melancholy and...ugh. I love them.

Here, Tim and Dick are thrown into an alternate universe and have to try and get back with no other support system and no way out. They meet this world's version of Bruce and Alfred, though.

CEO Tim, and hates it. He makes that Luthor's problem.

Timkon, in which Tim plans all his dates VIA corkboard and Kon is so attracted to that.

CEO Tim (again), except he's still a teenager and people end up thinking he's a communist. This is short and hilarious all the way through. Also, Bruce is there.

This is The kid!Tim fic ever. Tim, having found a weird hole after a storm, decides to go exploring ignoring the fact that This Is Gotham and They Probably Have Cursed Stuff Down There.Luckily, it was just a cave system that spans the entire Gotham underground. Unluckily, Tim is a very curious child. Tim's a sorta eldritch being at the end?? Amazing, 100 would recommend.

In this, Tim finds out he isn't his parents' biological son. This changes everything. This changes nothing. Can't say anything else without spoiling, but I can't rec it enough.

In this fic, Bruce is back in time in Drake Manor, and meets baby Tim. It's like you're frozen in time, and all that matters is Bruce and his infant not-yet-son.

Here, Kon and Tim date. Tim's a cryptid stalker that refuses to be photographed, Dick is a big brother that loves his little brother, and it's cute.

Sorry it took me so long to compile this list anon, happy reading!

#asks #anon #tim drake #fic rec #god this is. a lot #took me a while to compile

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valaruakars · 2 years ago

Text

Let's Get Physical (Part 7)

Viktor/F!Reader || 6.3k || Modern!AU + Gym!AU || SFW

Bitches hate you for your overzealous approach to supporting your friends and deeply anxious behavior. Viktor is not bitches.

A/N: Omg. We're here. We're back on our bullshit. Thank you to everyone who beta'd and/or provided me free therapy about this for that past um... seven months. Oops. Thank you to everyone who reached out over the (unintentional) hiatus with encouraging comments and asks. I hope you'll understand why I took so long to handle this with care and unpack some of my own issues. Very cathartic. Would recommend.

Part 1 → Part 2 → Part 3 → Part 4 → Part 5 → Part 5.2 (nsfw) → Part 6 → Part 7 (Ao3 Link)

Before you know it, two weeks and a day have passed. They make no palpable difference.

Except maybe in your quadriceps.

The same weights you’ve been using feel almost effortless, too easy. You don’t fatigue as quickly into heavy breathing and the urge to cheat yourself a rep or two—not lunging with the dumbbell gripped at one of its wide ends, not squatting while it’s clutched close to your chest. It’s suddenly not enough.

Nobody’s around to see it, but progress is progress. Turns out, you’ve finally graduated to heavier weights on this lonely leg day you’ve committed to.

That’s a bit of a misnomer, though. The day is mostly past you now. It’s evening—crisp and wispy, sky like striated fire outside the garage—and as the sun sets, you’re reminded of the late start you’re up against. All because you forgot something.

A good attitude is optional. A scrunchie you can live without. But your shoes? Leave them forgettably kicked off in two different directions on your bedroom floor and you’re fucked. It’s a small miracle you’re here, dragging around weight plates, setting up a barbell. There was a very real danger of tripping and falling into bed—totally by accident, never to get up again—when you drove home and stomped upstairs to grab them.

But whether or not he knows it, likely the latter, Viktor keeps you accountable when no one else can. It’s because the only running you truly love is the risk of seeing him, which still requires proper footwear. And for you to leave the house.

Though by the time you whipped into the driveway and thrust the gear shift into park, it’s empty. He’d left already; you didn’t get to see him off on his reluctant shuffle through the garage. But lucky you—he tends to come straight home after physical therapy. Call it friendly concern that you’re paying attention.

It’s probably an odd way to think about a friend. You need to work on that.

Your phone vibrates dully on the padded bench beside you. Nearly knocking your water over in the process, you grab it to find a text from Jayce—the usual culprit. You slide it open, accidentally brushing the top of the screen with shaky fingers. It catapults you to the beginning of your most recent messages before you can read the new one.

Mon, Oct 10

[Jayce Talis, 5:56am]: Did you leave the back door unlocked last night? [Jayce Talis, 5:57am]: And the pool lights on? [Jayce Talis, 5:57am]: Was Viktor in the pool?

[7:32am]: Holy shit. Good morning. [7:33am]: No, no, and why do you think I know these things??

[Jayce Talis, 7:45am]: Sorry, it’s all good. He’s alive.

[7:46am]: ???????

[Jayce Talis, 7:49am]: You guys didn’t hang out after I left?

[7:57am]: Idk if you would consider it that. [8:02am]: But has anyone invited him to cards on Saturday??

[Jayce Talis, 8:17am]: He already said no. [Jayce Talis, 8:18am]: Although… [Jayce Talis, 8:19am]: You could try telling him it’s strip poker. Haha :)

[8:20am]: Blocked. Reported. Banned. NOT DOING THAT.

[Jayce Talis, 8:21am]: No wait! I was kidding. He’s not a creep :(

Tue, Oct 11

[Jayce Talis, 3:38pm]: Wait did you actually block me?

[3:50pm]: Yes.

Sun, Oct 16

[Tayce Jalis, 8:00am]: Can I have my t-shirt back today?

[8:31am]: Oh the really old anime one? I left it with some stuff to be washed, ask Viktor. [8:32am]: Maybe the dryer did you a favor and ate it.

[Tayce Jalis, 8:34am]: Hey! Naruto is timeless.

Today

Tayce Jalis unsent a message

Not fast enough to scroll back down, caught revisiting those unremarkable little messages, and now you’ll never know what Jayce’s butt managed to text you this time. Oh well. Keep your secrets.

You toss your phone down behind you with a leathery slap. Back to working on the whole stop pining after Viktor thing.

Right, and your legs.

The barbell bites into your hips as you roll it into your lap and adjust it, the bench presses into your shoulder blades. It’s heavier and harder to manage, but you do, driving down into your heels to get your ass off the ground, hefting yourself into a nice, solid bridge. From there it’s as easy as dipping your hips, which isn’t quite easy at all. No, it’s brutal.

It burns from your core down to your thighs; has you clenching your jaw, gritting your teeth with the strain. Even your biceps are active, lifting some of the steel-hard pressure off your hip bones.

You’re so zoned in—no thoughts, head empty except for the number six over and over until it’s seven—that you only hear the hiss of your breath in and out, the hammering rush of blood behind your ears. You don’t hear Viktor come home.

Not until he’s standing above you.

He had the heinous metal on metal sound in his old beige car fixed—that grinding, grating death knell in its engine. One of several potentially life threatening reasons the check engine light was always on—maybe still is. And though you much prefer him living, it’s harder to hear him coming over the steady music without paying attention.

Bad timing for Miss Carly Rae Jepsen on your Upbeat Workout Jams playlist, considering you do really, really, really like him. Him and how he stands at the end of the bench, staring down; how he fixes you with that sliver thin smile, a manila folder tucked under the arm of his long cardigan.

You seize with embarrassment, frozen on the upswing of your hips. “Hi,” whispers out on the end of an exhale, caught ragged in your throat.

You can’t do pelvic thrusts in front of him.

You just can’t.

It’s bad enough that you’re sweaty in every skin to skin crevice and certainly flushed, t-shirt sticky and legs trembling as they hold your awkward position, but then there’s him.

He wears that same look much better. On him, it’s healthy color across the cut lines of his cheeks; it’s still-damp curls at the nape of his neck and the jump of his lean throat when he swallows, dry when he must’ve forgotten a water bottle again. It’s suggestive. It’s hot.

And it’s the endorphins that make you feel that way, surely, more than any affinity for men in gray sweatpants that are far more revealing than they must realize.

You clear your throat, finding your own parched voice. “Watch your feet,” you warn, on the side of caution, dropping butt and barbell to the ground with a metallic thud. You let your head drop back against the bench pad, staring up at him with the dazed satisfaction of calling it quits. Only for the moment, of course, as you blindly feel around for your phone to turn the music down.

And good fucking god is what you see unholy. Viktor shifts his weight before you can look away, and the ache in your core redoubles—different, deeper than any lactic acid buildup. Did his pants shrink in the wash or is it really that m—?

Nope! Absolutely not!

You can tread no further with that thought because, really, there’s no such thing as having a platonic appreciation for your friend’s dick. Not when the friend is Viktor.

“You’re not finished yet?” he asks. Innocent. Oblivious to your mental struggle out of the gutter.

Typically you would be by now. Equipment racked, the citrus scent of disinfectant on your hands, picking at innocuous conversation while you walk inside together. How was your day? Did you hear they’re demolishing the old physics building? There’s a guest lecture next month that might interest you.

“About another thirty minutes,” you breathe, “and then I’ll be done. I’m running behind.”

“Ah, interesting. That looks to me more like sitting,” he says, which is terrible enough to earn an eye roll, and snarky enough that your lips wobble and break into an insurmountable smile.

“It’s called resting, thanks. This would go faster if you stopped distracting me,” you huff, muscles loose, lips looser.

The little spark of mirth in his eyes, so bright and awake, makes your stomach clench vice tight. “Mm. There’s no rush,” he shrugs, “but… Rio might enjoy a visit.”

Your smile is skeptical as he pulls the file folder from beneath his arm. “Oh really?” It widens as he starts to fan you from above—chilly in the garage, but you’re still sweating buckets. It’s futile, although he’s sweet to try and help.

He nods, gravely serious, “She told me herself.”

You crane your neck unconsciously to let it cool the sweat that lingers there, sighing as little wisps of loose hair billow feather light and tickle your feverish skin.

He isn’t holding it right, though. His grip is too loose on the edge.

At once, a flurry of white comes raining down on you. It’s instinct that your eyes clamp shut against the onslaught.

“No, no, no,” he hisses as if begging could stop gravity.

It doesn’t, of course.

His papers flutter and scrape across the floor. An unlucky one sticks to the sweat on your scrunched up cheek. He’s quick to dip forward and snatch it back first, the easiest to reach.

You blink off the surprise and snicker, “Oh, how the tables have turned. Who’s the clumsy one now?” Rolling the barbell away over your outstretched legs, there’s nothing in its path to be crumpled beneath the weight.

But Viktor doesn’t answer with a crooked smile or a quiet laugh, no dry wit to be found. His dark, heavy brows furrow and he insists, “No, just—just let me,” while he crouches to the ground, distributing his weight between his cane and the end of the bench.

“It’s okay,” you insist, reaching to gather what’s scattered between you, “I’ve got it. No big deal.”

“To you,” he mutters, snatching two away before you can turn them over. Makes him lose balance. He narrowly catches himself before he can veer face first into your spandex lap,, blunt, bony fingers digging into your thigh at the hem of those skin tight biker shorts. It crushes the papers all the same.

“Top secret nuclear codes?” you tease, drowning his muttered apologies. It sounds stupid and obvious that you’re trying to distract from the fumbling tension when his hand stays put for moments too long. Yours, too, on his shoulder to brace him.

Just until he’s able to sit himself solidly on the ground beside you.

He purses his lips, “My work is with reactor cores, not weapons.”

It’s only been a week since you got an impromptu lecture about nuclear fusion in the kitchen. It’s not like you’d forget so quickly. “I know—”

Impatient, Viktor reaches over your lap, too close for comfort. Whatever you were about to say is struck from your train of thought.

His cardigan drags soft and pilled with wear across your beat up knees. Beneath it, his sweat smells sharp and strangely appealing. It’s fascinating, that draw to something so base and human. It’s unsettling, the way your heart responds like it beats between your legs.

You follow his hand, unabashedly curious, and watch him pick up another overturned paper. Below it, the next sheet is stuck face up to the floor with what you cringe to assume is a drop of your sweat, bleeding the ink of a diagram. Multiple diagrams, actually.

Of stretches.

The familiarity sparks excitement.

By the time he peels up the corner of the page with his fingernail, you’re sure of what you’re looking at. It’s common ground, of a sort; the excuse to end all excuses.

“These are from the physical therapist?”

He sighs, sitting back in an awkward fold of spindly legs. Looks wearier, now, with his shoulders collapsed like the exhaustion of going has finally caught up. “Yes,” he admits, because you’re smart and he’s smart, and any other answer would be an obvious lie.

You’re doing it again—digging your fingers into a soft spot that feels as ripe as it does intrusive. We do not talk about it much, he once said, but it’s hard to stop once you’ve started. You just have to know: “Do you do them?”

His eyes cut down to the papers in his hands. “When time permits.”

“How often does it permit?”

“Occasionally,” says Viktor, which might mean somewhere between rarely and never.

Early mornings, late nights; classes to teach, lab hours to log, projects, papers, and a dissertation that looks done to you, but he laughs bitterly when you suggest it. Still has to find time to eat and shower and sleep, but his eyes are always restless purple and there are wrappers from meal replacement bars scattered around the house, too high calorie for Jayce to be the culprit.

You wonder what will happen when it all catches up with him. Worse, you worry.

Beseechingly, you reach out. Your grip is gentle as you take hold of the printouts at their edge. “Can I see?” you ask, not grabbing or pulling or taking, just there and ready.

His lips form a tight, considering line. “If that is the last of your questions,” he slowly replies. Prickly, but relenting, he lets go before you can ever agree.

So you don’t.

His eyes are on you as you flip through the stack—you can feel it as a strange, shy tension like bated breath, watching and waiting.

Page by page, it’s nothing you haven’t seen before. Some you’ve even done yourself, but with simple modifications. Hell, bridges are just hip thrusts performed flat on the floor, without the weight. Nothing he’d need help with, which is ideal when you’re not qualified to do anything but make space for him; to emphasize that he’s welcome and wanted, maybe offer up a sweaty-palmed high five if you’re feeling spunky.

You peel your legs off the floor and resituate, tucking them as your turn to face him, direct in every sense. “You could come do these with us on Sunday mornings after we run, before you get started on work. It would make Jayce happy, and Vi has a really funny way of being encouraging—”

He pulls a face—a nose scrunched up, barely concealed, abso-fucking-loutely not sort of scowl.

“Or…” you’re quick to try, “Just with me, when I’m here. It’ll take, what—fifteen? Twenty minutes?”

“It’s a poor use of time,” he says. It’s as avoidant as it is clumsy, with a dismissive edge still dull enough to bruise.

And that’s because: “You stop and talk to me for longer than that sometimes,” you remind him flatly.

He sighs sharply, toying absently with the cane laid across his lap. “That is different.” He says it like it’s obvious; like it’s frustrating that you don’t know how obvious it is.

“Well, what if we could do both at the same time?” you propose. After all, he’s got such a hard-on for efficiency, if that’s what’s stopping him. “I know you’re a good multitasker…”

His jaw works, trapping his thoughts behind imperfect teeth.

“And we probably keep this floor cleaner than the carpet…” you prod, because the silence of a man who can and has talked your ear off is disquieting; because you don’t always know when to stop; because this feels like a negotiation.

“My bedroom suits my purposes just fine,” he says, eventually.

But you never said which carpet. The thought of him sequestered in there, even for this, is fucking depressing. Arguably disgusting when you’ve walked across that rug and felt the grit of dirt, crumbs, and debris that the pattern hides through your socks. And worse: It’s a choice, so why is he making it?

Abruptly, the rubber tipped end of his cane meets like against the rubber tiled floor. He pulls himself up on it with difficulty you can’t ignore, but shakes his head when you move to help. The only thing you do is hand him up the battered stack of papers, tucked back into the folder from which they came, when he stands up fully. You won’t hold them hostage, even if part of you wants to. It wouldn’t keep him from leaving, his back to you such a familiar sight.

You just want to understand, though, if nothing else. To crack him like a cipher.

Softer, you try: “I wouldn’t judge you.” It’s the last, desperate little thing you can think of. They’re like magic words to you.

But the problem is: They don’t work on everyone.

To his credit, his tone isn’t harsh. It’s indifferent, like stating a sterile fact. “This has nothing to do with you,” he says. “I haven’t skipped an appointment recently, and that should be enough.”

Indigence might suit you in those moments you grow a seedling backbone, but it doesn’t suit this. You can’t help it though. His frustration has bled into you, caught like kindling. “Is it?”

“You and I do not share the same sense of priorities,” he replies, but it’s not an answer. Not really.

The urge to turn him upside down and shake him until something definitive comes out is overwhelming—so straightforward until he just… isn’t. “If you’re not going to say yes or no, can’t you just lie and say you’ll think about it?”

He looks you over inscrutably, sitting there in his shadow. “Why would you assume it’s a lie?”

“Oh, I don’t know…” you huff. But you do. Experience and a certain friend who actually bothers to text you back have given you the answer. “Jayce says you’re stubborn and I’m starting to think he’s right.”

Viktor nods conclusively, but doesn’t care to share what’s going through his head. As evasive as ever when he cares to be, just murmurs,“You should finish this.”

And then, for a reason that is simply beyond you, says: “I will see you later.”

But for once, you’re not sure if you want to.

—

You rap your knuckles against his open door.

Seriously—who were you kidding, thinking for even a second that you wouldn’t be here, doing this?

Yes, it’s well after eight now and you’re pitifully hungry, but it wouldn’t feel right to leave without saying anything. In writing a note or sending a text, you’d simply be spelling out, ‘I’m a coward!’ in far more words. It’s best, you decide, to be polite and mature and just say goodnight despite the awkward taste in your mouth that is very reminiscent of your own foot.

And you get to say it to his back, which should be easy.

But then there’s Rio on his desk like a pissed off paperweight, swimming the foggy side of her holding tank—sorry, prison—without any hope of escape. They’re the angriest, most pathetic wiggles you’ve ever seen. Habitual, given how tongue-smudged and abraded the plastic has become.

“You see?” he says, gesturing to the sound of her scrabbling in his bright rubber kitchen gloves. “It’s just as I said.”

“I think it’s more about you ignoring her.” Rio pauses, slipping down the side. Her little face conveys it perfectly: “Father is cruel? Father is… unyielding? Father hates Rio?”

“No, no… Although, eh, yes, I suppose she does sound like that…” he muses, nodding. “I think she must wonder those things about you, actually.”

Your shoulder hits the door frame, shrugging against it where you lean. “I probably don’t matter much to her.”

There’s a heavy pause, enough for him to breathe in and hold it. Breathe out, softly: “You do.”

And suddenly, you can’t find it in you to leave. Did you ever truly have the will?

The truth is there on your feet—those perpetually mismatched socks. You’d hoped for this, secretly, else you wouldn’t have left your shoes off at the door.

It’s warm when you walk in. A space heater that’s been running too long glows electric orange on the floor near his desk. Makes the smell of churned earth and vinegar cleaner that much stronger. And while the clutter is clearly endemic, it seems the fuzzy, stagnant mugs are not. They’re all gone from his desk and the bedside table, replaced by sticky notes, pill bottles, and an avalanche of papers.

You come up and give Rio’s tiny, clawed foot a high-five through the plastic. “Has she been doing this all night?” you ask, looking over.

Knee on the desk chair for leverage, he’s elbows deep in her tank, rooting those waxen, fake plants back into the substrate with unnatural posture. It’s that stiffness you’ve always noticed—ramrod straight from the mid-spine up. It’s easier to see in profile, in a thin shirt that clings to his back, that there’s nothing visibly forcing it.

“On and off. She tires quickly now,” he says, arranging a broad-leafed plant near her favorite rocky shelter—scrubbed clean, still damp. “When she was younger, it would go on much longer while I did this.”

“How old is she exactly?”

His sigh is almost lost beneath the hum of the space heater. He answers, “Fifteen,” in the soft, subdued way of someone who hates to be reminded.

There’s many things you’re too afraid to ask him. Such hits as: Why did you dig yourself a hole this deep, does Jayce text everyone about you, and would I even stand a chance if things were different? But right now, most of all, it’s how long do geckos live?

You don’t think you’re going to like the answer.

Viktor clears his throat. “She’s very, eh… spritely for her age,” he adds, fondly this time.

You hum a soft sound in agreement, too shaky through the legs to squat down to eye level with her. When you bend your knees to try, you realize you’ll probably never get up again.

He glances over as you straighten up. “You can sit,” he offers without really saying where. It’s obvious, though. The only option—his rumpled bed, never made, with all its mismatched pillows. One has definitely been stolen from the couch, three are yellowed and missing pillowcases which is… ew.

But you’re not going to refuse. You’d like to hold Rio, after all.

You swallow hesitation and tuck yourself onto the end of his mattress, balancing on the firm edge. At least the intrusive thoughts are fleeting. Only briefly do you wonder what he thinks about at night. What he does. What he wants for.

Not you. That’s for sure.

Your elbows lock out where you grip the ridged edge of the bed. The weight of things gone unsaid, of things left unresolved bears down; it prickles warm at the back of your neck and you can’t stand the waiting silence.

“So…” you drawl, letting your voice fill the void.

“Hm?”

“Are you going to hand her to me now, or…?”

“Ah, no, I’m finished,” he says over his shoulder. “She needs to go back in the tank.”

“Then why am I sitting here?”

“Because I have something to ask you.”

Straightforward. Right. You forgot just how terrifying that can be.

“That sounds just as bad as saying we need to talk,” you mutter, heart twisting into a suffocating, arterial knot.

“We do, though,” he says, too literal, too preoccupied with placing Rio back in her clean terrarium to notice your soul leave your body—preemptively abandoning ship.

But he’s merciful, at least. He doesn’t keep you in suspense.

“I just want to understand at what point you developed such a vested interest in, eh… fixing me, I suppose,” he asks, like wondering what the weather will be tomorrow or what the dining hall might serve for lunch. Conversationally. “Did Jayce put you up to this?”

Your eyes narrow in thought. “No…?” you reply. It comes out too shifty as you toy with the serged edge of his blanket. Jayce put you up to something alright, though that hardly matters anymore. But, in a way, does this count? Would Viktor think that this counts?

“A sure answer, please.”

Fuck.

“It’s just that I would lump that in as part of being friends with you—except I’d call it, y’know, caring?” You draw your leg up onto the bed, closer, tucking your foot beneath your thigh. “That’s all I’m trying to do.”

Viktor flips the grate down with a finality that lights your nerves like a beacon to flee. “So he asked you to do what, exactly?”

“Nothing,” you squirm.

He pivots, solidly on two feet. Doesn’t sit down in the desk chair quite yet. “It wouldn’t be the first time for this behavior, and, with you, I’m sure it was not the last. Do you know that he once provided Caitlyn with a written list of topics not to bring up to me?”

You shrug, “He’s a good friend...”

Now you’re staring down the barrel of being just the opposite—of throwing Jayce under the bus.

“What did he ask?” Viktor presses.

And you break. Made brittle by your desire to put him first, of course you do.

“All he wanted was for me to give you a chance, which was pretty reasonable after you called me annoying—” that word comes out with a bite to it you didn’t intend; sensitive, sore, “—but I never told him about that. He’s just… worried about you in his own way, I guess.”

Viktor quietly raises an eyebrow, and that’s all it takes to snap you into fours next. It practically falls out of your mouth: “He keeps texting me to make sure you’re still alive. Sometimes I think he’s joking, but then one time he told me he had a nightmare that you drowned in the pool, so part of me actually thinks he’s being serious.”

“He is.”

“Wait, really—?”

“Is that why you come so often now?”

Wednesday. Friday. Sunday. Monday too, sometimes, if the day before hasn’t left you sufficiently sore enough. The pain means progress. It must.

“Well, no,” you blink, “that’s mainly because I have a lot to work on.”

“Do you?”

You gesture to yourself. All of you. The way your stomach folds and rolls and fucking exists unappealingly beneath your sweatshirt when you slouch—it could be better. The way your thighs pancake out, smushed against the bed—not getting better, but discipline and toning might shape them into something near desirable. “Yeah, obviously.”

He treads lightly. “I… would not say it’s obvious.” But his eyes are cast down as he carefully removes his rubber gloves and discards them in a bucket of cleaning supplies. He’s not rude enough to agree, but you worry, in all those moments you can feel him looking at you, that he’s thinking it. After all, he’s willowy, sharp and elegant in a way you’ll never be. Soft and fleshy. Never quite right.

“And that’s because you’re, what, zero percent body fat?” you sigh, gesturing to him incredulously. “I’m not implying that’s healthy or ideal—honestly, I’d share some if I could—but…” Your hands curl to your chest, clasped tightly in one another when there is no one else to hold them through the indignity of admitting, “I’m the one that needs fixing. Not you.”

He was right, though, when he said it earlier. This isn’t about you. “Where did you come up with that, anyways?” you ask.

The lines on his face, those deep, concerned creases between his brows, spell out what the fuck. You don’t understand what’s so hard about that question—what he can’t figure out, why the confusion lingers in his eyes. “This… This is the second time you’ve offered to help me.”

“I was trying to be supportive. Encouraging, even—that’s also a good word for it.”

“It all feels the same,” he tells you, taking his turn to sigh. “Which is to say patronizing, sometimes.”

And that was not what you intended. “I’m sorry, I’m not trying to be a saint or anything. That’s not entirely it.” You fight the turtle-like urge to retract into your sweatshirt, which would arguably be more stupidly embarrassing than admitting: “I was just looking for… common ground, I guess. Ways to hang out without dragging you out with us.”

“Are we not doing that right now?”

“Sure, but I feel bad about it.” There’s the silvery peek of his computer, buried on the desk. “I’m keeping you from more important things.”

“You’re not,” he says—no, placates, but the disbelieving press of your lips makes him reconsider. “Well, eh, perhaps, but I can manage. I’ve dealt with Heimerdinger’s high expectations and, mm, sadistic deadlines for years. The weekends work well to make up for lost time, and there is all night after this too.”

“You should sleep.”

“I can’t. Not well.”

You give a creaky little bounce—not much of one, no spring to it—to demonstrate: “Maybe because your mattress feels about as hard as sleeping on the ground.”

“One problem of many, yes.”

You count yourself among them, in one way or another. You’ve been leaking these awful insecurities all night.

Is it any wonder that another slips?

“It’s just—the last thing I want is to bother you. Everyone, really, but especially you.”

“Is that because of me?” he asks quietly. “Because of what I said?”

Oh, you’ve carried this around since day one. Let it color his tone and his words and his actions. Let it haunt you trying to reach for others, the freshest nick in a line of scars that was never stitched properly. That’s what you get for letting all those little anxieties run wild with knives in their hands. That’s what you get for forgiving him before he ever asked for it, as if that would make things easier. For you. For him. For everyone.

It hasn’t.

Viktor crosses the three steps between you on bare, nobby feet. His weight dips the bed beside you ever slightly, like he’s hardly there. But he is, by the way his leg bumps your knee, and you scoot over to give him space.

He doesn’t seem to know what to do with his hands, grasping at some distant thread. They’re as awkward as he is in saying, “I can’t recall what I meant at the time, but it… it wasn’t that. It would’ve been fine if you thought less of me for it, but not of yourself.”

You shake your head. “It’s—don’t worry, it’s not all you,” you say, softening his guilt, perhaps at your own expense. “I have a lot of anxiety, and that’s a long running thing, okay? It’s mostly… me.”

“That’s… good to know. About you, I mean. Not that it’s—it’s good. Just, eh, helpful to know.”

“I guess that’s generally the benefit of being upfront about things,” you shrug as if it comes easy.

“I would prefer that, I think.”

It doesn’t, but the light, fizzy feeling of relief makes you want to try, if only to have more of it. Maybe more of his shy little smiles too. This time with more intention, and less leaky word vomit.

“Okay…” You shift to face him fully, mirroring his posture in leaning back on your hand for support. “Then in no uncertain terms, I want you to know that I’m not trying to fix you.” Been there, done that, got the shitty dunce hat. People don’t change unless they want to. You know that. “I just wish you were kinder to yourself, but that’s on you. So if you ever decide you want better, whatever that means, I’ll be there. Only if you want me to and only on your own terms—no physical activity required.”

“I might want to consider it, you know…” His voice lowers, softer and softer with hesitation, to the point that you find yourself leaning in. Noticing, as he seems to have noticed, that your hands are a hair’s breadth apart. “As a future prospect, if anything. But you have to understand, I don’t enjoy being watched.”

“I get that.”

“Mm, no, I imagine people stare at you for very different reasons,” he mutters. “Not pity. Envy, perhaps.”

“I promise, most people don’t want these thunder thighs,” you huff, resisting the urge to slap them like a used car salesman. These babies can fit so much soul-crushing insecurity, which is a terrible pitch, really. The occasional bouts of self-loathing are not your strongest selling point.

He lets out the strangest bark of a laugh, so dry it’s almost ugly, as if he can read your mind.

But you didn’t mean to derail. “Sorry, continue.”

“Right…” Viktor draws in a long breath, quiet for a moment before he figures out how to word it. “It’s as simple as that I would rather go unseen. It’s very, ah, personal. And painful, sometimes.”

You think of the age old adage: If it hurts, don’t do it. “Um, not a doctor, but I don’t think it’s supposed to be?”

“So they say,” he nods pensively, eyes ticking over some distant thought, maybe a memory. “It wasn’t like this before. The discomfort wasn’t… serious. That’s how I was able to ignore it for so long.”

“Ignore what?”

Not the brutal slam of the garage door across the house, for one thing. The pictures on the wall must be hanging crooked now.

Viktor sits straighter—if that’s even possible—and calls out: “Jayce?”

Footsteps—softer, distant.

His eyes snap back to yours. “It’s been a week since he’s come home,” he tells you in a quick whisper. “Mm, well, in the evening. He’s here in the morning—”

“To work out at the ass crack of dawn? I know.”

“You were invited?”

“He knows better than to think I’ll get up that early. I saw on his Instagram.”

Footsteps—louder now.

Viktor nods sagely. “Ah, yes, the stories. By my count, he has written, eh, ‘rise and grind’ forty three times since the first of the year.”

“That’s…” Your math isn’t great but, “More than once a week,” you whisper back, on the cusp of giggles as Viktor nods. And then, it hits you. “Wait—”

But the footsteps have stopped.

And instead, there’s Jayce’s stoop-shouldered figure braced in the doorway. He sniffles loudly.

He’s still dressed in the khakis and blue button down he wears to work—rumpled, sleeve cuffs smeared darker. His eyes have that red, raw, burning swell of someone who's tried very hard not to cry, and failed spectacularly.

Viktor finds the words you’re looking for with immediate precision. “Has something happened?” he asks, voice tight, hand tighter on your shoulder as he leans around you to look his roommate over. “Jayce?”

They spend a lot of time apart. Sometimes it’s easy to forget that they’re best friends too.

He swipes at his nose as it runs into the raw little divot above his lip. Beyond sadness, there’s a guilty cast to his dark, hazel eyes, turned down to the floorboards, but you can’t find your voice to tell him that this isn’t what it looks like.

“Are you… injured?” Viktor tries again.

Jayce shakes his head. No.

“Is your mother alright?”

“She’s fine,” he rasps. “Um… Can I just—?” he asks, gesturing weakly to the two of you.

Which you think must translate to: “You want to come sit?”

“Yeah.”

Viktor’s of course comes without apprehension, without judgment. Only with the apparent surprise that he even needed to ask.

But Jayce, in several long legged strides, doesn’t come sit. No, he collapses face first onto the bed behind you, all broad, shaking shoulders and quiet sniffles seeping out from behind his arms. They hide his face and nothing else. Hands curling, clenching into his shirtsleeve, there’s the thick band of a tan line striped across his middle finger.

You turn yourself around, scooching closer, folding up cross-legged to face him.

You’ve never seen him like this—laid so low. A sweat stain blooms dark at the small of his back, up between his shoulder blades, but sweat is sweat and Jayce is Jayce. You reach out to rub his back despite it. “It’s alright…” you whisper. Feels like putting band-aids on a bleeding heart, but it’s all you have.

Soft cotton weave catches the peeling skin of old blisters as you soothe your hand in circles. His shirt leaches the vetiver smell of cologne, but somewhere beneath it, there’s an elegant, cloying perfume still lingers. It’s no secret where he spends most of his time these days.

You meet Viktor’s searching eyes and mouth: Mel.

He nods gravely as if to say he drew the same conclusion.

Say something—that’s your next silent suggestion, canting your head toward Jayce.

But instead, Jayce takes a deep, wet, shuddering breath and asks, muffled into the mattress, “Can… Can we go to Taco Bell?”

“Sure…” you murmur. He could’ve asked you to drive him two states over to bury a body and you would’ve agreed just as thoughtlessly. Anything he needs. “We’ll take you.”

He doesn’t move. Just sniffles at a prompting little scritch to the nape of his neck, where his hair fades out to shadowy, peach-flesh fuzz.

So you ask, “Do you want to go change, and then I can drive us?”

“Can I just have a minute? Please?”

“Why?” demands a perplexed Viktor, still soft spoken. Desperate for an answer that isn’t made of cobbled assumptions; blunt in its pursuit.

And worried. You can tell that he’s worried.

As if you’d been the one to ask, the personification of wet, doleful misery lifts his head and looks up at you. His face is a ruin of dark, clumpy lashes and tear-tracked skin. His lip wobbles, the pressure of withholding little sobs building, building, building. But speaking it aloud makes it real. Speaking it aloud breaks the levee.

“I think we just broke up,” he finally whispers.

And cries face-down for another hour after that.

#arcane #viktor #viktor arcane #viktor x reader #reader insert #arcane x reader #my writing #literally beating tumblr with a stick i've been formatting this for fOURTY FUCKING MINUTES #GOD.#negl crying like a little bitch from the relief of finally posting this #pour one out for heraldeez who has to listen to me #just like jayce fr fr

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gretavanlace · 1 year ago

Text

Poppins (part 7)

Jake Kiszka x reader

18+ only! Minors do not interact!

Warnings: graphic sexual content, angst, depression, alcohol abuse, cheating, illusions to physical violence, language, drug use (weed, calm down), masturbation, oral sex (f/rec), shitty editing (as always), etc

“It fucked me up.” Jake confesses, passing the dwindling blunt over to you, staring up at the curling smoke as it dances above your heads.

If someone had told you that your night would end lying beside Jake on your living room floor, head and heart still reeling from a most exquisite orgasm and the taste of his own still satiating your appetite for him, you’d have suggested they consider penning fictional novels.

And yet, here you are, and here he is, and it’s bordering on perfect…save for the remembrance of pain that washes the edges of his words in black.

Refusing to tell the story that wasn’t his, he’d decided to quell your interest with one that he felt worthy of sharing.

“She wouldn’t tell the truth. Not at first. Which was a betrayal in and of itself. I thought, who the fuck are you to deny me what I’m entitled to? You know? I deserved the truth…that belonged to me.” He watches you draw in a lungful of smoke and then brushes an errant lock of hair out of your face.

“You did deserve that.” You agree softly on the exhale, avoiding eye contact so as not to break whatever spell has been cast over the two of you to loosen his tongue. “We all deserve that. Truth. Though we so often don’t get it.”

He sighs to let you know he’s heard you, and that he knows you’re right. “I could smell it on her. The deceit hung in her hair like campfire, lingering in her space - sickeningly sweet perfume. It gave me a headache. Every time she touched me it was like swallowing a rock, and she just kept feeding them to me. Jagged pebble after pebble until I was completely weighed down with whatever it was she had done.”

His prose is somehow prettier when he’s describing something ugly.

You can help it no longer, your hand finds his chest. You want to hold him, to soothe him against your breast like a distressed child. “Jake, I’m so sorry.”

He laughs it off, which only makes you hurt worse for him. “Long time ago, babe. She told me, eventually. Told me there had been someone else. Gave me that ‘it only happened once’ bullshit. But she wouldn’t tell me who. I suppose I hated her the most for that. By keeping that from me, she was choosing him, again. Or, at least that’s how it felt at the time. It’s stupid, looking back.”

“No,” you argue with quiet conviction. “It isn’t stupid, Jake. It isn’t.”

The blunt is cashed, and he drops it into his leftover tea with a hissing sizzle, and then relaxes back down onto the rug.

“I asked her to leave. She cried. I cried. She packed a bag and walked out the door. Came back for the rest of her shit later on, and that was that.”

This last bit has truly astounded you. “You lived together?”

“Mhmm,” he hums, folding his hands together over his chest. “If you can call it that, really. You know how often I’m gone.”

“That’s no excuse.” You feel murderous toward this mirage of a woman whom you’ve never met.

“Didn’t say it was.” He points out before continuing. “So, like I said…it fucked me up. Bailed on a bunch of gigs, wouldn’t get out of bed unless it was to wander my drunk ass down the street for a fresh bottle. Stopped showering, couldn’t sleep, all that shit. I forgot about her fish and accidentally let him die. Still feel bad about that one.”

You listen silently. Maybe he needs this…each spoken word feels like it's brand new on his tongue, as if he’s never opened up with such candor about these things hidden. And if he needs a mindful ear and an open heart, you will gladly give that to him. Tonight, and always.

“Josh showed up, because of course he did.” He huffs a breath of a laugh and shakes his head, searching out patterns in your popcorn ceiling. “Asshole beat on the door for an hour before I sobered up enough to hear him. Then beat on it for another hour until I finally hated the noise enough to answer.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you watch him run through imaginary chords along his chest, a habit that presents itself when he’s nervous or angry. Right now, you imagine he’s a bit of both.

“He made me get up and shower. Wouldn’t shut the fuck up until I had. Cleaned up the trash that had piled itself up in disgusting mountains around my bed. I’ll never forget that. Walking into my room and seeing those trash bags. Five of them just completely crammed to hell and back full. That’s what it took. Those bags. Who was this? This guy who sleeps with trash and whiskey bottles and doesn’t shower, right? One of the most astonishing realizations of my life and I made it with a filthy towel that had been lying on my bathroom floor for god knows how long wrapped around my waist.”

Your heart aches painfully for him. You can’t even begin to equate that scenario with the beautiful, cocky, brilliant, man before you. Still, you’ve never felt closer to him, it’s like he’s unlocked a door and invited you inside. Except this time, he isn’t giving you the shiny tour. Now you’ve been ushered in and he’s letting you peek into the junk drawer.

“It only got worse from there. He combed the knots out of my hair…took him forever, and it made me feel loved and like shit all at once. Fucking prick ordered me to strip my bed while he threw the windows open.” He makes prick sound like a term of endearment. “Then he just came out with it. Just fuckin’ said it while he tromped around cleaning like he owned the place.”

You wait while, presumably, he gathers his thoughts, or maybe his wits, or perhaps both…but you don’t push. As far as you’re concerned, you’d lie on this floor with him and wait forever, just so he never feels as lonely as he must’ve felt then.

“He said,” he waves a hand above your heads as though setting the scene. But really, you know this to be a strange quirk of his, this slightly theatrical flare that colors his words when he’s recounting his twin. “Jake, this might be terrible fucking timing, but we’re gonna do this now. You’re going to hate me, and that scares the shit outta me, but you deserve to know, and you deserve to hear it from me.”

“I knew right then, the second he said that, but I waited because….” His hand drops and reaches for your own, warm and tight in grip, like those confident handshakes that seem so important to some “I guess I waited because I didn’t want to know. Two extra seconds of blissful ignorance was too tempting to let go of. Doubt I even got two, seemed more like a fraction of a second before he was out with it. ‘It was me’, that’s all he said because he knew that’s all he had to say. He understood that on some level, I’d probably known all along.”

As difficult as it had been to equate Jake with the melted down version of himself he had described, imagining Josh - all love, sunny smiles, and sweet sentiment - caring so little about his brother’s heart, is impossible. It had to have been some imposter standing in Joshua’s shoes; a monster tucked away inside his brain steering him headlong into cruel flippancy.

It makes you angry. What a foreign feeling when it comes to these two. “It was horrible, what he did to you.” There are worse things bitten back on your tongue.

He’s playing with your fingers now, turning them this way and that, inspecting them as if they’re much more interesting than you’ve ever thought them to be. “Like I told you before, he was drunk and she was somethin’ else. She had the sweetest voice…always sounded like she’d swallowed a bit of helium. It used to drive me crazy, that cotton candy voice of hers.”

A pang of jealousy, unwelcome and unwanted, creeps to life inside you, but you hide it well - you think.

“He earned points,” he continues on. “By telling me…and she was right not to tell me. I don’t know what would have happened if I’d heard it from anyone but him. And hearing her say it? That she’d fucked my brother - with that voice of hers, all honey and sugar dripping all over his name, I think it might have killed me.”

It dawns on you, suddenly and sickeningly, “Is that what I am? What this is? You loved her, and you believe he loves me, so you’ve found an angle? Are you using me to break his heart the way he broke yours?”

The very thought makes your stomach tighten and twist around itself.

Somehow, he knows - how does he always seem to know? - and he places his wide, warm palm across your navel gently and then rolls atop you, nudging the tip of your nose with the tip of his own, an innocent Eskimo kiss that sets your pulse wild.

“You aren’t a pawn in some bullshit game between brothers, poppins. Far from it. But I’ll play with you anyway if you’d like.”

Fuck, the cashmere of his voice, the way it billows into the night like a gauzy curtain flutters in a summer breeze. Vocal chords oscillating as his guitar strings do, humming straight into your heart.

You shove aside all the need he has once again flickered to life inside you and ask, “What happened then?” Your question is meek, as if you’re afraid of the answer.

“After he told me, you mean?” He murmurs against your neck…mouth hot and wet as it searches for places that will make you sigh.

“I kicked his ass wearing only a towel, which didn’t stay on long, so you can imagine how that must’ve looked.”

An unexpected laugh responds to his unexpected joke and you watch him soften…he loves your voice, too. Maybe not as much as he had loved hers, but there is an undeniable affection there that will do just fine for you.

“I made an even worse mistake, as I am so often wont to do. In some ridiculous quest for revenge, I made it even worse.”

He sounds loathsome of himself, so you stroke through his hair, comforting him, loving him this way. Still, you can sense the book closing, he has talked enough for tonight. The wound reopened, split apart and bleeding.

You cauterize it with a joke, just to hear that gentle chuckle of his. “So, no naked grudge match carried out in your depression room? Oh, the disappointment is crushing, Jakey.”

You’re gifted with the laugh you’d so hoped for. “No, babe, that definitely happened. But if you ever feel the need to retell that story, have mercy on me and leave that part out.”

A quiet descends around you like a comforting caul…dragging you back down into the blissful trenches where there is only him. Only Jake.

No peculiar sibling rivalry. No strange twin bond that you’ll never begin to understand. No confusion. No complications…

But never no Josh. Even when there is only Jake, there is still Josh. He lingers in your peripheral vision, a blurry specter watching, reminding. The same way Jacob floats about in your heart when Josh’s hands and eyes are on you.

Jake speaks into the hush first. “You heard me when I said you aren’t a pawn in some fucked up game, right?” His hand is trailing down, down, down, now…tucking itself between your legs, playing with you idly over your panties that are still damp from the last time he decided to grace you with his touch. “I mean, you really heard me, right?”

“Yeah,” it rides out on a feathery moan as your legs spread further apart for him.

“Yeah?” He’s satisfied with your answer, and taunting you a bit now. Sweetly mocking how lost you seem to already be.

“Jake…” it’s a whimper and you don’t care.

“I suppose this is alright, don’t you think, poppins? If I touch you here? Done it before, haven’t I? And he has too, hasn’t he, babe?” He doesn’t pause for your answer. “Playing field’ll stay nice and even, even if I make you cum in these pretty wet panties, won’t it?”

Your hand has wrapped itself around his wrist, urging him to keep going. “If it isn’t a game between the two of you, why is there a field?”

“That’s such an excellent point, baby doll.” He breathes, soft and slow, against the shell of your ear. “Fuck keeping things even, yeah? How about something new? Would you like that, hmm? If I did something new to you?”

“Don’t tease me,” you whine, devoid of absolutely any shame. “Just do it, Jake, please.”

You don’t even know what you’re begging for, nor do you care.

“Do what, babe?” His fingers are inching under the lace you wish would disappear. “What if I make my way down?” Those same fingers are now tapping against your lips. You lap over them and he groans at the curl of your tongue before he’s walking down your body with them like two tiny legs. “What if I just kiss my way down until my face is between these pretty thighs and my mouth is against your sweet little cunt.”

“Oh god, Jake, please…” you’re shoving at his shoulders now as he grins through a bite to your throat. “Please!”

He’s at your breasts all at once, tugging your shirt as he had before until you pull it off. That mouth you’re aching so badly for, closes around your nipple, sucking as his teeth sink in deeply enough to make you squirm away.

“Does that hurt?” He pants through licks and suckles that threaten to tear you into the tiniest of pieces.

“No.”

“Then lie fucking still.” The way it trips off his delectable tongue, heated and unwavering, causes you to clench around nothing.

You do as you’re told and pray silently for him to make his way lower and lower.

Like the deity he seems to be, he hears your prayers and answers them by dipping down to lavish an open mouthed kiss upon you, savoring you through the soaked material that once served as underwear, but has now been demoted to an annoyance to be dealt with.

The moment his lips meet silk, he pulls back as if you’ve burnt him, fingertips to his gorgeous mouth like he can’t believe this is real. Coincidentally, neither can you.

“Let me see, poppins,” his chest heaves with every word, fighting to be heard. “Show me where you want my mouth, pretty girl.”

Yanking your panties to the side you once again begin to beg. You can’t seem to help it, and he seems to like that very much.

“There?” He offers that conspiring, lopsided smirk. “And what should I do with my mouth right there, babe? Would you like a little kiss?”

With a growl that sounds like you’re little more than a feral cat mouthing off, your hands fist in his hair and yank him in with force that catches him off guard enough that he loses balance and sort of falls into place, groaning vibrations against your cunt until they spark and sizzle down to your toes.

He strokes the flat of his tongue over your clit, once, twice, three times, then rolls onto his back, taking you with him.

With you now perched and writhing above him, he spanks your thigh, and, with his eyes blazing up at you, sends you reeling with a gravelly “Well, c’mon then, Mary Poppins…feed it to me.”

You’ve been known to do a stupid thing a time or two, but never anything as stupid as wasting time when Jake is asking for something as depraved as what he happens to be asking for now. To that end, you lower yourself down, head falling back to cry out to a god you think you might not even believe in, when he yanks you down completely.

There’s no way he can breathe, but the way he is sucking you in, there’s no way he cares. Praise and pleas for more muffle against you, as does his drawn out moan when he tugs his cock free and wraps a fist around it.

Tongue fucking inside you now, perfect nose brushing rhythmically over your swollen clit, your hips begin to chase it now all on their own.

He nods in urgent approval and sends his fist flying over his cock faster as your toes sweep over the muscles flexing and pumping wildly in his arm.

Growls and groans of lust and exertion press inside you as he drags you closer and closer to that bright and stunning end. Hands in his hair, you let him take you there. Though you might be steering the ship, he is the sea upon which you sail.

“Cum with me, fuck Jake, please please please, I want it, want it so bad…” have you even made a sound at all? You can’t be sure until you feel him nod again beneath you, his free arm wrapping around your waist to pull you down even closer, like he wants to get lost and disappear inside you.

He has built a shimmering, iridescent world, all for you, but you don’t step into it alone. He goes along, reaching up to grab your hand with a barely discernible gasp of your name, just to save you from feeling lonely in your heaven.

Somehow, when the blurry haze begins to clear your head, you’re on your back again, quietly sobbing for air as your body trembles with divine aftershocks.

“You’re fucking beautiful,” he wonders almost silently…face pink and shining with you and breathtaking. “God, you make my chest ache. It hurts to look at you, sometimes.”

Shying away from his worshipful prose, you feel around for your shirt, eyes watching his mouth. You adored it before, and now you’d simply lay down and die for it without thought.

You clean him up. Carefully dragging cotton over his hand, stomach and belt where he has spilled and made an indulgent mess…you contemplate using your mouth, but think maybe the moment has passed.

A comfortable, nearly domestic, quiet takes over until finally, you ask him to stay.

He declines with sweet kisses upon your cheek, and lets you in on another secret - he’s leaving to pay a visit to his favorite tree in the park. He plans to sit a while, as it’s where he does some of his best thinking.

You don’t ask what he plans to think about beneath an old sugar maple at close to four in the morning. Maybe you’d like to know, you figure, but maybe you shouldn’t.

The morning finds you showered and a least somewhat put together, wandering through the very same park. Meandering towards the rusty back and forth creak of a swing set.

Josh waits just where he said he’d be when he’d phoned to ask you to join them.

Looking casual and clean in crisp joggers and a band T that you know, without a doubt, smells of fabric softener - he is relaxed back against a bench, contently watching Lil’s ponytail fly as she chases around with her tiny companion - a friend from the neighborhood. He’s the sweetest thing who is almost always happy to let Lily boss him a bit. They often remind you of what the twins must’ve been like as children.

You slide into position beside Josh and he ponders as if you’ve been conversing for hours. “Remember what that was like? Just running to run? Look how happy she is.”

His question is rhetorical, his smile sly, when he turns his attention to your face. “Look how happy you are, sweetheart. You’re glowing. Is it safe to assume that my lesser half paid you a visit last night?”

You feel your lips part stupidly in shock.

“He called me this morning, just after I called you.” He shrugs casually. “Told me he was around and that the two of you talked. I know what ‘talking’ means when it comes to Jacob.”

You shake it off, grounding yourself by watching his lovely daughter rather than the twinkling accusations in his eyes. “We did talk.”

“Amongst other things, I’m sure.” He blows right by his own comment and leans in a little closer. “Do you think less of me now? Now that you know exactly what I did to him? Because you should.”

“No.” You answer without hesitation, and truthfully. “And he said he did something even worse, so it seems to me like you two are even.”

“Even?” There’s a disgruntled edge to his tone, but instinctively, you understand that his disgust is centered squarely upon himself. “We’ll never be even. Not after what he gave me to make things right.”

You squint into his eyes, trying to piece together the puzzle. “And how did he make whatever it was he did, right? What did he give you?”

He allows you to stare a while and then gives you your answer by shifting his gaze to the tiny beauty laughing in the sandbox.

Taglist: @gretasintrees @gretasmokerising @greta-van-chaos @celestialfauna @s0livagant @groggyvanfleet @kiszkathecook @brokenbellz @llightmyllovee @doodle417 @seventieswhore @jake-kiszkas-smirk @weightofdreams-gvf @alisonwonderland29 @gretavanfleas @gretavangroove @xserenax-13 @tbagggvf @obetrolncocktails @tripthelightjaketastic @jakeslovehandles @poofyloofy @70sgroupielovr @heatmyfleet @age-of-nyahh @sammiboo162 @spicedandicedtea @jakekiszkasleftnutsack @saoirsemaeve @thelvnternskeeper @mywickeddivinity @paintmyhouse @tripthelightfandomtastic @tripthelight-fanfic @mckenna4 @sarakay-gvf @theweightofjake @joshsmama @sammysvanfeet @rhythm-of-space @highladyofasgard @jordie-gvf-admin @calumspretty @sunfl0wer-power @sad1lynn @demolitiondann @gvfpal @starcatcher-jake @gretavangroupie @hugorobinson @josh-iamyour-mama

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beyondthesefourwalls · 1 year ago

Text

Motivation Tactics

Summary: You’re having a hard time finding the motivation to finish a work assignment with an upcoming deadline. While you're on a conference call, Bradley decides to help you release some of the frustration and tension you’re feeling. His knees may not thank him later, but you sure will.

Pairing: Bradley Bradshaw x Reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 2.2K

Warnings: oral sex (f receiving), language, talk of work deadlines and jerk coworkers.

Notes: Some shameless shenanigans, because why not? This can be read as a standalone, though I envisioned it within the RYEWID/Forgetful Boy universe, but there’s no specification on if this is before or after the series.

______

“God, you are such a fucking dick.”

Bradley raised his eyebrows as he approached your office. He had just gotten home from work and you hadn’t responded when he called out for you upon entering the house. He had climbed the stairs with the intent to find you and clearly he’d been right in his assumption that you were holed up where you spent the majority of your work day.

“What’d I d-woah,” he exclaimed as he made it to the doorway.

Something Bradley had learned about you very early on was that you were, frankly put, a neat freak. It complemented his own tidy tendencies well. Your house was always clean and organized, to the point where your friends made jokes about being able to eat off the floors. It was important to you.

This…was not that.

Your desk was in the middle of the room instead of its normal place against the wall, computer wires stretching from the outlet. Your bookshelf was backed into a different corner than it normally was but all the books and knick knacks were strewn out across the carpet. The chair you kept in the corner was on the opposite side of the room with the throw pillow nowhere to be found.

You were there amongst it all, seated at your desk chair. Your hair was piled on top of your head, glasses perched on your nose. You barely offered him a glance as you angrily typed away on your keyboard.

“Not you,” you clarified. “This jerk!”

“Okay…but why is your desk in the middle of the room?”

Bradley winced at the glare you sent him as you explained you had gotten a bout of writer’s block and started to rearrange your office as a distraction. You had been in the middle of it when you got a phone call from the editor you had been partnering with, someone you had worked with several times and who often sought you out to write for her, telling you that another journalist had requested the assignment.

“That’s bullshit,” Bradley said, feeling genuine frustration on your behalf. You worked harder than almost anyone he knew, and were so passionate about every story you write. He remembered how excited you had been the night before when this one landed in your inbox. “Is she going to let him have it?”

“No,” you scoffed with a shake of your head, “but now he’s emailing me trying to tell me that his sources are better than mine and he isn’t going to give me access to them. Well jokes on him because I already spoke with them. But he’s also threatening to write it anyway and post independently on a blog. So I need to get this finished, but I have this stupid conference call in ten minutes that I don’t even know why I agreed to be on. And my office is a mess!”

“Hey hey hey,” he soothed, nearly accidentally tripping over your printer on the floor as he walked further into the room to your side. He swung your chair around to face him as he dropped to a knee to be more level with you. He turned your face to look at him with a long finger hooked under your chin. Leaning in, he pressed a gentle kiss to your lips. You were still frowning when he pulled away, but the crease in your forehead had smoothed slightly. Still, he ran his thumb over your lips and to your cheek, pushing up on your skin to force a smile on your face. You swatted at his hand at the action, but you were giggling now and Bradley felt as accomplished as he had been all day; he always did when he was the source of your laughter.

“What are you struggling with, Pumpkin?” he asked. He rested his hands on your bare thighs, rubbing up and down slowly. You were in an old Navy sweatshirt and loose athletic shorts and as much as he loved you dolled up for him, he loved these looks of yours just as much. Truthfully, he loved you in anything, or even nothing at all.

He listened as you rambled on about what you were working on, offering his input when appropriate. He knew that sometimes you just needed to talk it out and he was always happy to be on the receiving end. After about five minutes, you were speaking mostly to yourself as you worked through your ideas, jotting them down in a notebook. He sat back on his feet, just watching you until your computer started dinging to signal the start of your conference call.

He pressed a kiss to your lips and swiped your water bottle from on top of a stack of books, intent on refilling it for you.

When he got back to your office, your eyes were darting between your monitors and you were tapping your pen against the surface of your desk. He could hear someone droning on about ethics in journalism and sourcing. He knew you were barely paying attention and that your mind was working a mile a minute wanting to get back to work, and that you’d be restless like this until the call was over and you could.

You chewed on your bottom lip before soothing it over with your tongue, and an idea popped in Bradley's head that immediately had him stirring in his pants. He thought it over for a moment before ultimately deciding that the pros far outweigh the cons, and if you didn’t want it, you could stop him.

With that in mind, he set your water down. You glanced up at him with a smile, and he winked at you before sinking to his knees in front of the desk, crawling under it as best as he could. It was a tight fit, but he made it work. You jerked when he started dancing his way up your legs, just barely ghosting over your skin with his fingertips. When he got to the hem of your shorts, a hand reached down to grab his wrist. He paused in his movements, but after a moment, you let him go and lifted your hips to help him achieve his task of tugging your shorts and underwear down. With a smirk, he spread your legs wider. You scooted closer to the edge of the chair without him even having to ask.

Bradley left gentle presses of his lips on the inside of your thigh, nipping at the skin every few kisses and then soothing it over with his tongue. You were squirming in anticipation and he stroked his thumbs in the curve of where your hips met your stomach, trying to help you relax. He blew a soft breath over where you were starting to glisten for him and your whole body shuddered. He took your right leg and draped it over his shoulder, shimmying as close to you as you could. He pressed one hand against your lower stomach beneath your sweatshirt and gripped one of the arms of your chair to keep it steady with the other before he finally leant in.

He flattened his tongue against your folds, licking a solitary stripe up and gathering your juices on his tongue. He groaned quietly at your taste as he dove back in. He switched between licking into you and sucking your clit into his mouth. He knew the altering sensations were something you enjoyed. As much as your position allowed, your hips started to move against his mouth. He pulled away and the hand on your stomach came down to hold your hip instead.

“Stay still for me, baby. Can you do that?”

You let out a breathy promise of doing what he asked and Bradley kissed the inside of your thigh.

“Good girl.”

He nudged your clit with his nose before licking into you again. You whined quietly for him, and he wished he could see your face from this angle. One of your hands crept below the desk and found a home on the back of his head, fingers threaded through his curls, holding him against your cunt. Your other leg came to drape across his free shoulder. Your wetness coated his face. He was completely surrounded by your taste and scent and he hummed happily, making you shiver again.

Bradley wasn’t hurried in getting you off. Instead, he ate you out leisurely. He explored every inch of your pussy with his mouth and tongue. He would focus on the areas he knew you were the most sensitive for a few seconds longer than the rest before moving on. Your fingers tightened in his hair every time he did it. You tasted so good that he thought he could stay on his knees between your legs like this for hours, his knees and back be damned.

The speaker on the call said your name and you gasped quietly, clearly not expecting it. Bradley paused for a moment, giving you a false sense of security. He heard your mouse click and the small ding that indicated you had taken yourself off mute and pulled your clit between his lips and sucked hard. Your hips jerked and he tightened his grip on the chair to make sure you didn’t accidentally fall. You coughed to cover up the words you stuttered over, clearing your throat. You pulled hard on his hair, but your thighs tightened around his head.

You didn’t want him to stop, but he knew he’d pay for that stunt later - he couldn’t wait.

He went back to his previous pace as you spoke. You kept it as short as you could and Bradley almost chuckled when someone asked you a question, forcing you to expand. You were starting to tremble.

He didn’t really comprehend any of what you were saying, but your voice washed over him like a pleasant hum. He zeroed in on how much he loved listening to you and imagined you were demanding him go harder and moaning his name instead of speaking about ethics and writing styles, never taking his mouth off of you. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but he registered you saying your goodbyes right before your laptop slammed shut, and his name really was falling from your lips.

“God, fuck, Bradley!”

You sounded wrecked and it had him doubling down on his efforts. You had been so patient with him and now he was more determined than ever to make you come for him.

He brought the hand that was holding your hip down to your pussy. He didn’t hesitate before he slipped two fingers inside of you. You were so wet, and as he started fucking you with them, your cunt let out the most obscene sounds. He drew your clit back into his mouth, humming and sucking. You pushed his head further into you and grinded your hips against his face and this time he let you, knowing you were close. The hand that wasn’t in his hair slapped down against the top of your desk. The moment he curled his fingers inside of you, you were shattering.

The moan you let out was long, loud, and absolutely beautiful. Bradley removed his fingers but didn’t let up with his mouth until you were done riding out the orgasm you had earned. You let your legs fall from his shoulders as your whole body shook.

When your hand fell from his hair, he pushed your chair back far enough to let him pop up between you and the desk. His back popped and he knew he’d be sore later, but it didn’t stop him from licking his lips and grinning at you, slumped back in your chair with your chest heaving.

“You think you can concentrate now?” he asked.

You laughed breathlessly and sat up straighter to pull him into a kiss. You licked into his mouth with no hesitation of tasting yourself and Bradley’s dick twitched, hard in his khaki pants.

God, he loved you so much.

When you separated, the dazed smile was still on your face, but you nodded at his previous question.

“Good,” he said. “Why don’t you take your laptop out to the back porch and write out there, and I’ll get your office back in order for you?”

You hummed in response, and after he helped you slide your shorts back on, you followed his advice and unplugged your laptop from the dock it was set up on. Your legs were a little shaky as the two of you stood and Bradley steadied you with a hand on your hip, a smirk threatening to take over his face.

You rolled your eyes at the look, and before he could even process you were moving, the hand not holding your laptop reached down to palm him through his uniform pants. He choked out a groan as you squeezed. But just as quickly as you had done it, you were stepping away from him completely. Unlike him, though, your smirk was planted firmly on your face. You winked at him over your shoulder as you walked to the door. There was an extra bounce in your step as you called back to him.

“I’m suddenly feeling incredibly motivated to get this done. Maybe when I do, you can proofread it while I return the favor.”

------

End Notes: My work days would be SO much better if this is how they went. I hope you enjoyed it, and would love to hear your feedback. Likes/comments/reblogs mean the world💚

Special thanks to Mak and Em for everything, as always.

Masterlist

Tag List (please let me know if you’d like to be removed or added!) : @roosterforme - @mak-32 - @hoyaharper - @wildxwidow - @gretagerwigsmuse - @bradshawburner - @iamaslytherin0 - @lilyevanswhore - @too-fangirl-to-fuction - @fav-fanficssss - @benhardysdrumstick - @fandomxpreferences - @acatwriteshere - @1234-angelika - @double-j - @cocoskween - @sunflowersteves - @teacupsandtopgun - @littlezee80 - @sometimesanalice - @je-suis-prest-rachel - @khaylin27 - @infamous-reindeer - @hotch-meeeeeuppppp - @sarahjoestewy-blog - @sunnysidesidra - @notroosterbradshaw - @yanna-banana - @inthestars-underthesun -@avengersfan25 - @wkndwlff - @zbeez-outlet - @lt-spork - @indynerdgirl - @loveforaugust - @mssleepy876b

@kassieesworld - @luckylexie - @lovemesomevesey - @mizzzpink - @books-for-summer - @a-serene-place-to-be - @deviltsunoda - @tv-fanatic18 - @memoriesat30 - @melody-death - @imnotcreativeenoughforthisblog - @dabisblackprincess - @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy - @realdirectionx - @waywardhunter95 - @myownworstenemyyy - @sexualparkour - @sadpetalsstuff - @almostgenerallyalways -@alilstressyandlotdepressy - @14readwritedraw96 - @ccbb2222 - @taytaylala12 - @alittlechaotics-blog - @starkleila

@shelbycillian - @mavrellover91 - @vici111 - @merishfit - @plaper1 - @lunamooncole - @pariahsparadise - @bunny-nonnie - @blackwidownat2814 - @huang-the-geek - @jpgliv - @bluelicious - @loveyhoneydovey - @pisupsala - @nuvoleincielo - @olivezeppelin - @jynxmirage - @shanimallina87 - @ouralcohol - @lumpypoll - @discowitchyy - @bellaireland1981- @princessmiaelicia - @eighthwvnder - @floydflys - @smile-child-13 - @rashelruby10 - @csoutsider - @cowboybarbie - @haydensith - @itsizzythebell - @phantomxoxo - @myhealthymarvelobsession - @winterrebel04

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crusty-chronicles · 2 years ago

Text

The Moon and Sun (Big Sib Reader x Gon/Killua)

Ch 3: ~Speed Baby~

Synopsis: It’s time to beat Genthru at his own game. And by beat him at his own game you mean dodgeball. And by dodgeball you mean fighting for your life against a Beefy ex-Convict who’s only on this island to give Gon hell. You officially decide Ging Freecs is a huge ass. On the bright side, you develop nicknames for your boys.

---------------------------------------------

"They're all dead. It's too late."

Your words stunned the other two into silence. It was both fascinating and terrifying what your ability could do. And as you started to curl into yourself, they knew better than to ask about it.

"Are you sure?" It was Gon who spoke up. "There must be some survivors. And if they're badly wounded, they'll need all the help they can get."

You shook your head.

"Not one."

The boy frowned, fist clenched.

"Then we can't let Genthru get away with it."

"We won't," Bisky affirmed. "But we stand no chance if we go after him now. We don't fully know what tricks he has up his sleeve. It's best to continue on and try to beat him at his own game."

"You mean-" Gon was cut off.

"Yup! We'll collect as many cards as we can. We're bound to run into Genthru that way, and when we do we'll be ready then."

By then, you'd calmed yourself down enough to listen to the plan.

Beat him at his own game? Too bad it wasn't just him you were competing with.

---------------------------------------------------

Gon had continued to perfect his ability while all of you waited for Killua's return. He was making surprising progress, now being able to shoot off a small burst of nen from his pointer.

As for the other boy, he'd beaten the first phase and consequently the last phase in just an hour. He was all smiles as you, Bisky, and Gon approached the starting area.

"How was it, Killua?" Gon questioned.

"It was easy. I aced it," the white haired boy said as he high fived the other.

"That's awesome!"

Much to your confusion, Killua looked over at you expectantly. Did he want something? His aura seemed nervous, or maybe it was anxious. Should you say something?

"I, uh, good job kid." Immediately his mood shifted to a happier one.

"So, what did you guys do while I was gone?"

"We collected a ton of spell cards!" Gon answered.

The boys preceded to look through all of them, with Killua wanting to try one: Contact.

A spell card that allowed the user to contact any person on the island they met, even if it was just in passing.

They looked through the list of names and came across one they never thought they'd see here.

"Chrollo Lucilfer? Isn't that the Phantom Troupe guy?" You mumbled.

"Yeah! Gon, when did you run into him!"

"I didn't. Maybe we just passed by each other."

"It makes sense, but I could have sworn Kurapika- WAIT HOLD ON!!! YOU KNOW CHROLLO!?!?" Killua exclaimed.

Goddamnit, you never learn when to shut up, do you?

"YOU KNOW ABOUT THE PHANTOM TROUPE!?!?" It was Gon's turn to interrogate you. Both boys were staring at you with wide eyes. Bisky on the other hand, was looking on in confusion.

Wait a minute

THESE BOYS RAN INTO CHROLLO!!!

Who the hell was letting them get into trouble like that!?!?

"Answers now!" Killua demanded.

"What I meant was, Chrollo Lucilfer? Sounds like a guy who'd be in a very dangerous, black market group called something creepy. Say I dunno, the Phantom Troupe?"

Clearly no one was buying your bullshit once again going by the unamused looks on the boys' faces.

"Look, that's not important right now. What's important is finding out why he's here." You tried to change the subject. Luckily, Bisky was there to divert attention from you.

"Will you tell me what's going on!!!"

------------------------------------------------

Apparently, the boys had run into Chrollo while trying to get enough money to purchase Greed Island. They thought capturing a Phantom Troupe member would be the easiest way. (What idiots) And accidentally roped in their friends Kurapika and Leorio.

The former puting a condition on Chrollo's heart. If he used nen, he would die.

Simple enough, but if that was true, then the possibility of it actually being Chrollo was slim. Either he had exercised Kurapika's nen or it was someone posing as him. Which brings us to where we are now.

"If it is Chrollo and he somehow got rid of Kurapika's nen, why would he come here?" Gon asked.

"Revenge maybe? Those phantom troupe members do like to hold grudges. Then again, it makes no sense why he'd travel here alone." You guessed.

"Either way it's not good. We should warn Kurapika. I'm gonna hop out of the game again for a few hours." Killua said as he went to leave.

You didn't have a good feeling about this, and as Killua came back with the news that Chrollo was still cursed, the feeling only worsened.

"So we're dealing with a phony after all," you said.

"Yeah, I talked to Kurapika. He was pretty calm about it. By the way he responded, he didn't sound concerned."

"It sounds like you got all worked up over nothing," Bisky commented.

Her words did little to quell your worries. If it wasn't Chrollo, then who was it? Maybe you could convince yourself it was some weirdo hoping to attract attention. Yeah, let's just go with that.

"For now, let's just focus on the task at hand," she continued. "It's time we start trying to beat this game!"

-----------------------------------

"It's said that the legendary King White Stag Beetle lives only in this tree," the NPC explained. "And that there's only one way to capture it: hit the tree and shake it out."

Gon nodded and prepared his attack. It was time to see how far he's gotten.

"Show me rock! Jan-Ken-Rock!" He surrounded his fist with nen and struck. The impact from his punch shaking the tree and causing everything in it to fall off. Dozens of bugs rained down upon your small group.

"Oh wow!" The white haired boy stared in wonder as the insects fell. Bisky on the other hand was shielding her head, most likely grossed out.

Gon turned back to face the group, now giving you that same look Killua had earlier.

Was it code for something? It was expectant and anticipating. Like a child wanting to be praised. Oh

Ohhhhhh

Why not just this once?

"Hell yeah, kid!" You cheered. "You're like a mini Hercules with that punch!"

Honey colored eyes beamed up at you.

This would take some getting used to.

----------------------------------------

"There is no such girl hidden in this mansion," The NPC said. "And even if there were, you would never be able to find her. Not with all the traps you would have to get past first." He was immediately cut off by Killua.

"Found her!" He walked out of the gate with the girl in tow. "She was hidden in a room deep under ground."

The NPC then tried to attack Killua, but was stopped by you. Your grip firm on his shoulder, stunning him.

"Just accept you've lost so we can move on," you said lazily. Unable to move past you, he poofed into a card.

"Rank F, what a shame." You glanced over to the small assassin. He was proudly showing off the new A Rank card.

"Fast work. You didn't get hurt, did you?"

Was that concern in your voice.

Killua turned to face you with a smile.

"Nope, those traps were nothing compared to what I had to go through back home."

Were you about to throw hands with a family of assassins?

Yes, yes you were.

-----------------------------------------------

After winning a Paladin's Necklace card, the four of you headed towards Dorias, the gambling town. Aka how to develop an addiction.

But there was a small bump in the road for you guys.

Someone had cast contact on Gon.

"Hey Gon! It's been awhile." The boy looked very confused.

"Who are you?" The man on the other end only laughed.

"What you don't remember me? Well what about the player who took The Sword of Truth from you in Antokiba? Remember him?"

Recognition at last filled the boys'faces.

"Stealing cards from kids. Not much of a man, are you?" Your voice shocking the man into silence.

"You? You're traveling with them?" Seems he was scared of you. To be fair, you had been quite feral your first year here. Yes, you weren't a fighter, but sometimes your aura could be scary. Especially when you didn't want to be bothered. Ah good times.

"Yeah, now spit out what you want before we get bored." Both boys stared at you in wonder. Seems you had a reputation.

'The mystery around you thickens,' Bisky thought as the man on the other end shakily continued. She was gonna get answers out of you one day.

"Right, well we had an offer for the boys." We? There were others.

"We want to trade them #66 and 27."

"What do you think?" Gon whispered.

"There's always a catch," you warned.

"Yeah but that guy's scared of you. He'll be less likely to try something," Killua said.

"Bisky, you make the call." You trusted the young looking woman's judgement more than your own.

----------------------------------------------

She decided to make the trade, a 61 for a 27.

The leader of the group seemed hesitant to stare at you as he handed you the other 66 card. Much to the boys' delight.

"As a peace offering," he said. Then you got a good look at him.

"Hey, I remember you." See there'd only been three groups you'd run into on Greed Island. (You were sure there were more) Genthru's group: who always harassed you into joining them and were now killer's. Tsezguerra's group: who you tolerated just barely and bumped into accidentally. And Kazsule's group: the men in front of you now that had surrounded you on your first day on the island.

Oh yes you remembered him now.

"You actually know this guy?" Killua asked.

"He casted several spell cards on me during my first day here and ran away with his tail between his legs after my aura got intense. Isn't that right?"

"It was a mistake that I'm trying to rectify at the moment. No hard feelings," Kazsule said still not meeting your eyes.

"Fine." He did give your group two new cards. You supposed you could call it even for now.

After he left the boys continued to pester you about the situation. Bisky watched on silently, not offering you any relief.

"You really dodged spell cards!?!?"

"Your aura was really that strong to scare him away!?!?!"

You groaned, the circles under your eyes seeming to darken.

"Look boys, there's only two things you need to know. #1-Don't upset me, and #2- My ability is speed." Well your ability simplified was speed. But they didn't need to know about that right now.

"That's it!?! Can't you tell us a little more?" Bisky nagged. She was a little too interested in you.

"Nope, now let's teach these kids how to gamble."

-----------------------------------------------

"We get prizes from the slots?" Gon questioned.

"Well it is the city of gambling," Killua responded.

"You have a .01 percent chance of winning. That's just 1 in 10,000," Bisky said.

"And an even smaller chance of keeping your winnings after the addiction kicks in," you added.

Killua had the bright idea to use a Luck Die before trying out a slot machine. Clever, but the die was a double edged sword. You could either roll and have the best time of your life, or roll and end up in a ditch somewhere.

Fun

"There's only a 1 in 20 chance it backfires on us," Killua justified. He rolled a Good Luck.

"All we gotta do it spin the wheel!"

All 7's first try and an A rank card.

"See! I told you! This little die really is the key to hitting it big time in this city."

"But what if you roll Worse Luck?" Bisky questioned. "Things could get really ugly really fast."

"Don't worry about it," the white haired boy brushed off. "It's not like it's gonna kill me, right?"

Speak of the devil.

An explosion happened at the slot machine a few rows down. Apparently the guy there kept rolling a luck die five times in a row and landed on a Bad Luck.

Oh the irony

"You were saying," you teased.

-----------------------------------

"I'm gonna do it. Just one more time," Killua grumbled. He'd been going at it for a good hour, bags suddenly under his eyes like yours.

"I said I'm gonna do it. SO I'M GONNA DO IT!"

Yeah that's enough for today.

Before he could roll another die, you picked him up and hoisted him away from the machine.

"HEY PUT ME DOWN!!!"

"When I said you'd develop an addiction, I was just joking. You know that right?"

"I DON'T CARE! JUST LET ME ROLL ONE MORE TIME!!! JUST ONE MORE!"

"Here's what we're not gonna do. We're not gonna continue gambling and we're not gonna use that die again. I don't know about you, but I'd prefer if we didn't explo-"

You were cut off my the feeling of teeth sinking into your arm.

You dropped the boy immediately and looked at him incredulously.

Did he just?

The smug look on his face let you know he did.

"HE JUST BIT ME!!!!" Gon and Bisky looked at each other, trying to stifle their laughter.

"YEAH AND I'D DO IT AGAIN!"

This freaking kid.

"YOU-YOU- YOU GREMLIN!!!!" You surged forward and threw him over your shoulder.

"HEY!"

"I DON'T WANNA HEAR IT FROM YOU, GREMLIN. WE'RE LEAVING AND THAT'S FINAL!"

You started to walk towards the exist, Bisky and Gon following behind.

But Killua wasn't done with his little fit. He pushed himself up and pressed his hand against your face, squooshing your cheek and turning your head.

"PUT ME DOWN!!!" There went your ear drums.

Fine he wanted to play dirty. You could play.

You turned your head sharply and chomped down on his hand.

"OW!"

"THAT'S WHAT YOU GET GREMLIN, NOW BEHAVE!" You hope you shattered his eardrums the way he shattered yours.

He continued struggling, now resorting to pinching you with his surprisingly sharp nails. Wait, couldn't he make them sharp on purpose?

Oooh that little-

You dropped him outside of the gambling building and grabbed ahold of his cheek, pulling it as you yelled.

"QUIT IT RIGHT NOW!"

"YOU QUIT IT!"

"Should we do something about them?" Gon asked Bisky.

"It's best to let them settle it themselves," came her answer as Killua tried to elbow drop you.

-------------------------------------

After you'd successfully managed to wrangle Killua away from the gambling area, the four of you continued to collect cards.

You'd all collected 50 specified cards when Killua came up with an idea. Trade frantic players Leave Cards in exchange for rare ones.

It proved to be a success, leaving the grand total to 54.

"So up to this point, we've been deliberately avoiding the other players. But now, there's certain cards we really need," Killua said.

"You're not wrong, but it's not exactly a bright idea to approach just anybody that comes across our path," you informed.

"I know, but we're running out of options. We're gonna have to take risk if we wanna beat this game."

Bisky listened to both sides of the argument before adding her thoughts.

"Well I suggest we get all that we can ourselves and then actively negotiate with other players we meet on the way. That sound good to you?"

"I'm in."

"Yeah!"

"Sounds fair."

----------------------------------------------

"Hey, I've got a question." Gon spoke.

"This necklace is supposed to be able to remove curses, right?"

"From spell cards, but not any others," Killua answered.

Gon pouted at the response.

"Guess it won't work then."

"What won't work?" You asked. Just what was going on in that boy's head.

"Well you see, me and Killua had run into a village awhile back. They were all sick and didn't have a cure for it. I was wondering if maybe a curse was behind the illness."

You gave a small smile.

"Doesn't hurt to try anyways."

Ew, since when did you start becoming optimistic. It sure as hell didn't help with that kid beaming up at you.

"You mean it!?!?"

He really was a good kid, wasn't he?

"Sure do, you little munchkin."

"Wait minute Gon. We didn't run into any villagers, did we?" Killua said confused.

"Ohh, you mean the guys who took your money," Bisky teased.

The what?!?

-----------------------------------------

Apparently the bandits (not villagers) could be cured with the Paladin's Necklace.

They had all poofed into cards and just by Gon touching them, the curse was lifted. The card you all received in exchange was #75: Lucky Alexandrite.

Coincidentally right after, guess who called?

It was once again Kazsule. And he wanted to meet in person.

"A team is close to clearing the game." So he was giving you guys a heads up?

"A three manned team lead by someone named Genthru." Ah that makes sense.

----------------------------------------

Apparently Kazsule also contacted other groups to meet up. He wanted to come up with a plan to beat Genthru.

"As I told you all, Team Genthru is very close to completing the game. I just checked the ranking, and they're currently at 96 types. We have to come up with a strategy and now."

Killua raised his hand.

"I have a question."

"Yeah?" Kazsule responded.

"How exactly do you check the rankings?" Before Kazsule could answer, one of the other group leaders cut him off.

"Great, you don't even know how to do that?" Her tone was sneering. "We don't have time to explain the whole game to them. So just cut to the chase alright."

All four of you glared at her. Now today had already been a lot. You'd been bitten, pinched, and physically drained. (Thanks Gremlin.) So you weren't particularly in the mood to be sassed at by a somebody who thought they were better than you. Lacking enough restraint, you let your disdain slip.

"Bitch."

She snapped her head towards you.

"What was that?"

You would have repeated yourself, but unfortunately you had an example to set now.

"I said I have an itch." Ah yes, another lie that nobody was clearly buying. But you didn't care all that much if she heard what you said the first time.

"You-"

"Hey, hey!" Kazsule intervened. "There's no need to be mean, all of us are here to exchange information."

"He's right Asta," his teammate interjected. "These kids just might have some information you don't."

"Ha, that's impossible," Asta dismissed.

One more insult. If this bitch opened her mouth with one more insult you were gonna kick her ass.

"Their Rank A armatures who don't even know how to use the trade shop. Don't make me laugh."

You let out a low growl catching the others' attention. Gon and Killua looked at each other before smirking.

What was it you said? Don't make you angry?

But once again Kazsule averted everyone's attention.

"In the trade shop, you can look at the official rankings of who has the most cards. Which can be really useful. And if you lay a fee, you can even see which specific cards they have."

And once again Asta had something to add.

"But just because you can get a player's name from the ranking, doesn't mean you can use Contact. You've gotta meet them for that. Do you feel a little smarter now, little boy." Her jab was directed at Killua.

That was your last straw.

Nobody could insult your kids except you.

You stood up.

"Boys could you cover your ears for a sec?" Your voice was eerily sweet. They nodded and did as you asked. Once you were sure they couldn't hear you, you went at it.

"Okay, listen you snarky, pompous, little bitch. You can stop running your mouth and shaking around those thangs. If you're just gonna bitch and moan about why you're so much better, I'm gonna give you a black eye. And trust me, you won't see it coming. Now either shut the fuck up and apologize to my boys or prepare to stand by your words."

The clearing was quiet as they waited for Asta's response. Nobody daring to speak, except for Bisky who whispered "way to get her to shut up."

You were reminded of why you refused to be a hunter. Most, if not all of them, were all just power, money hungry assholes who thought having a special license gave them the authority to treat others like shit. Asta being a prime example.

"Fine. I went too far."

You gestured for the boys to uncover their ears as she droned on.

"But if your group can't contribute, then you children should go running home." And the bitch was back.

It was Killua this time who decided to give her some sass.

"The only one who hasn't contributed so far is you." Atta boy.

"Well one thing is clear. You're all big talkers, but I need to see some proof."

You

Were

Gonna

Kill

This

Bitch

"We know Team Genthru's abilities," Gon added shutting her up again.

Atta boys

"And there are 3 cards they're missing. We have one of them. Heh, still got a problem?"

Was this pride you were feeling.

"Nope, that's good enough for me." God you wanted to wipe that shit eating grin off her face.

"Hold on, let's see some proof that you can be useful to us, because I doubt it."

ATTA BOY KILLUA

"71 types of specified slot cards. That's a hell of a lot more than you have. How bout I give you an A Rank in return for a little information. Is that good enough?" This bitch really thought you guys were that stupid.

"No it isn't. We can get those ourselves, no big deal. If you want us to tell you anything, you can give us two S Rank cards or equally valuable information"

Gremlin no more, he was promoted to precious boi.

"Don't press your luck you damn little brat."

Well, you warned her earlier.

"Here that everyone, these guys won't be of any help! They want-!"

In a split second, you were up on the rock she seated herself at, fist millimeters away from her left eye.

Once again, the silence was deafening.

"Which eye do you like seeing out of most? I already told you if you continued to run your mouth you'd have to back up your words." Your voice was ice and despite the intensity of the situation, your posture was relaxed. Like getting up there was an inconvenience.

"I-I-I" she couldn't feel your nen. She couldn't sense you when you moved. And she could tell from the gleam in your eyes that you had meant every word you said earlier.

Cold and uninterested. Everything you had been a few months ago.

"You don't need to protect me from everything you know?

"Of course I do you dummy. I'm the older one, it's my job."

But you'd softened a little. And even though you really wanted to put this bitch in her place, you swore you wouldn't fight anymore.

But that didn't mean you couldn't give her a piece of your mind.

"I'll give you one more shot to apologize. You got that, little girl?"

"I'm sorry for going too far. I just wanted to make sure we weren't talking any risk in beating Genthru. We're all good now."

-----------------------------------------

Once that was out of the way, Asta started giving out information on how the game works to the boys. And without condescending them. A shocker.

Gon also revealed how Genthru's abilities worked. And everybody went around introducing themselves while also giving helpful tips.

It was then decided that all of you would try to get the Strip of Beach card to monopolize.

And with that, you were all off to Soufrabi.

It was a beautiful town with a nice beach right next to it. In only a matter of minutes, you'd found someone with the information you were looking for.

"The pirates run this entire town," the NPC explained. "Every last inch of it. You see, there's this local legend about an underwater cave called Poseidon's Cavern that's supposed to be around here somewhere. The Strip of Beach is the entrance to it. Not too many years ago, 15 pirates came to this town because they'd heard about the legend and that this cave also contained an unbelievable amount of treasure inside.

"Razor and his 14 devils. The poor fishermen were all tortured and killed. Then the pirates murdered anybody who knew about the Strip of Beach. If you can get rid of the pirates, I promise I'll tell you everything I know."

It was quite the information to digest. And apparently, the event could only be triggered by 15 players. Which means the game wants players to work together instead of against each other.

---------------------------------------------

The 15 of you used Accompany to travel to the pirates' base. They clearly weren't expecting any company.

"Who the hell are you guys?" One of them slurred out.

"Look, this is a private party, so get lost."

It was Kazsule who spoke up.

"We're only here to talk. Would you please leave this town."

Immediately the pirates bursted into laughter. And you couldn't really blame them. Diplomatics were not the way with criminals.

"It's been a while since we heard that line."

The biggest one threw a circle of liquor and fire on the floor as he laughed.

"If you want us to leave here, talking just ain't gonna cut it," he sneered. "I don't care how many of you attack me at once. If you can knock me out of this ring, then I'll take you guys over to see our boss."

A lot of confidence from someone with a weak aura. Gon and Killua could beat him with both hands tied behind their backs.

Speaking of weak auras, a member from your side stepped up.

"If it's brawn your looking for, then I'm your man." No, no he was not his man. His nen was even weaker than his spark of aura. God, a gust of wind could knock him over.

The big guy in the middle didn't even flinch when the other attacked. In fact, he just picked him up and preceded to torture him. Putting his foot over the fire to burn him slowly.

"AHHHH! LET ME GOOO!!!! I GIVE UP I LOSE!!!!"

His screams were agonizing and the stench of burnt flesh filled the air.

You wanted to run away.

You wanted it to stop

You just wanted his screams to stop.

"It's just a job, it's nothing personal."

It's nothing personal

But why was he grinning

Why was he enjoying this.

You could tell you were shaking, but there was nothing you could do. You'd forgotten just how disgusting people could be.

And you were grateful, so fucking grateful that Gon had been fast enough to react before your teammate got seriously injured.

Your thoughts quieted down enough to hear what they were saying.

"He said he lost already. Why didn't you let him go!" You'd never heard Gon this angry. And that smidge of darkness in his aura seemed to surface.

"He knew what the rules are," the pirate spat out.

"You lose if you step outside the ring. Anything else including a forfeit is completely meaningless."

What a disgusting creature.

You felt a tug on your arm.

"You okay?" Killua asked.

You shook your head.

"I'll be better once someone kicks that guy's ass." It was a joke more than a suggestion, but the mini assassin seemed to take it to heart.

He stepped up after the pirate confirmed Gon had lost by jumping out of the circle. His aura determined and confident.

"What's this, you gonna team up on me?" The faster that oaf shut his mouth, the easier it would be to collect your thoughts.

"Let me borrow this," Killua said as he snagged a bottle of alcohol. He popped the lid off.

"No! You wouldn't!"

Killua smirked and jumped above the pirate. Then he spiked the alcohol down on him and used his emitter ability to set the pirate on fire.

Goddamnit, more burning flesh.

The pirate screamed in agony before running out of the circle of fire and rolling on the floor to extinguish his head.

Killua walked over to you while you were holding your nose shut.

"Feel better?" He asked.

"I would have preferred if you just knocked him out, but I appreciate the gesture. It was the least you could do after bitting me," you lightly teased.

"You're still mad about that?!?"

"I'll never trust again."

Your brief moment of peace interrupted by the pirate again.

"GRR! YOU BRAT, YOU'RE DEAD!!!!"

You stepped in front of Killua, preparing nen in your leg to defend. Luckily, the guy's teammate intervened. He kicked him to the wall and started lecturing him.

"You made up all of the rules yourself, so get over it." His voice was ice cold.

"Yeah, that's on me," the oaf responded.

"This way, I'll take you to the boss." The second pirate turned to leave, expecting the rest of you to follow.

---------------------------------

He led you all to a small building by the beach. Several courts prepared throughout it. Like it was some kind of gym.

"You got visitors boss."

Jesus Christ. The man in front of you was a titan. He was lifting a weight, completely unbothered by the news. My god, he looked like he could crush a head with his bare hands, without using an ounce of nen. This guy???? This behemoth was the boss.

And his aura

Jesus

So much darkness and hidden bloodlust. Was that anticipation too??? What the hell was this dude waiting on?

"Yeah, and who are they?" He didn't turn to face your group as he spoke.

"Seems they want us to leave town."

"That so?"

He finally set down the weights.

"Hmm, then let's have a competition, shall we? If you win we'll leave the island peacefully. It'll be up to us to choose what the contest will be. All right?"

You didn't have a good feeling about this.

"And what if we lose? What'll happen to us then?" Goreinu asked.

"Oh nothing really. You'll just have to leave. Simple as that," Razor responded.

You didn't like how he kept smiling. It was almost like he knew you guys couldn't beat whatever challenges you'd face.

"Fine, let's go," Kazsule agreed.

"It's an athletics contest. Where each member will challenge you to a match in their specialty sport. One win each. First to 8 wins is the victor."

Ha, figures the beefy dude would make you guys play sports. You just hoped he didn't compete. He would surely kill whoever he went up against.

"My challenge is first up," one of the other pirates stepped forward. Thank God.

"And I'm gonna go with boxing."

"Well," Razor started. "Who wants to take him?"

"I've got this one," someone volunteered.

"There is just one special condition: you can use items conjured by nen." Thank you beefy man.

But Kazsule and his friend didn't feel the same as you.

"What the hell!?!?

"You can't call that boxing!"

They were missing the point. It was obviously an advantage for your side to use and not the other. There's no way they'd allow nen weapons if they weren't sure they could win.

And you were proven correct when the pirate confirmed it himself.

The man on your side was far too cocky, letting himself think because he had the stronger punches he'd have the advantage. He wasn't prepared for his opponent's nen ability.

The 'pirate' had made two separate portals for his fist. One for it to go through and the other right under your guy's chin.

It costs your side the match.

It was then that Killua came up with a plan. (That little schemer) You'd all throw the matches in order to find out the opponents' nen abilities and future challenges. A clever strategy.

The only problem was that you couldn't compete with the same team twice. And with Asta's team withdrawing, you were down three members.

Well, you would have been down three members if she hadn't given her final warning. Now you were down 10 members. Even when she leaves she damns you.

With no other options but to get new players, the boys decided to find your little imposter friend.

Chrollo Lucifer.

That yucky feeling was back, and as the boys speculated it might be another Troupe member, it worsened.

"If it is a member of the Troupe, we won't invite them. We'll see what they say," Gon planned out.

"Yeah, well then what's the point of even trying. We already know it's one of them," Killua scolded.

"We need to know who they are, but why they're here is even more important."

"WHAT ARE YOU, A DAMN IDIOT?!?! ARE YOU JUST GONNA ASK THEM WHY THEY'RE HERE!?!?" Killua shouted. There went your eardrums again.

"BECAUSE BIG SURPRISE THEY'RE NOT GONNA TELL YOU!!!!"

"YEAH? I'M AN IDIOT, FINE!!! BUT I'M STILL GONNA ASK AND YOU CAN'T STOP ME!!!" Gon yelled back.

God it'd been a long day and you were tired.

You picked them up by the back of their shirts, the way a cat would it's kittens.

"Goblins! Stop fighting!" They ignored you and tried to kick at each other while continuing to screech. You weren't in the mood for this, life or death situation, you didn't care anymore.

Your final straw was Gon accidentally kicking you square in the jaw trying to get at Killua.

"I SAID ENOUGH!!!" Finally snapping, you thudded the boys against each other, foreheads smacking against one another. Their arguing ceased and they clutched their heads in pain.

You lifted them eye level, your voice low.

"If you can't learn to get along within the next five minutes, so help me I'll take you both out of this game. Got it?" Your glare was harsh.

They looked at each other before turning back to you. Figuring it was safe, you set them down.

"We're sorry, Y/n." Gon was the first to apologize. He had to elbow Killua for his.

"Sorry. We promise we won't fight anymore.... unless Gon's being an idiot." He mumbled out the last part, hoping you wouldn't hear. Your sharp look let him know you had.

"Kidding, kidding, heh heh."

"Are they always like this?" Goreinu asked Bisky.

"Pretty much, but usually Y/n stays out of it. They must really be fed up to intervene."

-------------------------------------

Gon had ended up using accompany to find the Chrollo imposter. The five of you now in a misty area.

You focused your eyes to see through the fog. There was definitely someone there. And they were strong from the look of their aura. It felt predatory.

There was a soft plashing of water, then the mist cleared slightly and there was a silhouette.

Wait

Wait a fucking minute.

WAS THIS DUDE TAKING A BATH!!!!!!!

The mist cleared up even more, revealing the man's bright pink hair

"No way," Killua said.

"Hisoka!?!" Gon followed up.

But quite frankly you didn't care. All you cared about was having fast enough reflexes before this dude turned around.

"SHIT BOYS!!! DON'T LOOK!!! DON'T LOOK!!!!" You screeched as you quickly put your hands over their eyes.

"Huh?"

"Why?"

"DON'T YOU SASS ME RIGHT NOW!!! KEEP THOSE PEEPERS CLOSED!!!"

The man, Hisoka, fully turned around. He flashed you a wolfish grin and you wanted to gag. Your only regret in life? Not having enough hands.

"Hmm? What have we here? It seems I have unexpected guest," Hisoka said as if you all didn't just walk in on him.

His predatory nen only seemed to increase.

This was such a bad idea.

"Long time no see." He addressed the boys and increased his aura output.

And even though they couldn't see him (Your hand unwavering) they increased their aura as well.

Hisoka only chuckled.

"Just as I suspected. You've matured quite a lot, haven't you?" He practically moaned out. The lust?????? from his aura increased. It was almost suffocating.

"You've clearly found an excellent teacher. You'll continue to ripen into sweet fruit, just as I thought," he purred out.

My god you wanted to bleach your eyes as his little friend greeted the world.

But you were also disgusted. Very much appalled. And completely pissed.

You were growling as his eyes moved up from the boys to you.

"The hell did you just call my boys?" Your own aura spiking slightly. Damn, it'd been a while since you slipped up like this. But this man had pissed you off in a way where you didn't care about being careful anymore.

"Ah, this one's already so ripe. I assume you had a hand in teaching them?"

You were gonna kill this dude.

"I'll kill you. I'll kill you where you stand if you so much as glance at my boys the wrong way."

His aura only radiated excitement.

And where was Bisky to save you?

She was drooling over Hisoka and all his glory. Seems the world was just full of pervs.

"What is it you want with me?" He said nonchalant, as if he didn't just fantasize about two 12 year old boys.

"Put on some goddamn clothes first and then we'll talk, you creepy weirdo," you growled out.

Like hell you were gonna remove your hands when Hisoka was running loose with that thang out.

"Aww, you're no fun."

"I'll break you."

Finally this dude put on some pants and a shirt. And you carefully peeled your hands off the boys' faces.

"I have a question," Gon said once he could see.

"What're you doing in the game?"

You could practically feel Hisoka plotting, his aura shifting to uncertainty. You had to take what he said with a grain of salt.

"I came here to look for Chrollo."

Another round of is it the truth or is it bullshit.

Ding Ding Ding! Looks like a load of bs.

"He's still crippled by Kurapika's nen, but there's actually a way to remove it."

Thank you captain obvious.

"Seems you already know, which will make things easier. I'm looking for Chrollo to pass that along, but I have no leads. Before long, I remembered that some of the Spiders were interested in this game. So of course, if I can locate them, they might be able to tell me where Chrollo is."

Ding Ding Ding! Another one for bullshit.

"And using his handle all but guarantees they'll try to contact me."

"He was just pretending to be a member of the Phantom Troupe," Killua surmised.

"Now I have a question for you." Hisoka said, eyeing the children.

"Better be appropriate," you warned.

"But of course. Tell me, did you really come all the way out here just to ask me that?"

"Sure did," Gon answered without hesitation.

"Um," Bisky budded in. "Truth is, we're here looking for people who are really strong." Her tone was eerily sweet and airy. Like she was trying to flatter him.

"And we were hoping you might join us."

"Hell no!" You interjected. This creep, following your boys around??? You'd rather gouge your eyes out.

Bisky harshly pinched your side.

"But we've already come all this way, it'd be a shame to leave empty handed." Then she batted her eyes up at Hisoka.

And before you could protest again, Hisoka had agreed.

"Alright. May I ask why you're looking for strong people?"

The group made a huddle.

"I don't like this, it's risky," Goreinu commented.

"It sure is," Killua backed up

"You don't know who this guy is Bisky."

"We can't trust this creep and nothing can convince me otherwise," you added.

"What? Of course I know who he is and to add onto your point, Y/n-" Bisky used her nen to spell out one single phrase.

He's lying.

Well at least you wouldn't have to convince them of his deceit later.

"The city of love, Aiai, isn't very far from here. You can meet all kinds of people. You might even find the strength that you're looking for," Hisoka suggested.

The city of Iove?????? Was this dude messing with your group???? Regardless, you all followed his directions.

You, Bisky, Gon, and Killua split up into your group in front.

"What exactly did you mean about him lying?" Killua asked.

"Well technically, I should have said that he wasn't telling the truth," Bisky responded.

"But how could you tell?" Gon questioned.

"It was really more of a hunch."

"She's right boys. That weirdo was lying, or at the very least hiding something. Remember my eyes?"

"They can see aura right?" Gon answered.

"Yup and with aura are your emotions. His was riddled with deceit and mischief." And something else that you will not be discussing at this time.

"That's actually pretty handy," Killua complimented.

"Yeah, which means you can't hide things from me Gremlin," you teased while poking his cheek.

It was at that moment you felt a disturbance in the force. That lust in Hisoka's aura spiked up again. You turned sharply around as Gon and Killua felt a chill up their spine.

THAT FUCKING PEDO CLOWN WAS STARING AT THEIR ASSES!!!!!

------------------------------------------------

It'd taken around 30-40 minutes for Goreinu, Bisky, Killua, and Gon to pry your fingers off of Hisoka's neck. And another 20 of all four of them holding you back after Hisoka had said-

"Oooh, I do like it when they have some fight in them."

Aiai had proven to be completely useless, only serving as a way for Hisoka to cure his boredom.

And during that small interval, you could tell something was eating away at Killua. Perhaps he had realized something about that creepy clown.

And after Gon had asked for Hisoka's binder did it click...

Killua wanted to see if Hisoka had already found who he was looking for. With Gon asking, it be less inconspicuous.

"Look here it is, Tsezguerra." He willing showed his binder.

What was that shit on his binder. It was made of nen, but what was it? Nobody else seemed to see it. It was probably best not to say anything until Hisoka was out of the picture.

But damn was it strange. You focused your eyes a little harder trying to see through his ability, but you were still rusty. Had this been 5 years ago, you would've had no problem.

But one thing was for sure, He was definitely hiding something.

-------------------------------------------------

After the Hisoka debacle, the six of you had met up with Tsezguerra's group. They agreed to help out, bringing the group total back to 10. It was decided the other 5 members would be regular players looking for a way to get back to the real world. With that settled, you all headed back to the pirates' base .

"Let's start off with some boxing," Razor announced.

"Heh heh heh. I'm about to send you packing," his lackey said.

Tsezguerra's man had beat him easy, backing him into a corner and throwing one punch after the other. The pirate couldn't use his nen to save himself and lost the match.

That was one win down.

You'd gotten the second with another man from Tsezguerra's team in bowling.

The third from basketball. So Team Tsezguerra had some firepower after all.

But something had changed within Razor's group. The big oaf from earlier stepped forward. And by the look of him, he was pissed.

"I'm done following your stupid orders! I'll be doing things my own way from now on!" He addressed Razor as he threw down his hat.

"ALRIGHT BRAT, LET'S STEP OUTSIDE!" His words were directed at Killua.

And while you knew the boy was more than capable of taking down this oaf, you couldn't help the surge of protectiveness that overcame you.

"Outside? You mean the Sumo Ring?" Killua taunted.

"I'M DONE MESSING AROUND! WANT ME TO KILL YOU RIGHT HERE AND NOW!!"

The Oaf's friend tried to pull him back as he stalked towards Killua. You stepped in front of him. If that loudmouth tried anything, you'd hurt him. Luckily for him, Razor intervened.

"That violates our agreement. You want to go back to jail, Bopobo?" That grin on his face never wavered, and you could feel his bloodlust start to stir.

If that oaf knew what was good for him, he should stop talking right away.

"I DON'T GIVE A DAMN!! I'M ALL DONE PLAYING THIS RIDICULOUS GAME!!!"

NPC's weren't supposed to know this was a game.

These pirates...

They were all real people.

"C'mon guys, whose with me!?!? If we team up, we could totally crush that damn bastard!!!!"

Razor's bloodlust released in full. He had every intention of killing this guy if he didn't shut up.

"Then we could find a boat and use it to get off this damn island!!!"

Razor has summoned a ball of nen, it's power completely destructive. You froze in place as he threw his attack at his former teammate.

The man's head, unable to withstand the sheer force of Razor's nen, splattered open. Blood poured out underneath him.

You were shaking, you were shaking so bad you couldn't stand.

Blood

There was so much blood.

You collapsed on your knees, a sick feeling churning in your stomach.

He'd killed his teammate. He splattered his brains everywhere. And yet....

And yet he kept that smile on his face.

You trembled on the ground eyes wide with horror.

This man, Razor, reminded you too much of them.

You couldn't focus enough on what was going on around you, not noticing the way Gon, Killua, and Bisky had tried to snap you out of it.

That sick feeling in your stomach rising up to your throat.

You hunched over and heaved, vile spewing out. You gasped in between coughs, trying to get enough air to calm down.

You barley registered someone patting you on the back.

"It's okay. You're gonna be okay. Deep breaths alright." It was Bisky.

You gave a few more gags and coughs, trying to get out your fear and disgust before calming down.

Bisky gave a gentle squeeze to your shoulder.

"You're okay. Do you feel a little better?" In truth, you did not. You wanted to hide. But now wasn't the time to be scared. You had to pull through. You needed to pull through. You couldn't let them down.

So you shakily tried to get up.

You felt a pair of small hands try to stabilize you.

"Can you manage by yourself?" You recognized the voice as Gon.

"I just need a minute and I'll be fine. Don't worry about it, okay?" You felt a sharp thud to your head. You turned to face your assailant, scowling.

"Idiot! Of course we're gonna worry about it!" You hadn't expected Killua to sound so concerned, let alone admit he was worried.

"You just collapsed and threw up! Are we just supposed to brush it off as nothing!?!? Gon! Back me up here!!!"

"Killua has a point. What exactly happened to you?"

"I don't do well around blood." You said as you stood up fully. You were thankful for the brief distraction the boys gave you. It was enough for you to regain your bearings.

"That's it?"

"That's it."

Then you'd felt it. You'd felt Razor unleash his full aura. The feeling of it almost making you collapse again.

"Is everything settled? Good, now I think I'll go with an 8 on 8 game...of dodgeball." Oh fuck.

This dude, who just spiked his buddy's head off, wanted to play dodgeball. There's no way.

Razor used his nen to summon 7 players for his side. It was gonna be one point per person. Whoever won would take all.

You did not like his grin at all.

And the weaker players seemed to be on the same page you were a few minutes ago. They all fled. Leaving just 7 of you left.

And Razor, the saint that he was, wouldn't let your team participate with just 7.

"There's no point in arguing with an in-game character, but wasn't Bopobo you're friend?" Gon's question directed at the beefy man. He sounded as upset as you looked.

"I don't get it. What could he have done that was so bad he deserved to die for it." Anger mingled with his aura.

Razor wasted no time answering.

"Robbery, rape, and murder too. 11 confirmed counts of you wanna get specific."

He was a convict, not a 'pirate' character. So did that mean... All these guys were criminals in the real world?

Everybody else seemed to have caught on as well.

"This isn't a virtual world," Tsezguerra started to explain. "Geed Island really exists. This game takes place in the world we all know." The news was shocking to your small group.

"However, revealing that information to a player who truly believes that they're inside a game is taboo. So that's why Bopobo was executed. This guy here, Razor, he's a game master. A real human."

They were all real. But why were criminals posing as characters here?

"Game master?" Gon asked.

"It means he's one of the people who created this game."

"But then- wait!" Gon's aura shifted over to excitement. Right. His father had made this game for him.

"Bopobo and the other pirates are probably condemned inmates," Tsezguerra continued. "He disobeyed orders and attempted to instigate a mutiny. Execution was warranted."

"It's not fake," Gon repeated.

"Afraid not, Munchkin. This is all real. A little too real," you mumbled the last part out.

"I never realized that," Killua commented.

"I had never even considered it," Bisky added.

The sound of Razor bouncing a ball grabbed everybody's attention.

"Well, it really doesn't matter much in the long run, since this island is isolated from the rest of the world."

"Hey, wait a second!" Gon interrupted. He took a step forward, aura now nervous. "If this is real life, then does that mean - that Ging is here too."

Gon's words immediately wiped the forever grin off Razor's face. But as quickly as it had vanished, it returned.

"I see, you're Gon Freecs I presume."

You took a stance besides Gon, already feeling Razor's shift in mood. And with Gon's confirmation, the anticipation from Razor's aura skyrocketed.

Did he hate Ging and want to take it out on his son?

Well he would have to go through you first.

"Your dad told me you would be coming here someday...And not to take it easy on you."

What?

WHAT!?!??

Gon's father, his own father, told this titan not to hold back!?!??? Was he insane!?!??!?

And Gon, your precious sun child, grinned at the information.

Maybe he thought of it as his father trusting in his abilities. But this is the same man who left his child. If anything it a way to deter Gon from finding him.

Alas, you couldn't find it in you to break the young boy's spirit.

You hoped you were wrong.

--------------------------------------------

Goreinu had substituted one player for a nen beast, completing the team of 8 and allowing you to play.

The rules were 7 players on the court and 1 outside. First team without any players in the court would lose. If you're hit with the ball, you're out and have to exit the court. You may bring back one player by saying the phrase "Back." Ricochets are live until they land on the floor.

Essentially whoever the ball hits last is out.

Good to know.

"And begin!"

Killua was the first to the ball, and prepared to spike it. He looked over at Razor.

"Go ahead, you take the first shot." He seemed a little more enthusiastic now, his forever grin feeling a little more genuine.

Killua spiked the ball over to Goreinu.

"You sound pretty confident. Well, consider this as may way of saying hello!!!!" Goreinu shouted as he hurled the ball at #4, effectively getting him out.

"All right!" Killua cheered.

"One down already, let's just try to keep it up."

Goreinu's nen beast tossed the ball back to him. He repeated the process and got out #5.

It was almost too easy.

Something wasn't adding up.

And you were proven correct when Razor caught Goreinu's throw with one hand. Despite your teammate pouring his nen into the ball.

"Time for us to launch the counterattack." Razor said as he coated the ball with his own nen.

Uh oh. This doesn't look good.

That nen had the intent to kill.

And poor Goreinu was none the wiser.

Razor wound his arm back, bloodlust leaking through.

The shot would kill him.

Another death I'm front of you.

"SWITCH WITH ME!" You shouted. Goreinu looked at you questioningly. You didn't have enough time to explain, not as you felt Razor launch the ball towards you.

You shoved Goreinu out of the way, now face to face with Razor's throw. You only had a few seconds. If you dodged, the person behind you was fucked. If you tried to stop it, your leg would snap like a twig.

Fuck it

Your nen was speed remember?

You focused your nen into your legs and dashed backwards, successfully tackling the person behind you down. You could feel an intense heat from the ball as it grazed your back. The ball itself imbedded in the skull of Goreinu's nen beast who was unfortunately in the wrong place at the wrong time outside the court.

"Not bad," Razor praised. "Getting you out won't be an easy task with that speed."

You tried not to look behind you, knowing you might not recover fast enough this time. Instead you focused on the person you tackled down.

"My, my. This is the third time you've thrown yourself at me. If I didn't know better, I'd say you have a crush." Goddamnit, it was Hisoka.

You should've let the bastard get hit.

"Go read the Bible you skeez," you grumbled out.

"Is everyone else okay?"

Goreinu hesitantly got up.

"That-that would have killed me." His voice was frazzled. He looked traumatized.

Maybe it was best to let him sit it out.

"We need someone outside of the court, can you manage that?" You asked, trying to distract him from his near death experience.

He looked at you with blank eyes before slowly nodding.

"Okay, there you go big guy. Leave the rest to us, okay?"

Razor lifted up a brow, curious to what you were doing.

"Should we count this as a win for my side then?" He asked. "This is a special case, since the nen beast in the outfield died, is Goreinu forfeiting to fill it's place?"

What were you, team captain?

"Just count it was a draw or whatever. I really don't give a damn right now" you hissed after making sure Goreinu was okay enough to be left alone.

"Very well then, it's a draw."

You made your way back to the court, not noticing the wide eyes staring at your back.

There was a giant scorch mark on your shirt.

A sign you escaped death by a literal hair.

"Let's move on," Razor instructed as he passed the ball to his teammates. The ones on the outfield passed it towards each other, then back to razor.

The four of them boxing in your group.

They were moving incredibly fast. So fast that even your eyes had trouble tracking the ball.

You'd hardly sensed it when #4 lobbed the ball at Tsezguerra's side. It was already too late to react, a sickening crunch filling the air.

Killua reacted quickly and picked up the ball. Surprisingly, nen still covered it.

Bisky and Gon rushed over to Tsezguerra's side to asses the damage. He'd most likely broken all his ribs. It was a miracle he'd been able to stand.

"He focused his aura on his back. That's the only reason that wasn't a fatal blow." Razor informed. "Alright tend to his injuries."

But Tsezguerra had refused, most likely the result of a wounded ego. Luckily, his men had tended to him instead.

Killua once again had the ball, bouncing it as he decided what to do.

"Hisoka!" Gon called out.

Oh no, the one thing you never wanted to hear from your boys. But you supposed it was time to see what the pervy clown could do.

"Very well, hand it over," he said gesturing towards the ball.

Apparently, Hisoka had an ability called Bunji Gum. It had the properties of both rubber and gum, as he put it. Meaning, he could throw the ball and have it come right back to him as long as a strand was attached to him.

Hisoka successfully got out #3.

"Now, let's have some fun shall we," he purred out. His nen once again completely predatory.

"Surely this can't be all you got."

Razor chuckled at his statement.

"Just bring it on."

Hisoka threw the ball, but before it could connect, #6 and #7 fused together. The now #13 caught the ball, and he was refusing to let go.

"You're a strong one," Hisoka conceded.

"Looks like it may turn to attack," Razor announced as his nen beast gave him the ball.

Uh oh

This wasn't good.

Gon and Killua immediately activated Ken in preparation. Determined Aura flowing from both of them.

"So you boys know how to use Ken, huh? Then you won't die. That is, if you get really lucky of course."

Razor loaded the ball with even more nen.

He really was trying to kill them wasn't he?

"Here I come, Gon."

Hell no

Razor unleashed a monster throw, the force of it shattering the lights above you.

There was no way in hell you were gonna let that hit your kid.

You didn't give a damn if this was personal.

You sure as hell didn't care if Ging set this up on purpose.

You didn't even care if Gon would be mad at you after.

You weren't gonna lose another kid.

These boys...

They were one of your own now.

You pushed all the nen you had towards your legs and dashed up. With unwavering resolve, you used your right and made contact with the ball.

Razor's nen battling yours.

It was excruciating, the nen burning your skin. But you pushed on.

You forced your leg to push up and the ball spun scorch marks against your skin.

You pushed with everything you had, the ball now slowing down against your skin.

It was a spectacle to behold.

Bloodlust vs something akin but different.

You grit your teeth and the pain flared up, feeling something snap. But you wouldn't waver.

Seconds, mere seconds that felt like an eternity, and with one final push, you kicked the ball up towards the ceiling. It went straight through, creating a perfect hole.

Met with no more resistance, you were flung back, skidding a few feet until your back hit the wall.

It was then that you let the pain take over. You were sure you snapped your ankle. And probably a bone higher up too.

"Son of a- gahhhh! Mother fu-ahhhh!" You bit your tongue, remembering not to curse. But goddamnit did it hurt. You thumped your fist against the ground, trying to distract yourself from the pain.

Immediately Bisky, Gon, and Killua rushed over.

"Y/n! Are you-?!?!" Bisky gestured towards your scorched leg and the purple bruising beginning to form.

"Can you-!?!?" You shook your head. You were in no condition to even think about getting up.

"You're leg, it's all-" Killua couldn't finish his sentence as he eyed your injury.

"Pain," you hissed out. "Very painful as we've established." Your nails dug into your palm, looking for any relief.

But the one who wore a worse expression than you was Gon. His eyes looked blank as he tried to reach out for you, but he pulled back last second.

His aura was riddled with guilt.

"He-he was aiming for me. And you- you-"

You gave him a soft thump on the back of his head.

"Don't blame yourself, dummy. I chose to block his attack." You reached out and have a soft squeeze to his shoulder.

"I chose to break my leg for you, so you better feel special."

He didn't look very convinced. I'm fact his mood seemed to worsen.

"But your leg-"

"It'll grow back, don't worry."

"Yeah but-" it'd taken a few seconds for your words to kick in.

"Huh!?!?" Gon snapped out of his guilt ridden state and eyed you curiously.

"What?!?! What do you mean it'll grow back!?!?"

"Gotcha." The boy stopped panicking and stared up at you with wide eyes.

"There we go." You grabbed his cheeks this time to ensure he would listen.

"Now, stop blaming yourself over nothing. I don't wanna sense guilt from you and I don't wanna see you looking sad. Got it? I'll heal just fine, so stop your worrying."

"You're not mad at me?"

"Well if you lose right after this I might be bitter, but as of right now, not one bit. So don't lose." You released his face.

At last, honey colored eyes beamed up at you.

"Okay! I promise I'll win!"

Atta boy Gon.

You let out a sigh and turned to face your other boy.

"That goes for you too. Don't lose."

Killua gave out a shaky smirk, still weary of your injury.

"You kiddin', as if we'd ever lose to that guy. You just sit tight."

Razor's medics at last came over to bandage and splint your leg.

This game of dodgeball was far from over.

--------------------------------------

Fun Fact #4: Y/n likes to talk a big game, but they're secretly a teddy bear underneath. Hisoka is the one exception.

MASTERLIST

#hxh #hxh x reader #hunter x hunter x reader #hunter x hunter x y/n #hxh x y/n #hunter x hunter #x y/n #x reader #big sib reader #gon x reader #killua x reader #mayhaps a kite x reader???#platonic #older reader #found family

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adubiouspyromaniac · 1 year ago

Text

Personally my read of it is it's both explanation 2 and 3

like yeah there is definitely a sense (ESPECIALLY in season 1 and a couple of episodes of season 3) that the studio/writers had an in office bet to see how slutty, horny and just generally... playboy for lack of a better word they could make Lucifer and get away with it

But... briefly think about the opening therapy scene of S2 EP12 "Love Handles"

Lucifer talks about how frankly... flummoxed he is that Chloe kissed him in the final shot of the previous episode even outright (not actually but metaphorically) laughing in the face at any notion, nay any suggestion, no, no any HINT of any SUGGESTION that anyone be it Chloe, Dan, Ella, Linda, any man or woman he should sleep with on any given day, Delilah (the person who kicks starts the ENTIRE series need I remind you my dear reader) or even just "Nameless Uni" could just... like him (Platonicly or romantically) without his automatic "I am a very sexy man and I radiate an aura that makes people want to like me" button

He desperately wants people to like him and at the beginning of the series (and ESPECIALLY before he met Chloe) I genuinely believe he thought sex was just a transactional practice but instead of the transaction being sex for material things, wealth or favors each and every time he fucked someone in his interpretation of the interaction the transaction was always "I fuck you and in exchange you (Platonicly) like me"

Now do I think he was unaware that some people do actually have and seek out sex for love?... no of course I don't

But I do believe that he thought it was the purest bullshit he'd ever heard

"Why would you even consider paying for your groceries (having sex with someone) again when you already own them (when you now like me)"

This is why he finds Carver Cruz (the players club guy) so confusing: because from Lucifer's perspective despite the fact that this girl already likes Carver... he wants to keep sleeping with her... sooooo what he's... paying for thin air?????????????

I'd love to get into that particular episode more because it numbers amongst my favorites in the whole show and because Lucifer's distaste for the player club is fascinating in and of itself but *scrolls up*... yeah fuck me this post is way too long as is

So to bring this post back to it's point:

When Lucifer finds out his ability doesn't work on Chloe... in his mind that is complete and total rejection in a way I don't think I can describe correctly but then... she stays? They end up on good terms as if the transactional sex happened??? What?

So naturally, because in his mind he's scamming her not in a "I'm so good in bed depriving you of that would be a criminal offence" way but in an "I've just accidentally committed Nigerian prince scam on this woman" or a "I'm getting the reward with none of the payment" way, he asks again, she says no, they continue to be on good terms... again he asks, nope, good terms remain

Ask, no, good terms, ask, no, good terms over and over and over again

So why then I hear you ask is he so fascinated by sex and almost considers it an art form... well personally I hate social interaction but I taught myself through trial by fire to be charming in conversation and make the best of a bad situation by makeing sure everyone leaves most conversations with me happy... and I succeed, I get called charming alot and work as a bartender sooooo... see my point?

Lucifer desperately wants people to like him but in order for them to like him there is a transaction that must first be completed and Lucifer's brain he thinks "well you don't want to do it, I don't want to do it but it must be done so I may as well make it the best night of your life" with It NEVER occurring to him that... no it genuinely doesn't actually need to be done

One other thing that is kind of bugging me about Lucifer (I promise I only complain this much if I care) is how often people's "deepest desires" seem to boil down to just sex. Specifically to sex with Lucifer. (It's not *every time* but it's often).

I understand that Tom Ellis is hot. I'm asexual, not blind. But... Really??? I have two reads on this.

One- The show is trying to... Idk, make sex a sinful thing that everyone wants but can't admit to wanting as much as they do because it's just so sinful, and Lucifer, being the master of desire and temptation plays on that because it's easy. Which... Don't love that read.

Two- Lucifer has only been topside for 5 years, from what I understand. And his best understanding of humanity, from his time in hell and his few years up top, is that sex is a commodity which he happens to enjoy, and is also the only way he knows how to actually connect to humans and make sense of them. In this case it might not be their *deepest* desire, but instead *a* desire which is strong enough for Lucifer to play on and the easiest one he knows how to satisfy.

He seems to stay on quite good terms with the humans he's slept with and cared to keep contact with after. It's a time when he can truly say "this person wanted ME, and is not invoking me as the villain here," something that seems to actually bother him. Hence why he persists in trying to sleep with Chloe- he's perplexed by her apparent lack of desire for him and by the way they connect even without having had sex. He really wants her to want him.

He's very confused in one episode by a "player" dude who objectifies women for a living but also legitimately fell in love and didn't get over the girl after having sex with her a few times. He's thinking "but the transaction was finished? Why still feel feelings?" Which is a really depressing way to look at everything.

Or, the secret Third option: Studio said "Lol Lucifer sluttin his way through life is funny. How many people can we make him boink in an episode?" And it's nothing deeper than that.

#I spend way too much time thinking deeply about this show #TL;DR I agree with OP second idea and the rest is evidence of why I do #Also #and this is besides the point #but “I'm asexual not blind” is an amazing quote that made me chuckle XD #I love Lucifer but a lot of the headcams I come up with for him just make me sad #...but somehow in a good way???#huh ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

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scarlettriot · 3 years ago

Text

Along for the Ride PT 1

Pairing: KirishimaxF!Reader

Summary: A drunken mistake had you marking the little Plus One box to your snobby cousin's wedding. Kirishima told you not to worry, if you couldn't find a date, he'd go with you. When the wedding gets moved up, there's absolutely no time to find a date and you're now about to be traveling to America with Kirishima on a private jet no less, dreading having him meet your rude and impossibly arrogant family.

Contains: Kirishima and Reader both come from very well-off families. Plus-Sized Reader. Fluff. Hurt/Comfort.

Warnings: Kinda smutty for a minute. Minors DNI. Drunken Sex. TW: Manipulative Family Relationships. TW: Body Image Issues

A/N: This story has been rolling around in my head for a while now. I might rewrite this and repost. Or I might just post the whole thing soon. I dunno yet. It does get smuttier.

Word Count: 4,974

"What's up with Y/N?"

Eijiro stepped out of the locker room with a towel slung over his shoulder and made his way into the kitchenette where Mina was chugging a bottle of water before getting back to her patrol. His eyes were trained on their mutual friend out on the patio, pacing.

You had your phone pressed to your ear, the high neck of your hero costume unzipped to your collarbone and he noticed your gloves discarded on a chair.

"No clue." Mina shrugged. "She got back from patrol and she noticed a bunch of missed calls from her mom. She's been out there, flailing on the phone for the last fifteen minutes now."

The three of you had met in your second year at UA when you transferred into their class and were quickly accepted by their little squad of friends. You were a bit quiet at first but quickly found comfort in the group. Eijiro had grown especially close to you when you both interned with Fat Gum.

Late nights traveling on the train back to school, a few close calls while helping patrol, and days spent playing cards while you both healed up in the hospital left plenty of time for Eijiro to get to know you better than most. It was how he knew you had a pretty bad relationship with your family, why you hated returning home for the holidays almost as much as you hated any and all forms of tomatoes.

He considered going out there just to see if there was anything he could do but before he had the chance, you were sliding the glass door open. "Oh, good, you're back." He offered you a bottle of water for your throat that he assumed was sore after that argument. "I- um- can I borrow you for a second? Alone?"

Mina snorted a laugh. "If you guys wanna bang it out on the counter you can just say so. I gotta go to work anyways."

Eijiro threw the towel at her as she left the room leaving you two alone. "What's goin' on?"

You hoisted yourself up on the countertop while he leaned against the fridge. "You remember my cousin's wedding that's happening this winter?"

He nodded. He vividly remembered the both of you getting waste a few weeks ago when you were filling out the RSVP and accidentally marking 'plus one'. Then you ran around trying to find White Out but he'd told you if you didn't find a date or have a significant other by the time of the wedding, he'd just go with you.

You argued that your family was bat shit crazy, had more money than they could spend in their lifetime and because of that, they were among some of the rudest people you knew, and you didn't want Eijiro or anyone else around that.

The thing was, Eijiro already knew that and was still okay with going. He came from money too. A lot of it. His family was just more welcoming than yours, the wealth never really going to their heads. But, he reminded you that he'd ran into enough people like those in your family that he knew how to handle them. You finally agreed to let him accompany you, leaving the plus one box checked but the name line blank.

"Well, my cousin just found out that surprise, she's pregnant! And, obviously, she can't have a wedding while seven months along so they've decided to move the wedding up to this weekend."

He nearly choked on his own spit. "This weekend? As in four days from now?"

"Yup! Saturday at 4 in the evening. Oh! No one's supposed to know she's pregnant either. So, I'm just supposed to compliment her on how flattering her dress looks, how thin she is," Your hands strangled the water bottle between them, "And I have to find something flattering to my figure because my mother has seen me in my hero outfit and she's so glad I wear a mask because if anyone knew her daughter ran around looking like I do, well, it'd ruin her!"

You massaged your temples circling back to the actual point, "Anyways, I just wanted to bitch for a sec and let you know you're off the hook since four days is just a little short notice and I told her my plus one wouldn't be able to get the time off that fast."

He pushed off the fridge. "Well, wait, hang on! I'm not letting you go in alone to deal with them! Hell no! You need backup!" You looked almost taken aback by his abruptness, "Yeah. I can work this out. Is the wedding at the same place it was supposed to be or has it moved?"

"No, it's still that fancy lodge in California. I was planning on leaving Friday morning and then coming back either Sunday night or Monday morning since my mother insists I go to their brunch the following day. But, Eijiro, I already have this weekend off..."

"Denki owes me a favor or twelve. He's supposed to be off this weekend too, I'll just see if he can cover me."

"And if he can't?"

"Then..." He pressed the back of his hand to his forehead, "Y/N, am I feeling warm to you? I think I might be starting a fever!"

You folded your arms, shaking your head, "Thought you said lying isn't manly."

"Technically, correct. But, what would be real unmanly is for me to let you deal with your family's bullshit all alone." You watched him closely, "To be honest, I'm sure we could just explain you had a family thing come up and asked me to come along for moral support. I don't really think anyone would think twice about it. Hell, you took a few days off to console me when my turtle died suddenly!"

"Eiji, you refused to eat."

"And you brought me my favorite dumplings! Same thing!"

You might have shaken your head at him but your arms opened wide. The telltale sign you wanted affection. He walked forward, consuming you in a tight hug. Your arms latched around his neck, face buried in the hollow of his throat. "You're the best."

"I just do what I can."

>>><<<

You should have canceled. Instead of Eijiro faking sick to get out of work, you should have faked it with your mother so you didn't have to go in the first place. You crumpled to the floor of your bedroom in pure frustration amidst the twenty or so outfits and dozen pairs of shoes you'd thrown out of your closet trying to find something that your mother would deem appropriate.

It wasn't your fault you had a fuller figure. You worked out, ate right, not to mention your job kept you very active, and yet your, hips, ass, and breasts were by no means subtle.

Your mother had also insisted on the dress being floor-length and modern, "Do try not wearing all black. It's a wedding, not a funeral. And, get your hair looking natural, please." And, just like that, 70% of your wardrobe was out the window!

"It's open!" You called from the floor when the doorbell rang.

"You really should lock this." Mina tutted, walking through the door with a bag full of takeout.

"I do. At night."

"Honey, it's 9 PM."

"Night like bedtime."

Mina just rolled her eyes and walked into your tiny kitchen. "I see the dress hunt is going well."

"I actually figured it out!" You got off the floor, careful not to step on a heel as you made your way to the pink haired woman, "I'm just gonna go in my birthday suit. I figured, my mother made my body technically therefore she can't disapprove of it. Because, you know, she's never done anything wrong in her life!"

Your best friend snorted out a laugh and passed you the take-out container stuffed full of stir fry. "you're a wonderful person, you know that?" You loved the fact Mina didn't even have to ask what you wanted.

"If you'd just move closer to work then you could pick it up yourself and I wouldn't have to bring it to you."

"Too expensive." You declared after a mouthful. "You pay almost twice as much as I do per month and I just don't see the point. I have damn near the same amount of space you do for half the cost!"

You adored your small one-bedroom apartment. It was perfect. Right above a bakery that you visited each morning after your run and a little balcony that provided you with the most stunning view of the sunset.

"You and Kiri, I swear." Mina just shook her head and curled up with her food on the loveseat. "I thought he'd end up with the biggest house out of us all the moment we started making that real Pro money. You've seen his parent's house. It's massive! You could get lost in that place!"

Eijiro's place was barely bigger than your own. He lived in the same condo he had since you'd graduated UA, claiming it was perfect for him in each and every way. But, you knew that he donated a sizable amount of his paycheck every month to charities, the same as you. With savings to spare, neither of you saw the point in hoarding it and therefore the small condo was all he could afford with what he actually kept.

"Just don't understand how a guy that big can live in such a tiny little space. At least with you, it's you know, physically feasible."

Eijiro's bedroom was barely large enough to fit the king-sized bed the man needed to sleep comfortably and even then, his feet were dangerously close to dangling off the bed. And, as if the man's ears were burning, your cell phone went off under a pile of discarded shoes.

Shark-E: Figured out your dress situation? If not, I'm just gonna pack like ten different ties and hope for the best.

You: Yeah! I totally did! I'm just gonna wear this birthday suit I got and call it a night.

You chuckled at your own joke all over again. Watching the grey ellipses appear and then vanish, appear and vanish again. After a third time, you took pity on the man.

You: Joking, Ei. I still don't have it figured out but Mina's over so, hopefully, she can help.

Shark-E: Gonna give me a damn heart attack! Seriously, I wouldn't put it past you just to see the look on your mom's face. Tell Mina hi and good luck to you. I vote the dress from the Hero Gala two years ago.

You: Hi from Mina. Can't. Too much boobs.

Shark-E: You take that back right now! There is NEVER such a thing as too much boobs!

You chuckled to yourself, putting your phone down, and then finished off the last of your delicious dinner, thinking about the dress Eijiro mentioned.

You wondered if maybe there was a way you could make the thing work but it was so very low cut. So much tape had been used to make sure no slips happened but damn was it worth it! The beaded bodice with the sparkling long sleeves, gods, how you loved that dress.

"I'm inclined to agree with our shark boy. You're busty, who gives a damn. You looked hot as hell in that dress."

"My mother, that's who. As much as I'd like to not give a flying fuck what she thinks, for some dumb reason, I do. On top of her telling me that the amount of cleavage I would show would be vastly inappropriate for a wedding, she'd also say the way it hugs my hips makes them look too fat."

Mina rolled her eyes. "She's such a piece of work." Pushing herself up, she held her arms out to you, wiggling little pink fingers for you to take. "Come on then. Let's get you sorted."

"What about that one you wore to the charity art thingy with Kyoka last winter? The one with the silver top."

"Silver is too close to white." You called out from within your closet.

"What! Not true!"

"You know that. I know that. Every person with two brain cells knows that, which is why most of my family does not know that."

"Fine..." She whined and started sifting through the opposite end of your closet. "Oh, what about this?" Mina waved about the blue and green plaid skirt that made up your uniform from your middle school days when you lived in America. "Please try this on. I'm begging!"

You were pretty sure it wouldn't even go over your thighs anymore.

"It's got a better chance of fitting you!"

Mina threw it at you anyway. Slipping off the sweats you wore, somehow, someway, you were able to tug it on AND get it zipped, barely. It no longer covered your ass but you still enjoyed the way it swished around when you wiggled your hips.

"You could be fulfilling so many people's fantasies right now." Mina mused.

You pulled the skirt off and sweats back on, throwing the former back at her. "Yeah, you can take it and go fulfill Hanta's fantasies if you like. Not like I've got anyone to impress." You pulled down a dress you bought on sale a year ago but Mina was quick to dismiss it.

Too puffy, she said and then held up one that was from Momo. "I needed to get it shortened and I don't have time for that now."

"Wait..." She hummed and dropped the Momo dress. "I know what it should be!"

Mina hurried through the closet, grumbling about not finding it. "Just tell me which dress and I can tell you where it's at."

"It's that one you got for grad night and then you got sick and couldn't go!"

"Mina, Mina I can't wear that! That's actual vintage, not like, made-to-look-vintage!"

"But it's so elegant and has that off-the-shoulder sleeve thing. The wedding is at a damn sky lodge! It'll look so pretty in the snow! Ah! Found it!"

She yanked up the long, elegant gown from the garment bag you'd never removed it from. There wasn't a single wrinkle in the burgundy fabric. It looked just as beautiful as the day you found it in that second-hand store, on a mannequin with gaudy stage jewels that you just had to buy so the look was complete.

You ran the back of your hand over the velvety fabric, soft to the touch. "It'll be too tight now. If I was the same size I was at graduation-"

"Bullshit!" Mina cut you off with a dismissive hand, "You've got hips now. We aren't 18 anymore! It's not like it's some clubbing dress. And I bet no one would say a damn thing about your figure if they knew how easily you could crush them with those thighs!"

A smirk tugged at the corner of your lips. Without quirks, you gave every single one of your classmates a run for their money in hand to hand. Most were fairly easy to beat. You could usually take down Eijiro in about five or six minutes and Katsuki in half the time. Funny enough, it was Ochaco that gave you the hardest time.

"I'll consider it. But help me find something else just in case."

>>><<<

It was another two hours before you finally agreed on an a-line, empire waist green and gold number that had been the bridesmaid's dresses for Tetsutetsu's wedding. Mina thought they were a crime the first time they had to wear them, she had no idea what you were thinking.

That's why the moment you were preoccupied with trying to find yet another dress for the Sunday brunch, Mina pulled out her phone.

You: DO NOT, under any circumstances, allow Y/N to wear the green dress. She's bringing two because she can't decide. Red is the winner!

Jaws: Aw, come on. If she likes it, let her wear whatever she's comfortable in. She'll be under enough stress already.

You: Kirishima, it's the dress from Tetsu's wedding. The one that looks sparkly baby food.

It took him a second to respond.

Jaws: Alright. Understood. I thought you guys looked good but damn, she hated that dress.

You: We all did.

Mina looked at the message chain again and couldn't help but asked, "Are we just gonna ignore the fact that you and Eiji are flying all the way to America, last minute, to attend a wedding together, even though you're not together?"

"We've flown to the states before."

"For work!" She sat up eagerly. "This is different, Y/N! This is a date and not just a, like, casual date but a wedding date!"

You poked your head out of the closet. "No, it isn't. This is a friend helping another friend who stupidly mismarked an RSVP." You corrected very plainly but Mina wasn't one to give up so easily.

She whined, dragging out your name, "You guys have been doing this thing for ages. Why do you have to be so stubborn about it all!"

"What's that supposed to mean!"

Mina started ticking off points on her fingers. "He was the first person you opened up to at UA. You saved his life when he was busy saving Katsuki's life second year. You spent all that time interning together, became sidekicks together. Went to America together for three whole months, ALONE, and you honestly expect me to think there's nothing between the two of you!"

The truth of it all was simple really; 17 year old you had a massive crush on Eijiro Kirishima. He was sweet, always listening to you, providing comfort when you needed it, and always encouraging you to push your limits. He was bright and honest, a little slow in the head from time to time but that made him all the more endearing.

He was also head over heels in love with Katsuki Bakugo.

It was why you never made a move. Never spoke a word of the feelings you harbored. You didn't dare to cross that line with him because you couldn't ever hold a candle to the explosive man.

In the three years Eijiro and Katsuki spent together, your brain finally started registering Eijiro as just a friend, nothing more, and certainly nothing less. You thought your heart had followed suit but it was becoming more and more apparent that wasn't the case. Because the night he showed up at your door, tears in his ruby eyes, every lock you put on your heart broke open.

The same way you couldn't hold a candle to Katsuki, Eijiro couldn't hold one to Izuku. You knew exactly what he was feeling even if you never intended to tell him. Too overcome with fear. If Katsuki came back... that'd be it. Eijiro would go back and you wouldn't even blame him!

Still, the redhead consumed a decent chunk of your heart though, you couldn't deny that after the three months you spent together in America, gathering intel on a smuggling ring, living in the same apartment. The groggy, 'good mornings' when his voice was still scratchy with sleep, hair falling in his eyes. The late nights bandaging wounds and killing cheap bottles of wine while watching terrible American reality shows.

It was those bottles of wine that did you in on your second to last night in America. Supplying you with courage and draining your sense of reason, allowing you to crawl onto his lap, into his arms. You could still remember the pressure of his lips on yours, those sharp teeth gently dragging along your lower lip.

Scared hands tracing the curve of your ass before taking handfuls to squeeze. The laugh that came from you was unlike anything you heard before, something so genuine that you couldn't reproduce.

How it felt when he lifted you up and took you to his bed, laying you down taking his time removing your clothes, and watching with awe as you pulled away his own. The way he looked over top of you, his hair a curtain of red around you just before you closed your eyes, gasping while he filled you.

You also remembered the guilt that crept into your head during the wee hours of the morning, the doubt that was louder than the snores coming from behind you.

It made you slip from under his massive arm, gather up your clothes from his floor, you tucked the blanket around him, and pressed a kiss to his temple before padding out of the room.

You told yourself you'd talk to him about it if he brought it up, but he never did. Not the next morning, or night, not on the plane ride back home, nor anytime since. It was a memory you'd hold close to your heart, one you wouldn't let slip away or share.

"There's nothing there, Mina. We're just good friends is all." You lied with a smile on your face, something that had become surprisingly easy to do.

If only you knew that Mina saw right through it. That Mina already knew the truth of it all.

>>><<<

It was nearly one in the morning when your phone rang. The goofy picture of Eijiro with face half painted at a festival a few years back never failed to make you grin.

"It's a little late." You answered by way of greeting.

"Don't pretend like you were anywhere close to sleeping, you little night owl."

Chuckling at the nickname that had followed you since high school, "What's up, Eiji?"

"I was going over flights. You said in the office that you wanted to leave on Friday?"

"Yeah. I have patrol tomorrow and I didn't find any flights after 6 PM so, Friday is the earliest."

He was quiet on the other line for a moment. "Yeah, you don't have patrol tomorrow, or work at all for that matter."

You sat up a bit straighter in bed. "Um, yes I do."

"No, you don't. I called Mina, asked her if you'd mind taking that shift for you and, since she knows what's happening, she agreed the extra day for travel would do you some good. So, she's covering you tomorrow then you're off work until next Wednesday. As for me, thanks to all that overtime I put in when Denki, Kyoka, and Hitoshi got married, the three of them are splitting up my days so I have until Wednesday too."

Eijiro sounded impossibly proud on the other line, you could almost see the smirk on his face. "You've got this all planned out, don't you?"

"And a bag nearly packed. Just need you to tell me what ties to bring."

"Gold, burgundy, and black."

"Thought your mom said no black for you?"

"She said no black for the wedding. She said nothing about black at the brunch!"

You couldn't wait to put on the tea-length dress that had been a favorite for years. Satin with a lacy top and, best of all, pockets.

He let out a rumbling laugh that fell off into comfortable silence as you laid back in your bed, lights still on, the room still a mess. You tapped the speaker icon and laid the phone on the pillow right beside your head, listing to the various sounds of Eijiro moving around.

A door creaking open, a hanger clattering against another, and a zipper. "And just like that, I'm all set."

"Don't forget your passport or hero license."

"I have one in my wallet and the other in my backpack."

You swiped up on your iPad, off Netflix, and going to google, lazily searching through flights. "So, did you find any good flights since you've clearly been looking?"

Another chuckle, "Eijiro, why are you laughing?" More stifled giggles had you sitting up in bed again. "Just tell me a site you were on. They're just flights, what's so funny?"

"There isn't a site."

"You said you were checking flights."

"And I was... on my family's jet."

"Eiji! No! No, no, no! That is supposed to be for their business or hero things! My stupid cousin's wedding is neither of those things!"

"Relax, Y/N. My family has multiple and they don't have any business trips planned right now anyways. I already cleared it with my mom. Seriously, I just mention your name and she's likely to let me have it for a whole year at least. Plus Todoroki's is back up in working order so the agency is covered too."

Damn, why'd he have to be so good at planning from time to time! You'd completely forgotten about the second jet his family had. Always opting for the larger one since the few missions they needed it for required them to bring fifty or so heroes along.

"Besides, if we fly private, we can land at an airstrip closer to the venue and won't need to drive four hours on top of a ten-hour flight."

"Alright, okay, thank you but, let me take care of the rental car, please. It's the least you can let me do."

"Deal. I just have one more question for ya."

"What's that?"

"Wanna leave tonight?"

You nearly dropped your damn iPad in shock. "Eijiro! What the fuck has gotten into you! It's the middle of the night!"

"I'm excited!" He boomed, "I haven't had a vacation in months!"

"I hate to break this to you, buddy, but this isn't going to be a vacation. You really shouldn't get your hopes up. This isn't going to be a good time with laughs and fun memories... my family, they just, they aren't those kinds of people."

"But we are." He stated matter-of-factly. "If they want to have sticks up their asses then let them! We'll have a good time on our own, laugh and make fun memories! So, what do you say, Y/N? I can be at your place in fifteen. I just gotta put shoes on and grab my keys..."

"Wait, hang on. Are you forgetting that we need someone to, oh, I dunno, FLY THE PLANE! Actually, we need two someone's, can't forget about a co-pilot!"

He hummed happily and you rubbed your temples. "You, you have a pilot and a co, don't you, Eiji?"

"Mhm! There is a company we use. Two can be at the hanger in an hour and every hour after that. I just have to make the call and get the flight plan approved which will be done before I even get to your house."

There was literally no reason to say no. You had mostly everything packed, nothing you needed to get from the store, all you had to do was put on pants and pack up your hygiene bag and you were ready too. Maybe getting there quicker and getting the whole thing over with would be better than staying home dwelling on everything.

"Better put your shoes on."

The glee in his voice, that was enough to make this whole thing worth it, "I'll see you soon."

>>><<<

Eijiro reached into the backseat and plopped a bag down on your lap the very moment you were buckled in. "Had to make a pit stop." He explained.

"It's after two in the morning, where'd you have to..."

"Just open the bag and don't complain."

You found it filled to the brim with all your favorite snacks.

"I'm sure the plane will have a bunch of snacks we can raid but I know for a fact they don't have these." He held up a pack of cookies and creme flavored pocky that had been his favorite for as long as you'd known him, quickly followed by your favorite flavor too. You also found a massive bag of gummy worms and jolly ranchers.

"So, what you're telling me is our teeth are going to rot by the time we land? Not that I'm complaining."

You ripped open the bag of ranchers knowing that was what he'd go for first and sure enough his hand dove inside just as he pulled away from the curb. You could hear his dangerously sharp teeth biting through the rock candy like it was nothing while you still rolled one around your mouth.

Eijiro asked you about the resort you'd be going to, wondering if you'd been there before or what other stuff you guys could do when you weren't dealing with your family. "I figured we could fly back Monday night or Tuesday morning, you know, just play it by ear in case there was anything else we wanted to do."

More than anything, you wished you could just leech a little bit of that excitement from him. The glimpses of his smile you caught as you drove under the street lights made your heart ache.

"What?" He asked with that wide smile of his. You'd been caught staring, red-handed.

"I, uh, I just don't know what to tell you."

You could see the subtle change of his grin, watch as it softened and his hand came to rest on your thigh. "Hey, it's gonna be fine! And if we run into them while out doing stuff, you can just avoid them or hide behind me!" At least hiding behind Eijiro is an easy thing to do, damn mountain of a man.

His thumb slowly brushed back and forth. "'S gonna be okay. I'll beat 'em up if they're assholes!"

You snickered at his Katsuki impression and let the drone of the radio fill the air around you both. Enjoying the silence the rest of the way to the hanger with Eijiro's hand atop your leg.

#mha #bnha #kirishima x reader #kirishima x y/n #eijiro kirishima #kirishima smut #mha x reader #mha x y/n

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