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coldfanbou · 2 months ago

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Kinkcember Day 25: Mindbreak

This piece happened to fit perfectly with the little AU that I was creating, so I slotted it in with minor edits. Showtime and Be Sure of it are the other smuts that fit in this AU you can find them on my masterlist. This piece does have some Natty but is mostly focused on Tsuki. Also gangbangs for them

Length 3K

Tsuki gangbang, Natty x Mreader

Tsuki rushed into the building, passing staff. She went to the dressing room to change into her work attire, a skimpy light blue maid outfit: the tiny skirt she wore barely covered her ass, and a g-string pulled high, her top revealed the bottom of her heavy breasts and just about covered her hard nipples. Coming out the door quickly, she walked over to the lobby and moved straight to the staff member behind the counter. “Hey, sorry I’m late. Is there any chance you could recommend me to more customers tonight? I really need the money.”

“Tsuki…be honest, you’re on another buying spree, aren’t you?” Tsuki scratched her ear; of course, the staff knew she had trouble saving money.

“Yeah,” She admitted shamefully. “C’mon, please, recommend me. I just a lot of work.” Tsuki pleaded, knowing her bills were going to catch up with her.

“There is another job you can take, but I wouldn’t recommend it. Did you see the flyer on the wall in the dressing room?”

“No, what flyer?”

“It’s this year’s party job. You know the one, right? Yuna took it last year.” Tsuki nods, and foggy memories of it come to her mind. “Well, anyway, it pays a lot of money—more than you can make in a week here, no offense. I just mean with time limitations and everything. No one has taken the job; you can think about it.” Tsuki thinks about it and tries to bring up more memories of what the party entailed.

“I think I’ll take it.”

“Tsuki, are you sure you want to take the job? These tend to put a lot of stress on the worker doing it. You’ve seen how Yuna was left after going through with it.” Tsuki bites her fingertip as she considers her options. Her spending habits caught up with her, and she needed to make a lot of money fast. The usual visitors at Tinkerbell wouldn’t be enough this time. She also knew how Yuna had changed since she had volunteered for the job, and it wasn’t just her. Tsuki remembered hearing the stories from the older workers; some women were driven crazy and were kept in a special part of the building, the dungeon. Tsuki thought these stories were meant to frighten her, but now she wasn’t so sure. Yuna took the annual party job last year, and Tsuki had barely seen her since then. “Tsuki, you don’t have to take the job, you know. As much as they don’t want the previous girls they’ve had, they’ll choose one of them if they have to.”

As Tsuki continued considering her options, another worker entered the building. The staff quickly turned to them and said, “Hello, Natty. Are you coming in for a shift?”

“Yep! It’s about that time!” She chirps before noticing the Tsuki. “Hi Tsuki! What’s up?”

The staff speaks for the young woman, “Tsuki is considering taking the party job. You’ve seen the notice in the dressing room, right?”

Natty nods, “Yeah, I was considering it too. It sounds like fun.”

Hearing that, Tsuki spoke up. “I’ll take the job,” She says nervously.

“Aww, well, I hope you have a good time, Tsuki.” Natty pats her friend on the back before heading to her room.

“Alright then, Tsuki. I’ll put you down and make the arrangements; good luck. You better prepare yourself; I’d suggest taking the day off today. I’ll send you an email to give you the details when everything is set.” Tsuki gives the staff a slight nod and heads on her way, making it home and sitting on her couch, wondering what she just signed herself up for. The young woman waited for the email to come, starved for information on what exactly the party would entail. Soon enough, it arrived. “Tsuki for the party job will take place in a week. You’ll arrive at this address at seven p.m., wearing just a coat and nothing underneath. There will be about fifty guests, so I recommend taking an energy drink or something beforehand so you have the energy to last the entire time. BDSM is the theme here so you will be tied up. That is all the information I have, good luck.” Tsuki read and reread the email, which must’ve been a hundred times before everything finally settled in. She took a deep breath and laid back on the couch.

The next few days, Tsuki spent time with herself, trying to prepare mentally for the event. Once she got the money for the job, she paid her debt, having just enough to have some money left over for herself. When the day arrived, she went to the location, a large hotel. She was dressed as told, wearing just an overcoat with nothing underneath. Tsuki felt embarrassed to be walking around wearing nothing underneath. It wasn’t like at Tinkerbell, where the only people who saw her naked were the people she was trying to get to come in. Tsuki quickly walked to the hotel’s event hall and gave her name, being led inside and to the back. It was a rather large room, one that had a raised stage in the back. She was led there behind heavy curtains and given instructions.

The man leading her to the back watched her carefully. He was part of the group the event was for, “Thank you for accepting the job. I hope you’re able to have a wonderful night like the past workers have. Now, if you don’t mind, I can take your coat. We need to get you set up. Oh, and take this. It is a slight aphrodisiac. It always helps get people in the mood.” The man hands Tsuki a small bottle; it looks like water to the young woman. Tsuki didn’t dare drink it yet but handed over her coat. The young woman covered her body, using one arm to cover her breasts while the other was used to cover her slit. This only lasted so long as the other event workers got Tsuki ready to put her in the bondage she’d have for the night. Tsuki looked at the bottle she was given earlier and gulped it down before letting the men begin.

They began at her arms, moving them behind her back and tying them together tightly. The men tied the ropes around Tsuki's body, attaching her to a horizontal pole, making sure she was well supported. Tsuki answered their questions whenever they asked about how it felt. They worked together to make sure she was comfortable. They finished the process by spreading Tsuki’s legs, making her do the splits, and tying her legs to the pole. Tsuki looked down, embarrassed to see her legs spread so wide for everyone to see.

Strung up, Tsuki looked around; she saw all eyes on her. She wanted to shut her legs but couldn’t. When she tried to, she felt the ropes dig into her skin. She felt vulnerable, knowing that everyone was able to see her cunt. With her hands tied behind her back, she couldn’t even cover herself. “Welcome everyone to today’s event! This evening, we have Tsuki providing us with her service. We all know she has a very expressive face, so let's see what we can do with her tonight.” Tsuki’s body began to turn away from the audience, the rigging moving her back and to the side, making her face a curtain

. “Tonight, on top of Tsuki, another lady is joining us. Please lower the curtain!” The curtain drops at the announcer's command, and behind it is Natty. She is tied up in the same position as Tsuki, her tits hanging out just the same as she remains naked. The rigging begins to move, and the idols face each other; Tsuki stares at her friend, the slightly older woman, who is already wet.

Natty smiled at her friend, waving her hand as much as she could. “What are you doing here, Natty?” Tsuki was nearly yelling, but the announcer made it impossible for anyone in the crowd to hear her.

“I wanted to do this, so I asked the staff if I could join you.”

“Haven’t you heard of any of the stories of the older girls?”

“Yeah, there are a few, but I can handle it. I’m a strong girl.” Natty replies, a smug smile on her face. Tsuki worries for her friend, but any concern is brushed aside as Natty smiles at her.

The announcer begins the event with a yell that catches both women’s attention: “Let the show begin!” The women turned their heads toward the crowd, watching as a small group moved up some stairs toward them.

“Let’s get started!” Natty chirped. The women were blocked from each other’s line of sight as their group surrounded them. The men ran their hands over their bodies. In Tsuki's case, most found a place touching her legs and ass. The small woman couldn’t keep her voice hidden; the moment one of the men’s hands ventured to her sli,t she let out a loud moan. This only excited the men; they began to pull out their cocks. Some jerked themselves off to the sight of the young woman bound in the air; others became more proactive. Tsuki continued to moan as she felt hands move across her tits, squeezing the large mounds. They tugged and pinched her nipples while others sucked on her neck, marking her. The young woman squirmed, the pleasure becoming greater as the aphrodisiac she had taken really took effect. The moment she felt one of the men’s cocks rub against her slit, she groaned. Her body ached for it, wanting it to fill her. She looked at the man in front of her, barely able to read the name tag on his jacket. “Leo,” it read. The young struggled to keep a clear mind; she could only think about all the hands touching her. She gasped as Leo pushed his cock inside her, the first one of the night. Tsuki moaned his name as he held onto her waist and pushed himself deep inside her. The young woman continued to moan as they ravaged her; they turned her head and kissed her as she began to lose herself to the pleasure.

What brought her mind back for a moment was a man playing with her ass pushing a slick finger into her asshole. She could feel him rubbing her walls as Leo continued thrusting in her cunt. Tsuki grimaced, whining as she was made to cum, covering Leo’s cock in her slick. He continued thrusting, though, getting close to cumming when one of the men behind Tsuki pushed his cock against her puckered asshole. “Wait! I’m not ready!” Tsuki tried to shout, stopping midway as she felt the man’s cock spread her ass apart and push into her guts. Tsuki screamed out, cumming again as she became absolutely full. Like dominoes, this led to Leo cumming inside her, pumping her womb full of his cum. Tsuki’s eyes rolled into the back of her head, and her tongue wagged in the air as the rush of pleasure fed into her growing need for more. Another man, Eli, quickly replaced Leo, ramming his cock into Tsuki. He kissed the young woman as he thrust into her.

Tsuki could feel her entire body tingling as the hands never stopped moving on her; they squeezed her tits harder, played with her clit. It was all too much for the young woman who was cumming near constantly. The only thing Tsuki wanted was for this pleasure never to end.

Natty was getting the same treatment on the other side of the stage. Her body was being ravaged much the same, but she was faring better. It was your turn up now, and you slid yourself into Natty’s sloppy cunt. Four men had already cum inside her tight cun,t and now you knew why. Natty moaned loudly as you began thrusting. She leaned in, begging you for a kiss. You gave her one, exploring her mouth as she flexed her muscles and tightened her walls around you. You could feel your partner Al’s cock rub against yours through her thin walls. It was a wonder you hadn’t cum already, considering the young woman’s skill. You reached up and grabbed at her breasts, the heavy mounds filling your palms and overflowing as you squeezed them. Natty’s moans grew louder as you began, and Al moved in sync, punishing both her holes at the same time. Natty broke the kiss, throwing her head back as her walls clamped down on you and Al. The young woman made both of you cum. You poured your seed into her cunt while Al did so with her guts. You stayed inside her, though wanting to go a little longer. “Oh? Ready to go again?” Natty muttered as she took heavy breaths. You nod and begin to thrust into her again, drilling her womb with every movement inwards.

“Oh, god, yes. Fuck me up.” Natty groaned as she felt your cock ram against her cunt. Her moaning got louder as someone else took Al’s place and stuffed her ass. The Thai woman licked her lips and struggled against her bindings. She wanted more; she wanted every cock for herself. Your thrusts, combined with the other man’s, were enough to satiate her for now.

Natty was able to keep her mind on herself as she felt cum pouring out of her with every thrust. This might not have been what she imagined tonight to be like, but the constant sex was a highlight. You came inside Natty a second time before finally pulling out. Your cock was replaced by another soon enough, and you watched as Natty continued on.

When you turned to look at how Tsuki was doing, it was like night and day. Natty still had her wits, while Tsuki was completely mindless. She just begged for more cocks, cum was pouring out of her holes, puddling on the floor below her. You head back to your seat now that you are finished and begin to relax, watching as the two women are continuously fucked by your group. You chatted with the others, discussing everything from the women to the news and what was going on in your lives, all the while watching the women continue to moan and cum. It was amazing to see Natty hold up so well after a good two hours of nonstop sex. Tsuki hadn’t done so well; she was slumped over and passed out from the looks of it. The men had gotten messy on her side of things and painted her body with their cum, coating her legs and chest. You, along with the other, left once the event was over.

Natty got a closer look at the young woman. When the crowd had disappeared, she saw Tsuki’s tired body. She managed to hear the woman mutter something. Once she was unbound, Natty wobbled over to her friend and found Tsuki muttering about needing more cock. Tsuki tiredly reached for Natty, her mouth open like she was expecting one, only to shut when she saw Natty’s messy cunt. “Tsuki, are you okay?” Natty asked, shaking the young woman back and forth gently. Tsuki could only mumble the same word over and over again. Natty asked a staff member for help and got it together. They went to one of the bathrooms, where Natty helped bathe the younger woman, cleaning her body. At the time they were bathing, Tsuki slowly came back to reality.

Returning home, Tsuki didn’t feel the same. She felt like something was missing, her hand wandered down to her slit, and she began to play with herself. She moaned loudly, memories of the night floating through her mind. Tsuki rolled to her nightstand, pulling out a dildo and ramming it into her cunt. It triggered something in her; she came almost instantly but continued to pump it into her cunt. The dildo wasn’t enough, though; she needed to feel hands on her body, touching every part of her. Tsuki reached up, grabbing her tits and pulling on her nipple. She moaned loudly, cumming on the dildo again. As soon as she pulled it out, Tsuki sucked on it, filling her throat with the toy as she fingered herself. She could hardly sleep as the feeling stayed with her.

Tsuki was barely able to make it to Tinkerbell, and the need to touch herself almost overcame her. The staff stopped her when she came in, noticing her behavior. “Tsuki, it’s good to have you back, but you’re acting like Yuna after her time. We have a place for you,” he says before leading Tsuki down the spiral staircase she had used so many times to get to the dressing room. The staff continues down, though, heading two levels deeper. He pushes in a door, and instantly, he and Tsuki’s ears are flooded by the sounds of moans. “Welcome to the dungeon, Tsuki, or as the ladies in here would call it, paradise.” Tsuki takes a step inside; it is a long corridor full of large open cells, like a prison. As she looks around, she sees some old coworkers being fucked, a look of pure bliss on their faces. Tsuki can feel the arousal inside her growing. She thought she would fear the dungeon, but the more she saw, the more she wanted to stay here.

“The system is a little different down here than it is up top. You’ll still get paid and all, but it’s a flat rate. It hard to keep track of things when you girls get so cock hungry.” The staff sighs, “Well, join any cell you want. You’re free to move between any. Chase your pleasure; this is your welfare system of sorts.” Tsuki took in these words, rather than risk fucking strangers at random on the street; it was better to have the workers come down here to get their energy out. Tsuki said as much to the staff member, who nodded. “Exactly, the boss saw it a few times and made this place. Anyway…go, enjoy yourself. The girls will tell you everything you need to know.” The staff member placed his hands on the small of her back and pushed Tsuki forward before closing the door and leaving. Tsuki could feel the dampness in her panties growing as she listened to the sounds of the girls moaning. Seeing a group of men standing by around another worker, she walked to them and offered herself up, stuffing herself on their cocks. Tsuki felt content, her mind melting into pure bliss as she felt herself become full again.

#kpop smut #male reader #m reader #billlie smut #tsuki smut #natty smut #kiss of life smut

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aliesbienish · 5 months ago

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Hi!! I was wondering if you could please write a Paul x reader where the reader is super pregnant and is hungry all the time and eats the most random stuff and the pack teases her about it until Paul puts his foot down and tells them to back off

Thank you! I’m really enjoying the study of wolves🤍

Hi lovely anon, thank you for this sweet request - I had a lot of fun writing it. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do x

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Recipe for Pack

There was no doubt who this baby belonged to, even in the womb. Since a few months into your pregnancy you’d been insatiably hungry, snacking continuously. Paul had always been the same, of course his excuse was his shifting. Unfairly that meant he got super hearing and strength while you needed to pee constantly and had nausea that rudely didn’t limit itself to the morning. So constant eating wasn’t an issue, it was the cravings that were becoming a hassle.

Paul, being a secret softie, had tried to cater to your every whim. Whether it was chocolate covered zucchini’s or melted cheese topped ice cream, he kept the judgement to a minimum. However these odd cravings did often lead to late night trips to the nearest 24 hour store located in Forks, a forty minute round trip. One particularly bad evening had him chauffeuring you 70 miles at 3am to Port Angeles, purely for a a chocolate milkshake and fries that got dipped into it. It was a miracle the machine wasn't broken.

But while Paul was nothing but accomodating, it couldn't always be said for the rest of his pack mates. Eating a hot dog with raspberry jam caused Jared to make vomiting noises. Adding leftover mash potato to a smore prompted Quil to question whether you needed a visit to a psychologist. Even sweetheart Seth made a quip that your cravings seemed like ingredients to a witches potion. Which was probably fair, as you munched on a buttered bread covered with rosemary.

But one comment, made sitting around Emily and Sam's dinning table took it too far.

Sitting with what to you seemed like a delightful combination of peanut butter and hot sauce bagels topped with orange slices, it was enough to elicit a groan.

"This seems to be getting way beyond normal now. I'm beginning to wonder if you are actually having these cravings or if you just like to make everyone else uncomfortable!" Jacob declared jokingly, but with your out of control emotions it was enough to stop you mid bite and feel shame.

"Right? I think next she'll just eat straight from the trash, it's not like she is far off!" Laughed Quil, causing laughter around the table.

Your eyes watered as you choked out "I'm sorry,"

"No, don't you dare apologise." Paul stated, gently placing his hands on your shoulders. "It's these morons who have no right to be teasing you." Turning to address the pack he gave them a hard stare. "You are all being absolute dicks. She's trying to survive extreme changes to her body, something we should be particularly understanding about, but instead your being rude and judgemental. If you all don't get your shit together and start being supportive then I will absolutely see if beating some sense into you in wolf form will help the process,"

The next evening you were all once again sitting around the dining table. The pack, showing their support, were all eating your newest and rather tame craving - chocolate covered bacon.

Sam got everyones attention and raised his fork in a toast "To our newest pack member,". The rest of the pack raised their own cutlery and echoed the sentiment.

This time the tears in your eyes were from happiness.

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#twilight x reader #twilight fanfiction #twilight #twilight imagine #paul lahote x reader #paul x reader #paul lahote imagine #paul lahote fanfic #paul lahote

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threeacttragedy · 3 months ago

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Entry 10: The One About the Audibly Loud Lukola FanFic

I’ll address the elephant in the room. And, no, I’m not talking about Jake Dunn’s brown suit! Or, that he’s posing with a man. Or, that Tyler commented “Bellissimo!!!!” on Jake's post.

I don’t think a lot of people understood the connection I was making this morning about “Mis-Directed,” Gwilym Lee, and Jake. So, now I feel the need to explain because I don’t want people running with a narrative that goes in the opposite direction of where I was taking it.

Sorry, JVN, you’re getting pushed to the side again. I promise, I’ll get to you one day.

Let’s go back two months…

On September 25, Nicola posted to her Instagram stories a link to Alex Babsky’s post, which was a picture of Nicola. She had her hair and make-up done but she was wearing one of her own dresses (the black dress she wore in Australia and Brazil). Babsky captioned his post “[pink bow] @nicolacoughlan in London today for…well, never mind what for actually [laughing emoji with hand over mouth] [winking emoji] [shushing emoji].” Nicola responded, “You’re amazing it was so gorgeous to see you xxx.”

Babksy’s caption sent the fandom into hysteria wondering what the hell Nicola was up to. It didn’t help that this was the same day Luke updated his Instagram bio and used “Xx” and it didn’t help that Nicola was wearing the black dress she allegedly wore on her beach walk in Brazil with Luke.

Do you want to know what I thought the photo of Nicola was from? I’m not going to lie – I thought it was pre-wedding makeup. Seriously, not kidding. It reminded me of my own wedding day. Formal hair and makeup and my own dress that was easy to take off without messing up the hair and makeup. I never said I wasn’t a little bit delulu.

On November 5, an author named Lucy Parker announced on her Instagram feed that she had a new Audible book called “Mis-Directed” being released in February 2025. The post came with pictures of Nicola wearing the black dress and the same hair and makeup as the September 25 post. Nicola (presumably) is reading the part of Hattie Murton, and Gwilym Lee (presumably) is reading the part of Anthony Rafe.

Oh, okay.

Turns out, I was wrong.

So, Nicola and Luke didn’t get married.

Fine.

I have always liked crows.

But, wait a minute – what the fuck is this Audible book about? A woman who stars in a romantic drama called “Leicester Square” (what the fuck?) which was adapted from a best-selling romance novel (what the fuck??). Then, in comes our antagonist, Anthony Rafe, who plays opposite of Hattie and, let me quote here, “But when very real chemistry sparks during their scripted love scenes, Hattie begins to think the industry’s legendarily heartless Bad Guy [Anthony] might just a have a pulse after all. And Anthony, for his part, is caught off-guard by the way his heart races when he’s around his aggravating onscreen lover. As reality starts to imitate art a little too close for comfort, the world’s most unlikely couple might just have more in common than they thought…” (what the fuck???).

Let’s start with Leicester Square. What the hell is Leicester Square? Oh, the name of the fake television show on which Hattie and Anthony star. Sure, Jan. Is it odd to anyone else that Leicester Square is the name of the location of where the London premiere of Bridgerton Season 3 took place? You know, the event that happened hours before Papsmear.

Then we have the make-believe show being adapted from a best-selling romance novel. Mmm hmm.

Let’s try and not make the connection between Luke and Anthony. Mmm hmm.

And, let’s add fuel to the fire and have two co-stars falling in love with each other.

Yeah, we get it. It’s a Lukola FanFic being read by none other than Nicola. I mean, the only way it could be any better is if Luke was reading the part of Anthony Rafe! But, no, that part is being read by Gwilym Lee (who is fantastic in everything he does, by the way).

Who is Gwilym Lee? Well, he’s an actor (my father calls him “Midsomer”). Ask Mr. Google about him. But, if you check out his Instagram feed, you will find that he knows Jake and has since, at least, 2022. Is it possible that Nicola met Gwilym through Jake? Yeah, it is.

Now, why do I find this situation intriguing? Specifically, why did I find the post from Jake this morning posing with Gwilym interesting (and a bit shady)? Let me explain.

The Jakholes took the “Mis-Directed” FanFic as shade towards the Lukolas. Yes, they went there because that FanFic does not (in the least) fit nicely into their Jakola narrative. I mean, if it wasn’t shade to the Lukolas, how weird the storyline must have been for Jake! The writing was audibly on the wall, in big red letters, but the Jakholes chose to spin it into something messier than my hair in the morning after sleeping on it wet.

What exactly is this theory? Well, per the Jakholes, Nicola hates the Lukola fandom so much that she sat and read (likely, for hours) this Lukola-coded FanFic just to spite us! I mean, Anthony is a bad boy in this story and “everyone loves to hate” him (don’t forget, Luke became the devil incarnate after Papsmear). And, Hattie is tired of the “brutal press, overly invested fans, and a cutthroat industry…[that] would give even Pollyanna an edge of cynicism.” The Jakholes believe this means Nicola is saying she’s really in love with Jake and she wants us all to know that by reading a Harlequin-style romance about a woman who falls in love with her costar! Oh, my God!! How could she?!

What in the actual fuck are the Jakholes drinking with this bullshit? I know, I know. I shouldn’t expect anything better from people who ship Jake with Nicola. In fact, if I was a Jakhole, I might buy into this conspiracy theory. But, I’m not a fucking Jakhole. And, guess what Jakholes? I don’t mind breaking the hearts of Lukolas by saying we’re probably never going to see sexy-hot Brazil pictures of Luke and Nicola, so I don’t mind telling Jakholes to put this theory back into Davy Jones’ locker and feed it to that bitch Kraken.

Let’s talk a bit further about the absurdity of this “Nicola is shading Lukola” subplot from Hell.

We will pretend Nicola hates Luke. She hates Lukola. She baits the Lukola fandom for shits and giggles.

What would this make Nicola?

It would make her a villain, for starters (and “villain” is me being extremely nice).

More importantly, it would make Nicola a PR nightmare.

Even if Nicola and Luke despised each other, do you believe Netflix, Bridgerton, and Shonda Land would allow Nicola to play games with the Lukola fandom? Talk about playing with fire!

The reality is the lines between Polin and Lukola are heavily blurred at this point. I hate to say it – and maybe a lot of you will view me as a complete asshole after I say this – but, if I learned Nicola was shading the Lukolas (therefore, in my opinion, trolling Luke), I would not be interested in Bridgerton Season 4. Or, Season 5. Or, any season after that. Or, in Nicola, for that matter. You’re welcome to have your own opinion about this but I would feel incredibly betrayed, and not just by Nicola. On top of that, for me, Polin has become Lukola. They’re so blurred, they don’t even resemble a line anymore. Maybe that’s a bad position to be in, but that’s where I’m at. Sorry, not sorry.

I’m not going to rehash the breadcrumbs left by Nicola that support Lukola – if you know, you know (or you can catch up by spending an afternoon on Tumblr). Even Luke, in his own way, leaves Lukola-coded crumbs. We also have damn convincing evidence that Netflix, Bridgerton, and Shonda Land support Lukola. I mean, even they’re blurring the lines with “Nicola and Luke’s Cutest Moments” and interestingly timed images of Polin. So, do you think they’re going to let Nicola fuck with that on a public forum?

That would be a cold, hard NO.

But, this Audible book – “Mis-Directed” – is loud and made louder because Nicola is reading it.

So, what is this Audible book? Shade? Or, Nicola being cutesy? I’m going to place my bets on the latter solely because, like I said, the Corporate Office is not going to let Nicola shade Lukola because it has a direct effect on Polin.

That’s not to say that the excitement of this Lukola-coded “Mis-Directed” FanFic wasn’t attacked by the Jakholes from all sides, and the wind – for the moment – was kicked out of it. That’s a different story for a different day.

But, what I found so intriguing about Jake’s post today is that, of all the people he could have included in his photo (because there’s obviously lots of people at this event), he chose Gwilym. And, this means people will look into Gwilym. People will realize that Gwilym is the other side of “Mis-Directed.” People will realize Jake and Gwilym are friends. People will realize that Jake’s friend is reading a Lukola-themed romance novel with Nicola.

And, if we agree that the book is not shade towards the Lukolas and we agree that Jakola is not real, what is the significance of the connection between Jake and Gwilym? Maybe it’s nothing. Maybe I’m overthinking it. But, the connection – at least in my mind (and it’s been there since November 5) – is that Jake supports “Mis-Directed” because he supports Lukola and he has always been there, helping Nicola lay the breadcrumbs. He wanted people to look into Gwilym and make the connection. Jake could very well be the one who suggested Gwilym read the part of Anthony. Jake is the degree of separation.

I want to close this out by noting that Jake also liked the post Nicola has pinned on her Instagram grid – the black and white one about her Time 100 article. You know, the one where Nicola says, “A lot of people really want me to marry Luke.” Follow the links and it will take you to this article. That’s an interestingly placed like by Jake, in my opinion – as is his photo op with Gwilym.

#lukola #luke newton #nicola coughlan #my thoughts #my opinion #speculation only

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defectiveporcelaindoll · 8 months ago

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Chapter 1: The Manuscript

“He thought about how they said-

Since she was wise beyond her years everything had been above board. Now he wasn’t sure…”

series masterlist

pairing: Spencer Reid x BAU AFAB!Reader

summary: an unsub with a taste for couples and power imbalances leads Doctor Spencer Reid not only back into the classroom but down the hypothetical aisle with the BAU's newest Probie for an undercover assignment that may change his life.

genre: slow-burn romance?

cw: age gap (Spencer is in his 40s, reader is 24), a couple y/n’s (I’m sorry, I know I’m sick of it too.), fake marriage, possibly eventual smut in later parts we’ll see, female reader she/her pronouns, bad writing! lemme know if I missed anything! And as always, lemme know what you think!

wordcount: 1.3k

“The professor said the write what you know”

Spencer sat at his desk, anxiously scribbling away at a case file that he knew he simply wasn’t ready to hand over just yet. Not ready to let go or say goodbye. The office was deserted with the exception of Emily still fussing around in her office like she always was these days, just like Hotch before her, and Gideon before him. Back in the days when he was the youngest member of the team— god how things had changed.

“Looking backward might be the only way to move forward-”

six months prior:

"Come on, Em. She’s too young. I’d hardly say she has any real-life experience, and as helpful as she’s been, she certainly doesn’t have the field experience. And you want to drop her into an undercover operation at a university thousands of miles away? I just can’t logically wrap my mind around how you think this is our best option,” Spencer sighed, anxiously pacing the length of Emily’s office. Maybe it was the lights, but more likely it was the outlandish plans being laid before him that were bringing on the all-too-familiar throb of a migraine.

Emily cleared her throat, glancing up at Spencer with a tight-lipped, not-quite smile. “If you would let me finish, I wouldn’t be sending her alone. I’d be sending her with you. The unsub—or rather, unsubs—are targeting couples where the man,” she pointed to him, eyes widening as if to say keep up, “in the relationship comes from a position of power above the woman.” She wildly waved her hand toward the door, motioning to the woman sitting just outside the office.

“You’d be posing as a professor, which technically isn’t anything new for you. Though we might have to rub a little dirt on your good name.” She shrugged, glancing back down to shuffle through the pile of files on her desk until she found the one she was looking for, holding it out for Spencer. “A handsome professor and his new, albeit young, ex-TA of a wife... forced to move after your relationship went public. Tragic.” She quirked a brow, offering Spencer a playful smirk. He did not return it, instead rolling his eyes as he thumbed through the file containing what could be his life for the next couple of months.

“Look, if we place you both at the university, she’ll fit in with the students, you’ll fit in with the professors, and now we have eyes and ears everywhere we need them. It’s logical enough, Spencer, and she’s already agreed as long as you’re up for it.”

There was a long pause as Spencer’s mind ran wild, figuring the probability of everything that could and likely would go wrong if he agreed to this plan.

“Look, we’ll even count this towards thirty days of teaching if that sweetens the deal at all?” Prentiss let out an exhausted sigh. Clearly, this was her only option, and everyone else, even the higher-ups, had approved this plan. It all now sat on Spencer’s shoulders. All he needed to do was agree.

“Fine…” he mumbled, his palm digging into his eye socket briefly trying to dull the growing pain behind his eyes. If Prentiss noticed, she chose not to address it. “Great! See, maybe it’ll be good for you? The faculty housing looks nice-ish..? And you’ve gotta admit, Y/N is sweet. I think she’ll learn a lot from you.”

Before Emily could finish her statement, Spencer turned on his heels, stalking out of the Unit Chief's office past the probie, her doe eyes fixed on him like he was a predator. Her gaze startled him in a way that sent him tripping over his own feet. He quickly righted himself, not daring to glance back at the younger agent on his way to the kitchenette.

An hour and several cups of coffee later, Spencer Reid found himself at the round table, sitting perfectly still as his breath caught in his lungs, watching the young woman in front of him sign her name on the dotted line. It’s official; Doctor Spencer Reid is officially a married man—sort of.

It felt so absurd, having to sign a marriage license. Though, logically, he understood. If they were using Spencer’s name and reputation as a backbone for this assignment, there should be a paper trail. At least when it came to this, he knew Penelope could fabricate anything and everything else they might need, but this silly piece of paper, declaring them man and wife—that was free and public information that needed to be real.

“So…” Y/N's voice was soft as it attempted to cut through the heavy weight of the awkward atmosphere. She fidgeted, tapping the pen against the table.

Spencer cleared his throat, eyes raking over her as the voice in his head told him once again that this was an awful idea, that she was too young, that she had no field experience, and there were far too many ways this could all go south. He tried his best to shake them off. “If you don’t mind me asking, I don’t mean this to be rude. I was a young agent—actually one of the youngest agents the BAU has ever had—” he caught himself in his ramble, his eyes searching her face for any kind of discomfort before blinking harder than necessary in an attempt to focus. “Sorry—uh, how old are you, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“I’ll be twenty-five in October… so twenty-four.”

"Right..." he chuckled, shaking his head, "that means...w-when you were born I already had two PhDs and was nearly finished with my third."

She groaned, a slight blush covering her cheeks as she fought the embarrassed grin threatening to take over her lips. “Doctor Reid—”

“Spencer.” He cut her off, offering a tight-lipped smile. “I—Uh… you can just call me Spencer. I don’t think couples typically use such formality when they’re addressing each other…”

“I guess you’re right,” she said, offering a little nod. “Spencer,” his name felt too personal on her lips, “I—” a rosy blush creeping up her neck as her mind went completely blank, every thought she’d ever had lost in the warm glow of his golden eyes.

As if on cue, Emily entered the room, a smirk on her lips as she observed the younger, seemingly awestruck agent gawking at her favorite genius. “Hope I’m not interrupting, but I thought these might be useful?” She shrugged, placing a velvet box down beside Spencer before sliding the other across the table to fall into the younger woman’s lap. “Congratulations. I now pronounce you man and wife or whatever they say—beware, Penelope is likely going to throw rice or glitter or whatever she found in her desk at you as you walk out of this room. You’ve been warned. And I’d say kiss the bride, but frankly, I don’t want to see that. Wheels up in thirty.”

With that, she offered the new couple a nod before retreating back out of the conference room, back to her office, leaving them to open the velvet boxes. The rings were simple, nothing too flashy, like something you’d expect a professor to be able to afford without breaking the bank.

“Right…” Spencer said, sliding his own ring onto his finger before rising to his feet, his fingers awkwardly clenching and flexing at the unfamiliar weight. “Maybe if we don’t leave together, Garcia won’t ambush us.” He turned towards the door, hesitating a moment to glance back at the woman he could now call his wife. “Unless—unless you’re ready to go… we could, uh, head out together?”

“Oh, yeah, of course!” Y/N nodded quickly, jumping to her feet as she organized the pile of papers back into their folders and into her bag. She crossed the room, stopping beside Spencer. She glanced up at him, her own ring feeling heavy on her finger as she hesitantly reached out, offering him her hand. He looked at her for a moment, his eyes going back and forth between her waiting palm and her eyes before reluctantly accepting the offer.

“Shall we, Mrs. Reid?”

“Now and then he re-reads the manuscript. Of the entire torrid affair~”

Chapter II: Guilty as Sin

Thanks for being interested in my silly little concept 🩵

@flowerpott1978 @olives-and-sunshine

#mgg #criminal minds #spencer reid #criminal minds evolution #spencer reid imagine #doctor spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fanfiction #mgg fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction

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rebouks · 4 months ago

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Previous // Next

Alex: EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! [wheeeeeeze] Byrd: Woah, lady-.. I know karate! Wren: No, you don’t. Byrd: [whispers] She doesn’t need to know that. Wren: It’s Alex, dipshit. Byrd: Ohhh-.. wait, really? Wren: Sure looks like her.

Alex: Oh my god, I found you-.. and I followed your CAT! I missed you so much!! I hope you’re not mad at me-.. I’m so SO sorry for not writing! I thought I was being organised by printing some labels out to save time, y’know? But then I forgot them at home when we went to my uncles and dad said we’d only be gone for a month, so I figured it wasn’t a huge deal, but then we stayed for what felt like it’d be FOREVER and I couldn’t for the life of me remember your address which is ridiculous ‘cause I SHOULD’VE had it memorised by now and I felt so awful as the months passed. I tried to remember it a couple times but you never wrote back so I figured I obviously got it wrong-.. then I tried finding your house on a stupid online map but the internet was crappy at best and the Bay is WAY bigger than I thought it’d be and I’ve never really seen your house in full view from the street either so, like.. I barely knew what I was looking for, and what if that camera car didn’t even map your house, y’know?!

Ava: That was.. a lot. Alex: Sorry-.. you’re not mad, are you? [Robin shook his head and took a breath, but nothing came out] Wren: Oop. Byrd: Yeah, I think he broke. Ava: Ooh, do you know sign language? Alex: No-.. I totally should’ve learnt! I guess I didn’t know I’d be coming here though… Byrd: I can teach you! Well, some, I’m still learning, but Robin knows a bunch. Ava: He’s not mad, by the way. He was just worried. [Robin shot his younger siblings a look, fruitlessly warning them not to embarrass him] Byrd: I’m sure he’d say hi, if he could. Wren: I bet he’d say you look pretty too. Byrd: He’s been extra mopey without your letters-.. or maybe that’s just what puberty does. Ava: He has to wear deodorant now, otherwise he STINKS! Wren: You should stay for supper, dad’s baking something.. again. Alex: Ough.. I was supposed to be home ages ago, dad’ll kill me.. wait, what school do you go to?! Byrd: Bay C-… Wren: Not us-.. he goes to Copperdale. Alex: Ohh, yay! I promised dad I’d finally unpack tomorrow but the day after that is Monday, right? Wren: Well done. Alex: Okay-.. ahhhh! SEE YOU AT SCHOOL!!

…

[Robin deflated as soon as Alex liberated him from another bear hug and sped off, releasing a breath he’d kept tucked beneath his ribs for an uncomfortably lengthy amount of time] Robin: Ouuuuuuuuuuuuugh. Robin: Why-.. why am I like this? Wren: You’ll spew something out eventually. Oscar: Alright losers, pie’s-.. what’s up with him? Robin: I’m fucking BROKEN. Wren: I mean.. you’re a little fucked, but still good! Oscar: Quit it with the swearing-.. what happened? Wren: Alex showed up n’ he broke. Robin: I didn’t even get to say hi or ask why she’s here, or for how long-.. and you just had to be embarrassing! Oscar: What’d she say? Robin: She said Alex was pretty on my behalf and I’ve never said that and she’s a DICK! Oscar: That’s tame-.. for Wren. Robin: I hate you all right now. Wren: Not as much as you hate yourself. Oscar: Hey, too much! Robin, c’mon-… Robin: SHUT UP! Oscar: Right, you’re on dish duty. Wren: Seriously?! Oscar: You reap what you sow, honey.

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sturniololuvz · 5 days ago

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i’m not sure if you’ve done something like this before but the reader is the triplets sister (about 16) and she hasn’t been feeling okay at the moment, but the triplets have been busy in la so she goes to nathan (who she sees as another older brother) and he comforts her while the triplets aren’t there? (you can change up anything you’d like)

i’m sorry if that didn’t make sense, i’m not a good explainer! 😭😭🤍🤍

i understood it!!🩷

“Always Here For You”

Nate doe x Sturniolo sister

Y/N had been feeling off for a while now. She couldn’t really put it into words—it wasn’t one thing, just a mix of emotions that weighed on her. The triplets had been busy in LA, filming videos, going to events, and doing what they always did. She understood, she really did, but that didn’t make it any easier.

She had tried to shake it off, but the loneliness was creeping in too much. So, instead of bottling it up like she usually would, she found herself texting Nathan.

Y/N: Are you home?

Nathan: Yeah, what’s up?

Y/N: Can I come over?

He didn’t ask questions, just sent his address. That was the thing about Nate—he never pushed, but he always made it clear that he was there.

When she arrived, Nate opened the door immediately, a concerned look on his face.

“Hey, kid,” he greeted, ruffling her hair as she walked in. She rolled her eyes at the nickname but didn’t fight it. She kind of liked it when he treated her like a little sister.

“You hungry?” he asked, leading her to the kitchen.

She shrugged. “Not really.”

He gave her a look but didn’t push. Instead, he grabbed a couple of snacks and sat next to her on the couch. “What’s going on?”

She let out a deep sigh, pulling her knees to her chest. “I don’t know… I just—everything feels off. And the boys are so busy, and I don’t wanna bother them.”

Nate frowned. “You know they’d hate hearing you say that, right?”

She shrugged again, avoiding his gaze. “I know, but I also know they’ve got a lot going on. I didn’t wanna add to it.”

Nate stayed quiet for a moment, then leaned back with a sigh. “Listen, I get it. They’re busy, but that doesn’t mean they don’t care. And you don’t have to wait for them to reach out—you can just say you need them.”

Her throat tightened. “I didn’t even know what to say. I just felt… alone.”

His expression softened, and without a word, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into a side hug. “You’re never alone, Y/N. Not with them, not with me. You don’t have to have a reason to feel the way you do, and you definitely don’t have to go through it alone.”

For the first time in a while, Y/N felt like she could breathe. She didn’t have to be okay right now, and that was okay. Nate wasn’t trying to fix anything, just letting her be.

“Thanks, Nate,” she murmured, resting her head against his shoulder.

“Anytime, kid,” he said, squeezing her shoulder. “Always.”

#chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo x reader #christopher sturniolo #nick sturniolo #chris sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo x reader #matt stuniolo fanfic #sturniolos #sturniolo #sister sturniolo #sturniolo series #nate sturniolo #nate doe

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satansapostle6 · 5 months ago

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Love The Sinner | Dexter Morgan

Dexter Morgan, a vigilante serial killer hiding in plain sight, loses sleep for the first time in his life when he’s met with the very last thing he expected: a kindred spirit.

Warnings: Violence. Mature language and themes. Sexual content.

Part One.

Part Two. Innocent Until Proven Sexy.

Johnny Bertelli, in the many long months of my murder trial, became my favorite fucking person. The jury thankfully didn’t really see it that way, but we were running circles around the prosecutors. Our claim was naturally self defense, and I have to admit, it was a fucking good one. Story goes, I entered George Randall’s house to confront him, for causing my daughter’s suicide. I got angry, and things got heated, with neighbors to attest to the fact that we were both yelling. George got angry, and attacked me. And I defended myself. The story’s so good, even I believe it.

Technically, I did come to return George’s dishes to him, and he did get pretty heated with me when we argued, so really, we weren’t telling too many lies here. As far as George’s various embellishments, this case was pretty clean. I would say the only challenge Johnny and I faced in court was spinning my obvious lack of remorse when I was arrested. But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t looking forward to seeing Johnny take on a real challenge. It really is funny to watch this giant Italian guy pacing about the court during his addresses to the court while he’s built like Luca Brasi.

At the moment, I’m sitting up on the stand beside the judge, while the entire courtroom scrutinizes my every move and micro expression. There are about fifty pairs of eyes on me, but right now, I only care about one. A pair of sharp green eyes, that I still recognize from when I couldn’t work that goddamn phone. But I quickly snapped out of it, bringing my attention back to Johnny, and the trial. Somehow, this felt less interesting.

“So. Nicole, I know you’ve been through a lot in the past year or so, so forgive me,” my lawyer began, evoking sympathy from the court, “But did you have any intention of murdering George Randall when you knocked on his door?”

I took a moment, almost chewing on the question as I reluctantly relished its bitter taste.

“No.”

One thing good lawyers tell you: never answer more than the question you’re being asked. Even if you think it makes you sound better.

“Now, Nicole… I’m sorry that we have to go through this… Frankly, hurtful line of questioning. If you need to, just focus on me, alright? For now, this is between us. Not the court.”

I nodded. “Thank you.”

Johnny nodded kindly. God, we were fucking good at this. I was so close to nominating us both for Academy Awards.

“Can you tell me what you were thinking, as you knocked on George’s door?”

I thought for a moment, calling back to our preparations for this trial.

“I… I was naturally angry, and disgusted, when I read my daughter’s suicide note, stating that George Randall had…”

I did genuinely choke on the word.

“Raped… my daughter,” I told Johnny. “I was appalled, but… More than anything, I wanted answers.”

Johnny looks at me curiously. “‘Answers’?”

I cleared my throat. “I… I just couldn’t understand how someone, a human being, could be capable of that sort of evil. I mean, to rape a child? To cause a twelve year-old girl, my little girl, to take her own life? What kind of monster does that?”

Johnny nods, agreeing with me. “Yes. It’s unthinkable. That’s what it is, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, unthinkable, and unspeakable… But unfortunately, my client, Nicole, does not have the luxury of being able to ignore what this man did… Because this man’s evil claimed two lives; not only the life of twelve year-old Isabella Carvalho, but Nicole Carvalho’s as well, if the prosecution prevails,” he says harshly. “That is the truth; if the prosecution succeeds in wrongfully convicting Nicole Carvalho of murder, she will receive a prison sentence, or God forbid, the death penalty, for defending herself against the man who attacked her, the very same man who raped and drove her daughter to suicide at only twelve years old.”

Johnny nods solemnly, looking at me gratefully before turning to the court.

“Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I believe that this is a crucial factor in this case; George Randall may be dead today, but the fact remains, he was neither murdered, nor a victim. He raped a twelve year-old girl.”

A harsh wave of silence washes over the court, as most hold their breath.

“He raped a twelve year old-girl, driving her to the irreversible act of suicide at the young age of twelve, not even a teenager yet, and when that girl’s mother knocked on her door, he couldn’t handle it, and lashed out at her!”

The jury seemed just as disturbed as they should’ve been at this. I sat quietly on the stand, not having to say a word. Johnny was working the court. Together, we were such good liars, I think we even believed ourselves, on some level. As Johnny continued his argument, highlighting me as the victim in our perfect narrative, I looked around the room with a deep sadness in my eyes. I really was thinking about my daughter. I felt like I was living in some dystopian world, a world where my daughter was dead, and I had become a murderer.

Everything around me felt so distant and surreal, but then, I looked into his eyes. The man I had hardly noticed before, because he looked like every man. It was him, watching my trial, next to another man he’d come with, a short bald man. I couldn’t believe my eyes, but it really was him, the man who had helped me with the phone at Miami Metro all those months ago. It was him, I was sure of it, sitting there lost in the crowd watching the proceedings of my court case with his eyes darting back and forth like at a basketball game. I looked right into his cold green eyes, and suddenly, reality hit me again.

I was no longer lost in my melancholic fantasy. I was brought back to real life, in all its delicious violence and passion. I didn’t believe in God, but this man had the presence of an angel. Not, like, a cartoonish cherub with tiny wings and a halo, but a real, biblically accurate angel. I looked into his cold, icy eyes that seemed to watch me with an almost inhuman precision, and I felt so strange. This feeling was like nothing I’d ever experienced before with any other stranger. I looked into his eyes, felt his austere gaze on me, and I could’ve sworn it was like all the blood drained from my body.

I looked into this man’s eyes, and I felt more things in that one millisecond than I’d ever felt in my life. This man looked to me like an angel. Not because he was so soft and comforting, but because I could’ve sworn I looked into his hawklike eyes and heard a voice tell me ‘do not be afraid’. It felt just as surreal as a human in the bible encountering a real angel, in all its terrifying glory. In that moment, I had no idea what came over me, but when our eyes met, I looked at him for a moment, no longer lying, or playing a character. I looked at him from across the room, electrified, and for a split second, I smiled. I don’t know why, I couldn’t help it.

I risked my entire court case just to look at this strange man across the room, and I just smiled, with no remorse or concern for anything but my own appetites. What was even stranger was that he looked at me, saw my flirtatious smile, and returned it, for so short of a time that afterwards, I couldn’t even be sure if it was real.

*****

After today, I left the court room with Johnny in tears. Real tears. Not many of them, but enough to warrant sunglasses. I was still emotional about Isabella, given that she was practically murdered, and it just so happened that it came out from time to time in public. After walking out of the courthouse with Johnny, with his hand on my back as we ran past the journalists trying to get interviews and photos, I wiped away the last of my tears, brushing mascara clumps off of my fingers.

“You did good, kiddo,” Johnny promises me.

I just smile, nodding. I love this man, because he talks to me like we’re on The Sopranos. I hurry down the street with him in my Jimmy Choos, rushing to our cars just as I accidentally bump into a man on the street.

“Oh, sorry—!” the man exclaims, as his companion turns.

I suddenly stop as, right there on the street, the man from Miami Metro and his bald friend stand right in front of us. Johnny is somewhat confused by my lingering, but waits with me. The bald man looks at me like he’s seen a ghost, staring at me like he’s starstruck. Fuck, I think, he must recognize me. I thought he was about to panic, or act like I have something contagious, given about half of society currently sees me as a murderer, but he seems to have a completely different reaction.

“O-Oh my God!” the little bald man exclaims, as the other man just smiles at me uncomfortably. “You’re—You’re—”

He seems incapable of finishing the sentence.

“Nicole Carvalho,” I finish the sentence for him.

“…Miami MILF!” he exclaims, before I can finish. “Murderer I’d Like to Fuck!”

I frowned, not really expecting that as Johnny chivalrously comes to my defense.

“Hey, pal…” my lawyer begins, before I cut him off.

“Johnny, it’s alright,” I turned to him, not threatened by this man.

The bald Japanese man scrambles before just handing me his coffee cup. “Do you think you could sign this?!”

As far as strange interactions after I became a household name, this honestly wasn’t the worst.

“You… want me to sign this?” I question, needing confirmation as he hands me the mostly empty coffee cup.

He nods. “Yeah!”

But before this can go any further, the man from Miami Metro intervenes, taking the coffee cup from me as an act of courtesy.

“Okay, Masuka,” he says responsibly, “I don’t think we need to do that—”

I take the cup back, smiling as I fish for a pen in my purse. “It’s alright,” I promise them, deciding to just sign the cup, “I’ve always wanted to give an autograph, albeit, under different circumstances… What’s your name?”

The bald man practically jumps for joy as I sign the cup. “Vince. It’s Vince.”

Honestly, his morbid fascination with me was somewhat… well… fascinating. I was probably a murderer, or at the very least definitely a killer, but he didn’t seem to care, because I looked good in a pencil skirt. God, the halo effect is real.

“Okay, great, I’ll make this out to Vince:”

“Thank you!” Vince says far too enthusiastically.

I nod. “Mm-hmm.”

The man from Miami Metro just stands there, awkwardly, frowning sympathetically as I sign and give back the paper cup.

“Here you go,” I say charismatically, “Just… Promise not to lift it for prints, okay?”

This makes even the sandy-haired guy from the police station chuckle, before Johnny chimes in, with perfect comedic timing.

“She’s kidding, of course,” Johnny says quickly, smiling, “You wouldn’t find much if you did.”

I smile as I seem to have made the bald man, Masuka’s, day.

“Thank you,” the sandy-haired guy says sheepishly, “And sorry…”

“Not a problem,” I offer, “At least I get to feel like a celebrity for… two seconds.”

“Oh, come on,” Vince Masuka says, “I’m sure guys ask you for autographs all the time.”

I smile awkwardly. “Surprisingly, no.”

“Really?” he thinks. “Huh. Well, they should, because… All due respect… You’re a dime piece.”

I smile. “Well, that just brightens up my day….”

He laughs a laugh that I can only describe as Beavis and Butthead-esque.

“Alright, well… Thank you for your time,” the Miami Metro guy thanks me politely and apologetically. “Vince… let’s leave the nice woman alone,” he prompted, seeming desperate to get away.

But why? Why was this man who had been watching me for days suddenly so keen on getting away? He must’ve wanted some semblance of distance from me… To watch me in the shadows, without me knowing he’s there. He was trying to get away, but I didn’t let him. I just couldn’t. He was like a fly stuck in my trap.

“I’m sorry, what was your name?” I ask him.

Forget the cat, curiosity was killing me.

“Uh, Dexter,” he says in a friendly manner, shaking my hand.

“Dexter,” I smile, as if trying it out.

Of course it had to be something like that. I considered that maybe he’d given me a fake name, but given that he had a friend with him, I supposed it probably wasn’t.

“Well, Vince, Dexter, it was nice meeting you,” I wave as I walk away with Johnny.

Vince looks at me like a lost puppy, waving hopelessly as I walk away. Dexter, on the other hand, gives me a tiny wave before the friendly smile on his face disappears, revealing a colder, smarter mind beneath the surface, if only for a second. I had no idea who this man was, or why he was really so interested in my case. Logic told me he could’ve been just as pervy of a fanboy as his friend, but something told me it certainly wasn’t that. I didn’t know what his fascination was with me, but I knew it was something dark. There was something just so present, and unnerving, in the way he looked at me, even just as he waved goodbye to me on the street.

I just couldn’t quite place it, and it was killing me. I racked my brain, but still, I couldn’t think of just one instance where somebody looked at me the exact same way this Dexter character did. It was strange. However, there was one memory of someone in particular that wasn’t exact, but a close match. The closest thing to the look I saw in Dexter’s eyes was the look in George Randall’s eyes, right before he died, somewhere between the tenth and eleventh stab wound.

Part Three.

#dexter morgan #dexter #dexter morgan x reader #michael c hall #dexter showtime

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alisonsfics · 7 months ago

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off limits - part five

pairing: brother’sbestfriend! henry cavill x reader

summary: henry was best friends with your brother, theo, which meant despite the clear chemistry between you two, you both had chosen to not date.

word count: 2.3k

warnings: swearing

part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 6 coming soon

After getting the ominous text from Theo, your mind had been racing a million miles a minute. You had no idea why he suddenly wanted to hang out with you and Henry, specifically. Theo wasn’t even really supposed to know that you and Henry had been spending time together.

You tried to distract yourself with a whole lists of hobbies, but your mind kept running back to wondering what Theo wanted to talk about. Theo wasn’t normally very secretive. He was normally an extrovert who didn’t keep anything in. You started preparing yourself for the chance that Theo knew about you and Henry.

Theo had sent you an address for some gala being hosted by the company he worked for. The only other information he gave you was that you’d talk once you got there.

You tried to assure yourself that if he was going to yell at you for dating-but-not-dating his best friend, he probably wouldn’t have picked a public event.

You got dressed up, as the invitation mentioned, and arrived at the gala way earlier than you were supposed to. You hadn’t seen or spoken to Henry since you got the text from Theo. You both were mentally spiraling and needed some time to think.

When it was finally an acceptable time, you headed into the lobby, where you saw Henry waiting. He was sitting on a bench, anxiously tapping his leg.

He gave you a soft smile once he saw you. He was so anxious that he couldn’t even force himself to stand and give you a hug.

“Theo here yet?” You asked him, trying to keep your hands from shaking. He shook his head. “Haven’t seen him yet,” he told you.

You grabbed your phone out of your purse, hoping you could distract yourself. It didn’t work. You anxiously switched between your Instagram feed and your email for ten minutes, until Theo showed up.

When Theo finally walked through the door, you and Henry practically jumped. “Hey, Theo. How are you?” You asked, giving your brother a quick hug. You were partially convinced that if you acted like everything was okay, maybe it would be. “Hey, guys. It’s good to see you both.” Theo said, also giving Henry a hug.

“So, you guys are probably wondering about my text. I’m sorry that I was so vague, but I was worried that neither of you would agree if I told you beforehand.” Theo started to explain.

Your fears that this was about you and Henry started to fade, but they were replaced by fears that this was worse.

“So, you both know that you’re the maid of honor and best man at the wedding, which me and Sarah are so happy about. But, we knew neither of you had a date yet to the wedding, so me and Sarah wanted to set you both up.” Theo finished explaining.

You and Henry were stunned. You glanced over at Henry, trying to read his expression. You both had been so worried about Theo finding out, and now, it sounded like he wanted the two of you to be together. You weren’t sure what you were hearing. Neither one of you knew how to respond.

“So, Sarah’s on her way in with two of our friends. We think you’ll love them. For you, we have my coworker Todd. He loves all your favorite movies, and he’s really into cooking. And Henry, Sarah has this friend named Mia, who owns this little bakery downtown. And if all goes well, maybe they could be your dates to the wedding.” Theo said, causing a pit to form in both yours and Henry’s stomachs.

Theo wasn’t setting you up with Henry. He was setting you both up with different people. You couldn’t even tell Theo that you weren’t interested because both your dates already in the parking lot.

“Alright. One of you say something, please. You’re scaring me.” Theo said, noticing your stunned reactions.

You were pissed. Theo had ambushed you.

“What’s to say? They’re already here, aren’t they?” You said, with a slight bitterness. Henry and Theo both picked up on it, but neither of them mentioned it.

Then, the front door to the lobby opened, and Sarah walked in with two people behind her. Sarah smiled at you both, unaware of the awkward tension in the room.

“Hey, guys. This is Todd and Mia.” Sarah said, introducing you all. You politely smiled at Todd, who was giving you an expectant look. “Shall we?” He asked you, holding out his arm for you. You reluctantly held onto his arm, and he led you into the banquet hall.

Henry didn’t realize how protective he was over you until he saw you with Todd. It made Henry sick to his stomach.

Todd brought you over to your assigned table. You glanced at the name tags and realized that all six of you were at one table. Todd pulled out your chair for you, but you still didn’t even want to look at him.

“So, you work with Theo?” You asked with a desperate attempt at conversation. Todd nodded his head and starting rambling about his job. You watched Henry, Mia, Theo, and Sarah start heading towards your table and prepared for the disaster that you knew would occur.

You zoned out as Todd rambled on and on. Henry gave you a sympathetic look as he sat down. You’re weren’t mad at Henry in anyway, but for some reason, you hoped that he would stand up to Theo and fight for you. You knew it was a crazy hope and that Henry wouldn’t do it. Henry had promised you that he’d keep whatever your relationship was a secret from Theo. He wouldn’t break that promise without your permission.

As if you weren’t feeling upset enough, watching Mia practically drool over Henry wasn’t helping.

“I’m going to go get a drink. If anyone wants to come with.” Sarah excused herself, starting to pick up on the tension. “We’ll come with you,” Mia volunteered, grabbing onto Henry’s hand.

You watched Henry’s eyes widen as he was dragged away from the table. “While they’re gone, I’m going to run to the bathroom real quick. I’ll be back in a minute.” Todd excused himself as well.

“So how do you like him?” Theo asked from across the table as soon as Todd was out of earshot.

You refused to look at Theo. You fixed your attention on the other side of the room and didn’t budge. “Hello? What’s wrong?” Theo asked you.

“I’m fucking pissed at you. That’s what’s wrong.” You snapped at him. Theo looked genuinely shocked by your response. “You’re mad because I…got you a date?” He asked, confused.

You rolled your eyes, running a hand through your hair. “No, I’m mad because you ambushed me. You didn’t ask if I was interested, and I couldn’t have said no because he was already here.” You ranted. Theo was trying to reason with you, but all the stress from hiding your feelings for Henry was bubbling up.

“I was just trying to be helpful. I just want you to be happy.” Theo told you. You believed him, and you knew he had good intentions, but sometimes his execution was shit. “Maybe I already am happy. Maybe I don’t want to be in a relationship right now. Just because you’re getting married doesn’t mean I have to. I mean, I get enough of this shit from mom. I don’t need it from you too.” You said, standing up from the table and walking away.

You started walking towards the lobby again. You walked past the bar, and Sarah and Henry saw that you were fuming. “I’m gonna go check on her. Can you get me a drink?” Henry asked Mia, to which she quickly nodded.

Henry followed you into the lobby. “Hey, wait up. It’s me.” He called after you. You stopped when you recognized his voice. You turned around to face him and a few tears rolled down your cheeks.

“Talk to me,” Henry said, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into a hug. You hated how safe you felt with him. You wrapped your arms around him, holding onto him like it would make your problems go away. “I am so fucking pissed at Theo for this, and this has all been so much recently. I’ve just fucking had it.” You rambled.

Henry rubbed your back as you ranted to him. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to complain so much. I mean, you’re going through this too, and I haven’t heard you complain once.” You apologized.

Henry took your hand and pulled you over to one of the benches against the wall. He sat down next to you. “You’re allowed to complain all you want. This fucking sucks. And trust me, I am just as upset as you are.” He comforted you, moving a strand of your hair behind your ear. You never felt alone when you were with Henry.

“You’re such a good listener. You should be my therapist. God knows I’m gonna need one after tonight,” you joked, laughing as you wiped another tear off your cheek.

“I hate seeing you cry.” Henry said, grabbing one of your hands in his. He ran his thumb over the back of your hand.

You saw a flash of doubt in Henry’s eyes for a split second, and then he cupped your face with his free hand. Then, he slowly leaned in to kiss you. It wasn’t like any of the other times you’d kissed Henry. Normally, it was heat of the moment and rushed. This was different. It was slow and sweet.

You leaned into the kiss. Butterflies swirled around inside you. You interlaced your fingers with Henry’s. It was magical.

Henry could feel you smile against the kiss. For a second, his feelings for you were simple. In that moment, he didn’t care about anything else, especially Theo. He just wanted you.

“Hey, Theo said you ran off. I wanted to come check on you.” Todd said, bursting into the room before realizing what was going on.

You and Henry froze. You half expected Henry to jump away from you. He didn’t. He let his hand rest on your waist. “I’m sorry. We really had no idea Theo was going to set us up. Theo doesn’t know about this. Please, don’t tell him.” You apologized.

Todd nodded and left you both alone.

Henry quickly stood up. “I need to go talk to Mia.” He said.

“That’s your first reaction after kissing me?” You asked him, half teasing.

“I need to tell her that there is somebody else who makes me very happy. I don’t want to lead her on when I am one thousand percent crazy about you.” He said, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“What do we do about Theo?” You asked him.

“I think we should talk to him and see how he reacts. There’s so much stuff going on with the wedding in three weeks, but I think we should talk to him after the wedding. I know that’s still a while from now, but I don’t want him to be stressed about the wedding when we talk to him.” He suggested.

You pulled him in for a hug. “I’m going to go hang out with Sarah. I’m not really in the mood to talk to Theo yet. But we’ll talk soon, okay?” You told him. He nodded and smiled before you left.

Then, Henry went to find Mia. “Hey, can we talk?” He asked her. She quickly nodded.

“I had no idea that Theo and Sarah were setting us up today. I don’t want to lead you on, and there’s this girl. I mean, it’s complicated, but it wouldn’t be fair to lie to you. Theo doesn’t know anything about it though.” He explained.

“Thank you for telling me. I really appreciate your honesty. And I totally understand why you’d be nervous to tell Theo.” She told Henry. Henry furrowed his eyebrows. “Wait, I’m sorry. What do you mean?” He asked her, curiously.

“Because she’s his sister,” Mia told Henry, as though it was clear as day.

Henry chuckled to himself. “I didn’t realize it was so obvious.” He admitted. Mia shyly nodded her head. “It’s just the way you look at her,” she told him.

They wrapped up their conversation, and Henry went back into the lobby to think. He wanted to seem confident and hopeful in front of you when talking about telling Theo, but Henry was terrified. The last thing he wanted to do was ruin his relationship with his best friend or ruin yours and Theo’s relationship.

The stress had really gotten to Henry over the past few weeks. He felt his eyes start to water from the pure stress and anxiety. He had no one to talk about these things with except you, and he wanted to be strong for you.

Theo walked into the lobby, startling Henry. “You mad at me too? My sister's pissed, and judging by the way Mia and Todd are making out, I’m assuming neither of you were interested in your dates.” Theo said.

Henry shook his head. “I’m not mad at you. Slightly irritated, but not mad. But, I couldn’t date Mia, Theo.” He told him.

Theo noticed the emotion in Henry’s face. “Hey, man, are you alright?” Theo asked, concerned. Henry just shook his head. “There’s this girl. And god, I want to be with her. I think about her all the time, and it fucking sucks because I know how amazing we could be together, but it can’t happen. All I really want to do is take her on a date.” Henry explained, wiping his eyes quickly and faking a smile.

Theo put his hand on Henry’s back. “No one can really stop you though. You should go be with this girl if she makes you happy. Don’t let anything stand in your way.” Theo assured Henry. Henry chuckled to himself at the irony. He knew Theo would have a very different sentiment if he knew the girl was his sister.

“It’s just way too complicated. You have no idea.” Henry told him.

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reidbae · 2 years ago

Text

Ecstasy

summary: You’re always nervous around your professor, which he has taken note to, but had chosen not to speak on. It’s not until you come to his classroom late to turn in a missing assignment that he decides to ask you about it, and he’ll do anything for the answer.

warnings/mentions: dom!spencer x sub!reader, teacher x student relationship, tall x short, reader is 22+ and spencer is 32+, age gap, AFAB reader, use of Y/N in slowburn but pet names used during smut (sweetheart, baby, doll, honey, etc), degradation, praise, choking, fingering, rough sex, hair pulling, vaginal sex, office sex technically lol, literally just filth dude

wc: 4.4k

a/n: hey, i’m kit! i write a lot in my free time and i think it’s high time i made a tumblr. this is my first post and the first smut i’ve written in a while. this is partially slowburn but it’s MOSTLY smut. anyway, hope you enjoy and also know that i take requests!

You knocked on the classroom door before entering it, shutting it quietly behind you. “Professor Reid?” you called out, unsure if the intelligent doctor was even here so late.

He looked up from his desk, his nose previously buried in paperwork. He was no doubt grading assignments, and you felt a twinge of guilt for interrupting him.

You nervously cleared your throat, beginning to approach his desk. “I’m sorry for interrupting you. I- I know it’s late. I just have that missing essay you wanted me to make up?” you explained, holding out the essay that you had finished shortly before you got here.

You noticed Spencer’s eyes darting to your clothing, lingering there for a few moments as he seemed to be taking in the view of you. You’d pulled on the first thing you’d found in your closet, a skimpy red dress that was tugging forcefully against your body. Ultimately, however, Spencer didn’t say anything and cleared his throat, then accepted your paper from you.

He looked it over for a second, then spoke up. “This is a lot of work, Y/N. It only needed to be two pages,” he pointed out to you.

You began to sweat at that comment, gazing at him with an apprehensive expression. “I- I know, sir. I just wanted to make up for the fact that I’m turning it in late. I hope you won’t take points off,” you explained. He may have made your palms sweat, but you did still care heavily about your grades.

“I’m not going to,” he said with a soft smile, placing your essay down on his desk. “Your essay seems to be well written, as usual, from what I’ve read so far.”

You could feel your face heat up at his praise and you gently nodded. “Thank you. And thank you again for giving me an extension.”

He nodded, too. “You’re welcome. But I hope you’re aware that I won’t always be so understanding, Y/N. I was glad to give you an extension this time, but I won’t shy away from taking points off if this happens again. I want you to learn to be more punctual,” he sternly continued.

It was conversations like these that made you heavily aware that no matter what you felt, Spencer was still your professor, and he wasn’t afraid to remind you of that. Shyly, you nodded your head, becoming more nervous as the seconds went on. “I- I understand, Professor Reid. I promise that it won’t happen again,” you could barely stammer out, coherent sentences beginning to fail you.

He smiled up at you and gave you another respectful nod. “Good. Make sure you live up to that,” he said firmly.

Did he have to be so overly stern? “I will,” you simply returned. You weren’t really sure what to say at this point now that the reason you’d come here had been addressed. You took a shaky breath, then nodded in finality. “Well, um, I guess I’d better get going now. Again, sorry to disturb you so late, Professor. I’ll see you tomorrow,” you timidly told Spencer, turning on your feet and starting to walk towards the door.

Spencer’s husky voice stopped you dead in your tracks. “Can I ask you something, Y/N?” he asked you. Nervously, you turned back around, looking at him.

“What is it, sir?” you politely responded, giving him your best innocent smile.

“Why are you always so nervous around me?”

Your eyes widened as your cheeks flushed red, caught off guard by his sudden question. You knew that, at some point, he would confront you about your continued nervousness around him that had started the second he became your professor three months ago. You were awful at hiding it: You blush and sweat, you stutter and stammer, and you toy with your hands and hair when he talks to you. You couldn’t be blamed for your attractiveness to the handsome doctor, but, really, you wish you were better at burying it.

“N- nervous?” you responded, in a feeble attempt to sound clueless. “I- I’m not- What makes you say that, Professor?” you asked, knowing exactly why he was asking.

“You seem much more nervous and tense when you talk to me as opposed to when you talk to others. It’s something I’ve noticed since the beginning of the semester,” he explained to you, folding his hands atop his desk.

“Uh, well, you know,” you nervously laughed, avoiding eye contact with him at all costs. “I’m just shy.” Yeah, right.

“You’re loud and exuberant around your other professors, along with your classmates. I’ve heard you laugh and joke with quite a few people. It seems like this nervous demeanor is only saved for me,” he pointed out, sounding completely convinced that he was correct in his observations. He paused for a brief moment before continuing on. “Did I do something to make you uncomfortable?”

Your expression turned shocked at the fact that he could possibly think that anything he did would make anyone uncomfortable. “No, no, I swear, it’s not like that,” you mumbled shyly, shaking your head.

“Forgive me for thinking so, Y/N, but my words do hold some truth to them. You are aware of this behavior that you’ve constantly displayed towards me over the last few months, though, correct?” he asked. His words came out so fluently, as though he had been meaning to come to you about this for longer than you’d anticipated. In regards to how you were speaking at the moment, you wish you could say the same.

“S- Somewhat,” you admitted.

He looked more intrigued now that you had confirmed the fact that you were nervous around him. He leaned back in his chair now, hands in his lap as he stared up at you. “Then, tell me what it is that’s making you nervous. I’d like to clear up whatever it is.”

You immediately shook your head, eyes still averted from the brunette professor. “I- It’s nothing.”

“It’s not ‘nothing’ if you’re constantly stuttering when you talk to me, or fidgeting with your hands when I walk by your desk,” he said, his stern tone growing increasingly prominent with each word he said. “I want to know what’s going on, Y/N.”

“Nothing’s going on,” you instantly defended. You were not in the mood to blow your cover about this. Not today, and maybe not ever.

“Oh, really?” he asked you in return, cocking an eyebrow. “You just told me you know that your behavior has been odd over the last few months,” he sighed. He grabbed a pen on his desk, clicking it a few times before continuing. “You and I both know there’s something wrong. This issue will never be resolved if you don’t discuss it with me. I promise that it will be to your benefit.”

You couldn’t help but remain silent. If you spoke, you’d stutter, only further proving Spencer’s point. You didn’t shake your head or give any sign at all that you’d heard him.

At this, he sighed again, shaking his head from what you could see out of the corner of your eye. “Am I going to have to figure it out for myself?” he asked you in a genuine tone. His voice, you noticed, was notably lower than it was before.

You only rolled your eyes in response to that. The fact that he had asked why you were nervous was one thing, but the idea of him attempting to figure it out was much more daunting, and you weren’t looking forward to it.

“Don’t give me that, Y/N,” he demanded when you rolled your eyes, tone fierce. “If you can’t verbally tell me what’s going on, your body language will.“

“My body language has nothing to tell,” you tried to correct him, trembling hands finding your hair and messing with it anxiously, eyes still torn from Spencer’s.

“You seriously believe that?” he almost scoffed, shaking his head. “I teach you how to read this stuff. Your body language has nothing to tell? You mean your shaky hands, stuttering, and red face have nothing to tell? Or, what about the fact that your hands are tangled in your hair? Or, that you can’t even look at me?” he went on, and he didn’t stop there.

“Do you want me to list every possibility I can think of until you tell me why you’re so nervous?” he asked. There was no tone of joke in his words: You knew that he would do it, and he’d do it with pride, at that.

“No,” you told him, the first word you’d said since the beginning of his ramble.

“Are you sure? Maybe that’s what you need.” Maybe it was the hour or the context of the situation, but you could swear for a second that this sentence had some air of teasing to it.

“I- I don’t, Professor Reid,” you stammered out.

“Tell me something, Y/N. Why are you the only student I have who still calls me ‘Professor Reid?’” he questioned.

“It’s respectful,” you tried, but it sounded like bullshit even as the words left your tongue. Spencer wasn’t that far off your age. Every one of your classmates called him by his first name, as he had said he was comfortable with several times. But you knew that calling him by his first name would put him on the same level as you, and if you didn’t see him as your professor, you weren’t sure you’d be able to control yourself.

“I’ve said several times that it’s okay to call me Spencer. All of my students do, and some even call me ‘Reid,’ they’re that comfortable. Yet, you only use ‘Professor,’ ‘Professor Reid,’ and ‘sir’ to address me,” he went on. You slowly started to realize that he was profiling you, and you felt your face grow redder, already knowing the outcome: He would figure you out.

In hopes of making yourself seem clueless, you shrugged. He wasn’t buying it, and asked, “Does this have anything to do with your continued nervousness around me?”

“I- I’m not nervous,” you could barely manage to get out, let alone lie properly. Deflection was your last hope of getting Spencer to drop this topic, a hope that you were almost positive would not be worth hoping for.

“Look at me, then, Y/N.”

No. Immediately, no.

“If you’re so ‘not nervous’ around me like you say, then look at me. If you’re not anxious, or shy, you should have no problem doing so,” Spencer said in a confident tone.

“I- I can’t look at you,” you immediately returned. You wanted to, but given the context of this situation, you knew he’d easily get you to talk if you did.

“Why?” he asked, his tone one of pure and utter confusion. Because I’m afraid of what I’ll say if I do.

“I just can’t,” you repeated, rubbing your eyes.

He sighed again, sounding genuinely exasperated. “Do you need me to profile it out of you, Y/N? Because I have no trouble doing that,” he said sternly. “I want you to feel comfortable around me. But I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s going on with you.”

When you didn’t respond, he took a deep breath, tapping his fingers on his desk before standing up and continuing. You were really looking away now. The fact that he was at least five inches taller than you was not helping.

“You show common signs of tenseness when I’m around you, like a stiff jaw, sweating, shaking, and, above all, avoiding eye contact,” he started, and you scoffed. Fucking profilers.

“Your body language offers common tells of your continued nervousness around me, like touching your face, constantly fidgeting with your hands and hair, and turning red when I say your name.”

“Stop,” you managed to say, your face growing darker at his words. But he continued.

“You’re talkative and open with others, but closed off and shy with me. You talk with your hands during class but they find their way into your hair the second I’m in your presence,” he went on.

“Stop,” you tried again, your voice growing quieter and your singular word coming out in a low whisper.

“You’re my only student who seems to refuse to call me by my first name. You can present in my class without flash cards but are unable to form clear, coherent sentences around me-“

“For fuck’s sake, Spencer, I’m attracted to you!” you finally blurted, unable to take any more of this.

He stopped talking, looking at you as if he was physically unable to process what you had just said. “What?”

“I’m attracted to you,” you repeated again, finally looking up at him and now realizing how hard it would be. Your cheeks were clearly flushed red, and your body was trembling.

He chuckled for a second, then immediately stopped. “That’s what this is?” he asked you in disbelief, his tone evidently amused, as if this was something he heard on the daily basis. “Attraction?”

“Yes,” you returned.

“And it makes you this nervous to talk to me?” he asked you genuinely, but his voice still showed underlying tones of amusement.

“Yes.”

He thought for a moment, truly taking in your words. Then, a faint smirk danced across his face as he walked around his desk with his hands in his pockets, stopping a few feet away from you.

You refused to give him whatever satisfaction he seemed to be gaining by teasing you and looked away as he looked at you. He chuckled, stepping closer. “You’re nervous because of a little crush? Come on, Y/N. How old are you?” he teased.

You rolled your eyes again and remained silent.

“Look at me,” he said sternly, taking another step closer. There was now minimal distance between the two of you. It would be easy to lean and kiss him. What the hell is he doing to you?

All you did was shake your head. Absolutely not.

He reached out to cup your cheek, caressing his thumb over it as he looked down at you with a smirk, from what you could see out of the corner of your eye.

“You’re always so good in class. Be a good girl for me now, won’t you, Y/N?” he cooed, continuing to smooth his thumb over your face. You felt yourself growing redder by the second.

You shook your head, not at him, but at yourself for what you were about to do. You were too easy. You made eye contact with him, gazing lewdly up into his auburn eyes.

“That’s it,” he murmured. You were correct: He was smirking at you. He spoke up again. “Three months is a long time, sweetheart. How many fantasies have you had about me in that time?”

You blushed harder at that, stuttering out, “A lot.”

“Voice one to me,” Spencer continued in a raspy tone. His voice was riling you up, and you were almost unsure of how to answer. “What’s on your mind?”

“I- I’ve thought about-,” you tried, but you stopped, unsure if you should even speak the explicit fantasy that came to your mind first into the universe.

Noticing your hesitation, Spencer said, “You can say it, sweetheart. What have you thought about?” he demanded, although his words were almost sweet.

You took a breath of courage before replying, “A- About you, bending me over your desk,” you barely managed to stutter out.

He chuckled even further at your shy admission. “Doing what to you?” he asked in his teasing tone.

You let out a small frustrated groan. Isn’t it obvious?

“Fucking me.”

He gave you a flirty smile at your words. “What do you want, sweetheart?” he now asked you in a raspy tone, the distance between you becoming too hard to resist closing.

“To take you across this desk,” you openly admitted, finding it difficult to stare at his eyes when his lips were so close.

“Then do it.”

His words mixed with his proximity gave you the confidence to finally pull him in, wrapping your arms around his neck and fervently kissing him. To your surprise, he reciprocated instantly, roughly grabbing your waist and backing you into his desk.

He lifted you up with ease and sat you on the only part of it that wasn’t filled with papers, his lips never leaving yours as his tongue explored your mouth. After a few minutes, there was nowhere his hands hadn’t roamed, as he shamelessly grabbed your neck, cupped your tits, and squeezed your ass.

His fingers found their way under your dress, his cold hands meeting your warm skin. You shuddered at the contact, moaning surprisedly into your kiss. You could feel him tugging at the hem of your panties as he pulled back from you, breathing heavily.

“Professor,” you breathed out, calling him ‘Professor’ out of habit. He shook his head at you in response to it.

“Say my name,” he demanded of you, continuing his movements with his hand as he looked down at you.

“Sp- Spencer,” you stammered out, breath quickening at his dominant tone.

“Attagirl,” Spencer praised, hands dipping suddenly into your panties. You gasped, looking up at him with a sultry stare. His fingers slid in between your soaked folds and you involuntarily let out a whorish moan.

“Fuck, doll, you’re already this wet?” he asked you in a tone that was a mixture of both surprise and excitement as his fingers felt all of your built up arousal. “Is this all for me?”

You didn’t know what to say, in pure and utter shock that this was even happening.

He gave you a look that screamed both pleading and demanding at the same time. “Talk to me, sweetheart,” he cooed, moving his fingers in no particular direction, which made you moan softly anyway.

“I- It’s all for you, Spencer,” you stammered.

“There you go. I like hearing that pretty voice of yours,” Spencer cooed. He buried a finger into your cunt, and you groaned at the sudden intrusion. He started slow, making sure you were comfortable with this sensation, then stuck another in, quickening his pace.

You arched your back as he curled his fingers inside of you, hitting a spot that you had never been able to reach when you were touching yourself alone. He knew exactly what he was doing, using another finger to rub slow circles around your clit. He pumped his fingers in and out fast, eliciting several moans of pleasure from you.

You leaned in to fiercely kiss him as he continued to finger you, sliding your tongue into his mouth. He accepted it gladly, gently choking you with his other hand as the two of you kissed. You groaned into it, his use of force getting you closer and closer to your high.

He pulled away, then started on your neck, kissing and sucking harshly as he continued to finger you below. His pace was getting faster, pushing his fingers deeper with every second that went by. When he curved them further than he had before, he found exactly where your pleasure point was: Your G-Spot.

“Fuck, Spencer,” you groaned out, your climax directly around the corner as he left kisses and no doubt hickies all over your neck.

He payed close attention to your reaction, making sure to continue to finger you directly where you needed him and continuing to rub your clit in quick motions. You were nearly there, and he surely knew that. However, suddenly, all movements ceased, and he pulled away from your neck to lustfully look down on you, retracting his fingers from your wetness.

You looked up at him with a mirroring lustful expression, but only because you were so close to releasing, and he had just taken that away from you.

“Sp- Spencer? Why’d you stop?” you stuttered out a little frustratedly.

“Because that’s not where I want you to finish,” he said, like it was the most simple thing to humanly comprehend. He backed up a step, then lifted you from his desk, spinning you round and bending you over it in one swift movement. You gasped as his hand found your lower back, his crotch pressed up on you and his bulge pressing into your ass.

“Spencer-“

“You said you saw me bending you over across my own desk, right?” Spencer reminded you in a low voice.

“Y- yeah,” you returned in a needy voice.

“Thought so.”

You could hear him unbuckling his belt from behind, working quickly to undo it with his only free hand. The sound was followed by that of his zipper, and then of him shrugging his pants partially down. He then turned his attention to you, pulling your dress up and revealing your red panties that matched the color of your dress. He chuckled, no doubt at that fact, then pulled them down.

He took his cock out of his boxers and pumped it up and down a few times. You tried to turn your head back to look, but he used his free hand to turn your head back around. You were about to say something about it, until he suddenly thrusted deep into your cunt, and you let out a whorish moan.

“F- Fuck, you’re so big, Spencer,” you couldn’t help but moan out. He was far inside of you, and his throbbing cock was no doubt seven inches minimum.

“You can take it,” he groaned back, placing his hand on the back of your head as he moved slowly but deeply into you. His hands roamed your body again, settling on your tits. He used a hand to grab one, eliciting a mewl from you. He fondled it with force, running his thumb in forceful circles around your tit as he pounded into you relentlessly.

“You like being fucked like this, sweetheart?” he cooed in your ear, voice audibly raspy as his movements didn’t cease.

“Yes, sir,” you responded in a slutty voice, calling him ‘sir’ for the first time in what felt like years.

“Such a, fuck- Slut for me,” he said in between thrusts. His pace was getting faster now as he rammed into you from behind, going at a speed you were finding difficult to not readily climax from. His words only enhanced this feeling.

He grabbed the back of your head by your hair, turning you to face a part of the classroom to your left.

“That’s where you sit in my class. Perfect view of my desk. Do you fantasize about this when you look at it?” he asked. His words came out in groans as he tried to both talk and maintain his quick pace.

“Maybe,” you breathed as you looked at your own desk where you had been sitting mere hours beforehand, never in a million years anticipating this.

“That’s not an answer,” he forcefully said, ceasing his movements and beginning to pull his cock from your cunt.

“Wait- Fuck,” you sighed, whimpering when you no longer felt him inside of you. “Yes, I do,” you admitted, telling him exactly what he wanted to hear.

He chuckled at your needy attempt to feel him inside of you again, teasing your wet entrance with the tip of his cock. “That desperate, huh?”

“Y- Yes, sir,” you said softly, finding it hard to get any words out as you took note of his teasing. He thrusted back into you, pushing hard and fast.

“Slut,” Spencer grunted. He pulled your head back by your hair, managing to grip it gently despite his rough pace. “My fucking slut.”

You moaned at his use of degradation, feeling your climax beginning to bubble up inside of you again, but you held it back, wanting to prolong the pleasurable feeling that you were receiving.

“Such a, fuck- Slutty dress,” he suddenly commented, toying with the hem on your dress. “Always wearin’ skirts hiked all the way up to your ass. Hoping I’d notice that, sweetheart?” he asked, the hand that was pulling your hair roaming over to your neck and choking you.

All you could do was nod as your words failed you, coherent sentences vacant in your head and absent from your mouth, as they usually were regardless.

“Use your words, baby,” he demanded of you, squeezing down harder on your neck.

You groaned out, complying and stammering, “Y- Yes,” in response to his question.

“That’s a good girl. Doin’ so fucking good for me,” Spencer praised you.

You were moaning loudly now, the sound of both of your grunts filling the air as Spencer continued at his quick speed. You could feel your eyes watering at the pressure and size of his cock that was deep into your cunt, and your climax was approaching as fast as his pace was going.

“Spencer,” you whispered, cheeks hot and absolutely flushed.

“Yes, sweetheart?” Spencer groaned back.

“I’m close,” you breathed, words breaking.

He let out a soft moan at your words, then moved his hand away from your neck and down to your clit. He rubbed it in quick circles as he had done before, gladly helping you to reach your high. You bit your lip, loud moans and whines falling from your mouth.

“That’s it, doll. I want to hear you,” he demanded of you in response to your moans, his long fingers moving on your throbbing clit as fast as his cock was pounding into your cunt.

You happily complied, continuing to moan out as broken murmurs of his name fell from your lips. He let out his own moans as he chased his high, too. He used his free hand to grip your ass, holding you roughly as he groaned behind you.

“Come for me, sweetheart. Let it out,” he groaned.

His words pushed you over the threshold, being all you needed to finally moan out his name loud as waves of pleasure crashed through you. Spencer groaned out your name, too, as he finished inside of you, gripping your ass as roughly as he possibly could.

When you were both done, he pulled out, breathing heavily as he returned his cock to his boxers. You pulled your panties up and your dress back down, breathing heavily too as you looked back at Spencer with tousled hair.

Spencer stuck the two fingers he’d used to finger you into his mouth, sucking away whatever elements of your release he had managed to get on his hand. You let out a soft moan at the view as Spencer looked down on you. He moved his other hand on your waist.

“You taste sweet,” he whispered to you, caressing his thumb over your hip. Your legs were shaking, and, taking note of this, he picked you up and sat you on his desk. You smiled tiredly up at him as he did.

“I take it this means I’ll get a good grade on my essay?” you joked, giggling.

He smiled down at you, planting a sweet kiss onto your forehead. “A+, baby. A+.”

#spencer reid #spencer reid fic #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid smut #criminal minds smut

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thoughtfullyrainynightmare · 2 years ago

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Hello, I'd like to request for fuegoleon, William, nozel, zora and Nacht where they hurt their s/O's feelings and make her cry? And just how guilty they feel, how they make it up, comfort their s/o and apologize. You can choose whatever they couldve said or done to make her cry I love anything you write they're all so good

If 5 characters is too much then just fuego, nozel and nacht would be fine please and thankyou❤️

Hello! Some hurt comfort is on the menu it seems, and I'm happy to oblige ^^ This ended up being a lot longer than I anticipated, but I hope it's worth the wait ^^

Pairings: Fuegoleon x f!reader, William x f!reader, Nozel x f!reader, Zora x f!reader, Nacht x f!reader

Fanfic type: Headcanons

Genre: Hurt-comfort

Length: about 0.75k each, 3.9k total

Warnings: Generally hurt-comfort, the guys snap at reader, all for reasons of their own, in Nozel's scenario the reader doesn't really know what kind of a person Nozel's dad is, Zora addresses reader as "babydoll", Zora calls himself as a "jerk ass", reader cries and the guys try to comfort in their own ways

Fuegoleon

He had had very taxing couple of months. The adverse the country was facing seemed to have no end in sight, and it felt that in terms of politics and finances the country was being pushed further and further into a corner, which took an immense toll on him emotionally.

And though a part of him wished that he could simply take a vacation and not worry about any of it, he knew it to be senseless. Quite simply because the same issues would wait him as he returned, and they would have further piled up, so taking a vacation would be counterproductive. But still he felt that his nerves were hanging by a thin thread, even if he considered himself as a patient man.

As he sat by his desk, you came through the door with a paper in hand.

“I made us a reservation to a restaurant,” you told him. “I thought we could take a nice evening off, have a date and just enjoy life,” you smiled, while presenting the reservation information to him.

“No thank you,” he said without looking up from the documents in front of him.

“But you need to have some time off as well,” you insisted while placing your hand onto his arm and tugging him slightly. “So I planned us a day where we can just do something w-“

“I can’t take a day off!” He snapped. “Surely a moment of peace and quiet would be pleasant, but there is too much to take care of for me to quite simply ‘take a day off’,” he continued.

And you… lifted your hand off of his arm, and took a step back.

You had intended to do something nice for him, because you had seen how strained he was and now he… wasn’t… feeling the sentiment. A part of you wanted to blame yourself because you had failed to read him and what he’d wish correctly, because wasn’t a spouse supposed to be able to do that?

There were a lot of emotions swirling around in you, but none of them were pleasant. And with it, tears begun climbing to your eyes with a burning sensation, only to roll down your cheeks.

Fuegoleon looked at you, and there was a gnawing, pricking ocean of guilt in his chest, because he knew that you had meant well. You had wanted to do something nice for him and make the situation at least a little bit more bearable.

“My love I’m…” he reached forward for you. “I’m sorry. It wasn’t my intention to hurt you, but … I…” his gaze fell to the side as he spoke, feeling the weight of his words, spoken carelessly.

You didn’t shy away from him as he tried to get close to you again, because it wasn’t… that you didn’t understand him, and you could see the sincere apology and regret in his eyes.

“I’ll… I’ll try to take the day off…” he promised with something that sounded almost like a sigh, but really it was because he knew what it’d mean.

And you knew what it’d mean too. It’d mean sleepless nights, having less time during the next week or two for you two to spend together regularly, in place of that one day. It was a sacrifice he was willing to make, but it wouldn’t be worth it. You’d rather see him a little each day than not at all.

“No,” you shook your head with a faint tone while mirroring his movements and reaching for him. “We can… just have a moment, a short moment, in the evening to ourselves,” you said through your drying tears.

His eyes gathered that gentle undertone that was too beautiful for this world, as he placed his hand onto your cheek and brushed away your tears. “If that is what you wish,” he said with gratitude in his voice before he pressed a kiss onto your forehead.

You nodded as a reply, even if only faintly.

“I am sorry, my beloved,” he still repeated. “You’re the most important person in my life, and I don’t wish to impose any-“

“No, no,” you shook your head. “I get it. There’s a lot on your plate and I should have talked about your schedule with you before making reservations…”

“But your heart was in the right place,” he told you while placing his hand under your chin. “And that’s one of the reasons why I love you,” he admitted while lifting your chin, and placing another kiss onto your lips, warm, gentle and caressing, which washed away any shadow of doubt of his sentiments that might have been there.

William

The days had grown long, because of everything that was going on in the kingdom. And with the disappearance of Julius, it had gotten him thinking about what had happened after the whole ordeal with the elves. Which had made… something about the whole state of the kingdom hit too close to home with him.

Perhaps he was questioning being pardoned altogether, since it seemed that the one to pardon him, had taken a run for it. Or perhaps something more dire.

But if the only person to be willing to pardon him was someone like him, willing to look the other way when the kingdom was falling to its knees then…

It filled him with various emotions, all swirling and twisting and turning until he felt all of them trying to bubble to the surface, but he didn’t know which to let out first. How to let them out. Instead it felt like they were all stuck in his throat, just building, building, building up pressure so much that he might-

“Hey honey!” You greeted while entering through the door of his office, only to see him hunching over his own desk. “Oh did you eat something bad, or-“ you placed your hand onto his shoulder.

But he pushed it away. “Don’t touch me!” He ordered without as much as looking at you. And from his tone, you heard nothing but pain, hurt, and… you could have sworn… disgust… underlying it all… You could have sworn there to be contempt… in there…

You took a step back, pulling your hand to you and holding it with the other. As you couldn’t… imagine why… why would he have… Your sweet William…

His chest was heaving, and as his eyes lifted from the desk to you, the most prominent feelings you could se were fear and pain. The way they flickered, his purple eyes that were so gentle, flickered around as tears lined the corners of his eyes.

“Forgive me…” he whispered as his eyes turned to the side. “I didn’t… I just… Why did he pardon me? Some… solidarity from a villain to another?” His head swayed from side to side, as if trying to comprehend, but failed to do so.

“You’re… not a villain, Will…” you tried, because his reaction had… made sense. It wasn’t you he was trying to shoo away, it was his own emotions, but you sounded anything but convinced. Tears climbed to your own eyes.

You buried your face into your hands, and wept, from the shock of what had happened, his words, but also because you had understood where it came from. Because he was pained from the guilt of his past actions, and you felt his pain too.

He turned to look at you again, as he heard your sobs, and got up from the chair to make his way to you from the other side of the desk.

“I’m sorry… so, so sorry my little song bird…” he wrapped his arms around you, and pressed his head against yours, as his tears rolled down his cheeks, and onto you. “I’ll… make it up to you…” he pleaded. “Just don’t… please don’t… hate me, I… didn’t… wasn’t… I didn’t mean to….” His voice was faint, broken and defeated, and he swayed in place with you in his arms.

It sounded like he was repenting. Praying for forgiveness.

“I don’t hate you… Will,” you told him while wrapping your own arms around him. He was a broken man, and he had acted out of distress. Without intent to hurt you. Without intent to push you away.

He pressed a kiss onto your head as his embrace grew tighter. “I’m sorry,” he still whispered.

You nudged his head with yours, and whispered against his skin “we’ll make it through.”

Because you would. The two of you would. He wasn’t a bad man. He wasn’t a villain. It was simply that the guilt he felt got overbearing sometimes, which had caused him to call out in fear of what he thought about himself.

But he loved you, and you loved him. So, you could heal, together. You were certain about it, as you stood there, holding onto each other.

Nozel

Nozel had learned to deal with his family situation from a young age. Though ‘dealing with it’ had turned into something that seemed more like survival. Not that you could see it from the surface. Because, while looking from afar, without seeing into his eyes, his emotions, he was a calm sea. Vast and serene. Though something, someone to be revered and respected, because there was also harshness in the oceans.

But if you had the opportunity to peek under the surface, you’d see a twisting, turning vortex of guilt, pain, sorrow… fear… A lot of emotions one might deem ugly.

‘Unsightly’ he would describe them in himself. Because he couldn’t be any of those things. The Captain of the Silver Eagles, the First Born Son of the Royal House of Silva, couldn’t be any of those things. And thus… to him, in him, they were unsightly.

He didn’t talk about his childhood either. He didn’t talk about his parents, aside of his mother. Which, given the circumstances of her parting, made sense. He would talk about her more because of the fate she had faced.

You had been thinking about starting a family with him. You had talked about it in passing. And as you sat in the living room, him staring out of the window, deep in thought. You talked about how lovely it’d be. “I’m sure you’d be a great father,” you thought out loud, meaning just it, and nothing else. “Just like yours.”

His head begun to turn to you with a slow motion, as if mechanic, and his eyes were wide open. It wasn’t even a glare, but a mad stare.

“I will never be like that bastard!” He shouted, making you press against your seat out of the sheer force in which the words were pushed, spat out of his mouth.

His body started to shake, and the stare turned into a look of horror as his eyes fell down to the floor. Because…. Because… though his father had been horrid, spewed poisonous words in a whole different way than shouting… maybe you had been right and… he was on his way becoming just like his father. Which was among the last things he’d want.

But you… you didn’t quite understand where it had come from. Sure, he hadn’t talked about his father, but you hadn’t thought that there’d be this level of hatred and contempt for him from Nozel. Though you had gathered that Older Lord Silva wasn’t a well liked man, but… surely he… would have been… kinder to his… own children, right?

Right…?

There were a lot of emotions turning within you. Partly from the force of Nozel’s words, and partly from guilt of having failed to see through his silence. Through the things he didn’t want to talk about, and… as you leaned forward, your elbows on your knees and buried your face into your hands, you cried. You cried and you cried and you… didn’t know what to do. What to say?

You felt a weight right next to you on the couch, as a pair of arms wrapped around you.

“Nozel I…” you tried while pushing against his chest with a faint motion.

“Don’t…” he started as his hold of you grew more firm. “Look at me…” he continued as his voice broke, and something… as if a droplet, landed onto your shoulder.

The words sounded like a plea. Plea filled with shame and the broken pieces of his soul that he wasn’t eager to show you.

But you did as he wished, and settled into his embrace.

“I’m… sorry, my dear,” he whispered with that same broken tone while placing his hand to the back of your head. “I’ll… be better, than him. I will…” you couldn’t tell if he was trying to tell that to you or to himself.

But whatever his father must’ve been like in reality, you could already tell that Nozel was far better of a man than his father had ever been. He was. Because the man who held you in the soft, gentle, secure embrace felt so very deeply about you and the ones close to him.

He really was like an ocean of secrets.

“I love you,” he professed through another whisper, but while the tone was silent, the proclamation was loud as ever. “I love you…” he repeated, just to make sure that you heard him.

And as you buried your face into his shoulder, and the scent of his haircare products flowed to you, it was as if your tears had disappeared into thin air.

Nozel might not have been the best with words, but he was there, when you needed him the most.

Zora

Zora had had to raise himself for a good portion of his childhood. Though Zara had given him good tools to life, and a lot of wonderful memories, it didn’t mean that Zora wouldn’t have had to toughen up.

His accomplishments, his skills and tenacity were all a result of him having a keen eye for details, while also having had to, quite bluntly, tell himself to do better. Pay attention to his own shortcomings and fix the issue.

But… it had also resulted in him being blunt with others. Though it was all for the sake of betterment, for growth and development of skills, the way he delivered the words were harsh more often than not. Which was something he was trying to fix, when it came to some people, at least.

You knew that he was like that. And you knew that he wasn’t the type of a guy to just sit around and expect you to do all the housework, but it didn’t mean that you didn’t like cooking from time to time. Actually, maybe it was the idea that you didn’t need to cook, because he’d be more than alright with cooking if you asked him to, but rather that you could.

But today the dish wasn’t… cutting it. You had tried to taste it many times and there was something in the seasoning that wasn’t just… doing it for you. But you couldn’t really place your finger on what was wrong with it. Or not… wrong wrong per se, but it certainly could be better.

You leaned against the stove, and sighed to yourself, as the gears in your head tried to turn. But came up empty.

A drawer was opened, and closed. There was a sound of metal clicking against metal and steps coming closer, accompanied by a hum from a certain, masked, someone.

Zora dipped his spoon into the food and took a bite to test the taste. And after he had, he sighed, sounding disappointed before making his way to the spice cabinet and laying thme out onto the table.

“The balance is all wrong,” he said. “It’s mainly salty while you want there to be some sweetness to it for the contrast as well. A bit of acid would do wonders, but the real issue is that the spices aren’t complimenting each other,” he explained while taking the spoon and adding one spice after another along with other ingredients.

And you… took a step back and let him do it. Because if it was ‘all wrong’, why should you have interjected?

In all honesty, it made you feel unappreciated. Like you couldn’t even cook right. If I can’t even cook right, then why is he with me….? You found yourself thinking.

Before you knew it, your eyes had turned to the floor and you were grinding your molars together as tears started climbing to your eyes. And eventually, they ran down your cheeks as you were still immersed into your own thoughts, in how you didn’t think that you could do a simple task correct. Because surely Zora wanted someone by his side who could contribute as much as he did. Surely. So why was he-

“Hey babydoll?”

You looked up, and saw him standing there, having placed his hand onto your shoulder.

His eyes were deep, calm blue. Clear and yet deep blue. And there was worry in them. That was when you realized that you were crying and looked away while wrapping your arms around yourself.

He sighed, and rubbed the back of his head. “Sorry about the tone,” he said. “Didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, and… I’m happy to eat whatever you make,” he tried but the consolation fell short, given how he had started cooking in your place.

You curled around yourself a bit more, without really meaning to, but you did. In any case.

“Come here,” he said while pulling you into an embrace.

Seconds ticked away for a while as he just held you, and the dinner was slowly cooking on the stove.

“If you want me to stay out of it, you need to just tell me, y’know? I know that I can be too harsh, and… And… I try to not be.”

He was trying to help you get better. But he could be a wee bit of a jerk about it at times.

“We both know I can be a real ass jerk,” he said with a hint of amusement, trying to make you laugh.

And it worked. “But you’re my jerk,” you replied with a hint of a giggle in your tone.

“That I am,” he replied. “And I hope you never need to get sick of me,” he continued while pulling away just enough to wipe your tears away.

You gave him a small smile as a reply to his careful one, and went back to cooking, together.

Nacht

Nacht had been a loner for most of his life. Someone who travelled down his own path without caring what everyone else thought. And it had made him someone who spoke directly about anything and everything he deemed to be topical to say.

Though he could also be harsh. Granted that he was the harshest to himself, but still. His directness could be harsh, and you both knew it.

He tried not to be, to you. He tried to treat you with the kindness that you deserved. He tried to treat you with the respect that you ought to be treated with. But sometimes, he failed.

Though watching him scold the Bulls for their shenanigans yet again, you didn’t think that he was trying all that hard to be constructive. Maybe he just wanted them to be efficient during missions, because that would drive the squad forward the best. ‘Not to be wasteful of energy’, or something like that.

“You could try going easier on them,” you told him later on when it was just the two of you. “Be kinder.”

“Kindness is a weakness,” he scoffed. “And Yami has let them slack off enough already which will get them killed. Only a fool would go easy on them.”

You stopped, thinking about what he had just said. Because you were going easy with the rest of the Bulls. You were kind to them. And Nacht. So… so.

You couldn’t help but think that Nacht had, there and then, revealed what he really thought of you. Though it wasn’t directed at you, he had been, still, indirectly talking about you too. Basically he had called you weak and stupid.

Basically.

Which made your eyes turn to the ground as you bit down your molars and tried to will away the tears that were climbing to your eyes. Because you shouldn’t have taken such an off-hand comment that wasn’t even said to you, to the heart in such a way but… But. It had struck a nerve in you.

“Hm? What is it?” He asked, having stopped and turned around to look at you, as if he hadn’t realized what he had said.

“So you think that I’m dumb and weak?” You asked with bitterness lacing your tone as the tears finally glazed over your eyes, but didn’t roll down quite yet.

“That isn’t what I said,” he argued, now facing you fully and taking a few steps closer to you.

“But I am letting them off easier and I am being kind to them. So. If being kind and letting them have a breather is-“

“You’re not responsible for them.”

“Neither are you!” Now tears ran, but you didn’t look at him.

You didn’t look, and he said nothing.

Surely, he could have argued that as a vice captain he was more or less responsible, but not to the same extent as Yami. And at the end of the day, all the Bulls were responsible for themselves. So, he didn’t need to care about what they did with their time. Really.

“You are not weak and stupid,” he said while taking you by the hand. “Quite the contrary,” he admitted. “And I shouldn’t have spoken so carelessly.”

He sounded like he was speaking out a ready made dialogue of a noble man that he used to be. But you supposed that he hadn’t needed to comfort anyone lately either. If ever. If he had ever needed to comfort anyone. Even himself, since he had denied such a thing from himself.

But he could see how the ready made dialogue wasn’t doing it. The words might have been there, but the sentiment wasn’t.

“Darling?” He whispered, while moving again a little bit closer to you. “I’m sorry,” he said while summoning his shadows and tugging you, as if to ask to come along with him. To which you nodded, and he transported you both to your bedroom.

As you stood there, in the sanctity of the room with the door closed, he finally wrapped his arms around you and held you close. “You are not weak. Or stupid,” he repeated. This time the tone was one that sounded genuine, caring, insisting. “I’m sorry for insinuating it.”

You nodded and returned the embrace.

“It’s simply that… not being prepared can get people killed…” there was a reason, in there, why he would remind you of such a thing.

“But people need to live too.” And there was no arguing over it. Because life was meant to be lived.

Not even he could deny it. “They do…” he admitted while holding you closer in his arms.

And it was in that embrace that you could feel his heartbeat, his remorse and regret. But most importantly, you could feel how he did love you. Because he did. With his entire heart and soul.

#black clover fanfiction #black clover headcanons #black clover x reader #fuegoleon x reader #fuegoleon vermillion x reader #william x reader #william vangeance x reader #nozel x reader #nozel silva x reader #zora x reader #zora ideale x reader #nacht faust x reader #nacht x reader #fuegoleon vermillion #william vangeance #nozel silva #zora ideale #nacht faust

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pedgito · 2 years ago

Text

summary | using your neighbors address for deliveries doesn’t seem like the worst idea until you find yourself with a world of dilemmas and a burgeoning crush on the single dad who lives there. [10k+]

pairing | pre-outbreak!joel miller x fem!reader

content warning | 18+ content, as always: no explicit use of y/n, reader is a teacher (only for loose plot purposes) meet-weirds, a cliche stranger neighbors to pining lovers take on pre-outbreak joel, lots of sweet interactions with sarah, joel's internal struggles to be a good dad, awkward interactions & flirting, soft sexual content (oral, protected sex, joel talking you through it like a gentleman)

author’s note | this came from a prompt i saw (ignore that actual legality issues of this, it's just for fun) that was meant to be a quick blurb but turned into this monster of porn with plot…i regret nothing, enjoy! or don’t that’s fine

↝ other fics | requests? | ao3

To be clear, this wasn’t the first route you took to avoid the problem. And for whatever reason, fate or be it some other evil, unseen force, it always stuck you in the awkwardest positions.

It also didn’t help that your mailman was probably the judgiest person on this earth, despite it not being his business, the suspicious amount of packages and content of said packages were enough to garner a few looks and even the occasional mumble under his breath.

So, when you start to put down your neighbors address for all of your future packages, it doesn’t seem like a problem.

He’s gone a lot anyways, his truck only pulling once the sun has already set and you’re laying in bed, bright headlights cascading against the walls through your upstairs window. His exhaust kicks off a couple times and it always rouses you from your sleep just enough to annoy you. He's hardly there, it's fine. You've got nothing to worry about.

You’ve only caught a glimpse of him in the morning, a young woman prancing at his side as she hops into the passenger seat. Her name is Sarah.

As for him, he was Dad.

You’ve been here for three months and haven’t made any attempt to be neighborly or make friends, yet you were brave enough to slip his address onto your order forms and go on about your day.

And, in your defense, it works well.

Packages always arrive around the time you’re pulling into your driveway, the perfect opportunity before the trail of buses traverse through the cul de sac and flush out the rowdy kids from their seats.

A quick jog over and you’re snatching up the package without any inclination that something is amiss.

Until again, it becomes a problem.

Not even a problem, really—but it’s still a weird conversation to have, standing at your neighbors doorstep with a package in your hand and looking like some porch pirate with bad manners, if that was even possible.

He was home, but that wasn’t the issue. It was Saturday, a small overlook when you placed your order last week that led you to the position you were in now, staring down the man with your package clutched in his hands.

“This yours?” He asks, an eyebrow raising inquisitively. The contents shake as he holds it up.

“Yeah.” You start, sounding unsure of yourself, “I accidentally gave them the wrong address, didn’t realize until it was already shipped and I’ve been waitin’ all week.”

He didn’t need the explanation, but he lets you speak until your heart’s content, taking a quick glance at the label on the box.

He says your name, double checking to make sure it was you. You nod, extending a friendly hand.

“I’m sorry.” You apologize. It’s sweet, clipped, believable enough that he doesn’t try to implore further.

He finally hands the box over, not a word on your tongue as you fetch the package and retreat back to your home with your heart racing like it was going to burst out of your chest.

You’re already long gone by the time the smirk reaches Joel’s face, a sudden glance back at his daughter. Sarah is laughing from the couch, the noise muffled behind her hand.

“Maybe she’s flirting with you.”

Joel huffs at that, a warm laugh bubbling from his chest.

“Darlin’, I doubt that.”

“That’s the sixth package that’s been sent here.” Sarah adds, “I’m not orderin’ anything. Are you?”

Joel gives her a look that answers itself.

“Then?”

Things are smooth sailing for another couple weeks, but the shared secret between Joel and Sarah is unbeknownst to you.

So, smooth sailing for you, you think.

Joel drags it out until another day when he’s free from work, waiting for those footsteps to reach his porch, a quick nudge from Sarah that has him standing from his comfortable spot on the couch as she moves away from his shoulder.

But, they never come.

And Joel doesn’t know why that sends a surge of confused worry down his spine, but it’s out of the norm. He should check on you.

Sarah's the one to remind him of it.

“Take it over there.” It startles Joel, her ability to sneak up on him so easily. His brow furrows, flipping the package in his grip after he finally opened the door and gave in.

“Go.”

Sarah’s practically shoving him out of the door before he can refuse.

When Joel reaches your front door he can already see you, arm tucked under your head, resting over the arm of your couch as you napped silently, the soft hum of the television muffled by the front door. Joel knocks once, a softer and gentler attempt than he’d usually go for, and when that doesn’t work he goes for the latter, one solid knock that could surely wake you.

It doesn’t.

Joel leans over the trimmed hedge resting underneath the window sill and taps on the glass, letting out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding when you finally wake.

It takes you a moment to adjust, but your eyes are stretching like saucers when your blurry vision becomes clear.

“Shit, shit,” Joel hears the tail end of it as you open the door, “—I’m so—“

“Look I’m not judgin’” He begins, handing the package over without question, “but seein’ as you’re using my address, it would be nice if you clued me in.”

Your mouth opens slightly, wondering how in the hell you could explain this. Joel catches wind of your uncertainty.

“My daughter’s pretty observant,” He scratches at his forehead idly, shoving his other hand into his front pocket, “and I’ve noticed it for about a month now—m’just curious.”

“Uh, okay—how do I explain this?” You ask aloud, placing the package on a nearby surface. “I order a lot of stuff for work. Like, more than normal. It’s a bunch of different things, sometimes a little odd, I guess?”

Joel flashes a grin of amusement, subtle, but there. He nods, urging you to continue.

“Our mail guy kept giving me weird looks—not like it’s his job to judge but I haven’t been here long, the last thing I needed was someone spreadin’ word around the neighbhorhood.”

It was a small community, tight knit. It was a reasonable defense, but Joel kept quiet.

“I’m sure he thinks I’m a psychopath, but I figured maybe putting your address down and pickin’ them up after would help. I mean, it did for a while, but—It was a stupid idea, I'm sorry.“

“What’s in the box?” Joel asks curiously.

It catches you off-guard, blinking a few times as you glance over at the package.

“Uh, pipe cleaners. You know, the craft ones. All different colors.”

“And what about the other ones?”

It was justifiable, the questions he had.

“Huh, um—lots of paint, some rolls of tape, rope, these little face masks for the kids to work on for the town carnival next week. I can keep going but...I don't think you'd find it that interesting.”

“You’re…a teacher?” Joel assumes.

You don’t realize until half a second later that you’d slipped up so easily.

“Yeah, first grade.”

“Well, I don’t mind it, but don’t worry about that kid.” Joel tells you, “We’ve been workin’ on that street by the office for a few weeks and he’s always causin’ some type of trouble. If anything, I can talk to the boss up there, let ‘em know.”

“It’s fine, there’s no need for all that.”

“Well, just trying to be neighborly,” Joel shrugs, and the smile that breaks through, one that you can see, is something indescribable, “I can help you out and have Sarah drop the packages off when she can, unless I happen to catch it before she does to save you a trip.”

“You’re okay with me using your address still?” You ask, a little perturbed.

“Don’t see why not, it’s not hurting anyone.” Joel responds, “And if it saves you a few minutes of feelin’ embarrassed.”

“I don’t know, this is pretty embarrassing too.”

Joel doesn’t seem bothered, shaking his head with the corners of his mouth downturned.

“You’re fine, again—it’s harmless.”

You nod slowly, relenting to his unusual politeness. You weren’t sure southern hospitality was a real thing, but there he was, standing on two legs before you.

“Thank you, uh—“

“Joel.” He answers for you, “Probably should’ve started with that.”

And putting a name to a face had never been more satisfying.

“Thank you, Joel.” You repeat once more, name rolling off your tongue foreignly, smiling nonetheless.

“If you need anything we’re just across the way,” Joel jabs his thumb in the direction of his home, “as much as Sarah loves the Adlers', she might end up clingin’ to you if you let her get to know you.”

Unfortunately for Joel, he’s sealing his own fate by speaking it into existence.

He leaves without a word, waving a quick goodbye over his shoulder as his boots scuff against pavement.

The deep, shaky breath you let out is a reminder that being in new places, trying new things, forming new relationships, wasn’t always a bad thing.

Sarah greets you with a big smile the first day she catches a package before you, opening with a line you don’t expect.

“Do you have markers, by chance?”

She’s all sunshine and adolescent innocence, eyes too wide and unguarded from the world—it’s an effect of Joel’s obvious overprotectiveness he feels toward her. He’s shielded her from so much, though if you asked Joel, not enough.

“I do,” You answer with an airiness to your voice, “whaddya say, fair trade—my package for the markers?”

“Sure.” She nods, handing over the box.

You disappear briefly, the heels of her converse teetering on your doorstep, a gentle rock back and forth as she curiously peers inside your home.

It’s fairly boring, but it’s home. That’s all that matters to you.

“Just try to get them back to me when you’re done?” It’s not so much a demand, handing the pack over to the young girl. “No rush, take them as long as you need ‘em.”

“Yeah, I will!” She responds cheerfully. “I’ve been reminding my dad for a few days but he works a lot, forgets things—are all adults that bad at remembering?”

“Some of us have a lot on our mind,” You shrug, speaking candidly, “You know what—just keep those.”

“Are you sure?” She asks warily, “I didn’t mean to, like, guilt you or anything—“

“No, no.” You assure her, “It helps you both out, that way your dad won’t have to worry about it anymore.”

“Okay.” Sarah responds wistfully, glancing back as the sound of Joel’s truck inches up the street. Joel is pulling the toolbox out of his truck bed when Sarah calls out loudly, “Dad!” shaking the boxed markers in the air.

“She hustle you for those?” Joel calls out, eyes connecting with you. “Sarah, we talked about this—“

“She did not,” Still, the implication earns a laugh from both of you, “they’re free, less for you to worry about.”

And it stings a little, but Joel hides it well.

“Don’t let her fool you,” Joel warns, “She’s just as evil as she is sweet.”

The smile that stretches across Sarah’s face is telling in its own right.

There’s a month of nice, minimal interaction with your neighbors. The Adler's bake too much, always offering up baked goods to the surrounding houses, yours included. You always end up with the extra oatmeal raisins because Sarah despises them and apparently, so does Joel.

Sometimes you catch Sarah at the front door or outside, kicking her soccer ball around or waiting on the steps for her father, even into the later hours of the night. Sometimes it’s Joel, who always ends up at your doorstep rather than you at his.

Joel likes to ask about your day, a polite but awkward attempt at small talk.

He hasn’t tried talking to anyone since Sarah’s mom, it felt forced—but he was trying, even if it was nearly impossible to get through some days.

Joel talked a lot about Sarah, or work, occasionally bringing up his brother Tommy—he works with him too. You’ve seen him a few times and finally put another name to another face, and he's younger than Joel by five years, closer to your own age. Joel opens up little by little, day by day, completely by his own doing despite how little you talk about yourself.

Joel enjoys the way you always have a smile on your face despite how your morning goes, always hanging on to his words like they're the most interesting thing you've heard in a while. He enjoys having someone to talk to that isn't family or people who he's obligated to converse with to get himself through the day. It's the first time he's really started to go out of his own way to get to know someone.

It’s late Friday night when you end up at his doorstep, dressed in some thin pajamas to combat that Texas heat and humidity—nighttime somehow felt worse, the bugs pricking at your bare legs and the material sticking to your skin.

Your package should’ve arrived today and you didn’t see it outside—but a quick glance through the open entrance, albeit guarded by a screen door, showed that it was sitting right there on their kitchen table.

You knock on the glass pane lightly.

“Dad!” Sarah calls out from somewhere you can’t see, “Door!”

“You can’t get it?” He shouts back, also nowhere to be seen.

“I’m busy!”

You chuckle to yourself, hearing Joel's gruff, “Like I ain’t!”

Sarah’s silence is answer enough.

“Shit—“ It’s a gruff noise, stuck deep in Joel’s gravelly undertone, “hold on!”

Joel’s pulling his shirt over his head as he rounds the corner, leaving you a small glimpse of the tan skin underneath. He relaxes when he realizes it's you.

“Just come in,” Joel says, “you’re probably getting eaten up out there.”

And truly, you’ve never been more thankful.

Joel opens the door to let you pass, the strong scent of fresh body wash invading your senses, his hair still wet from the shower.

“M’sorry, I was gonna bring it by later.” Joel apologizes, “I got off a little earlier tonight and wanted to grab a shower.”

He’s handing you the box with a calculated movement, flicking his watch over his wrist as he secures it, glancing at you briefly.

“Should I guess?” Joel asks.

“Uh—“

“The box.” He clarifies.

You decide to tease him a little, head tilted slightly as you grin, “You’d be guessin’ for a while.”

Joel hums a small noise, fidgeting with watch as he shifts it into place before standing with his hands resting against his hips.

“Uh, let’s see—clay?”

Not a terrible guess. An odd one to go for on the first try, though.

“God no, that would be everywhere.”

“Those creepy little eyes?”

“Googly eyes?” You correct with a faint laugh, “No, but that’s definitely been one of the packages I’ve ordered lately. The kids love them.”

“I give up.” Joel says in defeat, hands raising up slightly before slapping down at his sides. A rather quick win on your part.

“They’re seeds, for flowers.” You tell him, “We’re going over photosynthesis right now. All that boring stuff about plants and how they grow but the kids are more excited to play with dirt for a couple hours.”

Joel nods slowly, thoughtfully, top lip disappearing behind his bottom in a pout of thoughtfulness.

“Invite her over already!”

Joel sighs, rubbing his palm over his beard as he scratches lightly.

“If you don’t I will.” She adds.

You don’t have to see her face to know that smile. She was evil, and damn was she good at it.

“Right, uh—“

“No, please don’t feel obligated,” If anything, it made you feel like more of a bother, “my feelings won’t be hurt.”

“No, I was—I planned on asking.” Joel admits, “Just kept forgettin’.”

That and he didn’t know to casually bring it up in conversation.

Point one, Sarah. Joel, zero.

“They’re throwin’ a little party for my birthday. Just a cookout is all, gonna have food, beers—is that somethin’ you’re into?”

Joel feels ridiculous, a grown man in his mid-thirties and sweating over the prospect of inviting a woman over.

“I can be.”

Your smile is relaxed, reaching your eyes in the way that makes them squint a little.

You can smell the fresh soap and spice of his cologne from this distance, a welcomed change from his usual worn, dirty state—not that you hated it, but Joel did clean up nice.

“Great, tomorrow at 7?”

“6!” Sarah quickly corrects, sounding exhausted.

Joel rolls his eyes, a sign of an also very tired father.

The snort of laugh slips out before you can hide it, slapping your hand over your mouth in embarrassment.

“Uh, I’ll just show up somewhere in between, how about that?”

Joel seems unfazed, fighting against his own grin as he nods.

He forgets to tell you goodnight as you leave, something that doesn’t even cross your mind, but to him, feels like a missed opportunity.

“So out of your league, brother.” Tommy whistles lowly, shaking his head in disbelief as he flips the half-cooked burger on the grill. “Shit—explain it to me again, actually.”

“She sends her packages here,” Joel’s short, to the point. “s’not much to explain, Tommy.”

“And you’re okay with that?” Tommy counters.

Joel shrugs.

“What the hell’ve you done with my brother?” Tommy jokes lightly, earning a half-hearted shove from Joel.

Tommy’s eyes flick toward you briefly, helping Sarah in the kitchen as she ices the cake. Sarah smiles at whatever you’re saying, your back turned to both of the men.

“Don’t act like you’d be lettin’ slide for just anyone. How well do you know her?”

“Well enough,” Joel shrugs, “Sarah likes her, probably a little too much.”

Truth be told, Joel didn’t know much about you at all. But, he wanted too. Tommy saw right through it, but he didn't push Joel. He knew better.

“Careful,” He warns with a soft chuckle, “once that kid sinks her teeth in, there's no way she’s letting her leave.”

Joel knows it’s too late—her eagerness to invite you over, always finding excuses to talk to you or force Joel to do the same. The kid was too smart for her own good.

Even after all is said and done, you decide to stick around to help clean up. Tommy nearly runs at the opportunity to skip out of the mess, waving a quick goodbye to three of you before he’s gone.

Sarah doesn’t fight Joel when he tells her to head upstairs to get some sleep, knowing that he could manage it on his own. He didn’t deny your offer to help either, taking the kind gesture in stride.

“How does it feel?” You ask, breaking the silence as you swipe up the dishes into your right arm, stacking the plates and cutlery with a careful movement. “35, I mean?”

Joel chuckles aloud at that, short and flippant as he turns his back, swiping the empty beer bottle from the grill.

“Old,” He answers simply, “and with Sarah getting older it feels like five years for every one.”

“You look like you’re doing alright,” You admit, but it feels like an overstep, your mouth backtracking before your brain can think, “at least, it seems that way.”

Joel smiles slightly, an emotion that only fills half of his face. He’s unsure of it all.

“I don’t think I’ve seen a more cheerful kid,” You sidestep through the backdoor and into the kitchen, placing the dishes in the sink, “and she talks about you a lot.”

Joel drops the empty bottles into the trash, joining you by the sink before politely shoving you aside, “I got ‘em.”

You pull away begrudgingly, but it fades quickly.

“I’m probably the last person you care to hear this from, but I’ve met a lot of parents, seen a lot of different situations, families—she’s happy, so you’re doing somethin’ right.”

“I’m just tryin’ to keep things normal, I guess.” Joel explains with his hands halfway submerged in soapy water. “I’m all she’s got.”

A system flows smoothly as Joel passes off the wet dishes for you to dry, stacking them up on the counter.

The glaringly obvious lack of a second parent is not lost on you and if Joel didn’t want to bring it up, it wasn’t your business. But, his face reads guilt—it always does.

Guilty for working too much, guilty for forgetting things, guilty for making Sarah (and Tommy) worry about him so much.

“Enough about me,” Joel shakes away the excess water, taking the offered dish towel from your hands and patting his own dry, “you want a piece to go?”

The beautiful cake Sarah made, homemade and imperfect, nearly devoured by the four of you already.

“No, I’ll be okay,” You wave your hand freely before resting them in the back pockets of your jeans, scuffing the toe of your shoe against the flooring, “thank you for inviting me, by the way. Not that Sarah gave you an option.”

Joel laughs behind his curled fist, a finger scratching at the fullness of his beard before he’s rubbing his palm over the expanse of it and down his neck.

It doesn’t matter that Joel was the one to mention it to Sarah, wondering if it seemed to forward. The look she returned was typical of a teenage girl and nothing short of making Joel feel stupid for asking.

“You’re good company,” He compliments, “plus the Adlers might think I’m stiffin’ them if I don’t bring a plate over in the morning, so it’s probably best you don’t take that piece anyways.”

“Hey, they’re sweet,” You chastise him lightly, shoving him gently in the side with a finger, “— and those cookies, man.”

Joel smiles thoughtfully, glancing up toward the open front door, a windless night covered in a blanket of silence.

“Can I walk you back?” Joel asks, mostly out of his habitual politeness but a few more minutes with you would be nice.

“Joel, I’m practically in your backyard.” Your eyes study him shortly, the subtle shrug in his shoulders. It was a kind gesture, one that you wouldn’t expect from anyone else. “Fine, have it your way.”

Joel shakes his head in amusement, hearing you giggle on the way to the door, his footsteps following closely behind.

And it feels akin to the awkwardness you feel after a first date, the will he won’t he, who should make a move—is there a move to be made? It’s the unspoken giddiness that terrifies you, something you haven’t felt in a long time.

But, it also doesn’t surprise you when Joel does absolutely nothing—not that he needs to feel the responsibility too, but he always looks like he’s poised to say more, ask another question, and even now as you turn to him, fingers wrapped around the handle of your front door, he’s thinking.

You're quick to quiet his mind.

“Hey,” You call to him quietly, “I’ll give you a quick tour, if you want?”

It’s harmless, giving him a chance to get a peek inside your life, as hectic and unorganized as it was. You were single, alone, and didn’t have to worry about anything but yourself and the overload of things you’ve accumulated in your space, namely for your job.

But, despite the disorganization it’s nearly spotless.

“You still haven’t unpacked?” He asks curiously, tapping his fingers against a pile of cardboard stacked high, unopened.

“Mostly,” You answer candidly, leading him through the open floor of your home, doors wide open, the freshness of lemon lingering throughout, “living room, some of the kitchen, bedroom—it’s mostly done, it’s just the last room on the right that’s kickin’ my ass.”

Joel’s eyebrows raise in question, silently asking you to lead him further. He ignores how soft your fingers feel as they wrap around his wrist, shoving his watch a few centimeters higher as you do and pulling him down the hall with a leisurely stride.

He whistles lowly at the sight, a hoard of boxes and no homes. It was the perfect size for an office, probably what you were intending, a small desk buried underneath the rubble.

“No shelves, no storage?”

You point at a few larger boxes stowed away in a corner.

“I couldn’t build one of those things without breaking somethin’,” You admit with an aura of embarrassment, “plus I need a power drill and bunch of other shit I don’t have right now, so I’ve been putting it off.”

“I’ll help,” Joel suddenly offers, “Given I can manage a day off soon, but I can come over early and we can knock it out in a day.”

“That’s nice, Joel, but—“

“I don’t need your money and I’m not takin’ no for an answer.” Joel realizes how aggressive that sounds, quickly adjusting his manner of speaking, “You’ve been keepin’ Sarah company when I can’t, let me do this.”

Your eyes soften slightly, head tilted at an angle to admire the almost apologetic look on his face.

“You are too kind, Joel Miller.”

And if he could have the smile engraved into his memory, he’d do it in a heartbeat.

“I never told you my last name.” Joel looks at you quizzically, eyebrows furrowing.

“Got a piece of your mail the other day by mistake,” You admit, “s’kinda funny considering the situation. I was curious. You still trust me?”

“You are somethin’ else.” He grins. “Can I trust you?”

Flirty Joel was sweet, you liked it. But, it was gone in a flash. Too soon, too quick.

“Guess you’ll have to wait and see.”

The part of you that wishes Joel would’ve stayed a little longer that night aches as you lay in bed, dragging your fingertips lightly over your stomach, shirt pushed up near your breasts. It feels ridiculous, pining over your neighbor.

But, even as you fingers dip inside you, explore your body in all the ways you need, a steady pressure over your clit until you’re coming with a soft gasp, the only thing you can picture is Joel—his face, his hands, and the softness of his voice as he calls out to you, comforts you into that deep void of sleep.

Joel ends with a second shower that night when the world is quiet and everyone is already tucked away in bed, climbing into the brisk cold of the water before it even has the chance to heat up, hoping it calms him down. He ends up in a similar predicament, dragging it out until it’s nearly painful as he squeezes the head of his cock, your sweet smile still fresh in his mind. Joel calls out your name as he comes, just as quiet, and he knows he’s fucked.

You don’t see Joel for a couple weeks, outside of a few occasions where you’re greeting him from your yard, albeit taking out the trash or spending time on your front porch as the tail-end of summer was winding down and evenings were becoming cooler.

He seems more preoccupied than usual, smile not always reaching his eyes and you’re wondering if you’ve done something wrong, if he can read the guilt that oozed from you—crushing on a neighbor? Preposterous.

Most of Joel’s own guilt rides on the fact that he’s always busy, it never fails. A screw up at work meant another setback, setbacks meant longer hours and they had been experiencing far too many these days.

He’s stressed about work and bills and everything any normal adult should while also trying to maintain the balance of being a good dad to Sarah. He hates leaving her home alone so often, even though most of the time she would wander next door to the Adlers’ or over to yours, always supplying herself with the company when she needed it.

He greets you on a Sunday morning, mid-October when the Texas heat was still prickly enough to keep you in a tank top and shorts more often than not. He’s already dressed for the job, tattered jeans and an old shirt on his frame, toolbox clutched in his right hand while he rubs the fingertips of his left against the inside of his palm.

Joel looks a little cleaner around the edges, his beard was trimmed, the hair that started to curl over his ears was shorter and tucked behind his ears and he’s taken a shower despite how much work they had ahead of them for the day.

And, hell, it was work.

Joel made it look easy, but the sheer amount of energy needed to put all the furniture together was something you just weren’t equipped with. He’s explaining random things to you—the importance of anchoring things down, keeping things stable by balancing out the weight distribution and why he always marks and rechecks things twice before drilling.

It’s all a completely foreign language, but you can fake the perplexed look on your face as long as needed—you’d nearly mastered it being around an army of tiny children all day, fighting for your attention to show off their new tricks.

“You’ve been sittin’ on this stuff for how long?” Joel asks, eyebrows pulling together in amusement.

“A few months, maybe. Only a couple days after I moved in, really.”

“I work in construction, sweetheart. You could’ve asked.”

It’s the first time Joel lets his fondness slip, a little word that you skim over entirely when his eyes avert away at the realization.

“Well—I mean, you offered.” Like that wasn’t obvious as he kneeled crouch on your floor, jeans spread tight over his thighs, shirt riding up his back as he leaned in to twist the screw in at an awkward angle. His head is nearly touching your knee, legs tucked under you as you watch. “Seems a little too forward if you ask me.”

“And using my address for your packages don’t?”

He’s got you there, chuckling under his breath at your silence. He thinks back to Sarah’s constant nagging, pushing him to get over his own self-loathing and talk to you, or at least make an attempt.

“Sarah thought you were doing it for other reasons.” He admits, rising slowly to rest his palms against his thighs, sweat collecting around his neck, wetting his collar slightly. “Flirting with me, I guess.”

“That wasn’t my intention,” You answer honestly, “I mean, you’re nice to look at but—“

Joel’s eyebrows raise, intrigued.

You shrug, making a noncommittal noise as you hum.

“It’s the first time she’s been really eager about me getting back out there since, ever, I guess.”

It startles you a moment, the revelation, a small glimpse into his real life, the deeper parts—it’s the tiniest crack, but it’s there.

“Can I ask you somethin’, Joel?”

He nods slightly, stuffing away the screwdriver and lifting the stand with ease, resting his forearm against the surface of it.

“Has it always been—shit, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” You huff softly, rubbing some sawdust between your fingers, “I guess I’m just tryin’ to say that even if Sarah’s mom isn’t in the picture, for whatever reason, she’s always welcome to come to me for stuff. I remember being that young and losin’ my mind when I felt like I couldn’t talk to anyone.”

“Oh, she’s got you hooked.” Joel’s grin grew wide for a moment before softening, “Sarah’s mom, she—I’ve raised that little girl from birth on my own, so she doesn't know anything but her. She doesn’t ask, I’m not gonna force it on here either. But, I’m glad she’s found someone she’s comfortable with.”

There’s a moment of silence that feels like a new connection, a tether tying the two of you together—closer.

“What about you?” Joel asks suddenly, turning the topic of vulnerability and family back toward you. “If you’re comfortable sharin’.”

“Family moved around a lot, my parents traveled for work so it was just me most of the time—boarding schools, weeks by myself during breaks where I was fending for myself, really. My parents always kept me secure financially, but I raised myself.”

Joel sits on that, absorbing the information as you sit a little deeper into the floor, back resting against the front panel of your desk as you shift your legs in front of you, knees bent.

Joel mirrors you after a moment, the soft cream of the ceiling fan filling their air as he leans his head back, enjoying the faint breeze.

“Never wanted kids of my own, either.” You admit, “But, I loved ‘em when they weren’t my own—partially why I started teaching. I just don’t want my kids feeling the way I felt, so if I never have them then…”

Joel understands, fidgeting with his fingers as they rest over his knees.

“I was so young when Sarah came, I didn’t have a clue.”

It’s something you never really thought about, the quickness to grow up at such a young age—not quite a kid but barely stepping into adulthood.

“Well, it seems like you figured it out. She’s got a strong personality but she’s smart, that’s gotta count for something.”

Joel laughs a short, silent noise through his nose, shoulders shaking with the movement. You push away some of the mess from your bare legs, finding that building things was a lot messier than you thought.

“A wet paper towel or washcloth can help,” Joel adds, pointing toward the dusting of wood on the floor, “the rest,” he waves a loose finger toward your hair, pulling at a small piece and flicking it away, “a shower will do just fine.”

Joel glances over your frame briefly, but the gaze he holds is intense, the time that burns even when he finally looks away.

“I can clean this up for you,” Joel offers, “go ahead and take a shower and I’ll be outta your hair before you’re done.”

And you don’t put up a fight, as much as you could have.

The shower feels like heaven after a long day, nearly into late afternoon now and having skipped out on lunch completely—maybe you should offer to feed him as a thank you, knowing he’d never take any money. You hear him moving around outside the door, shuffling with tools, rearranging some of the furniture that was probably a little on the heavier side, falling silent as you finally turned the faucet off.

You should’ve wait a few more seconds, could’ve—you would have missed him completely by then, but you’re wrenching the door open in a hurry to the short distance to your room that was attached to your bathroom, but not before colliding with Joel on the opposite side of the wall as he dug through a cabinet, admittedly a little lost.

“There weren’t any hand towels in the kitchen,” Joel explains calmly when he turns to you, holding his gaze with yours, avoidant of your blatant nakedness as you silently reach for a towel, wrapping it around your frame without a single blink, “I figured—seemed like the second best option…”

He gestures vaguely to the cabinet full of towels.

You nod slowly, speaking evenly, to your own surprise.

“And I was gonna invite you over for dinner, or out—whichever, but that seems a little cliche now, seein’ as you just saw me naked, don’t want you getting the wrong impression.”

“Can’t have that,” Joel nods, agreeable, the remnants of smug grin catching the corner of his mouth, “can we?”

It takes every last ounce of self control to keep you from making a mistake, beg him to take you there—wherever, on the floor, the counter, the bed just some several feet away in the adjoining room.

“I’ll just…finish cleanin’ up and see myself out,” Joel nods, letting his gaze drag down slightly, fingers tightening around the towel instinctively—for your own good, “sorry ‘bout all this.”

You nod slightly in response, wracking your brain with any reason you could give to keep him here a second longer, convince yourself to stop being so scared of putting yourself out there.

It wasn’t lost on you that Joel seemed interested. He’s got that look that lingers when you’re around, always catching glances when he thinks your attentions drawn somewhere else—you see it in the early mornings when you’re leaving for work now, less before you had gotten to know him, and the soften in his voice when he talks to you lately, it’s comforting; he feels safer allowing himself to relax around you now, free of any judgment.

But, he’s also never made any attempt to cross those boundaries, polite to a default and sometimes his own demise—until now, something telling him to go for it.

“But, if you were wanting to treat me to a nice meal,” There’s a calmness to his tone, that same drip of snark you always had toward him but teasing in a way that made your body run warm all over, “Sarah’s spending the night a few blocks over with a girl on her soccer team, so—a little peace and quiet, some dinner,” Joel shrugs, arm raising up to lean against your frame of the door, palm pressed high and fingers tapping along the woods, “it does sound like a fair trade. For the work.”

And whatever he’s trying for, it’s successful.

Hell, you would’ve ended up finding your way over there somehow, but the fact that Joel’s reciprocating and in a way that almost seems playful, it’s too good to pass up on no matter how stubborn you wanted to be to cover the embarrassment you were feeling right now.

Sure, for the work.

“Deal.”

It doesn’t take long for you and Joel to settle on something simpler than some meal that would take too long, too much work, and it was glaringly obvious from the moment you arrived at Joel’s front door that neither of you gave a shit about dinner or deals or paying him back for the work he did.

Whatever was lingering between you now was bigger, much bigger than it had been before and impossible to ignore.

But, the attempt at small talk is nice—a slice or two of pizza into dinner and you’re settled on his couch, legs crossed and facing him fully with his leg stretched out and resting on the coffee table settled a few feet away. He’s no more dressed down than usual, a pair of jeans (arguably one of his cleaner pairs) and a loose shirt that’s design had faded, probably from years and years of wear. You settled for something similar, comfortable, a knitted blanket slung around your shoulders for comfort.

“Cold?” He asks around a bite.

One word. A simple question, but it feels like an answer to so much more. An excuse, even.

“A little,” You nod, punctuating the answer by pulling the blanket over your shoulder more, knees rising to huddle your body closer to yourself, “it’s not that bad.”

“Let me turn the heat up,” Joel’s standing before you can respond, messing with the small panel on the wall, pointing toward the vent settled conveniently above the couch, “feel it?”

You reach a hand out feebly, waiting for the rush of hot air that never comes. You shake your head slightly, rising on your knees slightly, waddling yourself forward until it finally hits you, closer to Joel’s original spot as he returns, settling back in the same position as before, though you’re much closer in proximity now.

You snort softly, falling back on the heels of your bare feet, palms pressing into the tops of your thighs in an attempt to keep the height you had on Joel currently, the smugness in your expression unavoidable.

He’s got his left arm slung over the back of the couch, fingers curling and straightening in a subconscious movement, food forgotten on the table, his eyes dragging toward yours lazily, the buzz of the television filling whatever silence was settling between you two.

Joel is playing oh, so innocent—you can see right through it.

“Smooth,” You can give him some credit, he’s got you closer—not where he wants you or needs you, but he can touch you if he wants, right now, yet still, “how long did you think that over in your head?”

“An hour,” He admits sheepishly, eyes squinting with the half-hearted smile that stretches his face, “pathetic, right?”

You shrug indifferently, settling in deeper, more comfortably. The shift in your movements has your knees pressed against his thighs, hands settling in your lap and just a few inches from his own. There’s a small tear in your jeans that Joel can see, right against the bend of your knee—he’s got the urge to touch you, so he does.

His touch is rough, warm, all calloused from hard work but containing the hominess you crave so deep in your bones.

“I can let it slide,” You assure him, fingers inching closer to his, the width of his palm covering your kneecap now, a slow, precarious movement as your fingers slip over his own, wrapping around his wrist and feeling the faint thrum of his pulse as it quickens, “if you’ll do something for me.”

It's been weeks of build up, unnecessary tension between the two of you that threatened to spill anytime one of you moved to close to the other, a simple touch in passing or looks that dragged on too long.

“‘Course, anything.”

The admission comes quickly. He doesn’t even need to think it over. He’s staring more intently, the shadows of his face changing with every flashing picture on the screen several feet away.

“Stop torturing me,” You supply softly, guiding his hand between your legs until his knuckles bump against your center, a soft squeeze to your thigh as his fingers fit comfortably against your body, his brain mapping out how the levels of his touch affect you, “you take me to your room,” it’s your turn to reach for him, fingers leaving his wrist to trace alone his thigh in return, though stretching past the the button of his jeans to find the soft skin of his abdomen under his shirt and dragging over his stomach delicately until he can’t stand it anymore, using his free hand to lock yours in place, pulling your attention to his face once more and away from the slow rise and fall of his breathing, “and you fuck me.”

Joel frowns slightly, the creases in his forehead becoming a little deeper, the beginnings of his crows feet wrinkling around his eyes and he’s trading the spot where his hand is cuddle against the apex of your thighs to slip his fingers under your jaw, tracing the fragile lines of your face until he can cradle your cheek gently, using the pad of his thumb to press on your chin, guiding your face down to look at him, and somehow pulling you impossibly closer.

“Fuck you?” He questions, eyes searching yours briefly, tongue swiping at his bottom lip, “No—no, that’s not how I do things, sweetheart.”

You smile under his touch, watching as he mirrors those emotions and urges you toward him and over his lap, large palms holding steady at your waist. You filter your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, tracing until you reach the shell of his ear, playing with the short tuft of hair that curls behind it, his eyes watching your movements carefully.

“Care to enlighten me?”

Joel chuffs out a laugh, short and brimming with a darkness that wasn’t there before, using the leverage he has to lean forward and secure you on his lap until you’re hanging by a thread over his knees, letting out a small yelp at the change in position that quickly dissipates into laughter.

“Darlin’, I’d rather show you.”

There’s a certain giddiness to your energies as you clumsily climb your way up the steps, Joel suddenly a lot more handsy than earlier as he grips at your hips, your thighs, pulling you in for quick, fleeting touches that tickle and have your breath catching in your throat until you can finally break away, nearly tripping into his bedroom before he catches you with a swift hand, shoving the door closed with his heel as he closes in on you, pulling your legs up around his hips in one heft of a motion, arm slung around your backside while the other paws at your thighs, make the small trek to his bed and resting you down slowly, chest heaving with a quickness.

A sudden dip in the bed has your ass nearing the edge but his legs are there to catch you, knees barely pressing against the end of the mattress while he reaches for the button on your pants wordlessly aside from the gaze he’s holding with you, his expression is rather flat (a little concentrated even) and he’s popping it open with ease, thick fingers sneaking around the waistband and tugging until there’s nothing left but a small snag at your ankle that he wrangles quickly, soothing the spot after with his thumb.

“M’sorry about earlier, again,” Joel finds himself apologizing, “never wanted to make you feel uncomfortable around me.”

“I wasn’t—I’m not,” It’s something you’re sure of, more so that anything right now, “I could’ve cleaned up the mess myself.”

Joel shrugs, large palm spreading over the width of your hips, thumbs pressed gently into the ridge of your hip bones as he folds your legs in closer from where they’re hooked around his own waist, the soft cotton dragging against denim and igniting a deep yearning that could only be satiated once he was inside you—it’s what you were hoping for, urging him closer with your foot as you nudged him forward.

“And you were so respectful,” You comment coyly, tilting your head up at him as you reach for the fabric of his shirt, grinding the wet heat of your cunt against the front of his jeans for friction, bottom lip pulled between your lip momentarily when it feels just a little too good, “didn’t even try to take a look, did you?”

Joel laughs quietly, a short huff through his nose when he shakes his head, “I tried—god, did I try—”

His thumbs dip lower, under the waistband over your underwear while his fingertips slide under your shirt, rubbing against the soft skin of your belly, your own hands coming down to claim his, pulling them higher until they settle over your breasts, completely bare underneath.

“I’ve been picturing it since I got home,” Joel admits, glancing up at the ceiling briefly in a desperate plea when he touches the bare skin, nipples pebbling against his touch and he squeezes greedily before he finally has the courage to look at you, watching as you pull the top over your head casually, “you’re poisonin’ my mind, sweetheart.”

It’s a compliment wrapped in some form of emotion you can’t decipher as his mouth drops open an inch, rubbing his thumb over the soft bud of your nipple until you grow impatient, a small whine of protest leaving your mouth as you reach the short distance between your bodies to rub against the swell of his jeans, “Not just that I hope.”

“You really want me to fuck you?” Joel asks sweetly, a little condescending with the way it’s delivered as he glares down at you, his touching lingering from your breasts as he slides a thumb over your clothed cunt, a gentle pressure against your clit until your breath stutters at the sensation. He says your name softly, a warning for your attention to be brought back to him. “Hey, need you with me—you like that? Getting fucked?”

You squeeze him firmly until it forces a chuckle out of his chest, his hand squeezing around your thigh to pull you taut, rocking his hips into the touch before swatting your hand away and working at his belt, jeans, everything keeping him constrained until he can finally reach his cock, working his boxers half away down his thighs and reaching for your hand again, wrapping your softer, less overworked hands around his dick until it registers in your head what he wants, his hand a guiding light as he builds a slow rhythm, squeezing your grip until it’s just right.

“Usually, yeah,” You nod, using your touch to admire every last bit of him, thumb drifting over the head of his cock as you squeeze tight, letting him buck into your touch impatiently—he’s breathing hard through his nose, eye contact more intense now that it ever has been, staring down at your over the bridge of his nose, all beautiful and godlike, sculpted to perfection, “feels good.”

It doesn’t matter if it’s been months. But it has. Almost a year, truthfully, and just by the quick glance you take at him—nothing compares. He doesn’t make a big deal about it, talk himself up like he’s everything you need. He wants to hear what you like, what you want.

“I can do that,” He obliges and suddenly his hand is hit against your folds, middle finger spreading you open gently, pressing against your opening testingly, “do what you like—or we can do things my way.”

“Your—your way?” You gasp softly, nodding without hearing what he has to say, “Yeah—fuck, your way is fine.”

“Didn’t even let me talk, sweet girl.” Joel remarks smugly.

But, it doesn’t matter. The second his finger breaches you fully it’s nothing but white noise, his thumb working just as tentatively at your clit.

Joel drones on anyways, his voice like a warm current as it guides you into a state of calm.

“I’ll get you there, real close, just like this,” He nudges his fingers against a soft spot inside of you that has your eyes squeezing shut, choking off a moan as you squeeze tight around his cock, hands moving a lot less now that he had you distracted, but Joel didn’t mind, “then I’ll fuck you, slow…hard, whatever you like, okay?” And there comes your name again, a bouy pulling you back to the surface as you nod, “But, fuck if I don’t take my time with you—I’m gonna save her for last,” He slips another finger in silently before pulling out and rubs the collected slick over your clit in a couple quick movements, “show her all the attention she deserves, right?”

“Joel,” You whine—a beg, a plea, just another reason to say his name so desperately, “Joel, please.”

“I gotcha,” He comforts, lifting a knee up to rest against the mattress, shifting your leg higher and switching up the angle entirely as it forces his fingers in deeper as he pushes back in, “relax, breathe, lean into it, baby.”

Letting yourself go, he means. The baby is an afterthought and maybe he doesn’t mean anything by it, but it doesn’t fail to send a flutter through your insides and somehow calm you in the same instance.

And really, nothing compares. He’s attentive in a way that’s new to you, never something you’ve experienced in the past and maybe it helps that he’s got a few years on you, or more experience, but it’s addictive—he’s got a hold on you that you can’t seem to break.

He listens to the way your breath buckles when he rubs your clit a little too fast, clearly nearing your edge quicker than he or you would like, but he knows just when to stop and slow down, fill you full of his fingers and keep you wanting more. He sees the subtle pull of your brow when he drags it on longer than you’re used to, that’s when he finally pulls away.

“Joel, can’t—“ You breath out tiredly, eyes closed and resting as you catch your breath, his hands nudging yours away from his cock as it bounces against his stomach, quickly shoving his jeans and underwear the rest of the way down, “want you inside, need you to fuck me like you—you said—“

He rubs a comforting hand against your stomach, up your sternum until he’s flat against the center of your chest and you’re looking at him again, more focused this time around.

“Scoot up,” He tells you softly, nodding while he reaches behind his head, yanking his shirt over his head in one fluid act, “get comfortable, sweetheart.”

He’s unabashed and cool in the way he holds himself before you, yielding a vulnerability that he never would’ve had with you if he hadn’t gotten to know to you more, if he didn’t have the chance to—he walks around the bed and to his nightstand a few feet away, admittedly littered in either dirty clothes or laundry he hadn’t put away yet, rustling through one of his top drawers for something you can only assume, his bare ass on display and in perfect view.

It’s something to admire, firm and toned from the heavy lifting and upkeep he kept on his body, through work and exercise, the muscles in his backs molding to each move he made as he stretched, rolling a tight shoulder as he closed the blinds a little tighter, turning to you then and switching on his bedside lamp, bathing the room in a soft glow that leaves you nowhere to hide from him.

Not that you felt the need to anymore. Maybe a few weeks ago, but definitely not now.

“Here,” He’s adjusting a pillow underneath your head as you lean forward, assuring you’re comfort as you nod to his waiting look, eyebrow raised slightly, “do you—I can turn that off if you want?” He rubs a curious hand down your chest again, clambering to settle between your legs as he kneels, cock hanging heavy between you as he rips the foil open quietly with his opposite hand, the other again, curious as he palms your breast, pointer finger dragging along the swell of it as he traces down to the underside, “I just—I like seein’ you.”

“It’s fine, Joel.” You answer him, stalling his movements with your touch as you trap his hand, watching as he spits away the foil and rolls the condom over his cock with ease, stroking languidly until he feels secure, somehow making the moment even more tender as he winds his fingers through your loose ones, subconsciously asking for the touch as he smile when your eyes catch his gaze.

“You let me know what you need,” He orders kindly, though there’s a sternness behind it, “I’ll be damned if you’re not gettin’ what you want, alright?”

You nod, inhaling silently on the first press of his head against your cunt, his shaft sliding against the center and coating in your wetness before he’s pushing in with a carefulness that’s indicated through the tight grip you have on his hand, loosening when he finally bottoms out.

Joel groans low, quiet, savoring how tight you’re gripping him in the moment, pulsating with need from how hard he’d edged you to near orgasm. He’s thankful, for once, because he’s not sure he has much will power to hold off either.

“Slow,” He reminds you, a gentle rock of his hips as he focuses his attention toward the point where you two meet, watching the way you pull him in with greed, fingers once twisted between his fingers now clawing tightly at the sheets, “shit—it’s been too long.”

You nod knowingly, other hand shifting to put space between you and the headboard, placing opposite pressure against the wood with your hand, in turn allowing you to gain some leverage and work yourself easier against Joel, whatever slow place he was going for quickly dissolving into madness, hands wild and gripping at whatever flesh it could reach.

“Oh, hell.” Joel groans, head tilted back and eyes squeezed shut for his own good, fingers digging into your thighs so he can fuck himself into you with fervor, your moans quickly morphing into pleas for, “more, more—please, Joel.”

“Gimme your hand,” He gruffs out, voice scratchy and raw, guiding your fingers until they lock around the back of your thigh, pushing until you’re spread wide and he’s guiding your other leg over his chest, ankle resting against his shoulder as he pulls out without warning to adjust himself, “you’re gonna hold yourself open, baby—keep yourself open for me.”

And then he’s sliding back in with no preamble or words of comfort, just a desperate slide of his body against your own, seeking to be back inside you.

The angle is almost unbearable this way, teetering on the edge of too much but whatever words you’re trying to form in your head aren’t making sense, eyes locked on Joel—all of him; his face and the subtle way his forehead creases, mouth dropping open wider when you clench down on him, gasping through every thrust of his hips, and his chest in the way it flexes as he pulls you tighter, biceps flexing as he strains, his own self control breaking down piece by piece. You’re mostly mesmerized by the way this angle gives an almost perfect view to watch him fuck up into you, the veins running along the side of his cock and how careful he is too pull all the way out before he’s driving you insane with the forceful thrusts he gives as he returns, his eyes flicking up briefly when he catches you staring.

“Oh, fuck—“ He huffs through a laugh, your name falling from his lips once more, “sweetheart, you’ve got no clue how good you feel.”

He moans a little louder, unrestrained and rough, almost like he’s growling with every sharp snap of his hips and it’s driving you insane, that subtle throb of need turning into an ache that had to be soothed.

“Joel…” You call out to him, sounding soft and broken.

He’s right there with you, ripping your hand away from where it’s latched to your thigh and bringing it between your legs, feeling exactly how wet you were for him, his thumb covering your own as he helped you start a steady rhythm against your clit.

“Look so pretty like this, sweetheart,” Joel notes, voice sounding even more strained, his grip growing tighter as he seeked to wrap you around him more, more, more, leaving your hand to wrap around the back of your thighs and push you apart, “I got you—come for me. Think you can do that?”

You nod absently, feeling like you were falling into a trance, a dark void that was just you and him and nothing else, touching yourself with an urgency that didn’t let up, fingers immediately speeding up when his hands moved away and he sees it, the desperation.

Joel chuckles to himself, a noise that breaks you from the haze as your eyes creep open, watching how he admired you openly with no shame, “Fuck—you really need it, don’t you?”

You can hear yourself, him—that wet squelch of arousal, skin against skin as he fucks into you with no restraint. You nod again, a quick jerky movement as you feel that familiar heat in your belly build, “Yesyes—god, Joel.”

And Joel soothes you every step of the way as it finally hits you, his hands giving your thighs that desperate relief they needed as he pulls you close, a hand cupping the back of your neck firm and tilting your chin up, lips dragging along yours without taking the step to press against them for a full kiss, a intimate moment of breathing against one another while Joel follows a few moments later, his hips rocking to a slow halt as he rides through the force of his orgasm, groaning deeply against your mouth as you feel everything calm around you, the soft hum of the fan on his dresser pulling you back to earth.

You want to kiss him so badly, watching him pull away for a brief second to check in with you, eyes scanning your face for anything—but you’re tired of overthinking so you do it, no second guessing, no worrying, cupping his face gently and pulling him in for a long, but simple kiss that feels like it could go on for eternity. He melts into it instantly, the firm grip on your neck softening to cradle your face, one of you (though, maybe both) eventually coming up for air with grins wider than you’ve ever seen.

There’s nothing left to do but feel it, both of you laughing into each other’s skin and that small snort of amusement slipping from you, feeling Joel mumble something against your collarbone but not asking him to repeat it, watching him smile to himself again as he rises on steady legs to dispose of the condom.

“How are you even—“ You giggle softly, rubbing a gentle hand over your face and through your hair, watching as he retreats toward his ensuite bathroom to retrieve something small, a tiny towel as he wipes up the last remnants of mess around you and his own body, but not yet reaching for you, “my legs are shaking, can you—“ You reach weakly for the towel.

But, he’s spreading out between your legs before you can protest, that smug fucking look on his face as he tosses the towel to the side and waits for you to finish.

You never do.

“Didn’t forget, did you?” Joel asks, eyebrows raised in question. “I’m takin’ my time, sweetheart.”

And the night lends all the time in the world, watching with a sated grin and tired eyes as Joel presses a kiss to your core and dives in, finding every last bit of you to taste, devour, savor in the off chance he never gets to experience this again.

“Pussy’s fuckin’ perfect, darlin’.” He murmurs—and how he manages to make that sound so endearing despite how depraved it actually is, you’ll never know.

He also really loves when you play with his hair, the delicate traces of your fingertips as you take through his soft tufts of brown and pull when things get a little too intense.

Joel brings you to a slow, but satisfying second orgasm that has you whining at how intense it feels after the first, gasping when his tongue works you through it and nearly has you cursing his name in a plea to stop, but he pulls away at the perfect moment, careful as he cleans you up now, not a word shared until he’s settled in the bed beside you, reaching to pull at the lamp string and let the room succumb to darkness.

Part of your brain thinks this should feel strange—screwing your neighbor after he’s been helping you out for weeks and building your furniture for free (technically), but Joel’s mind is elsewhere, rubbing softly at your side as he turns you in bed, pulling the sheets up over you both despite your obvious states of undress, clearly too tired to go searching for your clothes.

You want to make an excuse to leave. You do, but Joel quickly squashes that worry of making things weird by staying.

You can't see face but you hear him, lips brushing the top of your head as he speaks in a soft tone, “Sleep here,” He encourages you, but adding a quick, “if you want—only if you’re comfortable with it.”

“What about tomorrow?”

“Tommy’s pickin’ Sarah up for me in the morning,” He tells you, sensing your hesitation of an uncomfortable face to face the next morning, and you voice that to him softly, “don’t worry, I can sneak you out if it comes to that.”

Joel lends a soft touch to your thighs, still sore and shot from earlier as he squeezes the flesh gently.

“M’not gonna fuck you like that and let you leave,” and that shouldn’t make you feel the way it does, leaning into his touch a little further, wanting more, but it does, “somethin’ about you relaxes me, can’t put my finger on it.”

“The mind-blowing sex to start,” You joke lightly, speaking softly to him despite the empty house, “among other things.”

Joel’s laugh is the last thing you hear before you both lose the battle to exhaustion, curled around one another.

Tommy catches you in the kitchen nursing a cup of coffee before you even realize he’s inside, quiet as a mouse as Sarah trods up behind him and beyond, waving a quick greeting with no outward comment or acknowledgement on why you were here, at the Miller residence, somehow stuck in the middle of their morning routine as they readied for work around you.

“My brother?” He asks with a smile, polite but amused.

“Bathroom, shower.” You answer, watching him nod, digesting the context clues and laughing to himself.

You hand him a cup wordlessly, filling the coffee for him.

“Didn’t think he had it in ‘em.” Tommy comments off-handedly, blowing out a faint puff through his lips as he shakes his head, dipping his head into the fridge in search of breakfast.

Joel saves you soon after, walking you back to your house without a word to his brother aside from a quick shared look, one that reads him getting teased to all he’ll later.

There’s a silent agreement that’s made as Joel backs you against your front door, tilting your chin up briefly to press a chaste kiss to the side of your jaw, not quite your lips, not quite your cheek, but still somehow more sensual than it should be.

“I’ve got a lot of fixin’ to do, still,” You admit, “could really use your help—if you’re still offerin’.”

“At your service, sweetheart.”

Tommy’s waiting eagerly in the kitchen when Joel returns, digging into a blueberry muffin like an animal.

“You are so screwed, brother.”

And Joel knows it’s true.

Please consider a reblog if you enjoyed this fic! It’s makes a huge difference. ♡

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x you #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal #my writing

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aliesbienish · 3 months ago

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buddie x reader where they’re a couple, but they both meet reader separately, for example she’s an ER nurse or something and they both gain feelings for her and feel guilty and tell each other until they realise they both like the same person and decide to go for it together??

The doctor is just what they ordered

Established Buddie x Reader

Eddie met you first. You were exhausted, nearing the end of a busy 12 hour shift, with your hair spilling out from what was once carefully constructed braid and remnants of god knows what on your scrubs. He’d handed over a driver involved in a nasty collision and was sitting waiting for Hen so they could head back to the station.

Eddie had grabbed a seat across from the nurses station and had a perfect view of you taking a sip out of a coffee mug only to grimace at the taste.

Simultaneously as you thrust it back onto the desk in disgust a paper coffee cup appeared before your eyes.

“I think you could use this,” Eddie smiled, gently nudging your hand with the, blissfully, still warm coffee as you stared at him in confusion.

“I guess I now know why my ex didn’t believe me when I swore up and down I liked his cooking,” you quipped, gratefully grabbing the drink.

“If it helps the fact that the mug had been sitting untouched since I sat down nearly twenty minutes ago also indicated whatever was in that cup wasn’t going to go down well,”

“Hmm I’ll except that explanation, solely because I’d like to stay blissfully unaware if my face is an open book or not.” You took a sip of the coffee, the heat almost making up for it being from a shitty hospital drink machine before coming to a realisation.

“Hang on, does that mean I just stole your coffee?”

“Stole is an interesting choice of words when I literally handed it to you. But no, you technically stole my colleagues.”

“Even better, get me in the bad books of someone I don’t even know.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll only tell her that you claimed it while my back was turned and proceeded to call her all sorts of bad names,”

“Wonderful, I’m assuming she’s a firefighter too?” You asked having caught sight of the man’s LA Fire uniforme. He nodded in affirmation. “Great, it’s not like I’ll ever see her again,” you noted sarcastically.

“Im not sure you will, since I for one have never seen you before,”

“That’s because I’ve just moved here. Regrettably I don’t know the good hiding spots yet so I’m sure we’ll be seeing a lot of each other,”

“Well I for one look forward to it, I have plenty of other colleagues I can turn against you,”

“Great,” you laughed, barely managing to stop sitting out the coffee.

“Well there she is now,” He pointed at a women across the room waving at him to get a move on. “Nice to meet you Dr…. Sorry I didn’t get your name,”

You laughed, introducing yourself and shaking his hand.

“Right well I’m Eddie,” he said, giving you a nod as he turned away,”

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Buck’s first meeting with you was a bloody mess, literally. It was only a few weeks after Eddie had first saw you, and in true Buck fashion it was chaos.

Los Angeles had been hit with a Tsunami, the worst in the US since 1964, and the hospital was overwhelmed with patients. Luckily Cedars-Sinai was far enough inland that the hospital hadn’t been damaged, but others had. Meaning that they couldn’t take on emergencies but they also had to transfer critical patients who were already there.

The hours since the Tsunami were a blur as you moved through emergency patients addressing their injuries enough to keep them stabilised, before moving them off to specialised wards.

You were currently in the bay waiting on an incoming ambulance, with a critical but awake patient onboard. From what you could gather the poor guy had been at the pier when the tsunami hit, spent the day rescuing others despite being already injured, before collapsing at the makeshift VA hospital. They’d sent him across as he needed to be imaged to make sure their wasn’t internal damage, and with the VA running on generators they weren’t able to do it there.

The ambulance pulled up abruptly, knocking you out of your thoughts, and the paramedics open the door to a man who was smiling despite the downright awful day you had. You followed the paramedics into the ER, listening as they rattled out Evans, Buck as he apparently preferred, injuries and symptoms.

“Hi Buck,” you introduced yourself, “sound like you had a rough day,”

“Wasn’t my favourite. Although I’m sure yours hasn’t been a walk in the park either,”

“More like a marathon dash if I’m honest. However between the two of us I think I’ve had it easier, I got to stay dry after all,”

“Not a fan of swimming?” Buck laughed.

“Love swimming, just never liked waves. Silver lining to all this is that I get to call up my mum and tell her how wrong she was calling my fear ‘irrational’,” Buck started laughing again, but quickly grimaced and held the left side of his upper abdomen.

“Alright, time to pause my one woman show and get you check out. You lie back and relax okay,”

“Thanks Doc,”

You quickly went through the motions of your head to toe assessment. Buck had clearly suffered rib bruising and had cuts that had been hastily patched but needed better dressings, otherwise externally he was in surprisingly good nick. It was the leg you were worried about, ordering a CT to make sure it was all okay. You placed Buck back into a quite corner of the ER to get his bandages redressed and wait out the results while you dived back into the fray. After a few hours you got to give him the good news.

“Hiya Buck,” you greeted pushing through the curtains. “Your looking a bit more spritely,”

“It must be the food they serve here, ever since I got my hands on a sandwich I’ve been feeling a million bucks,” he winked.

“Oh ha ha. I also don’t believe you, I’ve tried the food here and I don’t think anyone’s had a higher reaction than ‘meh’. Should I call for a psych consult?”

“Threatening a sick man. That’s low,”

“Well the good news is I wouldn’t call you sick, just slightly bruised and battered. You’ll have to promise to rest up but I don’t see why you can’t go home straight away,”

“That’s great news! Thanks for everything today, this hospital stay has been one of the more pleasant ones due to you,”

“Bet you say that to all your doctors. Now is someone available to pick you up or do you need me to give anyone a call?”

“My partners just outside making a call, I’m all good to go! Thanks again,”

“Bye Buck,” you smiled closing the curtain behind you.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Eddie was exceptionally grateful tonight that both of his boys were safe and relatively uninjured under his roof.

Chris had taken some coaxing to get to sleep but he’d eventually drifted off. Buck, after Eddie had told him to stop being a idiot and thinking he was in any way to blame for the events of the day, was in a surprisingly good mood.

So good he was in fact humming under his breath a rather upbeat tune as they lay in bed.

“Sweetheart,” Eddie whispered, turning Bucks head gently towards him so they were lying facing each other. “Are you sure your okay? Not that I want to doubt you but you’re taking today exceptionally well,”

“Ed’s don’t worry, I am now. I wasn’t to be honest initially but the doctor at the hospital was great and she calmed me down, and got me laughing,”

“That sounds like excellent beside manner,”

“The excellent-est. I would like to request her for any future, likely inevitable, injuries I sustain.”

“Shut up Buck, I don’t want to see you hurt again if I can help it.” Eddie groaned, placing a kiss on his forehead. “Which doctor was it?”

Buck relayed your name smiling, and Eddies face dropped. “Oh.”

“Oh? What’s oh mean Eddie?” Buck questioned sitting up and turning his body to Eddie.

“I’ve met her that’s all, and she’s young and pretty. Funny too.”

“Was that oh jealousy?” Buck asked exasperated, “you silly man,”

“Its just she would be perfect for you, and I imagine a lot less baggage.”

“Sweetheart, while I admit she’s appealing, I love you. Your what I want, and I happen to love Chris,”

“I know, I’m sorry. I can’t helped being worried.”

Buck pulled him into a kiss. “Don’t be,” he whispered against his lips before pulling away.

“Wait hang on!” He paused as Eddie tried to chase his lips. “You noticed all those things about her too, yes?”

“Maybe…”

“So does that mean you are also attracted to her?”

“Buck I would never do anything to jeopardise…”

“Ed’s I know that,” Buck cut him off, “I think this is a good thing”

“How so?”

“Well we both like her. So why don’t we both date her?”

“Im sorry what?”

“You. Me. Her,” Buck punctuated. “Doesn’t that sound good,”

“I don’t think it’s that simple Buck,”

“Why not? If she wants this too than what’s the issue? And don’t you dare say it’s not accepted, because you and I both know that caring what people think only hurts.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay Buck. If she’s also interested then let’s do it”

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

The last few weeks had been filled with thinking about Eddie and Buck. You managed to meet two lovely men, who talking with seemed as natural as breathing, so you could help day dream about them both individually and rather embarrassingly together.

So when the two men walked into the ER together you were almost sure you were daydreaming again. They’d approached one of the nurses who mortifingly pointed straight at you, ensuring the boys caught you staring. You gave an embarrassed wave as they came towards you.

“Hi Doctor,” Buck winked.

“Hi Buck, Eddie. Nice to see you both…together,”

“Ah yes, literally actually. We’re boyfriends” Eddie acknowledged, his face flushing red.

“Oh that’s great,” although the disappointing feeling washing over seemed to disagree, “I don’t doubt you’re amazing together,” you said genuinely. At the very least it gave you hope that two of the most genuine people you had met were together. “Here for a follow up?”

“No actually, I hope this isn’t too upfront but we we’re hoping you’d like to join us for dinner sometime soon?” Eddie asked, Buck nodding beside him in encouragement.

“Oh, as a thank you? You absolutely don’t need to do that,”

“No, although I definitely want to thank you,” Buck replied, “as a date,”

“A date?” You squeaked.

“We know it’s unorthodox but we both couldn’t stop thinking about you and once we realised we were thinking about the same person we had to try,”

“You do realise we’re going to be a scheduling nightmare right? I mean doctors and firefighters aren’t know for their set hours”

“Worse comes to worse there is the hospital cafeteria, they have some of the best sandwiches” Buck jokes.

“And coffee,” Eddie added.

“Delusional the both of you. It’s like you want this to fail”

“Is that a yes?”

“I get off in 15, meet you in the cafeteria?”

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Well that escalated. Thank you lovely Anon for your request.Hope you all enjoyed. Any medical knowledge (or lack there of) is brought to you by 24 hrs in A&E.

X Ali

#buddie 911 #911 fanfic #911 abc #911 imagine #evan buckey x eddie diaz #eddie diaz x reader #eddie diaz imagine #eddie diaz x you #evan buckley x you #buck imagine #evan buckley x reader #buck x eddie #evan buckley #buddie imagine #buddie x reader

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min1check · 1 year ago

Text

Leto! Joker x Side Chick! Reader part 2

1033 words dw im writing the smut part and again barely proofread so im sorry if u find mistakes

pt 1

description: you work at one of joker’s clubs and he begins to take interest in you… pt 2

I got my window fixed and a new bowl thankfully. If it was just me living there at the apartment I wouldn’t care about the bowl but I was preparing for my family to come and live with me.

But for some reason I began looking for Mr. J more and more. But he stopped coming to the club. I didn’t know why. Maybe he got tired of me?

Actually I’m stupid. That’s a good thing. He cheated on Harley…

…with me.

That goes against all and every girl code out there. What am I doing with my life? I need to focus on school and work.

The night I got home was when I started receiving gifts from him. Sometimes it was flowers, sometimes it was cash, sometimes it was even food. Every night I felt guilty.

One day, Joker finally showed up to the club, with Harley. The feeling I felt so strongly in my heart was guilt. (And jealousy but i’ll never admit that)

I placed down the drinks they usually ordered.

“Sorry hun! Puddin wants to try something different today.” Harley spoke to me.

I smiled back.

“What would Mr. and Mrs. J want today?” I smiled.

“Hmm… Doll what should I get today?” He turned to Harley.

I froze up at the nickname. I should’ve known that nickname wasn’t just for me. It was mad fucking embarrassing. It didn’t just feel embarrassing it made me feel disgusting and fucking nasty.

I could feel my face getting red from anger and embarrassment.

It looked like Mr. J could sense how I felt as he had the same grin on his face. It made me realize that being with him was dangerous for my mind and body. Yet there was something about him that was unexplainably alluring.

“Oooo~ I really liked the green thing we had last time!” Harley smiled ever so sweetly.

I went back to reality.

“We’ll have the absinthe.” The Joker looked at me up and down with a grin.

I’m a fool.

“Yes I’ll get that for you right away.” I smiled and walked off.

I’m so fucking stupid.

“Wow, that was fast, Miss Waiter!” Harley exclaimed.

“Thank you Mrs. J.” I tried my best to sound like I was laughing genuinely.

Joker just grinned at me like usual.

I couldn’t tell you about what I remembered about my shift except for that part. I got home quickly that night. On my table was a note with an address

written.

I quickly gathered all the random presents Joker left for me and put it in a box neatly.

It wasn’t right of me to let myself be a mistress. I needed to stop this. I couldn’t let myself catch even bigger feelings either. Why was I jealous of Harley even though he was already hers? It’s not right of me to think of such a thing. I’m not about to be a homewrecker.

But what if he reacted badly to me saying no? He’s literally batshit crazy. He wouldn't hesitate to blow my head off. I still have a lot of things to live for. Maybe I should just stay home.

But if he gave me this note tonight then he wants me to come tonight. Right?

So what if I had a slight smile currently? He’s hot and i like being wanted, that's all.

I googled how far the address was and it was actually pretty close. I quickly arrived at the address. I knocked on the door and was met with a shirtless Joker.

I touched my mouth to make sure I wasn’t drooling.

“Hi I’m sorry but I can’t accept this Mr. J.” I said quietly while trying to avoid looking at his man tities and his ripped ass chest.

There was no grin on his face but more like a scowl. It shook me to my very core. I was too used to his devilish grin. (It was kinda hot though…)

“Doll you’re breaking my heart! Those gifts were just for you!” His usual grin appeared on his face again. It

His use of the same pet name for Harley and me was repulsive. Yet it made my heart twist and turn.

“Give these gifts to your actual girlfriend Mr.

J. I don’t want to disturb your relationship and I need to focus on school and work.” I couldn’t bear to look at him so I focused my attention on the ground.

He put the box of gifts I held in my hands down on the floor.

“Aww~ Are you jealous Princess? Harley is my girlfriend, yes. But you’re the only one that’s in this smalllll tinyyyy heart.” He put my hand onto his chest.

Would he kill me if I squeezed it a bit?

“…” I didn’t want to retort back and get my head blown off. But this whole thing we had was morally wrong. And I knew if I fell in even more love with him I could never escape those feelings. I don’t want to die.

“Mr. J we can’t- I can’t do this. You already have a girlfriend and I need to focus on-“

I was cut off by him shushing me with his finger.

“You can’t but I definitely can. Who said anyone needed to know about us, Doll?” He held me in his arms.

“But Mr. J…” I was conflicted.

My life or him?

“C’mon Princess~ be with me. I’ll make sure you never worry again.” He said like he knew exactly what I was thinking.

He kissed me…

And I kissed back.

He’s probably done this to so many other girls but my body, heart, and mind couldn’t escape him.

Maybe a few more days wouldn’t hurt.

I spent the night with him. When I woke up he had already left. There was a note left next to me with his number on it.

I felt lonely.

My knees literally buckled with every step I took. It was really bad. I thought I was gonna fall multiple times. Thankfully I was able to get into my apartment and I slept for a little longer. Yet it felt cold without the warmth of Mr. J.

#joker x reader #jared leto joker x reader #jared leto joker #leto joker #leto joker x reader #the joker x reader

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goldenlikedayl1ght · 1 year ago

Text

black friday - m. murdock

a/n: an old work i finished because i decided y'all are owed something cute and fluffy. shoutout to all my girlies who were in codependent relationships for so long that they needed to figure out who they were again after ! as always, reblogs and comments are always appreciated! warnings: lots of fluff, lots of kissing, lots of talks about a bad ex, reader is rather shy at first, cursing probably but it's late and i'm probably forgetting so much im so sorry also a lot of suggestive behavior because they're in love word count: 4.5k summary: you have a list of things to do within a year of living in new york. matt helps you check everything off- oh, and you fall in love with him, too. it's not on the list, but you do it anyways. pairing: matt murdock x fem!reader now playing: black friday - tom odell "i wanna go party/i wanna have fun/wanna be happy/could you show me how it's done?/ you look so pretty/pretty like the sun"

For a long time, you thought you’d never get over your ex.

For a long time, you believed that you were it for each other. You’d go the whole nine yards—Kids, a quaint house in your hometown, Sunday dinners.

And for a long time after he broke up with you, you thought you’d never let yourself love again. How could you? How would you allow yourself to be set up for failure, after letting someone know every part of you?

You had been dating him since high school and had been living with him in your first apartment when he broke it off.

Sometimes, it was amazing, and you were never happier. But most days, it had been full of anger and talking him off the ledge all the time. It was makeup sex after arguments you couldn’t remember now.

So, when he did break up with you, you decided to use it as an excuse to run far, far away from your small town. And you found yourself in Hell’s Kitchen.

You land a job at a small law firm, and at first, you just work as a meek little office assistant.

Nelson, Murdock & Page grew by the day, and for a while, you felt out of place. It wasn’t that you were abused or worked to the bone, you just struggled to make friends, and you weren’t very social while getting over your ex anyways.

So, for about two months, you did your job quietly, laughing quietly at the bickering of your bosses, thanking Karen Page for her advice, enjoying coffee with Foggy Nelson, and of course…

Never muttering a word to Matt Murdock. He was just too intimidating. Besides, you still felt like your ex’s eyes were watching your every move, even thousands of miles away, even now.

Then one night, Foggy couldn’t handle it anymore. So, he approached you quietly at the end of a long workday, with a simple phrase.

“This week’s been crazy, huh? Hey, a few of us are going to the bar tonight, did you want to come?”

What were you supposed to say? ‘No, my ex who I don’t talk to wouldn’t like that?’

Please.

“Oh, Uhm.. I don’t know, who else is going?”

“It’ll be me, my wife, Marci, Karen..” He said.

“Sure, I’ll come.” You smiled, before you could stop yourself.

“Awesome! I’ll send you the address! I’m so glad you’re tagging along!” He grins. You’re thrilled too.

“Me too, it’ll be fun.” He begins to walk away but then he turns back around with a snap of his fingers.

“Oh! And Matt is going!”

Why wouldn’t he tell you that in the first place? Why was your face burning? Why was your heart racing?

“Oh, Great.” You told him, now suddenly conscious of everything about that night.

• • •

At the bar, you wound up ordering a drink before you went over to your friends—Well, Coworkers, you wouldn’t call them friends yet, thanking the woman behind the bar.

Then, you made your way over to them where Foggy was playing his wife in Pool—and losing horribly. So, you sit with Karen and Matt, where there is conveniently one seat available, right between the two.

Karen excitedly said your name as you approach adding a, “I can’t believe you came!” Which, ouch, but, fair.

“Well, Foggy was right, this week’s been awful, so I wanted to relax.” You smiled, sitting with them.

“I’m glad,” she said, before asking, “So, why’d you move to New York?” She knew you weren’t from here, so you figured the question would come up eventually.

“Just needed a change of pace from a small town, you know?”

“I do,” she nodded, “Do you like it here?”

Did you like being alone all the time, feeling like you’re always doing something wrong? Like you should run back to your hometown and beg your ex to marry you?

“Yeah, I love it. It’s so different in a way I wasn’t really prepared for, but it’s great.” You lied.

Matt’s blind. Why did it feel like he has this burning gaze into your skin?

“Did you go to college in your hometown, too?”

“Yeah,” You smile. You loved College. You were an early education major and had even gotten your masters in your small community college. You loved teaching, and if you hadn’t moved, you’d have stayed at the school that hired you after student teaching there. But, when you got to the city, you were unable to find consistent work because the demand for teachers was so high.

So here you were, working as an office assistant for a small law firm.

Karen glanced down to her glass and frowned.

“I’m going to grab another drink, do either of you want anything?”

“I’m good, Karen.”

“No, thank you.”

Silence. Sickening silence.

Then, he spoke.

“Do you know how upset I am that you got your drink already?”

What?

You furrowed your brows, confused.

“I’m sorry?”

“I wanted to buy you a drink, but you beat me to it.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” You repeated, a light blush on your face.

“Well, I figured it might be nice to wipe the slate clean, considering you haven’t spoken more than ten words to me since you started working with us.”

That was true. There’s just something that feels so wrong about it, even though you worked with him,

“I’m sorry,” you said again, and he just laughed.

“You say that a lot.”

“I’m sor—” You caught yourself, clearing your throat. “Why do you say that?”

“Well, you speak to everyone, just not me. So, I listen and I’m pretty sure you apologize more than anything else.”

Your face was beet red.

“Okay, Okay, I get it. I don’t talk a lot, especially not to you. It’s something I’m working on, I have a whole list of things I’m working on.”

That’s true. You had an actual list of goals you have before your first year in New York is up.

“A list?”

“A list.”

“May I?” He asked, and you sighed, pulling out your phone, your list nestled deep into your notes app.

“Apologize less and talk to you is at the top.” You told him. “Then it’s get a job I love,”

“Ouch.”

“Sorry, Boss.” You took a sip of your drink, “Move into a nicer apartment, and uh..” You sighed softly. “Get over my ex.”

He tilts his head.

“Your ex?”

“The reason I moved here. He broke up with me about six months ago, but we were together for so long it feels like an impossible task.”

Matt knows the feeling.

“It’s an easy enough list. We can help you.” He says, “When did you move to New York?”

“May 1st.”

“Okay, then by May of next year, you should have everything accomplished.”

“We?”

“Yeah, I’m gonna help you.”

“Oh, so now it’s you and not all of you?”

Now it’s his turn to blush.

“You’re rather talkative now.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I like it.”

• • •

Talking to Matt is easy, you discover quickly.

It’s the apologizing that gets you.

You’re staying late at the office about a month later, while Hell’s Kitchen is amid a blistering heat wave.

You feel like you might die. You’re editing a closing argument Foggy wants to practice when Matt calls your name gently.

“Can I see you in my office for a second?” He asks. You follow him into his office, not really thinking much of it.

“What’s up?” You ask, sitting in the spare chair in his office as he closes the door behind him, going to the seat at his desk.

“Well, remember that list we talked about?”

“Yeah?”

“I haven’t heard much from you this week.”

That’s true, it’s just been sort of a hectic time with cases piling up. You can only do so much work AND talk to your favorite coworker. Yes, Matt had quickly become your favorite person at the office, even after just a month of really trying to open up to him.

He learned about your ex, your holiday traditions and that you hate peppermint.

You learned about his parents, his favorite dessert, and that he dresses up every night to go fight the criminals of New York.

Okay, you technically weren’t supposed to learn that, but you had stopped by his apartment early to drop off a file you were working on, and he had just crawled home and was still in his suit when he answered the door, forgetting completely that you didn’t know.

So now You knew how he was able to tell that you lied to Karen that night at the bar.

“I’m—” You start to apologize, but then you stop yourself. “I’m not sorry, I’ve been busy and so have you, but I do miss talking to you, though I am not sorry.” You say, and he grins.

“That’s my girl.”

Huh.

Your stomach swirls and you beam at the praise.

Wait, what?

You brush it off, before asking,

“Does Daredevil still come out to play even though it’s a hundred degrees out?”

“Will you have your window open with a few bottles of water open for me?”

“Always.”

“Then yes.”

Talking to Matt is rather easy. You have a feeling that soon the apologizing will follow.

• • •

October is the month of figuring out what you want to do with your life.

Sure, you love working in the office, but you are going crazy. You’re under stimulated and the hours are consistently long.

So, you try a lot of things.

You bake, you cook, you take exams, you work tirelessly to try and figure out where you want to work and where you’ll be happiest.

You try doing hair but find yourself uninspired.

You think you might like being a nursing assistant but turns out, you don’t like blood.

But part of you knows your heart isn’t in it, for two reasons.

For one, you want to teach. You want to be teaching young kids’ addition and their spelling and stars. You desperately want to be a great influence in their lives.

And the second thing is..

You don’t want to leave your coworkers.

You love spending time with Karen and Foggy. For a long time, you didn’t have friends outside of your relationship, and they are the best friends you’ve ever had.

Foggy spends long coffee breaks cracking jokes with you and asking for your sandwich order, telling you that you have to stop by his brother’s deli for one of his signature subs. Then he tells you this long-winded story about how his mother wanted him to be a butcher, not a lawyer.

Karen is your favorite girl. She’s not only drop dead gorgeous and ridiculously smart, but she is also kind like no one you have ever met. She texts you when you forget to let her know you’ve gotten home safe, there is always a coffee on your desk when you get there and for your birthday, flowers are on your desk, scribbled with a cute note in her handwriting.

And then, there’s Matt.

He’s your best friend and knows you better than anyone. He loves having you right in the office where he can hear your heartbeat and smell your vanilla coconut perfume. He tells you about his dad and you tell him about your folks.

He knows your Chinese and Thai food orders like the back of his hand, always ordering you some when he gets his. You describe the movies you’re watching in detail, and he hangs on to every word. There is no one who sees you more than him, and he’s quite literally blind. When you tell him about your dream to go back into teaching, he encourages it.

“When I was a kid, I’d have benefited so much from someone like you.”

He asks you to do his makeup for his Halloween costume, no matter how badly it irritates his skin. He likes the idea of your hands so close to his face.

But you’re both critically aware of how, not only is the market flooded, but you’re dreading the day you leave your little office job.

So many people have asked if the two of you are dating. And you both always laugh, because.. because you just love each other in a way that you can’t describe. But no, you’ve never thought about dating Matt Murdock.

Until this one day.

It’s like any other day, really. You have your friends cramped in your tiny apartment and you’re just waiting for Matt’s arrival before you eat dinner for the night.

Karen, Foggy and Marci sit at your little table as you finish cooking, and Marci just glances over to you.

“You need to move to a better apartment.”

“I know, I know,” you laugh, “But she’s so cozy! I love it here!” It was, and is, all you could afford, but you grew to love it.

“Yeah, and I love having leg room.” Foggy chimes.

“You know what, Nelson? You could just, pay me more so I could move somewhere nicer?”

“Touche.” There’s a knock on the door, so you grin and head over there, opening the door for Matt.

And you need to take a second.

He’s holding your favorite bottle of wine, and he’s in these nice dark jeans and a gray sweater under his peacoat.

This thought strikes you.

This thing you thought you’d never feel again after your ex.

Matt Murdock is hot, and you have got to have him.

This is it. The thing you can’t deny any longer. You have a massive crush on the devil that disguises himself as your favorite person. To you, he is an angel.

“Hey,” you say breathily, as if you have it out for yourself. Surely he’ll know. “You didn’t have to bring wine.” You told him, a soft smile on your face.

He steps inside as you take the wine, leaning in to kiss your cheek gently, something he has found himself doing every time he enters your apartment. It’s your routine. He loves this aspect of your dynamic because he has known that he’s wanted you for months. You’ve just been so caught up in everything that you didn’t see it.

“It’s no trouble, thank you for having us,” he says gently.

So this is it.

You just can’t deny it.

You have a massive crush on Matt Murdock, and there isn’t a thing you could do about it. Except maybe kiss him. But for that night, you just kind of relax and pretend you’re already dating him. That’s something you haven’t done in a long time.

You’re beginning to feel like yourself again.

• • •

Nelson Family Christmas celebrations are something of legend for you. For months you’ve heard about it, and you’re on your way to the deli with a handful of presents and two trays of cookies.

You’ve decided that just once, you want a holiday away from your family. Truth be told, you really don’t want to spend your holiday without your best friends.

You have on this stunning outfit—A red sweater, a black skirt and these warm black stockings. Boots to die for.

You know Matt can’t see your outfit, but that doesn’t stop you from wanting to dress up for him. It’s weird. This crush thing has been getting out of control.

You’re greeted at the door of the Deli with a crowd full of blonde-haired New York Irish-Italians, and they’re all lovely. You put your presents down and place your cookies on the dessert table. And you love Foggy’s family. They ask you questions constantly, and Foggy’s sister-in-law talks to you for a while about her career in the local high school system.

It’s a joy to meet so many people so full of love.

So, you go over to Foggy as he’s yapping and say gently, “Hey, where’s Matt?”

He grins.

“Why do you want to go kiss him under the mistletoe?” He teases. Your face goes red.

“Shut up! Where is he, Franklin?” You glare and he laughs, patting your arm.

“Upstairs in the hallway.” He says, and as you walk away he calls, “Go get ‘em, Tiger!” You glare and grab a cookie on your way up.

And you find him, standing in a quiet corner of the hallway. You go to open your mouth and he turns to you.

“Merry Christmas,” he leans forward and kisses your cheek.

“Merry Christmas, Matty.” You hum. “Guess what type of cookie I have.”

He sniffs the air and shakes his head. “Give me a taste and I’ll guess.” You hand him the cookie and he put it in his mouth halfway, raising his eyebrows to you.

“What?”

He gestures to the cookie in his mouth, and you laugh, realizing that he wants you to bite the other end, ala Lady and the Tramp. So you lean forward and take a bite, and he eats the rest, inches separating your face as you enjoy your treat.

People chatter down the hallway and Christmas music plays from somewhere. There are so many different foods and people, and all Matt can focus on is the vanilla coconut scent of your perfume. When you’re both finished eating your cookie, his hands find your waist.

“Matt, what are you—”

You don’t get the chance to finish because suddenly he is kissing you in the dark hallway of your friend’s family Christmas party. The kiss is wonderful. He tastes of the cookie you two shared. It’s unlike anything you’ve ever experienced.

You need more kissing practice because it’s been so long. But you get the feeling that Matt won’t mind helping you out if this is another thing you want to add to your list.

When he pulls away, he’s a bit breathless but he says one thing to you.

“Chocolate chip peanut butter.”

“What?”

“That’s my guess for the cookie type.”

“Wanna kiss me again to confirm?” He grins and his hands travel down, just slightly to feel the materials of your skirt.

“That’s my girl.”

• • •

The next two months fly by in a whirl of kissing Matt, trying to find a teaching job and enjoying your first real winter in New York.

By the time March rolls around, the clock is ticking for you to be able to find a job in this school year. And then, Foggy and Matt get you the best gift ever.

“Mrs. Future Murdock,” You send Foggy a glare.

“Watch it.”

“Okay, listen—You remember that rich guy that was wrongfully accused of tax evasion?”

“Yeah, why?” You’re cleaning up your office space for the weekend, excited to go to Josie’s, have a few drinks and unwind with your very handsome boyfriend.

“Well, he’s a super intendent for a large school district in Hell’s Kitchen.” Your head snaps up to the two.

“What does that mean for me?” You raise an eyebrow.

“There’s an older teacher there who needed to have surgery and we thought, hey, we know a teacher who could sub in.”

“…Who?”

“You.” Matt says, and you grin. “Your interview is Monday.”

You gasp and hug Foggy quickly, before making your way over to Matt.

“You are the absolute best.” You kiss him quickly and his hands, as they often do, find themselves on your hips. “Thank you.”

What a lovely lovely man.

“Don’t thank us yet, you still need to get the job.” Right.

Your night at Josie’s is lovely but you spend the rest of your weekend prepping for the interview on Monday. It goes well, but something in you is telling you to stay anxious. Why? You have no idea.

It takes two weeks for them to get back to you. But you walk into the office of Nelson, Murdock & Page with a big grin. You walk right into Matt’s office, who glances up to you when you walk in, your heart racing.

“Hey, Sweetheart, I—” He cuts himself off when you walk right up to his desk and pull his chair out before finding yourself on Matt’s lap. Your arms wrap around his neck and his arms find your waist. Before he can say much else, you kiss him quickly, and he grins into the kiss. Eventually, when you do pull away, Matt asks, “Everything okay?”

“Matty, consider this to be my two weeks’ notice.”

He gasps happily.

“Oh my god! How awful it is that you’re leaving us!” He grins, kissing you quickly. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you for getting me the interview.” You tell him, “You know if I do well, the teacher might let me coteach with her next year.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Our list is almost done, baby.”

“Your list, not ours.”

“Yeah but you’ve been helping so much.”

“You’re easy to help.”

“You’re easy to love.”

He blushes and decides to kiss his girl again.

• • •

So, in April, a month before your year is up, you find yourself needing a new apartment. The rent is getting crazy, and it’s nowhere near the school you’re working in. Especially considering that the teacher you’re subbing for decided she wanted to retire so you’d be taking over for her full time come Fall.

Plus, your apartment is small and cramped, especially with Matt’s stuff slowly invading your place. You discuss this with him one night. It’s late and he’s covered in cuts from his Daredeviling.

“I hate apartment hunting.” You whine, and he hums, kissing your head gently. “Nowhere is good enough. Too far from the school, too far from you, too expensive.” You complain.

“Why don’t you move in here?”

Huh. Why hadn’t you thought of that? Was it too quick to be moving in with him at this point? Maybe, but something told you Matt wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

“Really?”

He grins.

“Really. It’s close to the school, a good price, and rather close to me.” You grin and kiss him softly. It’s your favorite habit.

So, two weeks later, you’re hauling boxes into your boyfriend’s apartment. You take a few drawers of his dresser and some of your nicer outfits find their way into his armoire. Your mugs sit comfortably next to his in his cabinets. Your cabinets.

Your throw blanket is draped comfortably across his couch, and your shoes lay next to his.

Your lotion sits next to his first aid kit. You love dating Matt Murdock.

You love that next month will be one year since you moved to New York, and your life is sort of coming together. Glorious Matthew Murdock is your boyfriend. Your job is amazing. Your apartment is wonderful. Matt Murdock is your boyfriend, and he is amazing at kissing you.

• • •

So, Matt knows May is your year since moving to New York. He knows you guys could go to Josie’s and have a normal old time at the bar…

But he wants to do something special for you. So, he asks Foggy, Marci and Karen to get dressed up and go to a bar on the nicer side of town. Not that you don’t love Josie’s but your one year in New York calls for a special occasion.

You decide to wear a nice satin dress and he loves running his hands over the soft fabric. To Mat, you are perfect in every way, and every day he falls deeper and deeper in love with you.

So on a warm May night in Hell’s Kitchen, you sit in a bougie bar with your best friends, boyfriend and enjoy a year since you moved to this wonderful place you now call home. And a year and four months since your ex broke up with you. Truly, for a long time, you thought you’d never get over him.

Now, Matt is all you see.

At some point, a little tipsy, you kiss Matt’s cheek gently and tell him you’re going to grab another drink.

“Do you want anything?” You ask softly.

“Just for you to come back soon. I’ll miss you.” Oh, Tipsy Matt was your favorite.

“Okay, I’ll be right back.” You kiss him quick and head off to the bar. You order another drink and wait patiently, taking in just how happy you are in this moment.

Then, a familiar voice calls your name, and you glance over and you can’t believe it.

Your ex-boyfriend is right in front of you, and for a moment, you convince yourself you must be drunker than you realized.

“Wow, you look fantastic!” He says a grin on his face. Was… Was your ex ever… attractive? You can’t remember if he ever was. Especially not since dating Matt.

“Oh, Thanks..” You smile softly, trying to be polite but to get out of here quickly and get back to the arms of your loving boyfriend.

“Are you here with anyone?”

“Yeah.” You told him. “Some of my good friends, and—”

“So, you’re not seeing anyone?” You furrow your eyebrows. When did you say that?

Then, there’s an arm around your waist, and you know whose it is in an instant.

“Hey, Sweetheart.. Is everything okay?” Matt asks, smiling to you. Oh, he knows. He knows big time.

“Everything is great.” You turn to your ex and grin. “This is Matt, He’s my—”

“Fiancé.” Matt ends.

Fiancé?

“Fiancé?” Your ex asks, bewildered.

“Mhm. Got engaged a few days ago, that’s what we’re here celebrating.” You said gently, leaning your head against Matt’s arm.

“Engaged, but you’ve only been here for a year!”

“Well, I wasn’t about to wait around for you to ask me to date you again.” You glance over to Matt. “Besides, when you know you know.” You say softly.

Matt leans in and kisses you gently, “When you know, you know.” He echoes.

Your ex is wildly uncomfortable.

“I thought you said you’d always love me.” He says, and he has that intimidating tone to his voice that you hate.

“Yeah… Me too.. Guess I was wrong. You have a nice night, Okay?” You smile and take your drink, turning to head back to your friends. Your ex is bummed out but leaves you alone, and Matt grins to you further.

“When you know you know.” He hums.

“Fiancé..” You echo. He shrugs gently.

“I like the sound of it.”

“Me too.” You say gently. “I love you.”

“I love you, Sweetheart.” He kisses your cheek. “So… A year in New York.”

“Yup. My list is all done.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I talk to you all the time, and I don’t apologize unless it’s necessary. I love teaching and my job. My apartment is stellar, and… I think it’s safe to say I am over my ex. I upgraded. In fact, my upgrade is so much hotter than anyone else I know.”

Matt leans in to kiss you, a grin on his face, but he mutters a soft, “That’s my girl,” Before he does.

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