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mythicalmaven · 3 months ago

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Beyond Boundaries - Oscar Piastri (PART SEVEN)

Masterlist

Time for chapter 7! The chapter I am sure that a lot of you have waited for! Hehe! I also added a few social media elements into the chapter, which I think turned out nice! But, don't worry, it's still mostly just words <3 and I'm honestly OBSESSED with this chapter! Can’t wait for chapter 8!

↳pairing: oscar piastri x female!norris!reader ↳word count: 5K ↳chapters in this series: One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, ↳chapter warnings: friends to lovers, brothers teammate trope, bestfriend!reader, fluff, smut, NSFW, 18+ content (mdni!), fingering, handjob, praising, explicit sexual content!, sex, p in v, first time together

↳series summary: Since Oscar joined McLaren as your brother’s teammate, you two have quickly become best friends. Recently promoted to be Oscar’s physiotherapist, you both relish the opportunity to spend more time together. However, as the new role brings you closer, you both realize you might be feeling more a little more for each other than just friendship

The sun peeked through the curtains of Oscar's bedroom when you felt yourself slowly waking up, slowly opening your eyes, you realized you were still laying in Oscar's bed, without Oscar tho. He must have gotten out of bed earlier.

You reached for your phone on the nightstand next to the bed. Immediately noticing two text notifications, one from Lando and one from Oscar.

You clicked on Oscar's text and smiled as you read it. He texted you good morning, as well as saying he was downstairs to grab the both of you some coffee. It was cute, the effort he was putting into everything.

After you replied to Oscar that you just woke up, thanked him for the coffee and told him that you'd see him in a bit, you opened your text notification from your brother, immediately knowing something was up, so you start typing back to him

After your last text, you immediately opened Instagram, typing the designated username in your search bar. Once you've reached their profile, you click on the post to check the pictures from up close.

You honestly had no idea what to do now. The PR team was gonna be very very busy to fix this whole ordeal, because you either had to come up with some very devious lie to convince people that you were not the girl in question or you had to convince people that the boy in question wasn't Oscar. And to be fair, neither of them seemed like a an achievable solution.

You kept staring at the comments, reading them all. Some even more shocking than the other. Let's just say that this was not the way you expected to wake up after a night of sleeping in Oscar's childhood home.

Talking about Oscar, he just walked back into his room, confronted with your blown pupils and beet red face.

"Are you okay?" Oscar asked placing the two cups of coffee on his nightstand, before carefully sitting down on the edge of the bed, looking towards you "You're bright red, are you feeling sick?" he asked, worry lacing his tone.

You shook your head and handed Oscar your phone, showing his the post you've been staring at for the past 5 minutes.

f1gossip

liked by username1, username2 and others

f1gossip Oscar Piastri spotted making out with a mystery girl right outside a nightclub in Melbourne last Sunday👀 The girl has not been identified yet, but according to a few sources, the mystery girl might be none other than Y/n Norris (featured in the last picture), considering she was seen leaving the same nightclub as Oscar and her outfit potentially matches the one from the mystery girl👀

tagged: oscarpiastri and yourusername

view all comments

username1 EXCUSE ME

f1.content.2024 Holy fuck man, we knew that Oscar was a hot lad, but him making out looks even hotter🫠

user8290 no one can convince me that this isn't y/n😱 ↳ oscarpiastrifan81 I KNOW RIGHT ↳ username2 i don't know about you, but i kinda ship it

f1addict231 i can guarantee you, that is not Y/n Norris😂 ↳ user437 hahaha are you blind? ↳ norrisgirlie290 girl, even a blind person could recognize y/n in this

username3 Oscar dating Lando's little sister, y'all are delusional🤨

user41 no clue who she is, but i'm her now😍 ↳ username9183 for real tho, when I saw this i was like: GIRL, HOW DOES IT FEEL TO LIVE MY DREAM

piastrisgirl21 I highly doubt that's her 👀🤔

"Oh fuck" he muttered, feeling a little embarrassed by the fact that the press had caught them. They would have been fine if it they limited their kissing to just inside the hotel room, since there was pretty much no media there, but both of them apparently were too drunk to realize that kissing outside of the club was everything but smart.

Oscar must admit tho, that aside from the shame he was feeling of getting caught, seeing the pictures of them also making butterflies rise in his stomach. An immediate blush creeping onto his face.

"What should we do?" you asked, sounding a little nervous.

Oscar didn't really know either, not sure at least "Well, I think we should at least call my PR manager, because I honestly have no idea what else is smart"

"What do we say to her tho?" you wondered, not really knowing how to come up with a solution that would work.

"Well, we've gotta decide if we wanna lie to her and just say that it was me with another girl" he suggested, pursing his lip a little nervous "Or we tell her the truth, and just tell her that it indeed was us. But that we were wasted and did something stupid"

Before you had the time to process your emotions and react to it, Oscar felt his phone ring. He reached inside his pocket and took out his phone "Speaking of the devil.." he began, nervously looking at his phone "What do I tell her?" he stammered, wanting to be sure that you agree with what he was going to say.

"It's okay, Osc. I'm fine with both" you replied, before quickly getting up from the bed "While you answer that phone call, I'll go to the bathroom real quick" you said, before walking towards his bathroom.

Once you were out of sight, Oscar pressed the button to accept the call, lifting the phone to his ear "Hello" he softly spoke.

"OSCAR PIASTRI, for fucks sake. Care to explain?" he heard her ask on the phone. She was agitated, that was clear and totally understandable "And don't pretend like you don't know what I'm talking about, because it's all over social media. And with Y/n?"

Oscar sighed, knowing that they have been stupid. Still contemplating on what he should tell her. If he should be honest or if he should come up with a lie. He continued to listen to his pr manager rambling about the fact that she expected these things from Lando, but not from him. And that they were already busy enough with Lando's way of presenting himself in public sometimes, that she didn't feel like having the same issue with Oscar too.

Oscar took a deep breath, before looking down at his lap "It's all just a big misunderstanding. The girl in the pictures with me is not Y/n. They were just coincidentally wearing similar clothing" he lied, his face feeling warm, because he absolutely hated lying "I was drunk and made a mistake, I admit that in all honesty. But the girl in the picture is not Y/n.."

"You honestly expect me to believe that? Everyone that knows Y/n, can recognize her. The tattoo on the back of her arm is showing in one of the pictures, Oscar..." she said, immediately seeing right through his lie "Any random girl would be totally fine, that would have gave me a lot less work, but Y/n of all people. This could cause a big dent in both of your public images, because this is highly unprofessional. Kissing your co-worker while you're wasted. And let's not even get started on the fact that it is your teammates younger sister"

"I'm sorry" he muttered, feeling incredibly embarrassed by the whole ordeal "We were both wasted and I don't know what came over us, okay? It was stupid, we made a mistake, but it's a little too late for that now"

"You don't have to say sorry to me, you're doing this to yourself. Please just make sure this doesn't happen again, okay? " she explained, slowly starting to calm down and starting to be a little bit more compassionate "I know that you can't choose who you're attracted to and that being drunk can make you do senseless things, but please remember that you guys both have a public image that you need to keep up. You both can't afford to damage that, just because you two can't keep your tongues out of each others throats in public"

"No worries, it won't happen again. We were wasted, it was just a one time thing" he replied, defeat lacing his tone "What should we do about these articles?" he asked her, wondering if she had an idea.

"Well, regarding the press, for now nothing. The less attention we give it, the less suspicious it seems. The media will find a way to throw you under the bus anyway" she said, pausing for a deep breath "But regarding McLaren, you both better come up with a very good explanation. Because Zak is gonna kill you both, when he finds out"

"I don't even want to think about that" he whined.

"Well me neither" she said, a small laugh leaving her lips "Now, thanks for the clear up. Take some time to let this all sink in and I'll talk to you soon, okay?"

Oscar sighed and agreed with her, apologizing again for the stupid mistake, before ending the phone call.

He threw himself down on his bed, opening his messages to text Logan, but quickly saw that he already had a text from him. Since you were gone to the toilet anyway, he felt like he had a little time to text with him.

Oscar put his phone down next to him when he saw you walking in, shooting him a small reassuring smile.

"How did it go?" you asked as you walked back into his bedroom, jumping onto his bed again, seating yourself down next to him, your back resting against the headboard.

He shifted his gaze towards you "Well, that could have gone worse" he said, quickly explaining to you what they discussed.

"Yeah, still mad at myself for letting this happen" you said, disappointment lacing your tone, trying to avoid eye contact "It shouldn't have happened"

Oscar felt a pang in his heart "Do you mean that you regret that we've kissed, or?" he asked uncertainly, afraid of your answer.

You shook your head "No, you idiot" you shot at him, immediate relief entering Oscars body "You know, that call you just had proved yet again that it's just smarter that we stay friends and don't date, it just makes things too complicated. It shouldn't have happened, but it did, nothing we can change about that" you explained to him, honesty in your voice "But the fact that it shouldn't have happened, doesn't mean that I don't feel what I feel"

"So, no I'm not regretting it at all, none of the things we did that night" you said softly, glancing back up at Oscar. "And to be truthful, I don't think I've ever had an orgasm that intense before," you admitted quietly.

Oscar felt a rush of heat, arousal stirring instantly, feeling himself getting hard already. It was almost embarrassing how easily you could affect him. Just a few words from you, and he was a mess, like a teenager all over again. He couldn't help it.

A small smirk crept onto his face, proud of himself for making you feel that way. "I'm glad you enjoyed it. I love making you feel good," he admitted, unintentionally using the present tense. He hoped you wouldn't notice. It was true; if he had the chance to make you feel good again, he would in a heartbeat.

He looked down at his lap, nerves returning. "I feel the same way, by the way. Your mouth felt incredible. It's by far the best I've ever had," he confessed, feeling a bit vulnerable about being so candid. "I came so quickly, it was embarrassing. I felt like a teenager again, struggling not to blow my load within a minute."

You chuckled lightly, honestly feeling a little honored about it, turning your head to look at him. "I think it's cute, I see it as a compliment" your voice a soft whisper, trying to avoid looking at his lips. You really wanted to kiss him, but you knew you shouldn't. Those last few words being ignore a hand full of times already.

"I was actually a bit insecure beforehand. I really wanted to make you feel good but was so afraid I wouldn't be any good at it, you know?"

"You? Not good at it? It was amazing," he reassured you.

The whole conversation stirred feelings in Oscar that he had tried so hard to suppress, but it was no use. Seated with his back against the wall, he glanced down at his lap. He was fully hard now, the outline of his erection clearly visible in his shorts. Oscar quickly moved his hands over his lap, trying to cover his arousal, hoping to make it seem like he was just more comfortable that way. The pressure of his hands only enough made his dick twitch involuntarily.

You noticed the flush on his face getting more evident. You glanced down at his hands, obviously trying to hide his predicament.

"You're hard, aren't you?" you asked, gently biting your lip. Your sense of reasoning began to fade again, and you were on the verge of ignoring the words: 'we shouldn't.'

"Yeah, I'm so sorry" Oscar apologized, letting out a sigh. "It's just that talking about it, made the memories resurface again"

You scooted a bit closer to him, slowly moving your hand towards his, which were still trying to cover up his arousal. Your fingers carefully slipped under his hand, giving his hard-on a firm but gentle squeeze. "Don't hide it," you whispered.

Oscar let out a soft moan, the mere feeling of your hand on him enough to drive him wild. He moved one hand to grab onto the mattress. He hesitated, everything in him wanting this. But a voice in the back of his mind reminded him of your words, the hand that was still covering yours gently squeezed your hand, before moving it upwards, his fingers carefully wrapping around your wrist, trying to pull your hand away from his member.

"Y/n, we shouldn't," he said, much against his own desires, wanting to respect the boundary you had set. One that he knew you were probably only ignoring in the heat of the moment.

"Shouldn't we, or don't you want to?" you asked, using your other hand to remove his fingers from your wrist one by one, before placing it onto his abdomen, your hand slowly making its way back down where he needed it most, palming him through his shorts. He moaned at the feeling, squeezing the bedsheets tighter with his free hand. "I know you want to, Osc."

"I don't want you to regret this, baby," he whispered, putting his own needs aside, focusing on your feelings instead.

You turned onto your side a little, moving your lips close to his neck, before pressing a soft kiss against his skin. A small smirk formed on your face when you saw the little goosebumps appear on his neck, a soft whimper escaping his lips when you palmed him with a bit more pressure.

"I would never regret pleasing you, Osc," you said, your lips now next to his ear. "How could I regret being intimate with you? Look at you, you're so hot. And the sounds you make when I please you... God, you make the hottest sounds. It makes me so wet, Osc."

"F-fuck..." Oscar let out a loud moan, clasping his hand over his mouth to prevent the others in the house from hearing him. He felt his dick twitch inside his shorts, involuntarily bucking his hips against your hand. Your words alone almost made him cum right then and there.

"Just have a little fun with me, Osc. No strings attached, okay?" you suggested, your lips traveling back down to his neck, peppering it with seductive kisses.

You had found his weak spot, the thing that made Oscar lose his mind. The thing that made his self-control crumble to pieces. He caved, giving in to his strongest desires.

Without a word, he shifted his position, now sitting on his knees in front of you. His hands slid to the back of your thighs, gripping them firmly as he pulled you further down the bed, until your were laying down completely. You lay back, your heart racing, anticipation building as he climbed on top of you. Oscar pinned you down, his big hand wrapping around both of your wrists, securing them above your head, while he used his other hand to cup your cheek.

"Please don't stop. It's so hot when you talk to me like that," he murmured, his voice thick with desire.

His words sent a shiver down your spine, leaving you flustered and desperate for more. Your arousal was evident, and Oscar noticed, feeling a surge of confidence and satisfaction. The sight of you beneath him, eager and responsive, made him feel all kinds of things—powerful, needed, and deeply connected to you in this intense moment

You looked up at him, locking eyes with his. His pupils were dilated, his desire unmistakable. The intensity of the moment made you let out a soft moan as you maintained eye contact. Oscar’s lips descended to your neck, pressing against it and sending shivers down your spine.

Deciding to heed his earlier words, you began to recount the details of the night you spent together last Sunday, confident it would only fuel his desire further. As Oscar's lips found that sweet spot on your neck, you moaned, "F-Fuck, Oscar, just like that," your voice low and sensual as your hands struggled against his grip on your wrists. "It feels so good, just like Sunday night."

"You feel incredible against me, Osc," you murmured, referring to the way his arousal pressed against you as he hovered above. Both of you still fully clothed.

Oscar groaned, his hips moving slowly against yours in a rhythmic grind, seeking more from you. He slid his hand beneath your shirt, cupping your bra-covered breast. You responded with a moan, "Yes, Osc, just like that."

Oscar's moans mingled with kisses on your neck, his breath faltering at your words. He paused, then said "Fuck, baby, you're so hot"

You let out a shaky breath, fueled with arousal "You made me feel so amazing, Osc. Your lips on my neck, your fingers filling me up—you're so hot. It felt incredible."

He moaned louder, his hand moving away from your breast to the back of your neck and into your hair, tugging slightly. "You know what I loved even more, Osc?" you asked seductively.

"Tell me, baby," he almost growled, his breath ragged, his arousal throbbing with need. His teeth grazed your neck, eliciting another moan from you.

"I loved sucking you off, Osc. You're so big, you made me feel so full" you chanted as the arousal started to pool between your legs more and more, the way he was responding to your words fueling you with desire "I loved to way you pulled on my hair when I sucked you off, baby. It made me so wet" you spoke, the nickname escaping your lips, fully intentional. Knowing that it would make him go insane.

Oscar let the moans escape his lips without holding back, feeling himself getting even more turned on than he already was. The way you talked to him made him lose control and you knew it. It was exactly what you wanted "The sounds you made when I had my lips wrapped around you, god. It was so hot. The way you moaned out my name when you came, god, it made me come untouched" you said, knowing that he was about the snap any moment.

Oscar couldn't hold back any longer and crashed his lips against yours, capturing you in a passionate and lustful kiss. His lips moved in perfect harmony with yours, his tongue licking your bottom lip, asking for entrance, which you gladly granted. The kiss deepened, growing hotter and more intense. Your tongues intertwined, exploring each other with fervent desire.

Oscar released your wrists, and your hands immediately traveled to his neck, one of them diving into his hair and pulling gently. He moaned into your mouth, the sound vibrating through you and making your desire spike. His hands roamed your body, fingers trailing over your curves, squeezing your waist, and sliding up your sides. His touch was everywhere, igniting your skin with every caress.

You broke the kiss for a moment to catch your breath, both of you panting heavily. "Can I take this off?" Oscar asked, his voice husky as he tugged at the hem of your shirt. You nodded, and he quickly pulled it over your head, tossing it aside. Not wasting any time, you tugged his shirt off as well, your hands exploring the newly exposed skin of his chest and shoulders.

Oscar's hands moved to the waistband of your shorts, and with a questioning glance, he asked for permission. You nodded again, breathless with anticipation. He slid your shorts down, and then removed his own, leaving both of you in your underwear.

Hovering over you once more, Oscar ground his hips against yours, the friction sending waves of pleasure through both of you. He lifted his hips a little, to allow him to slip his hand between your legs, fingers teasing you through the fabric of your panties. You moaned, your back arching in response to his touch.

"Oscar, please," you whispered, your voice filled with need.

"Anything for you," he murmured back, his lips finding yours again in another searing kiss. His fingers slid beneath your panties, and you gasped at the intimate contact, the heat between you both growing unbearable "Fuck, you're so wet for me already"

"Yes, Osc, all for you," you panted, the tension between your legs quickly building as Oscar worked your clit in perfect circles. "Your fingers feel like magic, Osc."

"Yeah?" he asked breathlessly, his voice thick with desire. "You like that, baby? You like my hands on you?"

"God, yes," you moaned, your hips bucking against his hand. "Don't stop, please don't stop."

Oscar's lips brushed against your ear, his breath hot and heavy. "I won't, baby. I love making you feel good."

As his fingers continued their expert movements, your hand slid down to palm him through his boxers. Oscar groaned, his hips pushing into your hand. "Fuck, that feels amazing," he whispered, his voice strained with pleasure.

"Just like that, Osc," you encouraged, your voice a mixture of moans and gasps. "Keep touching me, don't stop."

His fingers sped up, the pressure and rhythm driving you closer to the edge. "You're so wet for me," he murmured, his lips trailing down your neck. "So perfect. I want to feel you come on my fingers."

"Fuck, Osc," you cried out, your body trembling as the tension inside you coiled tighter. "I'm so close, please."

"I've got you, baby," he assured, his voice soothing yet filled with lust. "Come for me. Let go, just for me."

With a few more skillful strokes, your climax hit hard, waves of pleasure crashing through you. "God.. Oscar!" you moaned out, your body arching as you rode out the intense orgasm. Your hand tightened on him, and he moaned in response, his own arousal evident.

"That's it, baby," he praised, his fingers slowing but still working you through your release. "You're so beautiful when you come."

As the last tremors of pleasure faded, you collapsed back onto the bed, breathing heavily. Oscar pulled his hand away, bringing his fingers to his lips and licking them clean, his eyes locked onto yours. "You taste amazing," he said, his voice rough with desire.

You reached up, pulling him into a deep, hungry kiss, tasting yourself on his lips. "Your turn," you whispered.

Your hand slipped beneath his boxers, wrapping around his hardness, and you began to stroke him with slow, deliberate movements. Oscar groaned, his hips thrusting into your hand as he buried his face in your neck. "Fuck, that feels so good," he murmured, his breath hot against your skin.

You increased the pace, your hand moving with more urgency as you felt him getting closer. "Oscar," you whispered, your voice dripping with seduction, "I love making you feel this good."

He moaned loudly, his hips bucking involuntarily. "God, the way you touch me," he groaned, his voice filled with awe. "You're so good at this. It feels incredible."

You smiled against his neck, enjoying the power you had over him. Your hand moved faster, your grip tightening slightly. "Tell me, Osc," you coaxed, "Tell me how much you love it."

His breaths came in ragged gasps, his hips moving in sync with your strokes. "I love it so much," he panted, his voice trembling. "Your hand on me... it's better than any fantasy. Better than anything I could ever imagine."

You felt his cock twitch in your hand, a clear sign he was edging closer to his release. "Oscar," you whispered again, this time with a hint of praise, "You're doing so well. I love how hard you are for me."

His entire body tensed, his muscles straining as he fought to hold back. "Fuck, you're amazing," he managed to say, his voice thick with desire. "I can feel it... I'm so close."

Sensing his imminent release, you adjusted your technique, moving your hand faster inside his boxers and applying firmer pressure. Each stroke elicited a deep moan from Oscar, his control slipping with every passing second. "God, yes," he groaned, his voice desperate. "Just like that... don't stop."

You could feel his cock pulsing, his release building rapidly. "I'm so close," he panted, his voice tight with need. "I'm gonna come."

You paused your movements, your hand stilling as you looked into his eyes. "Not yet," you said softly. "I want to feel you come inside of me."

The words caught him off guard, and he moaned, his arousal spiking. "God, you have no idea how much I want that," he said, his voice filled with longing. "But I don't have any condoms here”

"I'm on birth control," you replied, your voice steady. "And I'm clean. If you're okay with it, I am too."

Oscar's eyes widened with a mix of surprise and desire. "You’re sure?" he asked, his voice husky.

"Yes, Oscar," you assured him, pulling him into another deep kiss.

After you pulled away from the kiss, Oscar looked at you again, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "Are you really sure you want to do this?" he asked softly. "As much as I want to, I don't want you to feel pressured into anything. Our first time means a lot to me, and I don't want you to regret it afterward. I want it to be perfect for you."

You smiled warmly, your heart swelling with affection. "I want this. I want you," you said, your voice filled with certainty. "You mean a lot to me, Oscar. You have nothing to worry about. It's you, and that's what makes it perfect."

Oscar’s eyes softened with a mix of love and relief. He leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a gentle kiss "I want this so bad," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "And I need you so much."

With those words, he leaned in, capturing your lips in another passionate kiss, his hands exploring your body with renewed intensity. You felt a shiver of anticipation as he moved, both of you ready to take the next step together. The statement of how you shouldn't be doing this, long forgotten.

As you kissed, your hands moved to his boxers, helping him slide them off. He did the same for your panties, both of you eagerly discarding the last barriers between you. He pulled back for a moment, his eyes raking over your body. "You’re so beautiful," he said, his voice filled with awe. "Every part of you."

"And you’re so hot," you responded, your eyes trailing over his toned body. "I love your chest, your arms, your abs... everything about you." your fingers trailing over every part as you names them.

Oscar began to position himself at your entrance, his gaze locked with yours as his tip teases your entrance. You moaned softly, your body aching for him. Slowly, he pushed inside, filling you completely. The sensation of him stretching you, the heat of his skin against yours—it was more than you had ever imagined.

"God, you feel amazing," Oscar whispered, his voice a mix of awe and desire. "So perfect."

You clung to him, your nails digging into his back as he began to move, each thrust driving you both closer to the edge. The sensation of him inside you, the sound of his breath mingling with yours, created a symphony of passion that enveloped you both. His hands roamed over your body, exploring every curve, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

“You’re so amazing,” he murmured, his voice filled with admiration. “I’ve dreamed of this moment more than I'd like to admit, but now that it’s real, it’s even better.”

You blushed, your heart racing with excitement, your hands exploring his back. “You feel so good, Osc. Everything about you is just perfect.”

He paused, a flicker of hesitation in his eyes, as he halted his movements, biting his bottom lip. Closing his eyes to avoid eye contact, because he was sure that he would have blowed his load the second he looked into your eyes.

You looked at him with a playful smile. “What’s going on?” you asked softly.

“I need to slow down a little,” he confessed, his cheeks flushing slightly, a hint of embarrassment in his voice as he said “Otherwise, I’m afraid I’ll finish too quickly. And I really don’t want this moment to end yet.”

You reached up, cupping his face in your hands. “To be fair, I find that kind of hot,” you said with a teasing grin. “It just shows how much you want this.”

Oscar’s face lit up with a mix of relief and pleasure. “God, you really know how to make me feel good,” he said, his voice dripping with desire.

With a renewed sense of urgency, Oscar pulled out of you completely, just for him to thrust himself back inside you right after. The sensation overwhelming you, causing you to moan out loudly.

As the intensity built, Oscar’s movements quickened, his thrusts becoming more urgent. You could feel the pressure building within you, your body responding eagerly to each powerful thrust.

“I don’t think I can hold back much longer, baby,” Oscar panted, his voice strained with need.

“Then don’t,” you replied, your voice filled with determination. “Let go with me.”

He moaned, his hips bucking harder against you. The pace of his thrusts increased, each movement sending waves of pleasure crashing through both of you. You matched his rhythm, your body moving in sync with his as you both approached the brink of climax.

“Fuck, I’m so close,” you moaned, your voice barely more than a whisper.

“Me too,” Oscar grunted, his voice filled with urgency.

The pleasure surged through both of you, building to an intense peak. With a final, desperate thrust, you both moaned loudly as you reached the pinnacle of your shared ecstasy.

"God, I love you" he whispered, his orgasm causing the words to accidentally spill out in the heat of the moment. He instantly felt fear creeping upon him, afraid that he just ruined it all, unaware of what you were about to say.

“I love you too, Osc,” you replied, your voice thick with emotion as Oscar continued to thrust gently into you, making sure not to stop until you both had completely ridden out your release.

Earlier, you had spoken of ‘no strings attached,’ but your heartfelt response seemed to suggest something more profound.

As the waves of pleasure subsided, Oscar collapsed against you, his breath coming in heavy, satisfied gasps. He looked into your eyes with a mixture of awe and adoration. “That was incredible,” he said, his voice filled with emotion.

You smiled, running your fingers through his hair. “It was perfect,” you whispered, your heart full of love and satisfaction. “Thank you for making it so special.”

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Taglist @aceyalonso @saachiep81 @landosgirlxoxo @andruuu28 @il0vereadingstuff

#f1 fanfic #smut #f1 x reader #formula 1 #friends to lovers #f1 imagine #fluff #formula 1 smut #lando norris #oscar piastri #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri imagine #op81 #mclaren #mclaren f1

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theidiotwhowritesthings · 1 year ago

Text

Take Care of You [9]

Sugar Daddy!Joel Miller x Female!Reader

Overall Warnings: slow burn, angst/comfort, power imbalance, age gap, possessive tendencies, eventual smut, #daddyissues, independent reader learns to let go and relax, emotionally constipated Joel Miller learns to be vulnerable; (more specific warnings to be added to individual chapters if necessary)

Chapter Word Count: 9,950

Mood board and borders by @saradika

Summary: You spent your entire adult life supporting yourself and barely getting by. It’s why a life of ease offered to you by a mysterious stranger sounded so foreign and unbelievable. Joel Miller, dressed in flannels that had seen better days, didn’t look like the kind who could promise you the world on a plate, but he seemed desperate to help out. All he asks is that you let him take care of you. That wouldn’t be so hard. Would it?

[a/n: we back, baby. and we also barely edited so if you catch a typo don't hate me. also this was supposed to end in a different spot but then i got carried away in the middle so i had to split it 🥴]

Chapter Specific Warnings: angst, heartbreak, binge drinking to ease emotional turmoil, mild violence, mentions of blood and injury

09: LET ME TAKE CARE OF YOU

"i still haven't figured out how to sit across from you, and not be madly in love with everything you do." ⏤ william c. hannon

Three years ago, Nima tried to convince you to go skydiving with her. She begged and she pleaded, but you told her ‘no’ on account of thinking she was a crazy person for wanting to jump out of a perfectly good plane. Which was hilarious now considering you were sitting beside Joel wanting to pull open the door and dive out. The irony was not lost on you.

The only reason you hadn’t gone scrambling for the door was because Joel was forced to take a work call a few minutes into the flight. He hadn’t moved away. Joel stayed right next to you with his arm behind you as he spoke, and every few moments he’d glance at you with a silent apology and shake his head. You’d reply with a tight lipped smile and go back to mindlessly scrolling through instagram.

Unfortunately the mindlessly scrolling was not so mindless. Since leaving Vegas, you had a high pitch ringing in the back of your mind like an endless, echoing siren. Married. A married man. Joel was⏤ Your teeth were clenched together so hard you wondered if Joel could hear them grinding against one another. Yesterday had been filled with so much anxiety, and you had managed to work through it by the end of the night. Mostly. But this was worse. This was so much worse.

Married?

Your throat suddenly felt tight, eyes stinging with unshed tears, and you hastily undid your seatbelt and stood. Joel glanced your way and you pointed to the back of the plane and mouthed the word ‘bathroom’ to him. He nodded with a soft smile, and you spun on your heel and practically sprinted to the tiny plane bathroom. You struggled to get the folding door shut and the stewardess who sat not far away stared at you in confusion. You gave her an awkward wave and finally got it latched.

“Fuck.” You shoved your face in your hands, leaning against the wall, and held back your tears. You were confused and frustrated, and you couldn’t even find relief in a good cry because Joel would spot it in a heartbeat no matter how much you tried to put yourself back together. The thought of confronting him about this right now was your worst nightmare. You hadn’t had the time to process any of the wild thoughts pinging around your head yet.

Your mind was at war with itself. On one hand, maybe you were being stupid and naive. For the last month and a half you’ve spent nearly every day with Joel and on the days you weren’t actively seeing him the two of you would talk either over a call or through text. You knew Yo-yo for 24 hours. Sure, she seemed nice and sincere, but what if Rosalind sent her to screw with you? For all you knew, Yo-yo had cruel intentions and was trying to drive a wedge between you and Joel. By taking her word you’d be playing right into that trap. What she said about the other sugar baby and about Joel being married? Maybe it was all fake and you’ve been stressing for no reason.

On the other hand, Joel didn’t kiss you. He didn’t kiss you because he wanted to ‘do right by you’. Joel asked for time. Was it because he needed to get a divorce? Worse. Was he married with absolutely no plans to get divorced and just buying time for something else?

God, if you kept up this line of thought you were gonna vomit. Quickly, you turned to the sink to splash a little cold water on your face in hopes it would help you get your shit together for the next thirty minutes. Half an hour and you’d be on the ground. But then what? It would be a miracle if you kept it together for thirty minutes let alone any longer.

You took in a long, slow breath and tried to clear your mind. When you felt steady enough, you stepped out of the bathroom. As tempting as it was to hide in there for the rest of the flight, it would probably be a red flag for Joel that something was wrong. You wandered back over to Joel and at your approach, and at the sight of you, he covered the bottom of his phone and whispered, “You alright?”

“Mhmm.” You nodded quickly and sat back down.

“I’m sorry. Jus’ another minute.”

You waved your hands at him as nonchalantly as you could and he went back to his call. You leaned back in the seat, phone in hand, and Joel readjusted his arm on the back of the seat so he could settle his hand on your shoulder. As he always did, his thumb was tracing circles on your shoulder. An action you always loved, but now an intrusive thought slammed into you⏤ does he do this with his wife? The question was so startling, so sickening, that you couldn’t bite back the nausea that rolled through your body. You jumped up so fast you nearly stumbled over your feet, and you scrambled for the bathroom.

Vaguely, you heard your name behind you, but you didn’t stop until you reached the toilet. You fell to your knees and threw up. The taste of acid in your mouth made you wince, but getting it all up did bring some relief. That relief was short lived though as you felt a large, warm hand settle on your back.

“Jesus, sugar.” He said in a soothing voice as he rubbed your back. “What’s goin’ on? Have you felt sick all mornin’?”

You spat into the toilet bowl, trying to get the taste of bile out of your mouth, before reaching out and flushing the toilet. You tried to stand, and Joel hooked his arm around you to help you up. He called out of the bathroom and a second later the stewardess brought in a cup of water and a ginger ale. Joel handed you the water and kept his hand rubbing up and down on your back.

“I’m⏤ I’m fine.” You shook your head and took a sip of water to swish and spit into the sink. “Really.”

“Obviously not.” Joel replied. “C’mon, let’s sit you down.”

“Joel…” You tried to argue, but he wasn’t hearing it. He kept an arm around you as he carefully led you back to the seat. He brought the bottle of ginger ale with you and the moment you finished the water he took the cup out of your hand to replace it with the soda. “I feel better now. It’s fine.”

“You’ve been off this mornin'. I was worried.” Joel lifted a hand to feel your forehead. It made sense that Joel picked up on your distress. He had always been so good at reading you. “You seemed fine when we first woke up. When exactly did you start feelin' sick?”

You took a sip of the ginger ale, “I…I don’t know. After breakfast maybe.” You lied. The sincerity in his eyes, the concern in his voice, it was both bringing you comfort and making you sick again all at once. You felt so stupid. Either you were freaking out over a lie a woman you barely knew told you or you were being tricked into feelings by a married man. Either way, you felt pathetic. “Your, um, your work call, Joel.”

Joel shook his head in response and didn’t even bother addressing the work call he stopped. He set a hand on the back of your neck and his thumb was lightly ghosting over your skin. You closed your eyes and took a slow breath in and out through your nose. “Tell me what I can do, sugar.”

“I⏤” You swallowed the lump in your throat. You forced your eyes open, finding Joel’s furrowed brow and worried gaze already on you, and it made you want to cry. You shook your head, “I, um, I think I just wanna lay down for a while. If that’s okay.”

“Course it’s okay.” He replied.

The seat the two of you were sharing wasn’t long enough for you to lay down without laying your head on Joel’s lap. You planned on moving to the other couch seats to lay down, but Joel’s hand was still on the back of your neck and he lightly began to guide you down. Too tired to even try and move, you settled your head on his thigh and curled your body up onto the rest of the seat.

In any other situation, this would be one of the most comfortable spots on Earth. Your head rested on his thick, firm thigh, and Joel’s hand traced where he could reach. Up and down your jawline and neck⏤ his thumb and forefinger would occasionally massage your earlobe. You tried to calm your racing thoughts. The truth was, you didn’t know the truth yet. It was a fact you kept repeating in your head in hopes it would numb the sharp pain of your worst fears, but those intrusive thoughts continued to pummel you.

“I’m so sorry, baby girl.” Joel murmured while his fingers dragged across your skin. “What a shitty way to end this weekend.” You hummed in agreement. This really was a shitty way to close out what started as one of the best weekends of your life.

Avoiding Joel made you realize how involved in your life he was. After landing in LA, Joel tried to drag you to a doctor and only conceded when you told him it was probably a 24 hour bug and you just wanted to sleep. He called you later that night to check in on you, and you managed to talk to him for a few minutes before lying about wanting to go to bed early. Come Monday morning, you went to work despite Joel texting you that you should stay home. Trying to focus at work was physically painful. Enough so that after the nightmare Monday had been, you left midway through the day today claiming to Henry that you didn’t feel well. It wasn’t even a full blown lie. You felt like shit.

Nima threw the folder of papers onto her desk and set her hands on her hips, “I’m gonna hit him with my car.”

“Please don’t.” You mumbled with your chin resting in your palm as you leaned on the other side of her desk. After leaving work, you came directly to Nima’s office. Going home and sitting on your couch, alone with your thoughts, would only make you ten times more miserable.

“No, actually, my car isn’t big enough. I’m gonna commandeer a bus and hit him with that.”

“I haven’t confirmed anything yet. For all I know, I’m being this pathetic over nothing.”

Nima snapped her hand up and pointed at you with a glare, “No. I will not have you shit talking yourself when the only person we should be shit talking is Joel Miller and his wife.”

You groaned and let your head fall to the desk. The words ‘Joel Miller and his wife’ made you viscerally ill. The time you spent not talking to Joel Monday night you spent stalking people on social media. You reached dead ends very quickly though since Joel didn’t have any social media whatsoever. The easiest solution was to just look Joel in the eyes and ask him for the truth, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. You wanted to know the truth, but you were scared to actually seek it out.

If you asked Joel for the truth, if you confronted him, then he’d give it to you.

What if the truth was something you didn’t want to hear?

“Alrighty, babe, real talk.” Nima said and you lifted your head, keeping your chin resting on the wood, and saw she had dropped down into her office chair. To meet your eye line, she held her chin on the desk across from you to mirror your position. “I can threaten and plot his demise all I want, but I know I’m not allowed to kill him until this is confirmed or denied.” She twisted her lips. “You deserve the truth.”

You pouted, “How am I supposed to ask him about this, Nima??”

Her eyebrows furrowed in concern, “If you did ask… How sure are you that he’d answer truthfully?”

You pushed up and leaned back in the chair. That was a good question, and with anyone else it would probably be a real concern. However, you weren’t worried about that. You truly, deep down, believed that if you confronted Joel about this he would give you the truth.

“I really think he would.” You answered. “Is that naive of me?”

“You know him better than I do.”

This entire situation made you question that. Did you know him? You knew he grew up in Austin. He had a younger brother, Tommy, and it was just them and his mom for most of his childhood. You knew he attended one year in college when his mom passed away⏤ cancer. Joel dropped out of college to take care of his brother and picked up a job in construction. That’s where he got his start. His first boss saw he had a knack for more than just the manual labor and trusted him with more and more until Joel was running sites for the man. At 27, Joel’s girlfriend of three months got pregnant. They planned to make it work, but she left when Sarah was two weeks old. You knew he adopted Ellie three years later. That he earned his bachelor’s degree in business at home through online classes while raising two young girls and working a full time job. That he started Miller Construction shortly after earning that degree, and it blew up from there.

You knew despite being a tough guy, he didn’t like horror movies.

You knew his favorite whiskey was Lagavulin⏤ neat.

The one thing you didn’t know was if he was married or not.

“I am going to suggest something,” Nima began, “And I want you to listen before you call me crazy.” You shot her confused look and she continued on. “I have this cousin.” You groaned and Nima chastised you to listen. It seemed like she had a cousin available for every situation that arose, and half the people she called cousin weren’t even technically related to her by blood. Anytime you asked her about it all she’d say was ‘Korean moms’ love to talk’, as if that clarified anything for you. “Seriously. He’s dating a private eye. With one text, we can get some answers.”

You shook your head, “Nima, that’s insane.”

“Is it?”

“Yes, hiring a private investigator is insane.”

“Look, it’ll get us reliable answers.” Nima argued. “The truth.”

You rolled the idea around in your head. It was literally the epitome of paranoid absurdity, but you were wondering if that’s the point you were at. Would it be better to find out this way? That way when you finally did confront Joel you wouldn’t be blind sided by the answer. Hell, if the answer turned out to be ‘no, he isn’t married’ then you can chalk up the last few days as time wasted and move on with your life. That being said, it did seem like an invasion of Joel’s privacy.

“That feels…” You paused, “Illegal?”

“It’s not illegal to hire a PI.” Nima countered then tilted her head. “I think. I’m not a lawyer, but people do it on TV all the time, right?”

“Well, that logic is foolproof.”

“I’m not gonna do it if you tell me you don’t want to do it.” Nima said firmly. She crossed her arms and gave a small little shrug. “But you have to do something. Either this or just call him right now and tell him the two of you need to talk.” There was a protective sincerity in her eyes that felt like a security blanket being settled on your shoulders. “I don’t want to see you get more attached to this guy just to be hurt. I don’t want him to lie to you.”

You knew Nima only had your best interests in mind. Technically, Joel had given you no reason not to trust him. Half the time you thought on this topic you convinced yourself you were overreacting and being a pathetic, paranoid mess. Yo-yo, as nice and fun as she had been, was a virtual stranger to you. Her word shouldn’t trump Joel’s. You knew all of that, and you wanted to trust him. However, it felt like some broken part of you was looking for something to be wrong. Joel Miller was too good to be true. Why would someone like him be interested in someone like you? There had to be something else going on. According to your ex, you hadn’t even been worthy of him and Joel Miller was ten times the man he was.

“Okay, do it.” You blurted and hated yourself for doing so.

Nima held your gaze for a second, but you pushed to stand and crossed her office to her private bathroom. You took one of the paper towels, dampening it, and set it on the back of your neck in a poor attempt to ground yourself. For a while longer, you just stood there in front of the sink. Not staring at yourself, but staring forward at a singular spot as your thoughts raced. You needed a positive thought. Just one would do, and you were prepared to drag it out of your thick skull kicking and screaming if necessary.

“Everything is going to be okay.” You mumbled to yourself softly.

The whispered words did nothing for your anxiety. However, the memory of him did. You found comfort looking back at the soft moments spent with Joel and let yourself fall down that rabbit hole. The temporary peace was nice, but it didn't last. Finding strength you didn’t know you had today, you splashed your face one more time and then left the bathroom.

Your eyes immediately landed on Nima who stared back with wide eyes. Nima spoke first, “What?”

“What?” You repeated. “I didn’t say anything.”

“Oh, I thought you said something.” Nima flipped her phone over and settled her hand on top of it. You glanced from her face to her phone and back again. A look of misery flickered across her features. You tilted your head in question. “Are you hungry? I’m hungry.”

“Nima.” You crossed the room quickly. “Did they already text back??”

“No. Yes. Maybe?” Nima shook her head. “Not exactly.”

“Nima.”

She twisted her lips and drummed her nails against the plastic case of her phone. You shot her another look and she blew out a sigh. “He sent me a response, but it’s like half an answer. Half a report. We should wait until he can⏤”

“What did he say?”

“Apparently, he’s working on a case for someone else right now and had a database right in front of him so all he had to do was type in⏤”

“Nima, please.” You blurted. It felt like your heart was caught in your throat. You couldn’t breathe and you didn't feel coherent enough to string together a thought. Her hesitance was an answer in and of itself. You rubbed your throat, your other arm wrapping around your torso in a poor attempt to hold yourself together, and gasped. “Just say it.”

“He’s married, babe.” Nima mumbled. You knew the words had been coming, but they still overwhelmed you. The air left your lungs as if someone had gut punched you and you fell back into the seat in front of her desk. “He said he’d send me the certificate when he could, but he has to finish this job first. I’m so sorry. I am so, so sorry. I⏤”

Nima stopped herself from speaking as she came around her desk and wrapped an arm around your shoulders. You sat in her embrace for as long as your shattering mind could endure and then shook your head, “I need a drink. Drinks. Plural.”

“It’s three in the afternoon, babe.” Nima mumbled in concern. You shot her a dry look and she offered you a tight lipped smile. “Drinks it is! Let’s go. We can go back to my place and⏤”

“No.” You pushed to stand. “I wanna go out.”

“Oh… kay. Where?”

“Anywhere.” You turned and began to leave.

Nima was scrambling to gather her belongings into her strawberry shaped purse before rushing out after you. “Just one drink though. I hate being the voice of reason, but we should limit ourselves to one drink.”

One drink turned into two which turned into three which turned into twelve.

By 6 PM, you were borderline wasted. It was by no means the best decision you’ve ever made, but you couldn’t classify it as your worst considering that, for the first time since leaving Vegas, you didn’t feel sad or defeated. No, those blue emotions had turned into a burning shade of red. You had finally found your anger and all it took was copious amounts of alcohol.

“I mean, married?” You scoffed as you stood at the bar with Nima at your side. “That’s⏤ That’s illegal.” Nima nodded in agreement as she blindly tried to find the straw in her drink with her tongue. You reached out and pushed it toward her lips. “And worse than illegal! It’s fucking rude.”

“So rude.” Nima slurped at the last of her drink and all you could hear was the rattling of ice in her glass. She pulled away to slam the cup down and pointed at you⏤ her pink hair had been let down from the braid to messily rest around her shoulders. “You should get a new sugar daddy!” You stuck your tongue out in disgust and shook your head. “No! This is such a good idea.” Nima began to look around the bar. “Let’s find you a super hot, super not married sugar daddy.”

“I don’t want a new sugar daddy. I want another drink.” You leaned on the bar and waited for the bartender to look your way. Nima and you had bounced to a few bars. The two of you, back when you were sober, decided to start drinking in an area that had multiple bars all within walking distance. The one you were in now wasn’t familiar to you⏤ it wasn’t a place you and Nima had been to before. It was a bit too upscale for your liking. Sober you would not have been a fan. Drunk you? Loving it.

Nima was tapping on your shoulder rapidly and when you looked her way she was pointing across the bar to God knows who. “He looks like he wouldn’t marry someone without your permission.”

“That’s,” You shook your head, “not my situation.”

“Isn’t it?”

“I don’t know.” You shook your head and looked back toward the bartender who was busy with a group of women further down the bar. The sound of vibrating vaguely filled the air and you leaned closer to Nima who immediately wrapped her arms around you in a hug. “You’re vibrating.”

“You’re vibrating.”

You found her purse and opened it so you could rifle through it. It dawned on you then that somewhere around bar two and drink five you had shoved your phone in her purse for safe keeping. When you finally managed to pull it out, Joel’s face was flashing on the screen and you yelped in surprise. You tossed the phone onto the bar and held your face between your hands.

“Oh, no. Oh, no, no.” You shook your head and the vibration stopped. Joel’s picture disappeared and was replaced with a notification of a missed call that joined the notification telling you that you had unread messages. Your eyes snapped to Nima who was trying to drink out of her empty cup again. “Joel.”

“Bastard man.” Nima edited.

“Dinner.” You grimaced. “At 7. I’m supposed to get dinner with Joel at 7. It’s 6:35.”

Nima shook her head and crunched the ice she had shoveled into her mouth, “Bastard man can go to dinner with his wife tonight.”

You grimaced, “I hate all the words you just used.”

The bartender began to wander over and Nima turned to order more drinks. You picked up your phone and leaned against the bartop with your elbow. With a frown and furrowed brow, you opened your text messages. Every unread text was from Joel unsurprisingly. The first came in at 4:29 and it was a simple, ‘Hey sugar, I’m excited to see you tonight’. The next was almost exactly an hour later and it said, ‘Hope your day’s been alright. We still on for tonight?’. Finally, the most recent at 6:15, was just your name with a question mark.

You set the phone back down before the temptation to reply could overcome you. It only sat on the bartop for a second before it began to vibrate violently as another call came in. Joel’s face filled the screen and you felt a wave of sadness drag you under. The fact that you were mourning the lack of his presence to this degree was probably a sign you were doing this ‘sugar baby’ thing very wrong.

“Maybe I should answer it.” You voiced the thought aloud.

Nima caught it and gasped before slapping her hand on top of the still buzzing phone, “No, ma’am! You will not be doing that.” The bartender set two new drinks between the two of you. Nima pushed one in front of you and moved the straw to point directly at you. “Drink.”

You took a sip then spoke, “I don’t even know the whole story⏤” Nima pushed your face back to the straw so you took another long sip. “Maybe it’s a misunderstanding…” This time your lips found their way to the straw on their own accord and you took a sip that could be argued as dangerously long. “I need to talk to him. Confront him. Demand answers.”

“Yes. To all of that. Eventually.” Nima replied with a nod. She reached forward and bopped you on the nose with her finger. “But not tonight.”

“Why not?”

“Because I know one thing in life,” Nima held up the one finger she used to bop your nose, “You do not have serious conversations while drunk.”

You shook your head with a pout, “I thought you said you don’t like being the voice of reason.”

“If it means helping you, I’ll always lean toward reason, babe.”

The two of you went back to drinking. Your vibrating phone stopped and a few seconds passed before a notification for a voicemail popped up. You turned to Nima, “Can I listen to it? That’s not talking. That’s listening.”

Nima chewed on her straw slowly before bobbing her head in an affirmative nod, “I shall allow it.”

You picked up the phone to listen to the message he left you.

‘Hey, sugar.’ Joel’s voice rumbled over the line and you felt your chest physically ache at the sound. You closed your eyes in annoyance with yourself. If you hadn’t fallen so hard, so fast for this man you wouldn’t be in this scenario to begin with. ‘Gotta say I’m a little worried. Haven’t heard from ya all day. Gimme a call when ya get this.’

You groaned and set your head down on the bar. Guilt gnawed at you. It felt childish of you to be ghosting him like this, and that wasn’t your typical go to move. You had enough respect for the people in your life to address them when needed rather than hide behind voicemail. With the guilt was a swirling vortex of anger. You were angry at Joel for not being up front with you. You were angry at Yo-Yo for being the one to plant the initial doubt that started all this. You were angry at yourself most of all. Angry that you felt guilt at all, angry that you had foolishly placed so much trust in a man you barely knew, angry that despite everything there was still a part of you that craved his presence. You missed his touch and his voice. You missed those burning brown eyes and the way his very glance could melt you into a puddle.

“You okay, babe?” Nima’s voice asked softly. You shook your head without lifting it. “I’m sorry. I can break his knee caps if you want?”

“What?” You lifted your gaze.

“What?” She replied innocently.

The phone began to vibrate again startling you. He had just called so you didn’t expect him to call again, but then again you were supposed to be in your apartment waiting for him to pick you up for dinner. You pictured him standing at your door dressed up and holding a bouquet of flowers. Nausea rolled over you in waves, and you grabbed your mixed drink thinking it could cure your troubles.

A few minutes passed before another voicemail was left. You snatched your phone up and shoved it back into Nima’s purse so it would be out of your line of sight⏤ not even bothering to listen to the second voicemail. Tomorrow, you decided. Tomorrow you would confront Joel and have this difficult conversation. You both finished the drinks in front of you as the lively bar continued to thrive around you.

“Why is he married?” You asked suddenly. Nima must have known it wasn’t a question you expected an actual answer to as she stayed silent. You rested your face in your hands and sighed. With your eyes closed against your hands like this you began to feel dizzy. A sure sign that you should stop drinking. Nima rubbed your back soothingly and you dropped your hands to shoot her an appreciative glance. “You’re the best best friend a girl could ask for.”

“I know, babe. And you know what else I know?” Nima squished your cheeks together with a wide grin, “You deserve the universe in a gold hand basket, and any man who can’t see that or who would play games with your big, loving heart doesn’t deserve you.”

You laughed and Nima chuckled herself before letting go of your face to pick up her empty glass. Her tongue struggled to find the straw but once it did she tried to take a big gulp only to get drops and air. Nima pulled away from her straw and furrowed her brow, “Who finished my drink?”

With another laugh, you raised your hand to order two more drinks. At this point you’ve already had so much to drink, what would one more hurt? You knew the hangover tomorrow was going to be a bad one, but a part of you was looking forward to it. There would be no mourning Joel tomorrow if your head hurt too much to even think his name.

Nima successfully managed to distract you again as she drunkenly delved into a story you weren’t quite following, but you enjoyed the way she told it. A low whistle interrupted the moment of peace the two of you had found. You glanced past Nima to see two men in business suits wandering over. Nothing about them stood out to you. One was brunet and the other blond, but they both looked like they never grew out of the frat lifestyle on a college campus.

“We saw you two pretty ladies from over there and wanted to come and offer you our company.” The blond greeted smugly.

Nima turned in her seat to face him and waved her hand at him while taking a long sip of her drink until the ice rattled in the glass. Then she pulled the straw out of her mouth to finally speak with a shake of her head, “Sorry, we don’t speak english.”

“You just said that in English.” The blond chuckled.

“Sorry, sorry.” Nima waved her hand once more. “I don’t understand your accent.”

You snickered under your breath while chewing on your straw. The brunet stepped forward to stand side by side with the other and shook his head, “No need to be a bitch. We just wanted to talk.”

“Oh, you haven’t even begun to see bitchy yet.” Nima pointed her glass in their direction⏤ a bit of ice sloshing out with the exaggerated movement. “I can show you bitchy.” She reached back to swat at your arm. “Tell them, babe.”

“She can.” You nodded in agreement.

The blond set a hand on his friend’s shoulder and tugged him back, “Let’s just go, man.”

The brunet reluctantly let himself get dragged away, but he continued to stare at you and Nima the entire time. Nima spun in her seat and scoffed, “Where was I before I was interrupted by douchebag one and douchebag two?”

“I’m not gonna lie,” You shrugged, “I have no idea.”

“I’ll pick a place then.” Nima said and jumped into the middle of her story. “So, there I was covered head to toe in honey.”

Same as before, you really couldn’t keep track of her tale but it amused you all the same. The two of you chatted for another minute or two before a new face came across the two of you again. Nima had bounced in her seat, excited, and it knocked her strawberry shaped purse to the floor. Your phone clattered out. Before you could climb off the bar stool to grab it, a man passing knelt down and scooped it up. In one tanned hand he grabbed the purse and in the other your phone. The phone’s screen lit up and you swallowed at the sight of the multiple missed messages all from the same person.

“Oh.” The man cleared his throat and straightened his stance. He was handsome with a kind face. Dark hair, a bit on the longer side, was messily pushed back and it matched the scruff on his upper lip and chin. The man wore a pink button up shirt, all the buttons undone, over a white t-shirt. “I suppose this is yours, miss?”

You begun to reach out, “Thanks⏤”

“Hold it!” Nima pointed at the man making his dark, brown eyes widen. “State your intentions, sir!”

“To…return your purse?” He lifted up the strawberry bag.

Nima narrowed her eyes at him and snatched it away, “Likely story.”

“Thank you.” You reached out and he handed the phone over to you. A glance down revealed four missed calls, two unheard voicemails, and five texts. You winced at the sight and set your phone face down on the bar. You were surprised to see the man still standing by your stools. “You…” You narrowed your eyes at him. “You look familiar. Have we met before?”

He chuckled and shook his head, “Afraid not, ma’am.”

It was sitting on the tip of your tongue, but your foggy brain just couldn’t quite grasp it. Nima snapped her fingers and pointed at him. “I got it. He’s that guy.” You lifted an eyebrow at her words and she nodded frantically. “Yeah, he’s that actor! You play in that one show with, like, the zombies or whatever, right?”

“Not at all.” He laughed with a shake of his head. “I ain’t no actor.”

“Well then, I’m out of guesses.” Nima grumbled. She tilted her head, looking him up and down once more, “You seem nice enough. Got a pretty face. You rich? You wanna be a sugar daddy? She’s in the market.”

You rolled your eyes, “Nima.”

“You’re in the market for a sugar daddy?” The man asked in shock. You could hardly blame the man for his confusion and disbelief. This was hardly a normal bar conversation. “Really?”

“No. She’s just drunk.”

“Irrelevant.” Nima argued.

You chuckled then introduced yourself and Nima. The man paused for a beat before nodding and offering you his hand. “Nice to meet you both. My name is Tommy.” It took a second to click, but once the name finally wormed its way through your mind your eyes widened. Tommy chuckled and answered your unspoken question, “Yeah. I am.”

Nima glanced between you two with a frown, “Hold on, I’m not following. You are what? You’ll be her new sugar daddy?”

“No way in hell.” Tommy grinned. “If I even thought 'bout it, my brother’d skin me alive.”

The look on Nima’s face stayed confused until you swallowed the lump in your throat and finally spoke, “It’s… Nima, this is Joel’s brother.”

Her face remained frozen before morphing into one of shock. She gasped, almost comically, and pointed at him. “Oh, fuck.” Her eyebrows furrowed into a glare. “You son of a bitch, your brother is a son of a bitch!”

Tommy didn’t pay her outburst any mind, but his eyes darted back to you. “I asked my brother to come out drinkin' with me tonight, but he said ‘no’ cause he had a date with you.” Tommy stuck his hands into his pockets. “Funny I’m findin' you here without him.”

“That’s because your brother is too busy with his wife to be with my girl!”

Tommy’s eyebrows furrowed in surprise and he glanced back to you, “He already told you about her?”

It was quite possibly the worst string of words you could have heard all day. Only in competition with Nima’s ‘He’s married, babe’. You felt nauseous and dizzy⏤ the breath stolen from you again. Nima was arguing with Tommy, you could hear her voice, but you couldn’t concretely understand a single word that was said. When you finally managed to get a handle on reality, you looked back to see things had fallen apart and more time than you realized had passed in your mental breakdown.

The blond and brunet from earlier, in the suits, had come back and were somehow arguing with Tommy and Nima now. You suddenly began to regret the last two drinks you had. Maybe if you had gone with a couple glasses of water instead you’d be able to puzzle out exactly what was going on right now.

“Get the hell outta here. They ain’t interested.” Tommy snapped.

“Just curious as to why we weren’t good enough for these bitches and you were.” The brunet slurred his words. Tommy stood a step in front of Nima who had slid off her bar stool to stand in front of you with her hands on her hips. “What’s so special about you, bub?”

“Ugh. How about the two of you run off to the bathroom and jack each other off, huh? Then leave us the fuck alone.” Nima sneered.

“Shut your damn mouth!”

The blond tried to push past Tommy toward Nima, but Tommy shoved him back immediately. He grabbed the guy by the collar. “You gonna charge at a woman like that? Fuckin' coward.” Tommy’s voice came out in a gravelly growl that reminded you so much of Joel that it was staggering. “You got a problem, you take it up with me.”

The next moment happened fast. The blond tried to swing out at Tommy so Tommy blocked it with his elbow before tackling the man to the ground. The brunet grabbed Nima and wrapped his arms around her. She howled in anger and squirmed in his arms trying to find purchase to hit him. The brunet spun so his back was to you and you slid off the stool. Without pause, without thought, you picked up your empty glass and smashed it to the back of the man’s head. He released Nima, crumpling to the ground with a groan, and any shred of a fight stopped⏤as did the entire bar.

Tommy was kneeling on the ground pinning the blond while Nima stood off to the side.

“Oh my God.” Nima squealed, amused.

“Oh my God.” Tommy blurted, impressed.

“Oh my God.” You gasped, shocked at your own action.

You were panting, damn near hyperventilating, as the brunet began to rise on shaky limbs. Other patrons nearby converged on the scene to help out and before you knew it you were being ushered off to the side where a few couches and seats sat in a lounge area.

“You’re such a badass.” Nima gushed from beside you. "How’s your hand??”

“Hurts.” You mumbled and stared down at the white cloth wrapped around your hand. Bright red was beginning to seep through. The consequences of smashing glass against the back of someone’s skull. Police had shown up and you knew Tommy was across the room talking to them. But still, your eyes stayed glued on your hand. The cuts weren’t terrible but they stung something awful.

“Babe?” You finally looked up and met Nima’s concerned eyes. She nodded, “You alright?”

You shot her a small smile, “Yeah. Are you okay? I can’t believe he grabbed you.”

“I’m fine.” Nima peeked at your hand then stood. “I’m gonna see if this bar has a real first aid kit we can use. Be right back.”

She jumped up and jogged over to the bar. You sunk in your seat with a sigh and leaned your head against the back of the couch. There had been something very sobering about smashing the glass against that guy’s head. The adrenaline and pain cleared any lingering fog from your previous drinks right out of your head. It left room for you to think about Joel. Meeting his brother certainly didn’t help. Tommy clapped one of the officer’s on the shoulder with a smile and they went separate ways. You lifted your head when you heard his footsteps draw near.

“Well, I spoke to the police.” Tommy stuck his hands into his pockets. “You’re not gonna get in trouble for the, you know, the glass. Won’t have to go downtown with ‘em.” You breathed a sigh of relief. Tommy held your gaze for a few more seconds before scrunching his nose and bobbing his head toward you. “And Joel is, uh, on his way.”

You covered your face with your good hand and groaned, “Can I please just be arrested instead?”

“Sorry, no can do.” Tommy sat down beside you. “You know, I didn’t say it earlier, but it’s nice to finally meet you. Joel never shuts up about you.”

“Please. Don’t.” You blurted. “I can’t… I can’t talk about him right now.”

Tommy nodded, “Right. I, uh, when I called him we didn’t talk much.” He laced his fingers together and rested his arms on his knees. “I mentioned you were hurt and things kind of spiraled from there. That’s probably for the best though. I don’t wanna get in between a lover’s quarrel⏤”

“I’m not his lover.” You snapped, and you hated the way your voice cracked. You shook your head, “Not if he’s married. Not…” The adrenaline was beginning to wear off and you were exhausted to your very bones. “This is so fucked up. I never should've agreed to…

Tommy didn’t immediately reply. He sighed, “I don’t know you, and I don’t got the exact details of what’s going on right now, but… I’m glad you agreed.” He turned and met your gaze with a tight smile. “Joel’s been… He’s been better. Joel was in a rut for a long time. So long that I kind of forgot he was in one. For a while, that was just Joel.” Tommy’s smile grew as he chuckled. “But ever since the two of you met, it’s like this weight has been lifted from his shoulders. We’ve all noticed it, and we’re all thankful.”

“He’s married.” You whispered. “And he didn’t tell me.”

Tommy rubbed the back of his neck, “I know, but it’s⏤ it’s not that simple.” He nervously chewed on his lower lip. “Can you just give him a chance to explain?” You flexed your hand and sucked in a sharp breath as pain lanced up your arm. “Consider it a favor for me.”

“A favor for you?” You snorted.

“Yeah. I kept you out of prison, remember?” Tommy joked.

You cracked a smile and Tommy’s smile widened in victory. Nima skipped back over and dropped into the seat on your other side. She pulled your hand into her lap and carefully unpeeled the cloth away. As Nima rewrapped your hand while Tommy criticized her technique and the two bickered over you. You couldn’t help but flex your hand when she finished.

“Come on, pinkie.” Tommy stood. “I’ll take you home.”

“Uh, I am not leaving my girl here alone.”

“Joel will be here soon.”

“Then I’m definitely not leaving her alone!”

You reached out to squeeze her wrist and gave her a reassuring nod, “I’ll be okay. Gotta talk to him eventually, right?”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t have to be right now.” Nima argued. You pulled her into a hug to reassure her once again. Maybe this was a bad idea, but you had just smashed a glass against a guy’s head so the degree of your bad ideas couldn't possibly get worse. Nima sighed and stood up too. “Okay. You’re sure you’re fine?”

Tommy clapped his hands. “Joel’s a few minutes away. But we can stay until he gets here if you want.”

“No.” You shook your head. The thought of being alone for a minute was kind of nice. “You guys go.” Your eyes locked onto Nima. “If you’re okay with him driving you.” You glanced at Tommy. “No offense.”

He held his hands up in surrender and shrugged nonchalantly. Nima nodded, “We survived a bar brawl together. We’re bonded.” She grinned and pulled her strawberry purse around her shoulders. “Plus, worse comes to worse, I can stab him.”

“You can what now?” Tommy questioned.

“You’ve already offered me a ride. It’s too late to back out now.”

“Fine, pinkie.” Tommy waved her to follow.

You watched them go and sunk in your seat. The sounds of the bar was decent background noise, but it wasn’t enough to drown out the noise in your head. You picked at the edges of the gauze wrapped around your hand. Your eyes felt heavy and if you weren’t careful you were going to pass out on this bar couch surrounded by strangers. It was the sound of a crash that startled you back into the moment, and when you looked up from your hand you realized the door had been thrown open hard enough to hit the wall. Joel stood in the doorway panicked and wild eyed. He wore a suit without the tie and his shirt was unbuttoned at the top.

You stayed silent, sinking further into your seat, and watched as Joel’s wide eyes scanned the room. His gaze finally landed on you, doing a double take, and when he realized where you were you saw his shoulders slump in relief. Joel jogged across the room until he was able to kneel down in front of you. Joel’s warm hands found your face, cupping it softly, as he sighed, “Sugar, what the hell is goin' on? Are you okay?” Joel’s eyes studied your face then glanced down at your hand. “Jesus, your hand. Tommy called me. Sugar, I⏤”

“I’m okay.” You whispered, throat growing tight, “I just wanna go home, Joel.”

Joel tensed and he nodded, “Yeah. Alright. Let’s get you home.”

The ride in the truck beside Joel may have been the most awkward and tense ride of your entire life. It was silent. The only sound coming from the road outside. Joel’s hands were white knuckled around the steering wheel. You assumed his tension had something to do with you ghosting him this evening. His truck pulled up outside your apartment complex and your alcohol soaked brain realized not only did you not have your keys but you also no longer had your phone. Both were sitting in Nima’s purse right now.

You opened the door fully prepared to sleep outside your apartment on the welcome mat like a lost dog, but Joel grasped you by the arm cautiously to hold you in place. “You got your key?” You twisted your lips knowing he wasn’t going to fall for a lie. “Where is your key?”

“With Nima.” You mumbled. “She has my phone too.”

Joel sighed and let go of you to instead grab the truck door and shut it. He buckled you back into the seat and began to drive once more. You wanted to ask where he was taking you, but none of the words would come out. You drowned in your indecision while picking at the bandage on your hand. Joel suddenly reached over and lightly pushed your hand away from the injury.

“Stop pickin' at it, sugar.”

“Where are we going?” You blurted.

Joel shifted in his seat, “My place.”

“I don’t wanna go to your place.” You mumbled.

“Don’t care.” Joel replied gruffly and you lifted your head to glare at his side profile.

The tone of his voice stirred something inside you, and you felt the dormant anger start to reawaken. It had gotten buried under everything that happened, but now it was back full fledged. You sat up, “Take me back. I want to go home.”

“You don’t have your key.”

“I don’t care.” You snapped. “Take me home, Joel!”

“You’re comin' to my place where I know you can safely sleep it off, 'nd then tomorrow we’ll figure out how to get ya back into your apartment. Understood?”

You scoffed, “Don’t talk down to me. I’m not a child, Joel.”

“Oh, you’re not?” Joel scoffed. His tone was angry and frustrated. “Cause you’re sure as hell actin' like one.” He shot a glare in your direction before focusing back on the road. “Are you outta your goddamn mind?! Do you know how worried I was?” You crossed your arms and stared out the passenger window. “I don’ hear from you all day long. You disappear on me with no explanation 'nd then I get a call from my baby brother that you’ve been in a bar fight? And that you’re hurt?!” You stayed silent and Joel scoffed. “And now I get the silent treatment? Very mature.”

“You don’t want to argue with me on what’s mature, Joel.” You said, head whipping back to glare at him.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean??”

“You’re a hypocrite!”

“Excuse me?”

You scoffed, “It’s not very mature for a married man to pay a sugar baby for attention.” Joel hit the brakes and the seat belt caught you as the truck screeched to a stop. You glanced out the window to see his truck had reached a neighborhood and the streets were mostly void of other vehicles. When you turned back to Joel, you found him staring at you in a mix of shock and horror. You shook your head, “What was I, Joel? Some kind of midlife crisis?”

Pain could be seen through the horror, and he reached out to grab your wrist again. “No. No, that’s not…” Joel’s voice was hoarse and broken. He whispered your name. “Please. That’s not what this is.”

You tugged your arm away from his grip. “I don’t wanna talk about this right now, Joel. Either start driving again or I’m gonna get out.”

Joel kept his hands to himself as he slowly went back to driving. As if the awkward silence hadn’t been painful before it was downright agonizing now. You were pressing your thumb into the wounds of your palm just to try and keep from crying. Joel pulled into the driveway a few minutes later, and you couldn’t even get your brain to collect a single feature of the house in front of you. Joel jumped out of the truck and you stayed frozen. The passenger door opened but Joel didn’t move to pull you out. He held the top of the door frame and a foot rested on the running board so he could lean in just marginally.

“Sugar…”

“Don’t, Joel.” You said firmly. “Don’t.”

“Please just let me⏤”

“Are you married?”

Joel’s face crumpled in agony and he hung his head, “It’s… It’s not that simple. Just let me⏤”

“It’s a yes or no question.” You shrugged and tried to ignore the tears welling up in your eyes.

Joel looked like he was on the verge of a panic attack. His eyes were squeezed shut, but he still refused to answer. You whispered his name. Finally, he lifted his gaze back to you and opened his mouth. His jaw hung open silently for a second before he could speak. “...Yes.”

You felt the tears lingering at the waterline drip down your cheeks and hastily began to wipe them away with your hands. Joel gasped and began to reach out but when you flinched he held back. He shook his head, “You’re bleedin'.”

The bandage around your hand was soaked with blood, probably from digging your thumb into the wounds, and when you felt your cheek with your fingertips they came back tinted red. You must have smeared it across your face.

“Sugar, let me… let me take you inside.” Joel murmured. “Please. I know you’re… upset, 'nd you have every reason to hate me right now, but… just let me get you inside.” His hand reached out for you once more, but he stopped himself. “You can leave in the mornin', but for tonight just⏤ just let me take care of you. Please.”

You gave a small nod. It felt weak of you, but you reassured yourself that you had little to no other option. Your hand hurt, your head ached, you were exhausted to your very being, and deep down you were torn between wanting to yell and scream or curl into a ball and cry. Joel took a few steps back to allow you to climb down yourself, but when you wavered his arms shot out to try and steady you. Joel herded you toward the front door without actually touching you.

Your eyebrows furrowed when you studied his front porch. The entire front of his house didn’t look like the typical rich LA style you were accustomed to seeing. In fact, his porch and front door reminded you of a quaint farmhouse. Joel unlocked his front door and held it open for you to walk in. Right inside the house, the foyer had an open style with a set of stairs pressed against the wall just up ahead. It opened straight into a large living room that evolved into a dining room with a matching open kitchen to the side. The entire back wall by the kitchen and dining area was made of glass but the back porch lights were off so you couldn’t see the view.

Joel tossed his keys into a bowl sitting on an accent table against the wall right by the door. You glanced over to a little bench built into the wall on the other side beneath a set of bay windows. The rest of his furniture from what you could see was modern and plain. You were drunk off alcohol and misery, but your brain was still able to take the time to note that Joel’s furniture didn’t match what you imagined him to have.

“C’mon.” Joel motioned you up the stairs. He followed after you and when you reached the top of the stairs he pointed to the left. You stepped into the master bedroom and Joel slid in past you moving straight toward the master bath. While he rooted around for something, you glanced around his room. There was a king sized bed sitting in the middle of the room covered in dark green sheets. A window sat on either side of the bed. The wall to the right was where the bathroom door and the closet door sat, but on the left was a single loveseat pushed against the wall. All the furniture was dark brown including the large dresser against the wall by the door and the smaller bedside drawers on either side of the bed under the windows. You drifted toward one of the bedside drawers where a photo was propped up. It was of Joel and two young girls. Joel had shown you enough pictures of Sarah and Ellie for you to recognize them, but in this photo all three of them were significantly younger.

The sound of a throat clearing made you look up to see Joel standing there with a first aid kit in hand. “Sit down for me?” You sat on the side of the bed and Joel sat beside you. He opened the kit then carefully unwrapped your hand. When he saw the three lines haphazardly cut into your palm he let out a soft hiss. “You hurtin' much?”

“It stings some.” You mumbled. He hummed in response and used an alcohol swab to clean up the cuts. Joel did so with soft touches and his eyes flickered to your features every second or so to check in on your status. You locked your jaw to bite back any sounds of pain that tried to slip out.

“They look bad, but I don’ think they’ll need stitches.” Joel thought out loud.

“Good.” You said. Joel grabbed some fresh gauze and began to wrap it around your hand. You studied his features as he focused so intently on the task at hand. His warm gaze was burned into your skin as his eyebrows furrowed in concentration. You had the urge to trace your fingers through the scruff along his jawline. When he finished, he lifted his gaze and his eyes locked with yours. The two of you stared at one another in tense silence. Pain and longing filled his brown eyes, and you wondered if it could somehow just be a reflection of your own. It made no sense for you to both be so miserable right now. “Where is she?”

Joel tensed, “What?”

“Where is your wife?” You asked more firmly.

“Are you sure you wanna get into this tonight?”

“I just want answers, Joel.” You sighed. “I need something. My mind has been a mess since we left Vegas.” Joel’s face crumpled as he closed his eyes with a sigh. “Yo-yo told me I wasn’t your first sugar baby and then she said you were married to your first sugar baby.” The words were falling out like pouring water now. “And then Nima has a cousin who has a cousin who has a friend or something that was able to find your marriage certificate⏤”

Joel murmured your name in reverence and opened his eyes. He shook his head. “I’m sorry. I should’ve told you from the start. That way there’d be no miscommunication or confusion. I meant to. But… I kept puttin' it off 'nd it got to the point where too much time had passed…” Joel hesitantly reached out for you and when you didn’t shy away he settled his hand on your arm. “I did have a sugar baby before you. It’s a… long story, but I am not married to her.”

Your eyebrows furrowed, “You didn’t marry her?”

“No. Absolutely not. She was… Like I said, it’s a long story.” Joel squeezed your arm. “One that I promise to tell you. In the mornin', when you’re not half drunk 'nd half hungover all at once.”

“Then who the hell are you married to, Joel?”

“I… I am technically still married to Celina.” Joel finally spat the words out. You shook your head in confusion. The name was foreign to you, but Joel heaved another sigh and added, “Sarah’s mom.”

taglist (closed):

@weddingfairy @bfences @jasminedragon @biwitchy @huffle-punk @shelbyteller @anoverwhelmingdin @aheadfullofsteverogers @stagerightlauren @basicoccult @boofy1998 @farintonorth @thepascalofus @amatis-gray @casa-boiardi @northernbluess @jettia @sapphicsoie @spidey-3 @hrtsforpascal @gingersince97 @sentients17 @bigboiseason123 @lunxramour @ktheunready @heyheyheygaypay @keepingupwiththeskywalkers @adoringanakin @come-hell-or-eldren-fire @cherriebat @whitewolfstar01 @alyssa121611 @asreadbyaj @painfullyandprettypoetic @cantobightcafe @str84pedro

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✨J.M. Masterlist✨

#joel miller #sugar daddy!joel miller x reader #sugar daddy!joel miller #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #female reader #reader insert #take care of you

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mikimakiboo · 3 months ago

Text

Tiny menace

I really have to do everything myself around here /jk

Liiiiittle summary: Bitty Nightmare got adopted by three very creepy skeletons ! Turns out they are nice, but they still give panic attacks every hour

HEAVILY inspired by A Blackened Soul Finally Lightened on AO3

Maybe I will write a sequel... maybe I won't... you tell me

Part 2

And if you like angst with a happy ending, you can check out You Will Be Fine, Now, which is unrelated to these parts but is focused on bitty Nightmare too !

Tw: mention of euthanasia

Bitties have always been very popular. There were so many of them, anyone could find one they would like, and just as any popular thing they were produced in numbers. If bitties originated from a single AU and reproduced naturally at first then it wasn't the case anymore: bitties were now selectively breeded by " specialized farms" in such a way that there would be numerous versions of the same bitty depending on their popularity, which was mostly among children.

Two particularly popular bitties were part of a twin set, they were called Dream and Nightmare, two white skeletons made to be opposites, one being positive and the other one negative. You couldn't separate them, if you wanted to buy one you had to buy the other too. But the more you produced the more you were at risk of making mistakes. In some rare occasions, the Nightmare bitty would come out... wrong. Instead of white bones and two bright purple eyelights, they would come out covered in a black substance with only one cyan eyelight. They couldn't be sell, they were deficient, and bitties could live just as long as any monster or human, so keeping these deficient versions would be a waste of space, time and, above all, money. They called these deficient bitties "Corrupted", and each time a Corrupted Nightmare happened, they would be euthanized.

Only one escaped this fate. An association specialized in rescuing bitties from breeding farms got their hands on the case and managed to definitely close one of the farms, taking every bitty in there to put them in a shelter, with way better living conditions, where they could be adopted. One of the bitties was a Corrupted Nightmare, the only one still alive, a rare one that everyone thought would be the first to be adopted. But no one wanted him. He wasn't as cute as the others, he wasn't appealing, and his personality didn't help: most bitties were sociable and energetic, a few were calmer but they were still loving in their own way, this Corrupted Nightmare wasn't, he was aggressive, he didn't like physical contact, he preferred to stay alone and never went out of his enclosure to see the customers, staying hidden in the dark corners. He wasn't suitable for keeping company and definitely wasn't suitable to play with a child.

How much time did the Corrupted Nightmare spend in the shelter ? He did not remember. More than a year, maybe even more than two, he didn't count, so he didn't really know. He spent his days the same way each time, staying in his enclosure, only going out when the staff forced him to, they said it would help with first impression and getting adopted, but all it had done was confront him to disgusted looks from the customers. "Tomorrow is another day" the staff always said, but to the bitty every day was the same. His enclosure was a little comfier than the others', because unlike the others who didn't have much time to adapt before being adopted, Corrupted had plenty of time, so he gained some advantages such as his own heating lamp instead of the community one for the lamia bitties, as his mucus, his corruption, often tend to be cold. He had many cushions all around his enclosure to lay down, his back often hurting due to the four little tentacles he had. All the bitties had little houses for their intimacy, decorated with some accessories that would be sold with them, such as clothes for example, but also some items. Corrupted had many books, a rocking chair, a bean bag and a little lamp shaped like an apple tree for his reading corner, he also had a room with a round bed with purple sheets and a little bathroom. He liked his little house, he was much better inside of it than sitting in front of the glass wall of his enclosure, watching everyone pass by and never stopping to great him. Some of them looked at him, but quickly turned away to go see some cuter bitties. He eventually got used to it, no longer trying to catch someone's attention by tapping on the glass, he just sat and waited until he could return to his house after spending enough time outside.

He had watched so many bitties leave, all of those who were brought here with him had already been adopted a long time ago, and every bitty who had been brought here after that left too. He had seen the shelter renew so many times, and yet he stayed. Always. Because he was unwanted. Maybe he should have been euthanized like all the others... he knew what happened to them, he knew it because the other bitties told him, the ones who were in the farms with him, they told him that every Corrupted Nightmare would get euthanized, and that it was such a miracle that he was still alive !

He didn't like that miracle. He despised it. He was so scared of dying but he was so done with living. He knew he was going to be euthanized, he remembered that cold metallic box, he remembered all the needles and bottles, the heat of the stove, the look of disappointment on the farmers' face, he remembered all of that... and somehow he got out alive, so relieved, but for what ? Spend his life in another box ? Sure his enclosure was way better, but it was still a box and he was still unwanted.

He got up from where he was lying down, a fluffy pillow near his heating lamp, only to jump with a scream of fright at the sight of two big empty sockets against his glass. He fell backward on another pillow.

- Oop, sorry, didn't mean to scare ya !

He heard the stranger chuckle. He slowly looked up, analyzing the person standing in front of his enclosure: a skeleton monster with empty eyesockets and black tears running on his cheeks. What was this monster doing here ? Shouldn't he be looking at the others ? Since when was he watching him take a nap ? The Corrupted bitty slowly rose his tentacles menacingly, not understanding what he wanted from him, and not reassured by the way he looked at him.

- Ooh threatening me I see, you're a fierce one ain't ya ? Such a tiny menace.

He said, visibly amused as a sharp smile appeared on his face. The bitty didn't like that, what did this skeleton want ? Why did he seem so pleased to see him defending himself ? Did he want him to fight someone ? Was he going to make him fight other bitties ? He had heard the staff talking about dismantling many clandestine bitty fights, many of the bitties ending up in the shelter, was it why this skeleton was there ? The little bitty started to shake, hiding a little bit more behind his pillows.

- Aw you're so cute, the guys are gonna love you !

He cooed, getting up to go directly to the counter, leaving the little bitty even more scared. Was that monster going to buy him ? Why ? He didn't want to fight ! He didn't want to spend the rest of his life fighting other bitties to survive ! He rushed to his house, trying to hide, he didn't want to go ! Not with him ! Why couldn't get a child or a grandma like everyone else ?! Why did he have to get the crazy looking guy ?! He saw the lid of his enclosure opening and pressed himself against a corner, feeling his breathing fastening as he was scooped by a member of the staff to be put in a square cartoon box with little holes so he could breath. He tried to wiggle free, hitting the hand with his tentacles, he screamed, but he was dropped in the box and it was closed before he could get up. He felt the boxt moving and being put somewhere, probably the counter, he heard noises all around him but couldn't decipher what it was, his own soul pounding too loudly to hear anything else.

He was about to pass out when he felt the box moving again, waking him up brutally, he couldn't see what was happening but judging by the air he could feel through the holes, he was outside. He heard a noise, and there was no air anymore.

- I'm hoooooome !

The skeleton sang. Home ? Were they at his house already ? How ? They just left the shelter ! And who was he talking to ? Were there other people ? Would he fight right away ? He pressed himself a little more against the corner of the box, curled up in a ball with his tentacles in front of him, shaking. He heard another raspy voice.

- Brought... food.. ?

- Yep, I got the food ! And I even got better than food !

Food ?! Was he going to be eaten ?! Were they going to eat him ?! To feed him to a snake like a mouse ?! He needed to get out ! If he hit hard enough, maybe the cartoon would break !

- Killer I swear if you brought another chicken I'm gonna make it shit on your bed.

A new voice said. How many were they ?!

- It's even better than a chicken !

Killer, apparently, responded as he put the box down on a table to open it, revealing a shaking bitty curled up in a corner, looking up at them with a wide open eye and fat tears running on his cheek like a waterfall.

- Ta-daaa ! ~

Three skeletons were above him, Killer, the one from the shelter, a big one with a hole in his skull and a glowing red eye, and another one with a hood on, making it impossible to see his face apart from two red eyelights, the one on the left having some blue in the middle. The one with the hole spoke.

- ... Looks scared...

- Why did you buy a bitty ?

The one with the hoodie asked, visibly annoyed.

- He was so cute ! I couldn't leave him behind ! Plus the guy selling him said he had been is the shelter for four years, so I basically rescued him !

He argued. The bitty watched them argue until he flinched, the bigger skeleton was looking at him, frowning. He stepped back for a moment and the bitty couldn't see him anymore, until he reappeared and put his hand in the box. The bitty flinched again, pressing his tentacles against him to protect himself, but he didn't feel anything... he hesitantly looked up, the hand was gone, and a little cube of ham was in front of him. He looked up, the skeleton was looking at him again. What did he want ? Did he want him to eat this dice of ham ? Why ? Was it poisoned ? Was it how he was going to die in order to be cooked ? By being poisoned ?

- For you.. eat..

The skeleton said. The bitty hesitantly shook his head, he didn't want to eat that... the skeleton frowned again but seemed to understand that he was to scared to eat anything. Maybe it was because the bitty didn't know them ?

- Name's Horror.. this is Dust.. and Killer..

He introduced everyone before pointing at the bitty.

- You.. ?

The little one didn't answer. Did he have a name ? He was called Corrupted but was it his real name ? Or was it just because he was a deficient, corrupted version of another bitty ?

- Oh his name's Nightmare ! It's written on the b- ... oh I forgot you couldn't read, sorry..

Nightmare ? But... he was the corrupted version of the Nightmare bitties, why give him their name ? Anyway, that didn't matter as he was going to die soon.

- Did you at least take things to take care of him ?

Dust asked. Nightmare looked at him, still shaking. What did he mean by "take care of him" ? Killer smiled brightly.

- Yep ! Everything is in the second box !

He proudly announced as he went to grab the box and put it on the table next to the first one to open it. Nightmare didn't want to see it, he didn't want to see the tool that would kill him, he didn't.. ! He... he felt everything become dark, he couldn't hear them anymore, couldn't see them... it was all black...

He felt something soft under him as he slowly woke up, he was lying down on what seemed to be a big pillow, big to him at least, as it was normal size to the skeletons gathered around him. Killer was kneeling on the ground, his face at the same level as the bitty, looking worried, while the other two were behind, Dust sitting on a couch and Horror standing up behind Killer. Nightmare looked up slowly, he was on an armchair. He felt something brush against his skull, it felt.. good.. soothing.. he looked up to see what it was and jumped off of his pillow when he saw is was Killer's hand. He heard him cuss as he quickly grabbed the bitty before he fell off the armchair and put him back on the pillow.

- Hey lil' guy it's okay, don't be scared.. !

Nightmare's tears resurfaced as he backed up against the chair back, his tentacles pointing straight to the skeleton.

- You said.. you said you were gonna eat me.. !

Nightmare choked on his tears, his voice quiet, used to not talking that much. He saw the look of confusion on the three skeletons' face as they looked at each other before returning to the scared bitty on their armchair.

- We're not gonna eat you, what made you think that ?

Killer asked, tilting his head.

- You.. you said you bought food...

Nightmare hesitantly answered. Killer frowned for a second before realizing what he was talking about.

- Oh ! No no no, I wasn't talking about you ! He chuckled, I went to the store before passing by the shelter, we were out of vegetables, we're not gonna eat you !

Oh. Nightmare felt his cheeks getting warm, he felt so dumb right now. But that still didn't resolve his first worry: was he going to fight other bitties ?

- Why did you bring me here... ?

He asked, his tentacles still sharp and pointing straight before him.

- 'Cause you were so cute on your little pillow ! At first I was just planning to have a look and then go home, but man, love at first sight ya know.

Nightmare didn't know if it was a good sign or not, after all he had seen some very cute bitties in the shelter who came from clandestine fights. He didn't feel any vile intention coming from any of them though, only excitement, curiosity and caution, so maybe he was safe after all, maybe this skeleton really adopted him to take care of him...

He lowered his tentacles slowly, still shaking a little. His stomach gurgled, catching the attention of the three skeletons. Horror got closer and bent down to hand him the same cube of ham that he must have kept in case Nightmare was hungry.

- Eat.. ?

He asked. Nightmare looked at him for a moment before looking at the ham, he wasn't supposed to eat normal food, it contained too much magic and protein for a bitty, so they had special food mimicking the normal one but with appropriate dosage for them. A treat from time to time wouldn't hurt, though. He slowly reach out to the cube and took it, smelling it before finally taking a bite. The big skeleton gave him an approbating look, glad to see him eat.

He flinched when he felt something touch his skull, one of his tentacles reacting before him by hitting the thing away, thing that was in reality Killer's hand as he made a pouting sound.

- Maybe don't touch him right after he thought he was going to die ?

Dust said from the couch, having been silent until then. Killer sighed and got up.

- Okay, okay, I'm gon' make him a nice lil' spot for the night, I'll go buy wood and everything tomorrow to make a better nest.

He said as he left the living room, leaving the bitty with Dust, Horror and his snack.

- Gonna make dinner..

Horror announced before returning to the kitchen, leaving Nightmare with Dust who was still looking at him from his place. He bent over, his elbows resting on his knees, looking at the bitty.

- I can see why Killer choose you.

Nightmare flinched, looking up at him.

- You were unwanted, right ?

What kind of a question was that ? What was he trying to do ? Nightmare frowned.

- Four years in the shelter, bitties are usually sold faster than that.

He chuckled as Nightmare looked down on his half-eaten ham. Four years. He had spent four years in the shelter. He thought it had been two years, which was already long, but four ? Was he really this bad ? He knew he wasn't as affectionate as the others, he liked his privacy, but was it such a big problem ? He didn't caught it when Killer said it the first time, too busy being terrified, but now that he thought about it, four years was a really long time...

- It's kinda like... a necessary condition to be part of our group you know. I think he saw himself, saw us, in you.

Dust continued. Nightmare looked back at him, confused. What did he mean by that ?

- It's not my place to tell you their story, you'll have to wait for them to tell you, but we all kinda had to deal with rejection one way or another. I think Killer took pity in you like he took pity in us.

He explained. Was it why Killer said he rescued him ? Did he really adopt him to "save" him from the shelter ? A part of Nightmare's soul warmed up at the thought, for the first time in his life someone genuinely wanted him, someone deliberately PAID to have him, to bring him back to their house, and he had been so scared... he felt a little bad for that, judging Killer by his look when he was complaining about how himself was being looked over specifically because of his look.. what a hypocrite he had been.

- Hey lil' guy do you want to sleep by the fireplace ?

Nightmare jumped, clenching on his piece of ham, he didn't expect Killer to appear behind the armchair. He looked at him, looked at the fireplace on his right, and looked at Killer again.

- I can put, like, a blanket with your bed for tonight, so you have a place to sleep while I make a proper nest. I can put it somewhere else tho.. I can put you in my or one of the guys' room if you want ? Oh right I didn't show you my room.. or the whole house... want me to show you around ? I can carry you in my hand or you can rest on my shoulder if you prefer ?

There... there had been too many questions for Nightmare. He looked at Dust, unsure of what to answer, but the skeleton was on his phone. He slowly looked back at Killer who was still waiting. It would be good if he showed him the house, he didn't want to get lost.

- I... you can.. show me the house... ?

Killer smiled at that answer, carefully reaching out to scoop Nightmare in his hand. The bitty tensed at that, not used to being handled, and munched on his ham as a reflex, his tentacles curling around Killer's fingers to ensure stability. In case of stress, eating was apparently the right thing to do, which made Killer snort: Horror did the same thing.

- Want to go in the hood ?

Nightmare nodded, trembling on the hand, he didn't feel safe this far from the ground but at least the hood would be more stable than a hand. Killer carefully placed him next to it, letting le bitty crawl inside at his own speed. Nightmare shifted once inside but ended up finding a comfortable position, letting only his head pick through the fluff. It was so warm here, and so soft too... he felt a gentle pat on his head that made him tense a bit, but he quickly relaxed, seeing that the contact wasn't painful and was even enjoyable...

He fell backward in the hood when Killer moved and had to grab some of the fluff to sit up again, the last piece of his ham in his mouth.

- So you already know the kitchen and the living room, which is also the dinning room, so all that is left is the bathroom and our bedrooms !

He announced as he walked up some stairs before pausing in a hallway with two doors on each side. He opened the first door on the left.

- This is the bathroom !

Nightmare stood up in the hood to look over the furr. It was a small room, with a bathtub, a shower, some cabinets and a sink.

- But it's too big for you so I'll make you a lil' bathtub, don't worry.

They left the room, Nightmare sliding back inside the hood. It was so warm inside of it... warm and cozy...

- That is Horror's room !

Killer exclaimed. Nightmare slowly looked up, seeing a rather messy bedroom with what looked like to be a record player with the records in a box next to it. Did Horror like listening to music ? Nightmare didn't see any books, but given the fact that Killer said he couldn't read it wasn't really surprising. The bitty yawned as they closed the door to go to the next room.

- That is Dust's ! I'm not allowed to go inside.

He said as he opened the door to enter.

- Good thing I don't care.

There was a strong smell of chemicals inside and Nightmare could see many bottles and notebooks opened. No doubt Dust liked to make some experiments... they didn't spend too much time here and closed the door again. Nightmare struggled to keep his eye open.

- And last but not least... this is mine !

This room was messier than Horror's. Like, really messier, with clothes on the ground, bedsheets in a ball on the bed, knives stucked in the wall, ... if one day Nightmare slept in a room, he would chose Horror's. He didn't like the smell in Dust's one. But, for now, he was more likely to take a nap in Killer's hood. He didn't want to, he didn't feel safe enough to do so, but he had such a stressfull day, he just couldn't fight it any longer, he really needed to sleep... he looked up one last time to see that Killer was talking about his collection of knives, but he couldn't understand the words as he was already drifting away, but it was okay, he just needed five minutes... just fives minutes...

- So yeah that's it ! Soooo, where do you want to sleep ?

Killer asked, but received no answer.

- Lil' guy ?

Still nothing.

- Nightmare ? ... oh shit I dropped you ??

He turned his head to look over his shoulder, shoving a hand inside his hood, he let out a relieved sight when his fingers came in contact with the bitty's little tentacles as he made a tiny grumpy noise. He carefully scooped him to hold him in his hand, seeing that he was asleep, he gently pat his head with a loving smile. He put him back in his hood before leaving his room, seeing how he started to shake from the cold air.

- Sleep well Nightmare, and welcome to the family...

Killer already loved their little bitty so much, he hoped he would rapidly get accustomed to them and trust them, he really wanted him to be happy here... he was their little guy now.

- the end ... for now ? -

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dshksh · 4 months ago

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Teen or adult christinaa..

Oh boy, anon, you asked for it.

Alright, so after Christina had her own "hunting trip" (I still haven't come up with an idea of what that event might have been for her. Would've been interesting if that happened between her and her mother instead of her father. Still have no idea, but she definitely had a major traumatic thing happen to her.) she, just like Orel, saw that her parents are (shocker), not decent people.

To cope with that, she becomes a bookworm and distances herself from everything happening around her, especially involving her parents. Her parents wouldn't notice that, since they were so caught up in their unpleasant marriage. She gets into psychology, reading a lot of books dedicated to it.

As for her and Orel, she would try to isolate herself emotionally and ignore her feelings for him. She knew that they wouldn't meet in years (due to living in different towns), so she tries to suppress her love and focuses on studying. College was an escape from her feelings and parents. Also, I think Christina's dad was really overprotective of her, which caused her to experiment a LOT in college. College was a big opportunity for her to not be as influenced and controlled by her parents as she was at home. She does end up having a few love affairs, but they don't last that long due to her being emotionally distant and still in love with Orel.

She finally meets Orel while she's still in college, almost accidentally. Orel is studying to become a teacher, and his college is doing a practice exchange of some sort with Christina's college (like sharing extra psychological knowledge with future teachers, so they would understand kids more). She doesn't recognize him at first, but when she does, they exchange numbers and talk a lot (mostly Orel, lol). At first, Christina is really cold towards him, but when she sees that he is still a good old-fashioned Christian and a nice guy in general, she grows fond of him.

As for her faith, when she first met Orel after so many years, she would be an atheist. But once she starts spending more and more time with Orel, she regains her faith.

Christina and Orel end up in a relationship with a lot of issues. They have unrealistic expectations of each other due to barely knowing one another and not having experience with emotional intimacy. Christina ends the relationship and focuses on graduating. Both are heartbroken.

She does graduate and ends up having a decent job as a psychologist. Her interest in psychology came from her wanting to understand her parents and the reason behind their actions.

They make up after a few years again, when Orel decides to go to therapy. Christina is there. She is the shrink that Orel visits. He bails and decides to cancel all the appointments.

Christina realizes that she is ready to confront her feelings and initiates the meeting with Orel. Orel gets extremely anxious and doesn't answer her message for weeks. When he has the courage, they meet and dot the i's. Finally have a meaningful conversation about their feelings and problems.

Orel was the one who insisted on her going to therapy. She ignored most of her feelings towards her own parents and childhood (towards Orel as well). Therapy helped her become more aware of her own emotions, yet she still remained her emotionally distant and cold appearance.

Orel gets a job in the town Christina lives and works in. They eventually make up and go to couple therapy. They still have a bunch of problems, but they cherish one another, and this love helps them to be better people.

#moral orel #my art #christina posabule

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murachinchi · 2 months ago

Text

Some thoughts for my Hantengu x Tanjiro modern AU 🥺🥺

I have so many thoughts but im too impatient to write fanfiction and i just wanna air out my ideas lol and waiting for me to draw a comic for it also gonna take awhile so ill just write it down here! I might draw a comic based on this in the future but we'll see!

They met when Hantengu stumbled upon Tanjiro's bakery. The bakery is not new just that Hantengu never takes the route that pass the bakery on his way home lol

it was a love at first sight 🥺 on Hantengu's end that is lol. Tanjiro thought he was a creepy oldman that loitered outside his bakery 😂

Their first meeting

oki u guys remember how Tan didn't smell Hantengu's demonic scent?? i wanna add that here (?) but in this scenario Tanjiro just can't guess how Hantengu is feeling which fascinated him. he always have the advantage of knowing how people feel from their scent but Hantengu doesn't emit any of that or if he does it hard to tell.

this does take place in an omegaverse and Tanjiro is an omega while Hantengu is a beta. but that doesn't stop Tan to be able to scent people's emotion Hanchan just built different

Hantengu only comes in if he saw Tan behind the cashier, Tan's siblings noticed this and call Hanchan his secret admirer lol

on a slow day Tan decided to confront Hantengu about his weird behaviour but Han ran and stopped coming for weeks

one day Han came back on a busy time, Tan noticed him and told him to wait for him outside. almost an hour later Tan finally came out and apologized for making him wait this long in the cold 😂 But Han said that its alright. Tan offered to treat him food and they went to an oden stall

The whole time its just Tan talking LOL Hanchan's too flustered to say anything. Tan told him that he seems lonely that's why he doesn't feel angry or annoyed that Han do that just weird. this is where they start their friendship. every few days they went to eat at a stall and its either Tan or Han that pays but mostly Tan.. idk i feel like Han the type to take any advantage on getting free food LOL

ofc they got closer and Han start to talk alot more then one thing leads to another and they are dating (?) yes Tan asked how old Hantengu is and was surprised that he's only 40 😂 Han said he has a skin condition that made him look older than he should

pic above is their first ever official date 🤣 they ate at Hantengu's favorite ramen stall

i know Hantengu was the one in love(?) at first but it was Tan that confessed and ask him out. Tan was waiting but Hantengu never did so one day Tan brought him to a fancy restaurant and asked him out lol

Han was super insecure at first cause on top of dating someone younger he's not exactly good looking, but Tan just told him to stop insulting his bf. i like to think that Tan helped him to be more confident :D

in one of their midnight hangouts(?) Han mention that he mostly buy food from the convenience store so it's a nice change of pace to eat out like this. Tan was very disraught hearing this so he told Han to drop by his bakery before work so he can take a homemade lunch box to eat and not long after they start dating Tanjiro came to his house to cook dinner. This time Hantengu insist to pay for the groceries lol

idk why but i headcanon Hantengu's favorite food is karaage lol it reminds him of his late father. he's a busy man so he have no time to cook but he ocassionaly prep karaage for Hantengu to eat. One time when Tanjiro cooks him karaage he cried while eating it lol. they eat karaage for a whole week after that

Hantengu gave him a spare key to his apartment so Tan don't have to wait for him to get in. Tan also start doing chores around his house and found lots of Hanchan's hidden secret… his laundry 🤢

The first time Tanjiro helped do Hantengu's laundry he was baffled cause there were so many ruined socks and underwear that he still wore. so he told him to throw them all away and they went to a department store to buy new pairs. Tanjiro even offered to buy it for him 😂

Hantengu is an only child, his parents already passed away when he met Tanjiro. His mom died when he was young while his dad died later from a work accident

Tanjiro's family never expect Tanjiro to be dating Hantengu. it was a shock when Tanjiro said they are going out now. They thought Tanjiro was just being nice to this weird oldman 😂

His mom was against their realtionship. on top of the age gap he just look sketchy 😂 But his dad said that they should trust Tanjiro and just let them be

Tanjiro trying to convince his parents

His siblings ofcourse were very against it cause they want Tan to get back together with his ex 😂 Tanjiro's ex is Kyojuro :))

i changed their age here.. Kyo and Tan were childhood friends so they knew each other or a long time and their family are close too. it devastated both family when they broke up. The reason? who knows (i haven't decided yet)

The perfect Ex-boyfriend..

He also happened to be an acquaintance with Shinjuro. Picture above is Shinjuro lamenting about his son's break up

No, Hantengu was not a rebound cause it's been a few years after the break up

Tanjiro like to sleepover at Hantengu's place. its a nice change of pace from how hectic his house is 😂

One day when Tanjiro sleeps over at his house Hantengu woke up realising how happy he is and saw so many things have changed for the better ever since he go out with Tanjiro. When they were eating breakfast that Tanjiro made he just blurts out asking Tan to marry him. Then Tan chokes on his food (he said yes)

Tan was just surprised Han proposed to him, he thought he'll be the one who's gonna propose lol

Now Hanchan gotta charmed the whole family to accept him (?)

Tanjiro knows about Hantengu's parents so they went on a trip to go to his family grave to pay a visit :D They also met a few distant relatives of Hanchan.

this is how the meeting between Hantengu and Tanjiro's parents went

(he got their blessings)

Because Tanjiro will be inheriting the family bakery, Hantengu changed his surname to Kamado. so legally his name is Kamado Urami but Tanjiro still calls him Hanchan 🥺. Yes in this AU Hantengu's name was Hantengu Urami lol

their nickname for each other is Hanchan and Tantan

Tanjiro said Hanchan so much that their kids firstword is "Hantan" (MUAHHAHA don't worry guys it's actually just a baby talk cause babies have a hard time pronouncing "chan" ☝🤓)

their wedding is not that grand they just invite family and friends. Hantengu invites his boss and some of his co workers lol. they need em to shut up about Hantengu finding a bf/gf this way they'll stop. they have their suspicion about Han's love life but they never expect to received a wedding invitation lol

speaking of Hantengu's job.. canonically he is known to be really good at infiltrating according to Muzan at least lol. so i made him be a data analyst in this AU lol idk smtg to do with data 😭 he could be a government spy but that'd be too cool for this hantengu 😂

i said that Tanjiro gonna inherit the bakery right? well too bad... it didn't happen when they found out they gonna have a quadruplets 😂 so the bakery goes to Nezuko. Tanjiro helped out later on when the kids start middle school.

Their first ultrasound :D

Hantengu and kidoairakuzou by some miracle (me LOL) shares the same birthday. so it was a really hectic day for Tanjiro every year. Tanjiro likes to celebrate a quiet bday at night for Hantengu tho. sometimes with a small personal birthday cake or leftover cakes 😂

ok it's getting tooo long so im ending it here 😭 If you managed to read this far congratulation and thank you!! 😭 i will add more about the kids on the second part but i don't know when it will come out lol so stay tune!

HanTan🥺

#kny #demon slayer #hantengu #kamado tanjiro #hantengu x tanjiro #me draw #hantan modern au #add some art so it's not a whole wall of text lol

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billybatsonbrainrot · 6 months ago

Note

Very interested in 4. from the WIP game!

Goodbye Marvel: Based on issue#4 of the current Shazam run but with a few changes.

Billy is homeless but still part of the Justice League. His reason for being on the moon is still the same. The gods have been fighting for control over Captain Marvel and putting Billy in danger against his will. And then Zeus was about to give Billy's first kiss to a grown alien woman and Billy freaks out. He transforms back, which leads him to getting blasted into space.

The whole experience was surreal to Billy. He never really felt like he was actual danger whenever he was Captain Marvel. This was different than all the other times he's fought in a battle. He's transformed in the middle of a fight plenty of times but he's always able to turn back into Cap without worry and in the nick of time. But at least back then it was his choice on what fight to pick. He was brought here and put in this situation against his will all because the gods wanted people to worship them again and decided that using him as their puppet was the way to do it. He's never felt more betrayed.

It doesn't matter if he doesn't feel safe as Captain Marvel anymore because he can't transform now even to save his own life. He can't breathe. He was blasted into space without a helmet on and he's slowly losing air. Anything that came out of his mouth were just gasps for air as he slowly drifted away. He didn't even get the chance to tell anyone in the Justice League where he was, so he knew no one was coming to save him. It was only thanks to Zeus, who threw a lightning bolt his way because he felt a tad guilty for almost inadvertently killing their champion.

After Billy deals with mess, because of course he had to clean after the gods after nearly dying, he flies back to earth and transforms back into Billy before the gods even have the chance to do or say anything. He then runs into any abandoned building he could find for privacy, and he just breaks down.

He thinks of the events that just happened in space. How he almost died, but mostly of how alone he felt. He was going to die surrounded by nothingness instead of people by his side. And he probably won't even be the one everyone remembers, that would be Captain Marvel, the one people would search for if he ever went missing. Billy Batson would just be forgotten, known by no one. Those were his only thoughts when he nearly lost consciousness.

Billy continues to cry with no one to comfort him until he is eventually found by someone and the police come, and Billy lets himself be taken away. He's too tired to do anything. He doesn't care if he's going back into a foster home, he'll figure that out in the morning. He just wants an actual bed to sleep in and eat real food. After the day he had, it was the least he could do.

He'll just have to suck it up and be okay with whatever family they put him with until he has to run away again. Except, the Vasquez's aren't like any family he's ever been with. They give him the space he needs when they see his tear-stricken eyes, and they're understanding about it too, not asking too many questions.

Billy meets the siblings in the morning and already feels himself getting attached. They're bonded pretty well over breakfast, best food he's had in a while. Mary is nice, Freddy is funny, Pedro is shy, Eugene knows a lot about video games, and Darla is adorable. They're all understanding too, they don't make Billy feel like an outsider despite being a newcomer.

Billy doesn't run away, he stays.

Billy is confronted by something he never knew he wanted. He wants to be a regular kid, be part of a family, go to school, maybe even college. For the first time in his life, he's actually thinking about his future, not how he's going to survive the following week but years ahead. Maybe it was because the foster care system actually did something right and put him in a loving family. He didn't think it was possible for him to even think this way, to hold out hope for a future.

Billy's only problem now was Captain Marvel, the one thing that bought joy to his life now brings misery. There was a good chance that being Captain Marvel would bring chaos to not just him but his new family. And an even greater chance that he'll die in battle one day if the gods decided to act stupid again. He knows he has responsibilities, but he was too young to know what he was getting himself into.

Billy makes a rash decision; he's going to quit being Captain Marvel.

#billy batson #shazam #ask game #i think the post got too long so consider this part 1 #I'll make a part 2 later #but justice league pov

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pinkthrone445 · 1 year ago

Text

~You can't change who you are~ Part 2

Part 1

Pairing:Brienne of tarth x Reader

Gender: mostly fluff

Warnlings : (+18) strong words, mention of sex, mention of violation (barely present, I won't write about that, I can't), mean and hurtful comments.

Summary:After years Brienne meets someone she didn't expect to see again, will she be willing to forgive her and leave the past behind or will she have to confront her actions first?

HAPPY LATE BIRTHDAY GWEN! ❤️

Five Years Later

Brienne and her men, at least those left alive, were returning from an intense battle,they won, but at great cost. Almost all of them were returning on foot, only the wounded who could not walk were on horseback, although they were two days' walk from the castle territory, they all needed a place to rest, drink water, tend their wounds and regain strength. Brienne decided that it would be wise to stay in one of the houses that were outside the territory of the castle, they belonged to the place but were not within the wall, almost all of them having crops and large houses.

The lord commander stood outside a big crop, staring at the back of a woman who was cultivating and picking a couple of vegetables. The woman wiped her forehead with her arm and stood up, stretching her back

-"Good morning miss, I'm so sorry to interrupt you while you're doing your work."-Brienne watched as the woman listened to her but didn't turn around-" We are knights of the castle, I'm Brienne of Tarth, the Lord Commander, we come from an arduous battle and we have many wounded men, we needed a place to rest and tend to our wounds for a few days until we can continue. Your collaboration will be well remembered and rewarded by the castle" - The tall woman spoke, expecting an answer, but got nothing, not even a glance from the other woman- "Miss?"-She insisted with no answer

-"MAMA!"- A little girl came out of the house laughing and running towards the crops with a playful dog behind her- "Mama help! Braco is tickling me with his kisses!" - Brienne watched as the woman took the girl in her arms, hugging her to her chest protectively, kissing her forehead. The girl kept laughing as the dog jumped excitedly around them. When the woman turned to look at her, Brienne's blood froze and her face turned a little paler than usual, it looked like she had seen a ghost, someone she thought she would never see again in her life

-"Nice words to disguise the truth Lord Commander, I know that this is not a request in which I have a choice, I also know that after you stay in my house, no one will pay me anything and no one will return to me everything you use or eat" - You spat in anger looking her in the eye - "So please, stay! You're not welcome, but I can't say no to the Lord Commander and her army, or tomorrow my head will be hanging on some pole and you'd occupy my house anyway" - You rolled your eyes and hugged your daughter more, walking towards the house, but you stopped next to the tall woman, put your daughter down, and smiled at the little girl very affectionately- "Please go inside my little one, feed Brako and wait for me there" - You said and your daughter nodded running inside with her dog, you looked up and looked at Brienne, who swallowed hard when she saw the anger in your eyes- "You and your men can stay in the barn, no one sets foot in my house without me letting them, if someone, anyone, touches a hair or even a thread of my daughter's clothes, or mine, I will kill them, slowly and painfully and you will not stop me. They can't even touch my animals, I know how men are like after the war, any hole is good for them, I learned it in my past work, so no one can touch any living thing that belongs to me. You won't talk to me unless it's strictly necessary, neither you nor your men can mention my past to my girl or I'll cut out their tongues. Understood?"-You spoke to her with authority, and Brienne nodded.

-"If any of my men don't respect you or your things, I'll kill them myself" - The blonde spoke, hoping to squill a little of the anger with which you looked at her

-"If any of your men do anything to us, I'll kill you too" - You spit and went inside the house. Brienne stared at you, she couldn't believe that after so many years of looking for you, she accidentally found you when she came back from one of her campaigns. There were a thousand things she wanted to ask you, a thousand things she wanted to tell you, but she knew you didn't even want to breathe the same air as her. You looked different, your body and face had changed, you looked different and at the same time nothing about you had changed. Your eyes no longer looked at her with love, but with anger and pain. Your face looked more experienced, with a lot of stories to tell. Your body had become more formed and muscular, perhaps from working the land and taking care of your daughter and the animals. Those eyes that once adored her, now only shone for your daughter... Your daughter, how was it possible that you had a daughter?...

After Brienne regained her composure, she returned to her men to explain the rules you had imposed and what would happen if they didn't abide by them. That first night, you brought them food, water, and a couple of blankets, barely looking in the blonde's direction as she thanked you for your hospitality. Brienne barely slept that night, thinking about you and all the memories she had of you together, wondering if you ever remembered her, missed her. How had your life been all this time? Was your daughter's father still with you? How did you come to live there? Did you miss her? How she wished you had missed her, that you had thought of her as much as she thought of you.

A couple more weeks went by, in which you still didn't even look at her, just bringing the things they needed and leaving. The only thing Brienne noticed was that the things you left for her were always better and more delicate than for others, the bandages, clothes, and portions of food for her, were always the best and the biggest.

One day, after breakfast, she approached your daughter who was playing in a small stream that passed by the side of your house. Your daughter was playing with a wooden sword, hitting logs and branches that were in the area. The dog followed her every step she took, the animal had a cloak and a cardboard helmet strapped to his head, which said "brave knight" in a delicate handwriting that Brienne would recognize anywhere, it was your handwriting, the same handwriting that used to leave notes on her nightstand before going to work.

Your little girl's laughter made her smile, she laughed like you, she was just like you, only with blue eyes similar to hers, if you and she had been able to have a child, she would certainly look like that girl. What a blessing it would have been if you and she could have started a family, living in a quiet place like that, her mind began to wander making her smile. When Brienne came back to reality, she saw how your daughter had stopped playing, now she looked at her seriously, with a frown, god, she looked a lot like you when you were angry.

-"Hello little one, my name is Brienne of Tarth"-the blonde spoke but your daughter kept looking at her with a frown-"what's your name?" - Your daughter still didn't answer- "what's the name of your brave friend?" - She asked, pointing to the dog without getting an answer-"You know? I saw you playing with your sword, I'm a knight of the castle, do you want to see a real sword?" - Brienne wasn't wearing her armor, but she still had the sword in its scabbard clinging to her waist. She carefully pulled it out and knelt down at your daughter's level, smiling. Your little girl looked at her curiously, her frown was gone, her eyes were shining now but she didn't approach the woman - "Do you like it? it's called oathkeeper. Does your sword have a name?" - Your daughter shook her head shyly, looking at the wooden sword in her small hands

-"My... My mom said I shouldn't talk to you" -she said shyly, avoiding looking at the woman, Brienne smiled, her voice was so cute

-"She said why?"-Brienne asked

-"She told me that you are very busy people, especially you as Lord Commander, that I should not disturb you..."-She whispered, playing with the hem of her shirt

-"It doesn't bother me if you talk to me, I'll always have time for you, I promise. You know, your mom and I used to be friends, we can be friends... Do you want me to teach you how to use your sword?" - Your daughter nodded excitedly and walked over to her, the dog never leaving her side-" But first you have to name your sword... And since I've introduced myself, I'd also like to know your name and your friend's..." - She smiled, looking tenderly at your daughter

-"My name is Anne and my dog's name is Braco... And I'd like my sword to be called protector"-Your daughter said with a big smile

-"Those are beautiful names, all three of you"-Brienne smiled and stood up taking her sword- "now, I'll teach you how to defend yourself"-After teaching her and playing for a while, they sat down to drink some lemonade that your daughter brought from home, as they drank, the two of them had their feet in the gentle current of water. The dog also had almost his entire body submerged there, enjoying the freshness. Your daughter started giving Brienne some cookies that you had baked the day before, the eldest began to eat with pleasure, listening as your daughter told her stories that she remembered

-"Oh! And one time, Mom, Drako and I were walking in the woods and, and, and Drako ate a veeeery ugly worm, Mom started laughing while eating an apple and realized that the apple also had a worm and that she had bitten it!" - your daughter counted very excitedly and started laughing making Brienne laugh tenderly as she looked at her.

-"Baby! Anne, come inside, it's time for a bath."-You shouted from the front door looking at them, neither of them had noticed that you had been watching them for a while. Your daughter stood up looking at Brienne sadly as she didn't want to leave her

-"Tomorrow do you want to play with me and Drako again? Maybe you'll be the knight and we'll be the thieves, will you?"- The little one asked, making her best puppy eyes so that Brienne would say yes

-"If your mom agrees, I'm fine with that" - whispered the eldest smiling, but when she went to stood up , she felt a great pain in her side and watched as her blouse dyed red quickly, she quickly covered it with her hand so that your daughter would not be scared, but the little one, very attentive as always, had already seen it. The wound she had had reopened and your daughter noticed it

-"Lord Commander! You got hurt! Come home and let mom heal you, she always heals my boboos when I fall or hit myself, she also gives the best kisses and hugs"-Your daughter grabbed the woman's free hand and began to pull without being able to move her an inch

-"Anne, I told you to call me Brienne, plus I'm fine and I don't think your mom wants me in the house anyways..."-Your daughter continued to pull her hand and the dog started biting her clothes and pulling along with the girl as well

-"You said that you and Mom were friends and friends help each other, so come home" - Your daughter insisted and Brienne began to walk with her until she was in front of you. You didn't want to let her in, but after your daughter's pleas, explanations, and puppy eyes, you let her inside your house to heal her.

-"The tub is ready and so are your clean clothes, take a good bath and get dressed, I'll be taking care of Lord Commander's wounds, then come here and I'll brush your hair" -you instructed your daughter and she nodded looking at the two of you

-"She likes to be called Brienne, no Lord Commander mom, after the shower will you read me a story while I drink my glass of milk? - Your daughter asked and you nodded sighing and then saw how she ran to the tub you had prepared for her.

Without looking her in the eye, you turned to where Brienne was

-"Take off your blouse and sit down"—you spoke seriously and went to the cabinets

-"Your daughter is beautiful and your house too" -said the blonde seeing how you were looking for thread and bandages, she grabbed a chair and sat down carefully taking off her blouse. You grabbed some alcohol and put it on the wound to wipe away the blood that was coming out, the blonde barely complained about the burning. Her body was much more scarred than the last time you were with her. In old times, you also used to clean her wounds and kiss all her scars, you did that every night you shared together... Your lips ache from the desire you had to kiss her scars, you didn't know if it was out of habit or because of how much you had missed her.

-"I told my daughter that she shouldn't talk to you or your men" - you said angrily as you threaded the needle and thread. It made you angry that she was there, it made you angry that you couldn't be upset for the real reason, it made you angry that you still loved her and you couldn't hate her

-"No, you told her she shouldn't bother us, she wasn't bothering me, we were playing and she was telling me really good stories" - Brienne watched as you handed her a piece of cloth and looked at you in confusion as she took it

-"Bite it"-you answered

-"For the pain? I can handle it" - she said

-"It's to see if that shuts you up" -You said and she rolled her eyes

-"Why did you tell your daughter not to bother me? She is the sweetest child I know. She could never bother me"- she whispered and complained when you stuck the needle into her skin to close the wound

-"Would you have preferred me to tell her the truth? The things you and your men said to me and did to me? How was I treated? If you prefer that, right now I'll tell her" -You said angrily as you continued to sew the wound

-"I never did anything to you but love you, you were the one who left from one day to the next without saying anything" - she whispered without looking at you

-"Exactly, you never did anything, remember that night? I did defend you, but you stayed there, letting them tell me all the horrible things they could think of and you just stayed there, doing nothing... They were your men, a word from you, a firm look on your part and they would have stopped, but no, you just stood there letting them say what they wanted... That same night, the king went to the brothel and kicked me out of the city, he said a whore couldn't be dating his top soldier, that it gave you a bad reputation, he forbade me to come back... I thought I should talk to you to see if you could do anything, but if you didn't confront your men, you wouldn't do it with the king either. His men escorted me out of the city and one of them slept with me, he forced me to sleep with him... Not only was I left without a place to live, but I was also left alone and pregnant... Every time I see you and your men, I remember that night over and over again, that's why I didn't want my daughter to be near you..." - You looked at her with tears in your eyes and stood up when you finished closing her wound

-"I... I didn't know that... I'm sorry sorry (Y/N)-Brienne stood up and held your hand so you wouldn't leave-I'm really sorry, really, so much, you didn't deserve any of that. I should have done something... Say something...-You took your hand out of her grip and threw a bandage at her chest, which she grabbed and then you walked away from her

-"Well... Now is too late, 5 years too late..." -You whispered - "Cover yourself with the bandage, or a straw from the barn will get into your wound and my work will be in vain"-You said hurrying her out of the house

-"MAMA!" - The voice of your daughter who was standing at the door of the dining room interrupted you - "you can't let her sleep in the barn, she's hurt! She has to sleep here!" - Your daughter challenged you looking at you seriously and you sighed rubbing your face

-"Fine, she'll sleep on the couch"-You said defeated, you were to tired for discussing stuff with your daughter. You sighed and grabbed the brush – "come on, I'll comb your hair"-Your daughter sat in a chair smiling and waving her feet in the air. Brienne bandaged her wound and put on her blouse, sitting on the couch and watching you fondly. When you finished combing her hair, your daughter got up and sat next to the blonde smiling from ear to ear

-"It's time for a story, you're going to love them, mom makes them up and then writes them down and draws pictures of every story. You can also have a glass of milk while we listen to it... My favorite story is the one about the woman knight, mommy, can we read that? And give Brienne a glass of milk too, pleeeeeease?"-she begged with her tiny hands together and doing puppy eyes again. The dog barked loudly in claim looking at your daughter - "And one glass of milk for Drako too, please Mama, you know how much I love you!" - You laughed shaking your head in defeat

-"Fine, manipulative little girl..."-After preparing the warm glasses of milk for each one you brought your daughter's favorite book, when you were reading halfway through, the milk had long since run out, your daughter had curled up and slept on Brienne, even the dog had fallen asleep. You were about to close the book so you could take your daughter to bed, but a big hand stopped you

-"Please continue... I want to know how it ends, please"- Brienne whispered looking at you with the same eyes as your daughter, carefully settling into the couch leaving your daughter lying on her chest, carefully covering her with a blanket. Your daughter smiled in her sleep and snuggled more into her. By the end of the story, the two were comfortably cuddling and asleep, so much so that you were sorry to wake them up, so you didn't, they looked so peaceful together, as if Brienne belonged there, in the lives of the two of you. You put everything in order smiling and went to sleep.

In the morning, when you went down and didn't find them, you were very scared, but relief returned to your body when you saw them outside playing with the dog. In silence and tranquility you made breakfast, and then took it to the two girls who were outside. As they ate, your daughter looked at you two smiling

-"Mommy, I have a great idea! Did you see how the crops are getting bigger and bigger and more people are buying veggies from you and you can never play with me because you don't have time? It occurred to me that if Brienne stays here, she can help us farm, she's very strong, she would also take care of us and you could both play with me every day! We could be like a family!" - When you heard it, you choked on the juice you were drinking and started coughing

-"Baby... The Lord Commander already has a job... She can't stay here..." - You whispered, avoiding Brienne's gaze

-"But this job would be so much better! Being here is quieter than all those dangerous battles, plus she would have the privilege of playing with me every day and listening to stories every night! - your daughter said excitedly looking at Brienne, the eldest just sighed looking at your daughter

-"The men have already recovered from their wounds and we have to continue on our way to the castle..." -Brienne whispered and saw how you and your daughter sighed with sadness - "also after that I have to talk to the kings about some injustices that were committed in the past, so that they can fix them" - the blonde looked at you- "But after that I will have to return immediately to you two, to give back all that your mother has given to me and to the soldiers, I will certainly have to stay for a long time, if your mother agrees, to make sure that everything is okay and payed. I have so much to pay your mother, she has done so much for me and I owe her so much, so many apologies and so many things... Besides I'll have to go back to my favorite girl, we still owe each other a battle"- she said looking at your daughter and she smiled a lot, very excited

-"Yes! That's going to give me time to make a new sword and armor and practice more." - Your daughter smiled and started planning more things by talking nonstop. Brienne took your hand carefully under the table, you looked at it with a raised eyebrow

-"If it is okay with you, if you let me, I'll be back as soon as I can and I'll pay for all the wrong they've done to you... All the wrong I did, I'll spend every day fixing all that happened, I won't lose you twice and I won't make the same mistakes again, I promise..."-she whispered, caressing your hand and you smiled, looking into her eyes and nodding

-"It's okay with me" - You whispered, caressing her hand too-"We'll wait for you..."

#brienne x reader #brienne of tarth #brienne of tarth x reader #ser brienne #lady brienne #game of throne fanfic #game of thrones #gwendoline christie #gwendolineuniverse #fanfics #lesbian #Lesbianism #gay #love

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pandorasprongs · 1 year ago

Text

CHAPTER THREE | so inviting, i almost jump in.

'it's nice to have a friend' masterlist + playlist | previous chapter

PAIRING: jamie tartt x fem!reader

WORD COUNT: 3.6k

SUMMARY: jamie and reader go out for drinks and meet a familiar face that brings up a painful memory for both of them.

WARNINGS: language

A/N: i'd like to apologize in advance for this one because the end is just 100% angst so brace yourselves sorry :')

It was like deja vu. Over the past weeks, you and Jamie started hanging out on a regular basis. Late nights and weekends were often spent eating pizza, watching old movies, and searching for old schoolmates online. He even helped you re-organize your room when he arrived during one of your cleaning days. You uncovered a box of old toy rings that Jamie gave you every birthday of yours for five years.

Initially, Jamie would message you if he was on the way. But the more he came over, it went back to your usual habits of him just showing up at your door at random hours of the day. When you weren't home, he'd message that he dropped by and then you'd call him when you got back. He'd race over to watch another one of your favorite childhood movies.

You hadn't realized how much you missed it all till you started spending time with Jamie again. You missed it so much that you may have neglected to mention to Liv how often you were with him. Despite the mini-sermon she gave you weeks ago about confronting Jamie, you hadn't actually made any moves to do it. All of this started to feel normal, regular, and the thought of disturbing that scared you too much. Even if there were times where you were annoyed at how casual he talked about the past few years of radio silence from him. Or how he'd mention his Man City teammates and you felt like tensing up every time.

There was no need to bring it up anymore, something you repeated to yourself. Plus, you were noticing that Jamie was now closer to your childhood best friend than the one who broke your heart. But still, you were cautious around the footballers Jamie associated with. Even when the season started again and Jamie would offer to tour you around the clubhouse or reserve tickets for the games, you'd always politely decline. You're sure the AFC Richmond players aren't terrible people given how highly Jamie would talk about them, but better to be safe than sorry.

Besides, with his now swamped schedule, you hadn’t seen Jamie recently. The most you did was when he’d send messages before training or games to which you’d answer with a “Good luck!” It was weird in the beginning, given that when he was at Man City, Jamie didn’t do any of that, but you hoped that this meant he wouldn’t leave again.

The next time you did was the night after one of their games, which continued their winning streak, thanks to Zava. While you knew Richmond fans — well, Liv and Frankie — were absolutely ecstatic to have him, Jamie despised the guy. You stopped yourself from pointing out the hypocrisy of him hating the player for being self-centered and thinking highly of himself.

You guess it’s working though because now you’re watching Richmond secure their fifth win in a row with your neighbor’s kid, Ronnie. When her mom found out you were a Science professor, she practically begged you to tutor her kid (and occasionally babysit). Ronnie was in primary school, so the lessons were pretty simple and you’ve been doing sessions every week to help her out. You always rewarded her afterward with whatever she wanted to watch on your TV that was age-appropriate, of course. This time, — after running back to their flat to get her Obisanya shirt, — she decided on watching the game.

“Zava’s incredible,” she murmured next to you, staring at the screen as if in a trance. You couldn’t help but chuckle at the reaction. The game was finished and so the channel was just playing match highlights, which for Richmond, were mostly their current star player. Sometimes, you’d spot Jamie in the background and even though the rest of the team was cheering along, he was having a hard time masking his resentment.

When you were finally able to drag her away from the TV, you heated up two plates of lasagna. Ronnie’s mom still hadn’t knocked on your door and you didn’t want to leave her alone in your flat, so she was having dinner with you tonight. For the most part, it was just like eating with Jamie. She was non-stop talking about the match which turned to talking about her favorite players and future games. It reminded you of Jamie as a kid, who’d go on and on about the exact same things.

As you’re washing dishes and Ronnie’s answering some extra worksheets, — she asked for them! — you hear the doorbell ring. You go over and find Jamie standing at the door, much to your surprise.

“Hey! Didn’t know you were coming over,” you say, but after noticing his exasperated expression, you tilt your head. “I know you don’t like a certain teammate, but I thought you’d at least be happy about the win.”

Jamie sighs. “I know." He gives you a weak smile, and you have to admit that even that simple act made your heart skip. “Is that lasagna?”

Jamie enters the room without warning and as soon as he does, your eyes widened remembering who else was there. You turn to the dining room table at the same time as Jamie and together, watch a 9-year-old stare in awe.

“Oh my God,” she let out. “That’s Jamie Tartt!” She walks over to you, leaving behind the worksheets.

You lean over and whisper to Jamie, “Forgot to mention I’m watching my neighbor’s kid.”

But Jamie’s already jumped into celebrity mode. He crouches down and confirms, “That’s me.” He glances at her oversized jersey before asking, “You a fan of Richmond?”

Ronnie nods her head enthusiastically. “I’m Ronnie! Congrats on winning!”

Jamie chuckles, and thanks her. “Nice to meet you, Ronnie.”

You hear someone approach the door and clear their throat and you turn to find Ronnie’s mom looking curiously at you. You turn back to Ronnie — who has now launched into a full monologue about how much she loves the team — and exclaim, “Look who else is here! I think it’s time to head back to your flat, Neens.”

She pouts at that statement, but one look from her mom and she was waving goodbye to the player. You quickly collect all of her stuff scattered around the place and hand it to her mom, who seems too exhausted from her shift to even notice the other person in the room.

Once you close the door, you lean on it and sigh in relief. “Sorry about that. I sometimes watch her after tutoring if her mom isn’t back, yet.”

Jamie shakes his head. “Nah, not a problem. I love meeting fans. Real ego boost.”

Yet another countless eye roll. “Calm down. You’re not even her third favorite player.”

Jamie scoffs, almost offended but after remembering the lasagna, he heads to the kitchen for a plate of his own. You walk beside him and after tripping over a loose marker Ronnie left, you fall forward. Jamie's reflexes kick in and he catches you quickly and you grab hold of his — really broad, you notice — shoulders to steady yourself.

Now you're stuck in a position that happens in almost every 90s rom-com you've watched: your feet diagonally off the ground with Jamie's hands gripping tightly at your waist. Both of you are too much in shock to move and simply look at each other with wide eyes. Your faces were close, too close to be platonic if it was intentional. So much so that if you leaned forward, just a little bit…

You snap out of the trance and move to stand straight up as Jamie lets go of you. You head over to the sink and quietly curse at yourself and that stupid blue marker. Things haven't been weird between you and Jamie for ages. And you weren't going to let the possible resurfacing of your feelings ruin that. Not again. Plus, if you were already burying your old feelings of resentment, why not add onto it too?

You go back to washing dishes when Jamie asks you a question. "Are you doing anything Saturday night?"

Given what just happened, your mind wanders off in the romantic direction before you shake your head. Instead, you respond, "I think you know better than anyone that I never do anything Saturday night." You reply as you wipe your hands. "Why?"

"Just wondering if you want to get a drink with me. Well, you get a drink and I get water 'cause fucking Roy’s banned me from alcohol till the season’s over. I just really need a night out. Fucking Zava, I swear." Forget the fact that he was technically at a night out with his teammates earlier; he more of just wanted a night out with someone who isn't so related to his football life. Or, he just really wants a night out with you.

You snort at that last comment but oblige anyway, ignoring the feeling of disappointment.

Jamie and you had only ever hung out together in the comfort of your own home. You'd just assumed that it was to avoid any unwanted press and since the bar he mentioned was one of those members-only pubs, it makes sense that the first time the two of you hung out publicly was there. But seeing as it was a pub, it's not going to be a romantic not-a-date date that you'll be going on.

Though, you soon realized how different it was from your usual places. Everyone there was dressed up so formally and you were glad that you picked the black trousers that you usually only wear to work over your everyday jeans that had paint stains at the bottom of them. Maybe you had worn it in case Jamie at the last minute decided to take a detour to a nice restaurant, but you were relieved either way.

The two of you ended up just sitting in the bar while Jamie complained about his most recent Twitter feud. Christ, you pray for Keeley Jones for having to deal with all his PR nonsense. When he starts shit-talking Roy for getting him up at 4 am for training, — “I thought he was joking!” — you end up tuning out of the conversation knowing how long the rant was going to be.

Your eyes drift off behind Jamie when you notice a familiar face. Suddenly, it felt like the walls were closing in on you. You could feel your breathing hitch and your fingers were scratching the inside of your palm. Before you could even consider doing anything, he reached you.

"Jamie Tartt!" The footballer's train of thought is broken and he turns to his former teammate to greet him. "Haven't seen you since you went off to be a reality star!"

Jamie simply rolls his eyes at the comment. "Well George, I haven't seen you since they forced you out of Man City!"

"They couldn't afford me anymore," He shrugs before his eyes land on yours. You shift in your seat and you can see the exact moment when Jamie notices how uneasy you've become. "And who's this with you?"

He doesn't remember you. And why would he? To him, you were just another crazed fan at a pub, one of many he's encountered over the years. You doubt that the memory of that night stuck with him the way it did to you.

"This is (Y/N), an old friend of mine," Jamie adds carefully and you build up enough courage to shake his former teammates' hand, but not enough to stay in this conversation.

"I'll let you two catch up while I get another drink." You explain, in an obviously fake cheery voice, but only Jamie spots it. He reaches out for your hand on the table to comfort you, but you swipe it away before he can.

You head off to the other side of the bar to order another beer, but you can't stop your eyes from shifting over to the pair of them again. Jamie looked so comfortable laughing and talking to George. You scoff at the sight. How could he act so chummy with that guy when he was the driving force for why the two of you ended on shitty terms in the first place?

Jamie's told you all about how he's been working on himself and trying to become a better person, but a part of you still feared that one interaction with that guy would unravel everything. He was an absolute prick; the number of fights and scandals Jamie had been in for his entire career was nothing compared to the amount George had in his first five years.

You wanted to trust Jamie, but he was always quick to change who he was when he was around certain people. You just hoped he had grown enough to not let his Man City "mentor" — too many of George’s scandal photos had a 19 to 22-year-old Jamie Tartt in the background — bring back the side of him he's tried so hard to erase.

You don't know how long they were talking, but by the time they moved over to the pool table, your vision was already starting to blur. The drinks just kept coming. Flashbacks from that night started to come in too: the spotting Jamie in the crowd, the confrontation, the holding back of tears, and the walk-out. You couldn't look over at the pair of them without an intense pain appearing in your chest.

Jamie looked back to where you were supposed to be seated and found you spacing out into a corner. It was the same dreamy and tired look you had the first time you tested your alcohol limit when your parents were out of town. Immediately, he abandoned the game of pool and rushed over to you.

"Maybe that's enough alcohol for tonight." Someone pulls the Cosmopolitan from your grasp and you squint your eyes to identify them as Jamie.

"Ha, that's rich coming from you." You can't remember how many times you've had to help Jamie sneak up the stairs and into his bedroom after a night out. "Aren't you still busy hanging out with that Man City prick?" Lack of tactfulness is the most obvious sign you'd drank too much.

"Woo, a little harsh there," You hear George come up to the two of you. You rush — well, more of stumble — forward to confront him, but Jamie holds you back. The retired footballer points out, "She's a feisty one."

"Let's bring you back to your flat, yeah?" Jamie offers softly, but you remove yourself from his arms and shake your head.

"I am perfectly capable of getting home by myself." You grab your clutch from the table. "Don't want to ruin another night for you guys, right?"

A pang of guilt visibly hits Jamie, but George is just left confused. You start to walk towards the exit and get to the door till you feel someone gently take hold of your left arm.

"You can't even see your phone clearly to book a taxi. I'll drive you home." Jamie's voice is low and whatever common sense you have left takes him up on your offer. He turns his head to say goodbye to George, but all the former footballer does is shout, "Don't do anything I wouldn't do!" following by a boastful laugh.

You clench your clutch at the comment, but Jamie brings you out the door before you can turn back and do something that'll land you on the front page of the Sun the next morning.

When you get to Jamie's car, he carefully helps you into the passenger's seat and puts on your seatbelt before getting into the car himself. Once the car starts, you take the chance to close your eyes in an attempt to remedy the throbbing headache you feel is already coming on.

You don't know how long you stay like that, but when you open your eyes, you're already at your building. You slowly get out of the car and once you make it to the sidewalk, Jamie asks, "Can’t believe you just downed a dozen drinks like a recent divorcee."

"I wonder why," You scoff and side-eyed him, unwilling to move your head from looking forward. You see the footballer's expression drop and suddenly you understand what Liv was going on about. You finally break. "How could you still be so friendly with him, Jamie! He’s an absolute arse and everyone in England knows it!"

"He was my teammate! And still a major name in football, even after retirement and all the shit he’s done. I didn't want to risk anything!" Maybe if you were sober, you'd accept that reason. There were countless alumni, tenured professors, and chairmen that you had to suck up to just to keep your job. But were drunk people ever known to be rational?

"Is that why you let him talk to me like that? Back in the pub?"

"You two barely spoke a word to each other," Jamie points out but you shake your head furiously.

"I mean back in Cardiff!" You exclaimed loudly and you knew for a fact that at least one of your neighbors had heard your outburst. But you didn't really care.

For a moment, neither of you said anything. You went to walk up the stairs, expecting it to be the end of it. If Jamie didn't have anything to say, then what was the point? He'd let you walk away and tomorrow morning, you'd be back to normal and you can just pretend this night didn't happen. You've done it before.

"You said you didn't want to talk about that." Jamie finally speaks up.

"I thought I didn't," you admit, your voice levels lower than before. You continue walking when you feel a presence following suit. You stayed in that silence till you made it back to your flat. It's a miracle you didn't tip over on the way in, but spite was enough to power you through.

Jamie closed the door behind him and sighed, "I couldn't just ignore him at the bar."

Suddenly, any fear of confrontation seemed to disappear. Your anger resurfaced and you spit out, "You seemed just fine ignoring me for seven years." You turn to face him and for a second, the pitiful look in his eyes almost made you back off. Almost. "Or is abandoning your best friend easier when she's not some big-shot footballer?"

"I know you're mad," Jamie starts and you angrily run your hands through your hair.

"Yes, I'm mad, Jamie!" You shout and you watch him take a step back, but you don't falter. "I'm mad at you! Seeing George tonight just reminded me of it and how a part of me still fucking hates you for taking their side."

"I've been trying to apologize—"

"I know, Jamie, but I'm still pissed at you, okay? For leaving me like that! And for letting me leave that night! I mean, how could you? Just throw away a decade of friendship for some football assholes that threw you away the second they could." Everyone knew how Jamie's career with Man City ended and it was surely a sore spot for the player, but at that moment, you didn't care.

Before Jamie can even defend himself, you start again. "I... fuck Jamie, I loved you. You were my best friend. I would've spent every waking hour with you if I could've. But you couldn't care less about me, right? The moment someone more famous than me believed in you the same way I always did. You just stopped answering my calls, and my texts, and even my parents when they asked you for me! Worst of all, you didn't give me a single reason why!

"Honestly, I would've been fine if you did stop being friends with me, as long as you gave me an explanation. Even if it was for some stupid reason that I wouldn't understand or hate you for, because at least I could've moved on! Instead, I spent years wondering where it all went wrong. If I could've done something, anything to change what happened." You start to feel the strain on your throat and know for a fact that at least one of your neighbors would be eavesdropping, but you were finally letting it out.

Your voice comes out hoarse, "And then the next time I did see you, in that pub, you were a whole new person. A complete and utter prick, Jamie. After that night, I prayed that you'd come to your senses. Do the decent thing and apologize, even if it was just a fucking text or something. But no, you kept ignoring me and pretending I didn't even exist. So I forced myself to stop thinking about you. To stop caring about you calling me. To stop dreaming about you telling me you fucked up and that you were sorry. So I could move on with my life."

You look away from Jamie and around the living room in an attempt to stop the tears from flowing down. You were unsuccessful. "And after years, I did move on. I went to London, got a job, and stayed as far away as I could from football. From you. But God, you always find a way back to me, huh?

"It just had to be you who found me in Nelson Road that night. It had to be you who picked me up, who drove me home, and reminded me how happy I was when we were kids. So much so that I thought I'd be fine without an apology! As long as I had you back in my life, it'd be fine. But as you can tell now, it's not." The amount of alcohol in your system was wearing you down and you were starting to get tired.

You start to lose your balance when Jamie's there to catch you, but you harshly push him off you. He doesn't seem affected by your strength, but even then, he moves back.

"Just get out, Jamie." is all you manage to say this time and after hesitating for a moment, he does. Now you're left alone again, only with your thoughts and the realization that any chance of bringing back what you had with Jamie was gone.

A/N: and that's that! i hope this teases the interlude nicely cause i'm sick of being so vague about that night since that's up next and trust me, it gets worse in that one... anyway i hope you all enjoyed this one!

TAGLIST: @moonflowersandsparkles @faith-alons26 @rexorangecouny @aiyaiy @thegirlthatwantedtowrite @giggling-sewer-ginger @katdahlali @higherthanheroes @guccilongboard @alipap3 @rockchickrebel @ellietartt @shineforever19 @skewedcherries @jamirtarttdodo @meg-ro @deepdarkvelvet @scaramou @rae4725 @oxxolovemelikeyoudooxxo (couldn't tag you for some reason?)

#jamie tartt #jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt reader #ted lasso #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt fic #jamie tartt fanfic #ted lasso fanfic #jamie tartt angst #jamie tartt x f!reader #jamie tartt x female reader #it's nice to have a friend series

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pinkypromisepascal · 2 years ago

Text

𝙹𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚘𝚞𝚜 (𝙳𝚎𝚊𝚗 𝚆𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚡 𝚏𝚎𝚖𝚊𝚕𝚎!𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛)

request by @chloelouisejohnson: hi!! so boring and predictable but could we get a jealous dean x reader with plenty of angst and a healthy dose of smut?? mabye jealous over reader and sams friendship but sam and reader are only so close because deans a douche and constantly pushes reader away the second they start getting close?

summary: you are friends with the Winchester brothers and often help them with research for their cases, mostly working together with Sam because Dean always seems gruff towards you until you confront him about his behavior

content warnings: angst, jealous!Dean, swearing, smut [fingering, praise, p-in-v, unprotected sex], enemies to lovers I guess?😀

word count: 4.8k

author’s note: I really hope you like this one, I tried my best, wasn’t really sure about how their relationship would develop, but I think it turned out ok. Also, this is my first time writing smut, so be nice with me😂

/// this has only been proofread by myself ///

You had met the Winchesters about two months ago when they had been working on a case in your hometown. You weren’t a hunter yourself, but you’d always been a very curios person, especially when it came to things that didn’t seem easy to put into words, like emotions, some natural phenomena, or even the supernatural. Naturally, you had started working at the local library years ago after having worked a secretary job for what had felt like eternity, so you could bury your nose in the all kinds of literature you could get.

When Sam and Dean had been staying in a local motel for the case, you couldn’t help but do some research on your own. They had spiked your interest even more after showing up at the library to search for newspaper reports. Since you were working at said library, you had offered them to stay after closing hours if they needed to. Which had led to the three of you taking up a table for six people with what felt like one hundred books. You had talked to Sam about the case and had searched the library for more helpful literature.

Ever since, it seemed that you had bonded with the Winchester boys. You liked both Sam and Dean, but you sometimes felt like Dean wasn’t as easy-going as his younger brother. You figured he was just a more practical guy than Sam who wasn’t so much into digging through tons of literature, who preferred to just get the case done and head over to the next one. Which was completely understandable, theory tends to be the less exciting part. But Dean always seemed kind of on edge when he was around, and you just couldn’t grasp why. Sam and you spent a lot of time in the bunker’s library to gather information about the cases. You didn’t always need the books, you just really liked being surrounded by them. Dean never spent more than ten minutes around the two of you. He usually just came around to ask how the research was going and to get a quick heads up on the information you had gathered so far, only half-heartedly listening to you while sipping a drink.

But over the last few days, you felt like he distanced himself even more. When Dean was around, he didn’t really want to know anything if it wasn’t about a case. Sometimes, when Sam was gone, it felt like his eyes were piercing through you. Dean didn’t really talk much to you, he just… watched you do your stuff. You did try having small talk with him when you were alone, asking him questions about past cases or his family, which was a big mistake as you had noticed right after asking. “Alright, don’t you have something to do? You don’t have to force some small talk, ‘kay?”, he had spat. To be fair, you did know it would be bad idea to ask about his family, Sam had told you the most important things, but what else were you supposed to do? Another time after that, when you had offered to go take care of the laundry with him, he just told you get back to Sam and help him out. Was Dean annoyed by you? Didn’t he like you being in the bunker with them, although he had been the one who invited you to the bunker in the first place?

“Do you think Dean’s been acting weird lately?”, you asked Sam one day, both of you focused on the bright screens on your laptops. You were researching for a case about people disappearing in the woods a few towns over, and dogs barking at seemingly nothing. You had both thought about Ghosts, Rugarus or other flesh-eating creatures, maybe even a new one, some kind of hybrid, which would make it more difficult to kill. Sam was still absorbed in his notes and didn’t notice you asked him a question until you nudged his leg under the table and asked him again. “What do you mean? Isn’t he acting like he always is?”

“I don’t know. I feel like… I think Dean doesn’t like me. He’s never around when we’re doing research, he only shows up for food or drinks-”

“Well, Dean never really liked those research days, to be fair.”, Sam interrupted.

“No, I mean, yes, okay, but seriously. When you’re out to get groceries or something, he’s so… tense all of the time. It’s like he really wants to punch me in the face, but he tries to do that by staring holes into my head or something. He always seems so angry, it drives me nuts!” You ruffled your hair and groaned. “You know, I really like being here, and I’m so glad that we help each other out, but… you know? He was the one who suggested I’d come around when you guys got something going on, so why is he acting like he regrets that decision more than anything?” Sam told you that he didn’t really notice Dean had been acting like that, but he could imagine that Dean could act like that if something really got to his nerves. “Did you talk to him about it?” You cocked your head and furrowed your brows. “Of course I did! Well, not particularly about that, but I did try to have a normal conversation with him, but I think he’d rather poison himself than tell me about the stick up his ass.” Sam chuckled and shook his head. “Well, I don’t really know what to do about that, I doubt that he’ll tell me what’s wrong, he’s, uh… not a man of big words most of the time. Maybe he just doesn’t really trust you yet, even though it’s been months since we first met, but, um, yeah… Don’t know, sorry.” Sam gave you a sad smile. “He’ll come around, I guess. Maybe he just needs time. And maybe you shouldn’t think too much about it. If he doesn’t treat you how you wanna be treated, you can confront him or just ignore him. Give him a taste of his own medicine or something.”

You thanked Sam for listening to you and excused yourself to a little break. You went through the backdoor of the bunker’s garage, holding your pack’s last cigarette in your hand, fiddling with the lighter in the other. The whole situation just didn’t leave your mind. Should you try to talk to Dean again and apologize for anything you did, even though you couldn’t think of what you could’ve done to upset him so much? Or should you just wait for him to approach you? You took a drag of your cigarette and closed your eyes, trying to stop your thoughts from racing, feeling small rain drops cooling your skin. This is so stupid, you thought, so stupid and childish, my god, grow some balls, Dean!

Distracted by your own thoughts, you didn’t notice the Impala rolling out of the garage until the horn startled you. You turned around to see Dean behind the wheel, motioning at you to get out of the way. You just stared at him with wide eyes and spread your arms to the side in a what the fuck? motion, cigarette still sitting between your lips. Reminding yourself that he wasn’t worth picking a fight, you stepped aside, waving your arm to signal him to get going. As he drove off, you flipped him off, not really intending for him to see it, but still hoping he would. “Fucking dumbass”, you mumbled. You put out your cigarette on the nearest rock and headed back inside.

When Dean came back half an hour later with some fast food, you expected him to take his food and return to his room again, but to your surprise, he sat at the table with you and Sam. You and Sam exchanged looks, you tried to telepathically tell him that this was unusual compared to the last weeks, but Sam just shrugged. You didn’t expect him to do something about the tension between you and Dean, you just wanted someone else to see how weird it could get between you and him.

“So, uh, how’s the research going?”, Dean suddenly asked between bites, not specifically looking at any of you. “Well, we’re not quite sure what the case is about yet, we couldn’t figure out what creature might be causing the troubles, our best guess is something like a Rugaru, maybe a ghost that’s stuck in the forest for some reason, maybe even something like a Crocotta? You know, those things that can mimic human voices and lure their victims into traps. But, y’know, we’re not sure. Maybe looking for clues in the woods would help us out.” You shrugged and bit into your burger again. Dean looked at you and Sam. “So, that’s it? That’s all we’ve got so far? Man, we’ve been better before.”, he grouched, probably more to himself than to you and his brother. “Well, maybe we’d be faster if we had your help.”, you simply said. You immediately sensed Sam shifting in his seat and felt Dean’s glare on you.

“Come again?”

“Oh, you heard me, Mister I just sit in my room all day or drive around in my old car because I’m too full of myself to hang out with those boring bookworms.” Sam almost choked on his burger and mumbled a “Oh god, here it comes.”

You looked over to the older Winchester. He opened his mouth to say something, but then closed it again. “Someone spit on your burger or something? The fuck’s your problem now?”, he asked.

“My problem is that you’re complaining because Sam and I haven’t magically solved the case yet! We’re working hard to get as many clues as we can before we show up there tomorrow while you’re just ignoring us! You never show up, and now you sit here with us to eat and pretend like you haven’t spoken a word to me in days? The fuck’s wrong with you, Dean?! You were the one who invited me here and told me that I could help you guys out, and you’ve been rude to me ever since!”, you snapped, despite noticing that Sam clearly got uncomfortable at this point. That didn’t stop you from continuing your rant, though. “You make me feel like you just got me here so you can chill out or something, because you poor little boy don’t get enough rest! I get that your lives are tough, but that doesn’t justify you treating me like a stress toy you use to let your anger out on every once in a while. Sam clearly does a better job at making me feel welcome around here!”

Sam cleared his throat and before he could try to settle your dispute, Dean smacked his fist on his table. “I’ve had enough of you, y’know that? Yes, I did invite you to join us every now and then, but I knew I was taking a risk with that-”

“Oh, shut up, Dean, what’s that even-”

His fist came down on the table another time.

“If you don’t let me finish talking, I’ll make sure you regret ever coming here.”, he growled, his eyes turning a darker shade of green. From the corner of your eye, you noticed Sam shifting in his seat again.

“Listen close, alright? I’m not gonna say this again. You are allowed to be here because I allowed you to after you were really helpful for one of our cases. Right? Sam and I talked about that, and we both knew that it would be risky to let someone else in here, someone who’s not a hunter. You lack skill, alright? You can’t fight, you can’t defend yourself against other people, let alone monsters. If someone wanted our heads and tried to get to us through you, you’d be dead faster than you can name your favorite book. But we still took you in, because you were good to us, and we rarely get good company ‘round here.” Dean paused for a moment, but his eyes gave away that there was so much more he wanted to say.

“So, I’m just another face to look at until you get tired of it? You’re just gonna cut me out of your lives again when you get bored of me?” You tried to keep your voice steady, but it was still shaking. You were bouncing your leg under the table and felt tears build up. “You don’t even talk to me Dean… at least not in a… normal way. I tried to have a normal conversation with you, and I know that asking you about your parents was a stupid mistake, but… every time we’re alone in a room, you just… stare at me like I’m a failure, like you don’t even want me here. You never even thanked me for all the times I’ve helped you so far.” A few tears quietly ran down your cheek. You crossed your arms in front of your chest and looked down on the table again.

Dean ran a hand over his face while Sam took care of the dishes. Uncomfortable silence filled the kitchen. You were the first to get up. You wiped the tears from your face and ruffled your hair. “I’m gonna go to sleep, I’m too tired to drive, but I’ll be out here first thing tomorrow morning.” None of the Winchester brothers answered as you left the room, but when they thought you were out of range, you heard Sam speak up to Dean. You couldn’t quite figure out what he said, he spoke too quietly for you to hear, but you could hear Dean loud and clear when he barked back, making you freeze in your spot.

“We both know she doesn’t belong here, Sammy! She shouldn’t be with us, she should be leading her normal life, you know how it ends when we like people.” Dean had gotten quieter towards the end, he sounded… torn.

This is too much right now, I really need to sleep, you thought and went on to the bedroom they had offered you to use. As you dropped onto the mattress after brushing your teeth and changing into something more comfortable, exhaustion took over quickly and you drifted into a dreamless sleep.

About two hours later you were wide awake again, joined by a pulsating headache. You groaned and rolled around in the soft bed. “The last thing I needed today.”, you said to yourself as you massaged your temples. Luckily, you always carried light Ibuprofens for such cases, but you still needed water, so you trudged to the kitchen again. After taking the painkiller, you rested against the sink for a while and recapped every moment between you and Dean that had to lead up to the depressing dispute that evening. You remembered one day where Dean had offered to go grocery shopping. You had wanted to join him and pay for the groceries as a thank you for the boys taking care of you when you were there. “I’m fine, just go hang out with Sam, you’ve gotten pretty good at that.”, he’d said. You hadn’t thought much of that, you were too taken aback by him brushing you off like that, but now that you thought of that moment again, something seemed to click.

Was Dean jealous? Could that be why he’d been acting so stiff around you? But there’s no reason to be jealous, you thought.

Dean’s deep voice pulled you from your train of thoughts. “You okay?” You shortly looked at him standing in the doorframe and then massaged your temples again. “Woke up with a headache in the middle of the night, but other than that…” You shrugged, “Fine, I guess… why’re you up?”

“Fell asleep in the library. I, uh, I took a look at your notes. On the case.” Dean cleared his throat and rubbed his hands together, unsure what to do with himself. You looked at him with furrowed brows, and when he lifted his gaze to meet yours, you were surprised yet again by how green his eyes were. Because Dean had been avoiding you most of the time, you didn’t get many chances to take a close look at his pretty, chiseled face. But when you got the chance, you didn’t want to take your eyes off it.

“Listen, I, uh… I snapped at you earlier, and I’m… I’m sorry for that. I just- it just got too much for me in that moment.” Dean ran a hand over his stubble and cleared his throat again. After taking a deep breath, he continued talking. “Truth is, I don’t hate that you’re around, ok? I know I made you feel like that, and I get that you’re mad at me. And what I’m gonna say now will sound so cliché and shitty that you’ll wanna take another painkiller for your headache, but, um… I need to get it out ‘cause it’s been driving me insane.” Another short pause where neither of you knew exactly what to do. Should you take Dean’s hand to let him know that it’s okay? Should you hug him? Get him a drink?

“It’s just that… I love having you here with us, I love how you liven our life in here up. And I noticed how you and Sam were getting closer each day, because you’re both huge nerds who read books all day, so I- I thought I’d just leave you to it and not get in the way. It’d be too dangerous anyway. So I just… I don’t need to tell you what I did, you already know that part.” A light chuckle came from you. “I’m sorry for how I treated you. But I need you to understand that I was keeping myself from risking your life.” Dean almost pleaded. “Why do you always bring up that I’m weak, that I need protection or things like that? How would you be risking my life by treating me like a normal human being?”, you asked him calmly to avoid the situation escalating again.

Dean stepped closer, locking his eyes with yours again, resting his hands on the sink behind you, capturing you between his frame and the sink. “Because I don’t wanna just treat you like a friend. With the thoughts I’ve been having about you, I can’t treat you like just a friend. There’s so much more. But I’ve been stopping myself from acting on it because every single person I’ve ever cared about was taken from me. It makes me feel like I’m cursed or something. It’s like the moment I start liking someone, they’re doomed. And from then it’s just a question of time till I find them dead.” You couldn’t even focus on the last sentence he spoke, you were too startled. He was having ‘thoughts’ about you? Him? Dean Winchester? About you? Despite every encounter you two had had? It made no sense to you.

“Dean”, you started, not even knowing what you wanted to say to him. You looked into his eyes and took a deep breath. “Start fucking acting on it.”, you hissed. Dean cocked his eyebrow. “What?”

“You said you stopped yourself from actin’ on your feelings and thoughts ‘cause you were too scared and - apparently - jealous of Sam because we’re spending a lot of time together. Which is only because every time we have a moment to ourselves, you start acting like a complete douchebag. I like you, Dean. So please start doing what your mind’s telling you to do because I can’t stand douchebag-Dean anymore. I kinda hate him.” You started laughing at yourself and this whole situation. “Oh, you don’t want that, sweetheart.”, he just countered. “Oh, come on, think I can’t handle you, big boy?”

“I just think you underestimate me. I like your smugness, but I’ll rid you of that quicker than you think. Once I got you in my hands, you’ll melt.”, he purred. “And after that, you’ll be mine only. I’ll leave you just as obsessed with me as I am with you.” Dean’s right hand came up to your face, his thumb gently tracing your lower lip. “But I need your permission for that.”

Too frozen in this moment to form a sentence, you just nodded and before you could think of something else, Dean’s full lips crashed on yours, lightly biting your lower lip. You sighed as you opened your mouth, his tongue slipping inside, exploring.

Dean’s hands squeezed your waist and pulled you closer to him, your hands running up his torso to grab him by the collar of his shirt. He kept kissing you, making you hungry for more. Between kisses, you asked him if he really wanted to do this here in the kitchen. “Good point.”, he mumbled and picked you up bridal style in one swift motion. You shrieked in surprise, Dean shushed you immediately. “You’re gonna have to be quiet if you don’t want Sam to hear us. Walls are kinda thin here.”, he said as you entered your bedroom. Dean lightly dropped you onto the mattress, earning a chuckle from you. He climbed on top of you, kissing along your neck and jawline. “I wonder what other sweet sounds I can get out of you.” You fumbled at his button down to shrug it off his broad shoulders, but Dean seemed to have other plans. “Patience, sweetie.”, he said as he kissed you deeply again, “I wanna take my sweet fucking time with you, till you’re weak in every single muscle.” Him saying such things already made you almost see stars as waves of desire flamed through your body.

Dean’s arm went under your back and he lifted you to sit on his lap. “Now be a good girl and take that shirt off for me.” His large hands cupped your breasts as soon as your shirt was gone and slowly kneaded them, rolling your hard nipples between his thumb and index finger. “Look how good they fit in my hands.”, he murmured against your lips. You eagerly rolled your hips against him, feeling his erection under your core. Dean groaned and captured your lips again. “Your turn.”, you panted with a smug smile. “Why don’t you do that for me, hm?”, he chuckled. With no hesitation, you clawed at his button down, finally shoved it from his shoulders and then put your hands under his t-shirt, slowly pushing it up while he sucked on your neck.

Both of you were still wearing too many clothes, so you decided to drop yourself on the bed again, pulling Dean with you without your lips breaking contact, getting hungrier and more eager with each kiss. Dean’s kisses started traveling across your body, licking and biting certain spots he knew would drive you crazy. You shuddered when he reached your lower belly. His fingers hooked under the hem of your pants, he slowly dragged pants and panties down along your legs, making sure his lips would reach every tingling spot on their way down. Your eyes rolled back and you arched your back lightly, impatient, wanting to finally feel him inside of you. Dean lifted his head to look at you. “If only you could see you goddamn pretty you look right now.” He pushed himself up to kiss you again, one of his hands drawing slow circles at your core. “And you’re gonna look even prettier when I’m done with you.”, he mumbled as he carefully pushed his index inside of you, making you inhale sharply. “God, so wet for me already? Hm, what did I do to deserve this?”, he cooed, looking deep into your eyes. “You okay, sweetheart? Tell me if you wanna stop.”

“If you stop now, I’ll never talk to you again.”, you panted and rolled your hips into his hand as you felt him pull out to add another finger. “That’s what I wanna hear.”, he chuckled. Dean fingered you in an almost agonizing pace, enjoying how smooth you felt, knowing exactly how much you wanted him to do more. Your hands started fumbling with his belt and unzipped his pants. Dean sat back and quickly slid his pants down and threw them aside, now only in tight boxers. Your eyes fell onto the outline of his thick cock. Dean grabbed your face and forced you to look at him. “Eyes up here, sweetie.” He grabbed one of your hands and led it down to his crotch, making it wrap around his cock through the boxers. You slowly pumped him as good as you could, not breaking eye contact. Dean groaned huskily, leaning his forehead against yours. His hand found your core again, two fingers sliding in and out of you while his thumb circled your clit.

Soon enough, Dean couldn’t hold back much longer. Drawing his hand from you again, he slid his boxers down just enough to set his cock free and positioned himself between your legs. “Do you want this? I need to hear it.”

“Yes, Dean, please.”, you whined and bucked your hips. Dean carefully pushed himself inside, keeping his eyes on you to see your reaction. He intertwined your hands and kissed your forehead as he kept pushing. You felt yourself stretch around him, felt yourself adjust to his size.

He bottomed out with slow thrusts, trying not to loose control of himself. “Fuck, you feel amazing.”, he growled and picked up the pace a little, “Can’t believe I finally have you to myself.” Your hand was pressed against his chest, desperately searching for any contact it could get. “Dean, faster, please.”, you moaned. Dean took his hand from yours and used it to lift one of your legs up, putting it over his shoulder and leaning down towards you as he started pounding into you, slick sounds and skin slapping against skin filling the room. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head and you moaned loudly at him fucking you like this. Dean shushed you once again. “As much as I love making you sound like that, you should keep quiet if you don’t want Sam to hear this.”

You grabbed Dean by his neck and pulled his face as close to yours as possible. “I don’t care, I just want you to keep doing this, fuck.”

“How could I stop when you’re taking me so well? Like you were made for me.” Dean’s hand slipped between your legs, pressing down on your lower stomach and getting you closer to the edge. He started kissing your neck again, running his tongue along the pulsating vein and lightly sucking on it. On his way down to your breasts, he kept biting your sensitive skin just enough to hear those sweet moans from you, marking you as his with the bite marks.

“Dean, please.”, you whined, slowly getting overwhelmed at the feeling of his cock ramming into you over and over, “I’m close.”

His hand went to grab your face again and he almost completely pulled out as he gazed at you, his breath coming shorter. He was close too. “Beg for it.”, he demanded. “Please make me cum.”

Right as you finished your sentence, Dean pushed himself in in one hard thrust and kept this harshness as he picked up the pace like before. Your nails dug into his back and shoulders as you held him close to you, almost screaming when his thumb circled around your clit again. You were so damn close to the edge already, and got sent over it as Dean grunted, “Good fucking girl.”

You came undone around him, his lips catching yours to keep you quiet as he kept penetrating with your walls squeezing around him. Dean cursed under his breath and quickly pulled out before coming on your stomach. You rested your foreheads against each other, needing to catch your breath again, coming down from your highs.

Dean leaned down to kiss you carefully, almost as if you could suddenly break apart beneath him. “We really just did that.”, you said to break the silence. Dean chuckled and nodded, “We sure did.”

You both sat up and Dean helped you get cleaned up. After a short trip to the bathroom, you both laid down on the bed again.

Dean grabbed your hips and made you straddle his lap, looking deep into your eyes, taking in all of your details. You caressed his face with your hands. “You know this wasn’t a one-time-thing, right?”, Dean asked, “I mean, I’m taking a big risk here, but fuck, the things you make me wanna do to you. I’m not gonna let you go.” “Easy, tiger, I’m not going anywhere.”, you chuckled, “I mean, I do have to get back for work soon, but… y’know. I think I’m gonna like being here even more from now on.”

#dean winchester x reader #supernatural dean #dean winchester #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester imagine #dean being mean #smut #dean winchester smut #supernatural smut #first smut #request #dean winchester x female reader #jealousy

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barefoothighlander · 2 years ago

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mary on a cross - until it sleeps

-simon 'ghost' riley x fem!reader

-warnings: descriptions of violence, mdni, slight stalker!ghost, male masturbation, mentions of alcohol, unwanted male attention, mentions of smut

-word count: 4.5k

-summary: you've recently moved to manchester, while looking for jobs you come across a run-down pub looking for bartenders. upon meeting its owner simon, you find out there's more to him than meets the eye. mercenary au

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a/n: okay so the poll isn't over but this au was winning and I got too excited to write it.

Simon woke up to light peering in through the bedroom window, turning his head to glance at the woman that lay beside him in bed. It wasn’t rare that he went home with someone, usually some woman who had come to the pub alone and he ended up chatting with to kill time. To him, these hookups were simply a means to an end, an easy way to get rid of some stress, most times he’d sneak out of their flats before they woke up, praying they wouldn’t come back to the pub for some kind of confrontation, and they usually didn’t. The time spent with his hookups was almost the only source of sleep he’d get, spending his days at the bar and his nights on the streets or rooftops.

He gathered his scattered clothes from the floor quietly, hoping not to wake the sleeping woman whose name he couldn’t remember, carefully dressing and making his way to the front door, descending the stairs and walking out onto the streets of manchester. It was unusually warm for April, with barely a cloud in the sky, a welcome change from the constant rain that the city usually endured, the pub wasn’t far, maybe a couple of blocks, he’d shower when he got there, his own flat residing directly above the pub. The walk was short, Simon occupying his time by watching all the people wander the streets, going into shops or chatting together, he reached the pub, unlocking the door and heading up the steps to ready himself for the day.

You were utterly lost, the city streets a maze to you, you’d lived in the city for close to a month now but you spent most of that time unpacking and organizing your flat. It was modest, to say the least, the best you could afford, but it had a decent bathroom and kitchen, and you were determined to make it feel like a home. Decorating it with plenty of rugs and throw pillows, even having a small open cupboard designated to your collection of mugs, your building was mostly occupied by elderly people and their small dogs, you weren’t central to anywhere but there was a nice coffeeshop across the street which you frequented.

This morning you woke up in good spirits, determined to have a good day after the weeks of stress endured by your move and your ex-boyfriend, you had decided to make the move after finally breaking up with him, 4 years of your life spent being belittled by him and you finally got sick of it, choosing to put as much distance between you and him as possible, but you were running out of money, whatever you have saved up quickly depleting, so today, you had to find a job.

You had ventured to a handful of different shops around the city, giving your resume to anyone who would take it, hoping that one of them would call you back. Yours were exhausted and you heard your stomach start to grumble, facing forward you notice a small pub tucked between a flower shop and a boxing gym, deciding it was as good of a place as any to grab something to eat. Ushing through the heavy doors you’re met with the heavy scent of wood, cigarettes, and whiskey, setting yourself down on a stool at the bar, looking around for any sign of life. It was early but it also wasn’t rare to see a few people littering the pubs around noon. Calling out to anyone who might be there you turn your head at the sound of a door opening, standing up from your stool only to have your entire body freeze.

Your eyes locked on a large blonde man, he was wearing a simple pair of jeans and a t-shirt, but he was massive, tall enough that you’d have to crane your neck to look at his face, his hair was damp, but what you notice first was the number of scars scattered over his arms, some shallow and some deep, all drawing your eyes to the large tattoo on his forearm, black and white but with a heavy amount of detail. Before you could make out any of the markings his deep voice rang through your ears.

“Can I help you love?”

You pull your focus to his eyes, they’re a deep colour in this light, as a smile pulls at your cheeks.

“Yeah, I was just wondering if you serve any food here?”

He shakes his head a little, staring down your form. “No, just drinks, sorry”

You don’t know why, but you feel inclined to stay here, even if it meant enduring an empty stomach.

“Any scotch?” you ask with a tilt of your head

He nods, urging you over to the bar, as you sit down he pulls out two glasses and a bottle of brown liquor.

“That’s bourbon,” you state

“I know, better than any scotch you’ll have in this town”

You laugh a little and he looks up to meet your face, smiling slightly to himself. He slides the glass over to you and you take a small sip.

“Not bad,” you say, he nods in agreement “So do you own the place?”

“Yea, bought it a few years back, needed something to do”

“And it’s just you that works here?”

“Most nights, sometimes I have a friend come and help out if there's a football game on, too many people for just me”

“So you’re looking for bartenders,” you ask, eyes widening

“Not particularly,” he says furrowing his brows oh. You bow your head a little and continue sipping on your drink.

“You new in town?”

You nod your head, “yeah, moved here about a month ago, need a job” you say as you huff a laugh to yourself.

“You don’t want to work here,” he says as you look up quirking an eyebrow, urging him to explain. “It’s a dingy old pub, always full of rowdy old blokes, not exactly a great position for a pretty young girl”

You smile, “I can take care of myself, I bartended in college, you should see some of the fights that break out during the Superbowl”

“Believe me doll, Americans are nothing compared to English folk,” he says, finishing his drink before placing the glass below the bar.

“C’mon, give me a shot, if I screw up you can fire me, I won’t be mad”

He stares into your eyes, thinking for a minute, weighing the options in his mind.

“We open at 1 and close at 3 am, can you be here tomorrow?”

Your face lights up and Simon can’t help but smile.

“Yes, I can,” you say, almost jumping from your stool. Simon nods his head.

“I’m serious kid, you mess up my pub and I will fire you,” he says, knowing in his head that it’s a lie.

You’re beaming with joy as you stand up and turn to leave. “I promise you won’t regret hiring me” Before you can leave he shouts over to you.

“Oi, I’m Simon by the way”

You turn and give him your name, and he smiles and waves you out. You practically skip out of the pub, making your way back to your flat, glowing with the joy of a successful job hunt. While Simon stands alone behind the bar, he can’t wipe the smile from his face, you’re just so different from anyone else who comes into the pub, like a physical ray of sunshine, a stark contrast to the environment he stands in. He finds himself repeating your name over and over while cleaning the bartop and preparing for patrons, he’s never felt that calm with someone before, usually keeping conversation to a minimum when people approach him, but you pulled answers from him so easily, he doesn’t know what it is about you that has him taking his guard down, but he’s sure it’s going to get him into trouble.

You wake up the next morning early, you don’t have to be at the pub till 1 but you want to get there early to get some sort of lay of the land, chucking on some denim shorts and a top you make your way, stopping first to grab a coffee for both you and Simon.

When you get to the pub you walk in and find Simon sitting at a table, flipping through papers.

“Good morning” you beam, placing the coffee infront of him, he looks up at you the down to the drink.

“What’s this?”

“Didn’t know what you liked, figured black was my best be” wrong

“I prefer tea” he states plainly as your smile falters a bit, “but thank you”

“Should’ve figured, people aren’t big into coffee here” you say, sitting across from him.

“You’re early” he says, turning his attention back to the pages

“Yeah I-” you stop for a second, looking at his arms, he has a bandage wrapped around his forearm and his knuckles are pink and swollen. Noticing your stare, he pulls his arms off the table to his side. “I just wanted to get a feel for the place before starting”

“Well there’s not much to it, pretty much everything in the front, extra of everything is kept in the back there, and the back stairs just go up to my flat”

“You live above the pub?” you ask

He takes a beat, “Yeah, makes it easy to get to work”

You giggle a little and he can’t help the smile that tugs at his lips.

“So you’ve bartended before?”

“Yea about 3 years total”

“Can you pour a pint?”

“Of course”

“Show me.” he gestures to the bar, you make your way behind it and grab a glass. Stationing yourself at one of the taps you begin to pour.

“That has to be the ugliest Guinness I’ve ever seen,” he says with a smile, you scoff in defence.

“Here let me show you” He scoots his body behind yours, eyes locked on yours. He grabs another glass and gives it to you, holding your hand as you grip the glass, mind suddenly fogging from the close contact. His hands are rough and large, they encapsulate yours. You can smell him, he smells clean, but there’s hints of cigarette smoke and amber. He grabs your attention by pulling the spout down, tilting your hand to hold the glass at a 45-degree angle before allowing the ale to fill the glass, turning it back upright before stopping the pour, letting it settle, then topping it off.

“There, that’s a proper pint,” he says, placing the glass down, chest still pressed to your back. You turn your head back to look at his face and he stares at you for a minute, then quickly breaks focus moving away from you. Chills cover your body at the sudden loss of contact.

“You should probably wear something a little less revealing as well,” he says, gesturing to your shorts “Men around here can get quite crude”

“It’s alright, I’m sure you’ll just beat up anyone who messes with me,” you say jokingly, but he would he’d do more than just beat them up, he nods and smiles in response.

The two of you fill the time making light conversation, it’s mostly you talking but Simon asks a lot of questions, he wants to know where you’re from, what you studied in college, why you moved here.

“Um, I just had to get away from a guy,” you say sheepishly, he nods in understanding and doesn’t pry more, but he can sense a hint of sadness in your tone when you talk about it.

“So what about you, why a bar owner,” you ask

“Left the military and needed money”

You laugh, “Seriously, that’s all I get”

He grins, “There’s not much to it, I served for over a decade and when I left everything was just so quiet, needed some excitement and I guess I got that in the form of old drunk men shouting at a football match”

A few minutes of silence pass, you continue cleaning tables, “what’s your favourite movie?”

“Huh?”

“Films, movies, what’s your favourite?”

“Uh, I don’t really watch movies”

“Come on, everyone has a favourite movie, it doesn’t have to be some super macho pick, just, what’s your favourite?”

“Only one I can think of is Harry Potter”

“You’ve seen Harry Potter?”

“Yea I took my nephew to see it a while ago”

“Awh thats sweet, do you see him often?”

His smile fades and he turns away from you, “No”

You bite your cheek at the feeling that you’ve overstepped. Finishing your cleaning in silence before the bar opens and people start to fill in. The night was busy, people in and out, constantly running around to bring drinks, thankfully Simon helps you out a lot, pouring drinks and dealing with most of the rude customers. By closing time you’re exhausted, your hair is a mess and your feet are sore. Setting yourself down in a chair after wiping all the tables, you watch as Simon cleans a few glasses, stacking them neatly behind the bar.

“So, am I getting fired”

Not a chance in hell, “no, you did pretty well” he says

You smile wide, turning to face the ground and blushing to yourself.

“Listen I’ve got some stuff to take care of, so you can take off now if you’d like”

“Oh no, I’ll help,” you say standing to move towards the bartop

“It’s mostly financial stuff, super boring”

“Oh, alright, well I’ll see you tomorrow then,” you say, smiling to him

“Yea, have a good night doll,” he says before turning back to his task.

You gather your things and start walking home, the streets are dark and few street lights guide your way. You still haven’t memorized the route and end up taking a few wrong turns, ending up in an unfamiliar alley, cursing to yourself you turn around before two dark figures come into your line of sight. You feel your breath hitch, quickly making your way out onto the street, you turn back and the men are facing you, picking up your pace, anxiety starts to flood your veins. You hear the men shouting something at you but the sound of blood pumping in your ears is too loud to make out what they’re saying, rushing your way down the streets, the men continue their pursuit. You stare ahead and continue, turning back when you notice their shouting has ceased, you stop in your tracks as the men have disappeared. Confused you look around, maybe they just gave up, you collect yourself and continue home, making it safely to your flat.

You set your things down and lock the door before stripping your clothes and entering your shower, taking your time to clean all the sweat and spilt liquor from your skin. Stepping out in a towel you walk into your bedroom, noticing your open window, you move closer and glance out the window, the alley behind your flat is dark, used mostly to hold dumpsters, but you swear you see the figure of a man leaning against a wall. Mind freezing you panic slightly, shutting the window and closing the curtains before turning to your dresser to pick out something to sleep in.

Simon stumbles into his flat at 4am, his body fatigued, stepping into his bathroom he glances at himself in the mirror, his face covered by his balaclava, only his eyes can be seen. He takes a deep breath collecting himself, before washing the blood from his hands and cleaning his cuts. His knuckles were raw and red, he wraps them loosely and sits on the edge of the tub. He had followed you home, he didn’t mean to but when he left the pub and noticed you taking a wrong turn he wanted to make sure you were safe. Following slowly behind you from the roofs of the buildings, he didn’t want you to see him and get scared, he never wanted to scare you. But when he noticed two men following you he couldn’t just stand by, quickly descending a fire escape to sneak behind the men, grabbing one by the throat and breaking his neck before removing the knife from his belt and placing his hand over the other man's mouth to keep him quiet, and stabbing him in the side of his neck. He pulled the two bodies into the nearby alley and positioned himself so he could see you. Making sure you got back to your flat safely.

He stood outside and waited to make sure you got in, he didn’t mean to watch as you undressed, it made him feel perverse, but he couldn’t find the strength to tear his eyes away, the way your breasts sat, the curve of your ass, he felt his pants tighten at the sight, quickly turning his gaze to anything that would distract him before, occupying himself with his own thoughts.

It was late, you were home and safe, he should’ve left, but something in him couldn’t, he looked back to the window only to find your towel-clad body staring back at him, he froze, there was no way you could tell it was him, his whole body was covered and it was dark. He watched you quickly shut the window, removing any sight he had on you, Simon huffs a breath to himself, a silent get-it-together, before leaving and making his way back to the pub.

The next morning you woke with a strange feeling, you couldn’t shake the sight of the man in the alley, you make your way to the window and pull back the curtains to look out. Exhaling a breath of course no one’s there, you shake your head, feeling foolish and start getting ready for the day. You had a few errands to run before work, some tidying, and a little bit of shopping considering you had barely anything to eat in your fridge.

You finished rather quickly, finding that you still had 3 hours before work to kill, you decide to explore the streets in the safety of the daylight. Finally figuring out the quickest route from your flat to the pub, and checking out a few of the small shops that scattered the streets. You engaged in small conversation with the vendors before checking your watch, 12:30, shit, you had to go, thanking the man at the coffee shop for your drinks you made your way to the pub.

You step into the pub but see no sight of Simon, calling out his name.

“In the back” you hear

Making your way to the back room you find Simon looking over inventory with a glass in his hand.

“Little early to be drinking no?”

“Not here it’s not”

You nod to yourself, extending your arm to hand him a hot tea.

“Didn’t know what you liked, just got some milk"

He looks up at you and reached over the accept the beverage before twisting to grab a few sugar packets behind him, dumping 3 packs into the drink. Your eyes widen at the sight.

“Never would’ve guessed you took that much sugar in your tea”

He laughs and shrugs his shoulders. The two of you exit the back room and situate yourselves across from each other at a table, both enjoying your drinks before you break the silence.

“So something really strange happened last night,” you say, Simon stops sipping abruptly, looking up to lock eyes with you, shit she saw me

You continue, “These two guys were following me on my way home and then I turned back and they were just gone” He doesn’t say anything, just keeps watching you.

You take a beat, “then I swear I saw this guy outside my window, but I don’t know, it was dark, was probably just tired or something” you say, shrugging your shoulders

Simon puts his drink down, trying to think of a response.

“Maybe, I mistake trashcans for people sometimes in the dark”

You laugh, “yea maybe”

He remains stoic, sipping his tea. The two of you finish your drinks and fall back into the same routine as the previous day, serving drinks, trying to mediate arguments between drunk patrons. Simon finds himself smiling while watching you engage in conversation with two men, you seemed passionate about what you were saying, throwing your head back in laughter at something one of them said before one of them places a hand on top of yours, Simon stops what he was doing and takes a step towards the 3 of you, stopping when he sees you turn to pour the man another drink. What am I doing, he feels so protective of you and he doesn’t know why, he’s known you less than a week yet he can’t keep his eyes off of you, he shakes the thoughts from his head and moves to the back room.

He spends a few minutes gathering extra liquor to replace what’s missing from the wall before he hears a glass shatter and you yelp, dropping the items and rushing to you he finds you standing over the bar sink, hand dripping blood.

“What happened?” he asks, hand reaching for yours, inspecting it before turning on the tap to run it underwater.

“Glass slipped, cut myself trying to catch it”

He scans your face for any signs of pain or worry but you’re composed, turning to the men in front of you, eyeing them over accusingly, you pull your hand from the water and reach for the medical kit beneath the bar.

“Here I’ll do it,” he says, holding your wrist in one hand whilst using the other to grab some gauze and wrap to dress the cut.

You chuckle to yourself, “Almost seems like you do this often” you comment watching how quick and precise he is with his wrapping.

“Yeah something like that”

He finishes wrapping your hand and you thank him.

“I’ll take over up here,” he says, nodding to you to move away from the bar, you oblige and occupy yourself cleaning up tables littered with empty glasses. The two of you close the bar early as there was barely anyone there by midnight, you offer again to stay back and help Simon clean but he refuses, telling you to go home and get some rest, so you do. Walking your route home on edge, anticipating any sort of unwanted follower but none come, the walk was short as you descend the stairs into your flat and once again prepare for bed.

Simon’s night wasn’t as simple, like the night before he had made sure you got home safe, thankfully this time he didn’t have to kill anyone, but he did find himself lingering at your window again, this time higher up on a set of stairs so that the darkness of the night concealed him. You had neglected to shut your curtains, whether it was ignorance or intention Simon didn’t care, not when he had a perfect view of your naked form, moving around your bedroom he watched as you put on some underwear and a loose t-shirt to sleep, silently wishing it was his clothes you wore to bed, he watched as you dozed off to sleep, sometimes jostling a little in your sleep. He found comfort in knowing you were safe, that he was the one to ensure your safety, before long he found himself getting a little tired, dropping down from his spot to make his way back to his own flat. Simon was no stranger to being awake for a long time, the military ensured that, and he used it to his advantage, easier to stake out a target when you aren’t dozing off, but something about your presence, it brought him peace, he found himself wanting to fall asleep, only to dream of you, your eyes, the way they crinkle a little when you smile that smile, it lights up your whole face, he can’t help but feel his body untense at the thought of your smile, always kind and warm, everything he wasn’t.

He made his way back to his flat without issue, stripping his clothes off before stepping into the shower, standing under the steady stream of warm water his mind wanders. Your face, the smell of your hair, your soft hands, he feels himself growing harder at the thought of your soft hands touching his body, he reaches a hand down to stroke at his length. Your body, the warmth of your skin against his, the curve of your ass, his mind continues as he begins pumping his hand along his length, small groans leaving his mouth. Your tits, how they would feel when he held them, how perfect they would sit in his large hands, rough hands teasing over your hard nipple, the moans you’d release, only for him. He braces his free hand against the tile wall, quickening his pace, he imagines all the noises he could make creep up from your throat, your whimpers, how you’d squeeze him when he told you how good you felt, how he’d make you scream his name while he buried his cock deep inside you. A strangled moan leaves his lips before he starts shooting warm ropes toward the floor of the shower, he takes a minute to collect himself, evening out his breathing. Fuck, he shouldn’t be thinking these things about you, not when you were so innocent and he was so corrupt, he needed you, craved you, but he couldn’t have you, if you knew anything about him you’d run away and he’d never feel your presence again. He’d be fine with never knowing your touch as long as it meant he got to keep you in his life, but God did he want to touch you, every time he saw you he had to fight the urge to press you against the nearest surface and plant kisses all over you, marking you as his.

He stepped out of the shower, turning on the news to try and distract himself from his thoughts only to see the reporter on his screen talking about how more bodies had been discovered in the streets of Manchester and how the police had no leads. He shook his head, he never feared being caught, not when he was so careful to remain unseen, but then, he had nothing to lose, now, he has you, he can’t won’t lose you, not to this, not to some immoral past time, he had to get more creative, the police can’t find any more bodies.

He lay in bed, watching the screen, feeling his eyelids grow heavier before turning to his side and drifting off to sleep. He’s woken abruptly to the sound of his phone ringing, he turns to check the time, 6am, he looks at the screen and answers the call.

“Hello?”

“It was you, I know it was you”

Shit

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thesandsofelsweyr · 2 years ago

Text

THE SUS BOY NEXT DOOR

《 PART 2/3 // READ ON AO3 // TAG 》

After coming back from a terrible blind date your asshole neighbor is the last person you want to see right now. He doesn’t have his signature scowl for you tonight, however. Tonight he seems terrified.

《WORDS》 2,748 《CHAPTERS》 1 2 3

《PAIRING》 Arkhamverse Jason Todd x Female Reader

《TROPES》 Hurt/Comfort, First Meetings, Neighbors, Pre-Relationship

《WARNINGS》 Aftermath of Torture/Violence (canon typical), Panic Attacks, Scars, Blood and Injury, Swearing

《TAGLIST》 @tild3ath @iiirhiane-g

《NOTES》

This takes place immediately after Jason leaves his failed Batman confrontation and run-in with the Joker from Arkham Knight: Genesis Part 6.

Reader is a true crime addict who enjoys red wine 🍷

This is my first attempt at a reader-insert fic 🙃

Please consider reblogging if you enjoy the read ❤️ (Thanks for all the support you've given my lil story so far!)

《 ALSO ON AO3 》 (comments & kudos there are very much appreciated!)

You push yourself to your feet and hurry over to his kitchen, flipping on the recessed lighting overhead. The kitchen is as bare and spotless as the other rooms you’ve seen, its countertops clear of the usual clutter you’d expect. No rags nor paper towel roll. No knife block nor coffee maker nor toaster—the appliances are the ones that come standard with the unit. No stacks of unopened mail nor candles nor cookbooks nor a sink full of empty dishes. No signs of life except for the adorable houseplant and some liquid hand soap beside the sink (which is good—you need soap).

You pull open drawers and cabinets, feeling a twinge of guilt for invading his privacy like this but it can’t be helped. Even those are mostly empty, only containing the barest amount of necessities like cups, dishes, and flatware—run-of-the-mill kitchen items that were probably provided with the furnished unit. You do manage to find some clean rags and paper towels (and a coffee maker), but nothing like sandwich bags for the ice. On a whim, you check his freezer and bingo! No food or decapitated heads but plenty of ice packs along with an unopened bottle of vodka. You arch an eyebrow at the curious yet amusing stash. Perhaps coming home injured is a typical Friday night for him.

You turn on the sink faucet then tear off a few sheets of paper towels from the roll, wadding them up and wetting them before adding a few pumps of soap then working up a lather. You can’t get the sight of his bleeding face and swollen neck out of your head. It’s hard to imagine anyone doing that to him against his will. He’s an intimidating guy, to say the least. Over a head taller than you, powerfully built with broad shoulders and thick thighs (and a nice ass). Perhaps he got jumped on his walk home—an all too common occurrence on these crime-ridden streets—and his stubborn pride was too wounded to go to the ER. Or maybe it was a gang thing… some sort of hazing ritual? That could explain the bloody letter on his cheek, too, you suppose. But then you remember his shaking hands and fumbling fingers as he tried and failed to unlock his door, and how he jumped at the sound of your voice. He was scared, you realize, your heart swelling with sudden pity. He was more afraid of you than you were of him. Afraid, and probably hurting, too. That thought makes your heart swell even more. It also leaves you a bit shaken. What in God’s name could frighten him? You can only hope that whatever it is doesn’t plan to make a house call anytime soon.

With the items in hand—ice packs, wet and dry rags, soapy paper towel wads, paper towel roll—you return to his side. He still doesn’t appear to have stirred, which is troubling, you have to admit, but you put it out of your mind for now. You set the items down on the floor beside the corpse-like body before grabbing a throw pillow from his couch. (Yes, a throw pillow. There’s a throw blanket on the couch, too. It’s the strongest evidence yet supporting your furnished unit presumption, since he definitely doesn’t strike you as a throw pillow kind of guy.) You kneel down at his side, then, ever so gently, you slip an arm behind his neck and lift his head enough to pull back his hood and slide the pillow beneath him. Next you take off his cap, revealing a mop of sweat-damp black hair. You sweep the soft locks back from his forehead so that you can place a cold rag against that warm, sweat-slick skin.

That’s when you notice the scars. You’d never been close enough to him to see that his face is absolutely covered in them. Faint white lines that cut through his features: his dark brows, his full lips, his freckle-dusted cheeks, the bent bridge of his nose. The worst one (aside from the J on his cheek, that is) is a deep gash that slashes across his right cheek and his nose, all the way up to his forehead. Another knife wound? Is this guy a masochist with a knife fetish or is there some freak out there who gets off on slicing up this poor guy’s face? Those marks on his neck imply the latter—the more sinister of the two—and that sends a cold chill shuddering up your spine.

Almost magnetically your eyes are drawn back past the (cute) cleft in his chin to those sunken bands of red ringing his throat. A thin line of blood has surfaced along the outer edge of one of the bands, where whatever was used to strangle him had cut into his skin. As you wipe away the blood with one of the soapy paper towel wads you spot several scratches on his neck, and for a moment you wonder if the assailant also used his hands to choke him. But then you feel your own throat constrict as the horrible realization sets in: those are claw marks. Gouges from his own fingernails where he desperately struggled to pry the ligature away and free his windpipe so he could breathe. Defensive wounds where he fought for his life.

You set aside the wet wad, then, driven by some morbid curiosity, you find your fingers returning to his throat. Ever so delicately, as if trying not to wake a sleeping lion, you touch one of the raw indentations in his swollen flesh, tracing it with your fingertip, feeling how the abraded skin had folded inward around whatever had coiled around his neck and tried to choke the life out of him. His throat vibrates gently against your probing fingers, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. You lay one of the dry rags across his throat, hiding the hideous damage, then place the ice pack on top, as instructed by the health article you Googled. You do the same for the back of his neck as well.

Now you turn your attention back to his scarred, haggard face. After swiping away the trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth you press the soapy paper towel to his cheek, which gradually turns from white to pink as it soaks up the blood seeping from the J carved into his flesh. Once you staunch the bleeding, you lift the towel to replace it with a fresh one, and you get an unimpeded view of what was hiding beneath the cut and the blood, beneath his hat and hood all of those times you passed him in the hallway, all of those times he ducked his head between hunched shoulders to avoid eye contact with you. You pull in a sharp breath. It’s not a J-shaped scar; it’s the letter J branded into his cheek. You can tell by how the skin is puckered around the too-precise curve of the raised letter, by its faint red outline, by how it seems to tug uncomfortably at his cheek.

Your mind rewinds to a few weeks back when you accidentally burned your neck with your curling iron. You’d shrieked like a banshee then thrown the damn thing across your bathroom. The blistered patch of seared skin had throbbed for the rest of the night, and was still sensitive to the touch for the following week. That was the result of hot ceramic glancing against your skin for maybe half a second, if that long. You can’t even begin to imagine how much it would’ve hurt to have held the infernal thing against your neck for long enough to melt a fucking letter into the flesh. And not just any flesh. His cheek; that tender skin right below the orbital bone, less than an inch from his eye. It probably felt like his eyeball was boiling in his eye socket from the immense heat. And the smell! His own flesh barbecuing like meat to be served at a cannibal cook-out…

You don’t want to think about it anymore. You can’t think about it anymore or else you’re gonna be sick. And luckily you don’t have to because a low moan slips from his lips and his lashes begin to flutter. A rush of relief floods through you at the small signs of life, and you absently begin to stroke his soft hair with your hand. Heavy eyelids strain to lift then glassy blue eyes are peeking out from between the slits. You smile down at him, your fingers caringly combing through his tousled hair, easing his way back into consciousness. You expect him to groggily ask where he is or what happened to him.

Instead his eyes snap open, and the romantic portrait you’ve painted inside your mind of this moment is ripped to shreds.

He bolts upright, sending rags and ice packs flying away from him, then that massive wall of muscular torso turns on you. Time seems to somehow speed up and slow down simultaneously as those large, dangerous hands of his are reaching for you, and in that terrible instant you know without a doubt that he means to strangle you. A tiny, panic-stricken sound—the choked cry of ensnared prey—comes from your mouth as you throw up your arms across your face and neck in an comically feeble attempt to defend yourself from certain death, and the thought that flashes through your mind—maybe the last thought you’ll ever have in this lifetime—is that you’ll never have the chance to open that bottle of merlot.

But his hands don’t wrap around your throat; they land on your shoulders, and then you’re sliding, falling backwards from the force of a violent shove, your vision flashing to black as your head bounces off the hardwood floor.

“Ow!” you squeal as a bright burst of pain rings through your skull, leaving you stunned for a split second until your fear takes over, clearing away the haze and stars. You push yourself up on your forearm, blood pounding through your ears as your eyes frantically search for your attacker, heart lurching as you find him.

The guy is scrambling backwards away from you on all fours like some frightened beast, slamming into a floor lamp in his haste to escape. The lamp reels drunkenly, throwing light madly around the room as it whirls, like a waving searchlight at a festival. Then he’s pressed into a corner, able to go no further, yet his hands and heels are gripping the floor for purchase, as if he’s trying to push himself into the walls. As the lamp settles, somehow still upright, its light illuminates the hulking figure backed into the corner behind it, and you notice for the first time that the front of his red hoodie is splattered with an even darker red.

You’re sitting up now, frozen like a deer in headlights, your fight or flight reflexes canceling each other out because you’ve realized that you’re the toothless predator, not the prey, and the guy you’re gaping at with his bloodless face and wild eyes is a cornered animal who’ll do anything to survive. Then, to your horror, that cornered animal seems to remember his claws and reaches for the gun that’s not there, and you thank the universe and every holy entity within it that you disarmed him.

His wide eyes narrow as they lock onto you, and the fear that had filled them only a heartbeat ago has vanished, replaced with a look so cold, so devoid of anything but shadows and darkness, that it turns the blood in your veins to ice.

“Who are you? What’re you doing in my apartment? What the fuck did you do with my gun?” Some of the wildness returns to his eyes as he shouts at you with a scarred voice, wheezing between each sentence. You shrink back, shocked that the guy can speak louder than a mumble, then your attention is caught by something more unnerving than his shouting, something that clutches at your insides. His eyes… The little hairs on the back of your neck stir again as you study those pale blue irises flecked with green, barely visible beneath his blown-out pupils yet still trained on you like a sniper’s laser sights. There’s something wrong with his eyes… But before you can figure it out he roars: “Answer me!” and you can’t help but jump at the hateful ferocity, his deadly strength palpable in his tone.

Your heart’s in your throat again, and your mind is racing out his door, terrified all 200-something pounds of him are about to pounce on you, so you’re surprised when you not only find your words, but shout them back at him, just as vicious.

“Take it easy! I'm your neighbor, remember? You passed out. I was trying to help you. I thought you were fucking dying!”

You see a flicker of recognition flash over his face before a coughing fit takes him. Then it hits you, like a punch to the gut as you watch him clutching at his blood-splattered chest again as he gasps for a breath. His eyes… they’re red where they should be white. All of the binged episodes of Forensic Files come flooding back to you and you even remember the term for it: petechial hemorrhaging. Burst blood vessels from strangulation. His strangulation.

The rush of pity that wells up in your chest at the awful realization calms your fear enough that you crawl a tiny bit closer to him. “You’re hurt,” you say gently, trying to keep your nerves from shaking your voice. “Your neck…”

You trail off as his eyes snap back to you, pupils still blown wide. You try to hold onto his skittish gaze, praying he won’t notice his gun behind you and lunge, but his eyes fall away to the floor. He raises his free hand to his neck, as slowly as if his wrists were chained to the floor, and touches one of the red furrows there. Then his trembling fingers move to his brand, where fresh beads of blood have surfaced. You hear him mutter something so low and tremulous it’s barely audible, but you think it sounded like… “Plan J”?

“I cleaned it with soap and water,” you reply as he stares blankly at his bloody fingertips. “But it’s deep. You may need stitches. I can bring you some Band-Aids,” you pause, feeling really fucking stupid for suggesting Band-Aids for the guy who’s been strangled and cut and branded. You blurt out the rest: “If you need them… for the time being.”

His eyes have glazed over, as if he’s gone somewhere far away. Somewhere terrible, because his rasping breath quickens and his whole body starts to shake, as though he’s reliving something. His attack? His branding? All of the times that monster of a person cut his face? You desperately want to reach for his hand, to pull him back from whatever hell he’s been sucked into, but you’re too scared to wake that cornered wild animal again.

Finally he snaps out of it, and his eyes close as his hand drops limply to the floor. You watch helplessly as the tension drains from his body and he sags forward, like he’s been crushed by whatever was waiting for him in that flashback.

“You should go,” he mumbles to the floor, barely louder than a whisper.

“Yeah,” you hear yourself agree. As you stand you remind yourself that you can finally have that glass of wine, but the notion isn’t as appealing as it was earlier in the night.

You gather up your phone and bag. You start to ask if you can get him anything before you go but you know his answer so you turn to leave.

“Thank you.” His small voice cracks like a little boy’s when he speaks, and you know he’s started to cry.

“Yeah, sure,” you say softly as you turn the knob and push open his door. You glance over your shoulder at him one last time. The sight of the broken boy—the boy whose name you still don’t know—huddled in a corner with his knees pulled to his chest, weeping into his hands, wrings your heart out like a wet rag, and you feel your own throat tighten up with tears. You hang your head as you shut the door softly behind you.

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