#worst damage was my pride | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

penvisions · 7 months ago

Text

by the grit of sandpaper {chapter 7}

Pairing: Jackson! Joel Miller x Patrol Partner! Reader

Summary: A letter, clear words, the work forged by skilled but aching hands, all of it helps you to heal from what had been one of the worst weeks of your life.

Word Count: 13.3k (!!)

Warnings: canon typical violence, canon typical language, age gap (reader is early 40's and joel is 57), pining, requited unrequited love, heart of gold joel, carpenter joel, woodworking joel, artisan joel, patrol partnership, mild injuries, confessions, lots of feelings, light angst, hurt and comfort, fighting, two (2) satisfying slaps, joel miller's hands need their own warning, smut, p in v, unprotected p in v, oral (f and m receiving), soft joel, pet names (sweetheart), serious conversations, apologies, references to child loss, minor character death, blood, talk of female anatomy, reader has no assigned name but has a commonly used nickname, lemme know if i missed any major ones!

A/N: SURPRISE, Y'ALL!! i was supposed to have internet installed this week but it's been delayed again and my local library is only open today and since queues make me nervous, i threw caution to the wind and yeah - WE MADE IT. this is the final chapter! i am so delighted and humbled by the responses to this fic. i put a lot of myself into olive and for everyone to root for her and cheer her on means so, terribly much to my lil heart. i love y'all and i hope this finds you well ♡

ao3 link || series masterlist || navigation || ko-fi

The hush of cardstock is the only sound in the room as Joel shuffles through the recipes you had written down for him, for him and Ellie. The fancy loops of your cursive are faded, a little blurred in some spots and he regretted your time and devotion getting smudged by his lack of attention. He had been too slow to retrieve all the index cards where they had landed, flying into the air as you had run straight into his back. It had taken so long because Marsha hadn’t seemed to get the hint or his direct words that he was not and would not be with her the way that she wished for him to be.

But she did now. She had been picking Millie up when Joel had all but kicked the door in, shouts of needing help echoing down the street. The woman had flattened herself to the wall, eyes taking in your unconscious form in Joel’s arms. How carefully he maneuvered, how mindful he was to not jostle your body too much, how frantic his expression was even as he tried to explain what he could to the nurse and doctor who sprang forward at the sight. His brows were drawn together, worry evident as he explained to them your stitches from a few days ago had opened, how you had been coughing up blood before he found you. The fear in his strong voice when he detailed how cold you were, how unresponsive. All of it combined was a reflection of his care for you. Something only seen in his interactions with Ellie. And now with you.

Joel had felt pride surge in his chest at seeing the damage you had inflicted on the other woman, guilt flaring just seconds after. You had been pushed to your breaking point, not just by her but by everyone in your life. Evidence of the fight was etched across your body from the scratches from the woman’s nails up and down your arms, the tangled tresses of your loose hair, to the bruises that had blossomed along your soft skin.

The most notable with the tearing of your stitches. The stain of blood on your skin in places he couldn’t wipe it away, for fear of harming you further, even in your unconscious state. It had been three days, and you still hadn’t woken up. Even after the repair to the wound, a better stitch pattern was implemented and two blood transfusions. One from him and one from Tommy.

He hadn’t wanted to leave your side since he brought you in, but he had things he needed to take care of. The few people who interacted with you coming in and checking on you, him coming to spend each evening by your bedside and staying through the night. Maria was across from him now, Macon sound asleep in her arms as the clock ticking on the wall displayed the post sunset hour.

“Marsha will be interrogated at the next town meetings, for her behavior and words towards Olive.”

“Good.” Joel croaked, his voice gravely from disuse.

“Millie will be on next week’s patrol with you, per your request. Once she’s adequately trained, she’ll be added to the rotation.”

“If she takes to being trained. I have a feeling she might pretend to not learn anythin’ just to get out of it.”

“We’ll make sure she doesn’t,” Maria hummed in agreement, knowing more than Joel the small requests and complaints the woman has made in her time behind the walls. “It’s time some of the people who have been idle share the responsibility. Besides, Olive requested to be taken off patrol before. I’m sure she’ll double down on that once she’s recovered.”

“Please tell me she didn’t hate being forced to be my partner when Tommy asked. I don’t think I could ever apologize enough if it was somethin’ she didn’t want to-“

“Joel, she was okay with it, believe me.” Moving to stand, the woman reached to rest a hand on your legs beneath the blankets. “She was glad to feel like she was trusted enough to be asked. She never had any ill feelings toward you, even when she didn’t know you.”

She watches him, he can feel the weight of her stare on him as he continues to go over each of the cards contents. There’s a bag beside him, a small canvas thing he had loaded up with some spare pieces of lumber from bigger projects, scraps that he spent the evening hours whittling and carving as he sits beside you bed. He alternates between doing that and going over the cards, habits to keep him awake as he sits vigil and waits for you to return to him.

“I wasn’t sure what to expect when you came back. But…you surprised me.”

“How so?” He knows he was always a sore and heavy subject between her and his brother. Even more so when he quite literally stumbled onto their doorstep. He had been determined to change, to give back into the second chance at life he had been handed, for Ellie, for his brother– for himself. Aligning himself with the customs and way of life carved out in the plains of Wyoming. He’s glad he hadn’t fallen completely to the depraved, hallowed out version he had adapted to, had been forced to become with the loss of everything he knew, with the loss of his daughter.

“You’ve meshed well with the lifestyle we created here, got onto good terms with one of the best people we have here.”

He didn’t look up from the cards in his hands, he knew that. Deep down, he knew you hadn’t minded patrolling with him. But it was hard to understand with how messed up everything was at the moment and he lost himself to the circling thoughts of how hurt you had looked as you stood your ground with him a few days ago in your kitchen. But his head shot up when a whimper sounded into the air that wasn’t from the woman or his nephew.

You were stirring in the bed, eyes still closed. Hands shaking as they raised to cradle your middle, mind no doubt recalling the circumstances of your last waking moments. Joel’s heartbeat was loud in his chest, echoing in the spot where they had drawn blood from the inside crook of his right elbow. Macon gurgled in Maria’s hold, wide eyes cut towards you as you shifted a little underneath the blankets.

“Joel…” You murmured, eyes clenching shut tightly. You weren’t rousing, you were still unconscious, though your mind seemed to be in working order if you were dreaming. Joel sets down the index cards atop the blankets over you, moving closer to grip a hand with both of his, the other laid out flat to ensure the line of the IV didn’t get tangled or kinked.

“I’m here. It’s okay, you’re okay. ‘m not going anywhere, you hear me? I’m right here, Olive.” He soothed you as best he could, the wrap of your fingers around his stirring his heart to beat faster in his ribcage.

As he’s leaving the morning, a patrol that he would be taking Ellie out on with the approval of the council to begin her training as well, he see’s the shadow of two figures approach your room out of the corner of his eye just as he’s placing a parting kiss on your forehead.

“Oh, sorry! I didn’t know anyone would be here this early.” It’s the sister and brother pair you had insisted on bringing back. The woman, Callie Joel thinks her name is, is holding a hand to her swollen stomach protruding out from beneath her long coat. It looks like it wouldn’t fasten with how far along she was. Nolan, the man who had been with you when this whole mess started was a step behind her and a bouquet of dried flowers clenching in his hand.

“It’s okay, was jus’ leavin’.”

“Look, Mr. Miller.” Nolan steps up to him, leaving a few feet of space as Joel turns to head to the door while Callie sidles up to take the chair he had slept in and scoot it close to your unconscious form. “I tried my best to tamp down the fight, but Olive, she’s…she’s a scrappy one. Was on that other girl before I could even blink.”

“Millie. The other one’s name is Millie.”

“Millie did this?” Callie questions from her spot holding your hand in hers, eyes wide. “She’s been so nice to me, I had dinner with her and her mom just last week…”

“Millie ‘n Olive don’t get along too well, bad history.” Joel hopes he isn’t overstepping your privacy by saying so, but if the two were intent on being at least friendly with you, they deserved to know that not everyone was so forward in their interactions with you. “Patrol gone wrong, they both lost someone important to them and Millie didn’t deal with it well.”

“She called her a whore, when she saw us talking.” Nolan explained, “Olive moved first and apologized, but all hell broke loose when Millie hit her back.”

“She what?” Joel felt anger burn hot through his veins, the implication of you being anything other than kind and thoughtful not sitting well with him. No wonder you had snapped, Joel hadn’t found out exactly what had occurred, the council stemming the raging gossip as best they could as soon as it began to spread. Reminding people to deal with personal issues in non-confrontational ways or punishment would be doled out and extra duties would be tacked on.

The two fell quiet, feeling the anger simmering in him. Joel’s face had darkened, brow furrowed deep and his jaw ticking as he tried to get a control on it.

“Y’all have a good day.” He manages before he’s out the door, his steps even and nearly silent as he makes his way out of the infirmary. He’s at Marsha’s in the blink of an eye, fist knocking against the wood of their front door.

“Marsha isn’t home, she’s serving out her punishment by taking over Olive’s morning shifts at the mess hall.” Maria’s voice calls to him as she strolls down the street. Macon is in her arms, but he’s fussing. She stops and places him in the baby carriage in front of her and quiets him with a pacifier. “Millie is out getting the rundown of how patrol works and what her responsibilities are.”

“Did you know that Millie called-“

“Yes. It’s been dealt with.” Maria’s voice implied she didn’t agree with what happened, that it was indeed being considered with much thought, not taken lightly with how it built up to the point of combustion in the town’s center on one of the busiest nights.

“Easy now, honey, there you go.” Tommy’s soothing voice allowed for you to feel less embarrassed about how slow moving you were, how long it was taking to trek from the infirmary to your house. His arm was around your waist, his other in front of him as he held onto your right hand for added support. “Joel will probably be knocking on your door the second he gets back from patrol and finds you gone from the clinic.”

“He can knock all he wants.” You huffed out, not too sure how you were feeling toward the man at the moment. Once you had woken up, the nurses told you he hadn’t left your side during the nights you had been there. Tommy and Maria sharing with you the way he had been frantic to find you the second he had found out about your fight with Millie. The decision of you no longer wanting to do patrol being portrayed as a punishment for your violent outburst. But the council held no real ill will toward you, having addressed the behavior you faced from more than a few of the townspeople.

“Marsha is due to cover your shifts at the mess hall, the early ones. Until you’re ready to go back.”

“Dunno, think she needs more ‘n a week or two tackling that hectic shift.”

“There’s my girl,” Tommy beamed, glad to know you weren’t too injured to show the side of yourself he knew.

As you turned down your street, Tommy let go of you at your insistence to try and support yourself. After a few stumbling steps, you managed to find your balance, even if your pace was still on the slow side.

“Joel ‘n I fixed your door. Well, we made a new one, actually. Old man did some damage to the other one when his big bulky frame was pushed into it by those storm winds,” He chuckled, most likely picturing the ordeal that was far more tense and serious than a mishap on Joel’s part. It had been…one of the hardest things you had to do, stand your ground and deny the man you had come to care. Especially in the face of him practically confessing to you that he shared in your feelings. “Cranked the heat up to get it back to the temperature you prefer. Even watered the plants for you, fed that stray that comes around sometimes. I think it found the crate you set up for it on your back porch.”

“You’re too sweet, Tommy. Thank you.” You watched as he unlocked the door and for the first time since leaving the infirmary you noticed how he was constantly shifting. His weight from foot to foot, his hands raking through his long, dark curls.

He helped you up the few steps of your stoop, his hands a gentle weight, arms ready to tense and catch you should you lose your balance. Once you were settled in your bed, a bottle of pain killers and a glass of water on your bedside, the man tentatively settled on the foot of your bed.

“I wanted to apologize, formally.” He started, brown eyes glittering in the midafternoon sunlight filtering in through the blinds. You leaned up from the pillows propped up behind your back and up against the fabric headboard, about to say something but he held up a wide palm to stop you. “You told me ‘n Maria in passing the behavior people have toward you. It was out of our control, freedom of speech ‘n all but…we should’ve at least tried to tamp it down more than we did.”

“Tommy, everyone has already done so much in letting me in, giving me a chance. I did-didn’t want to stir any trouble and it wasn’t real-really anything I couldn’t handle.”

“Honey…” He stands up and nestles himself between you and the edge of the bed, his back on the headboard right next to you. He brings you into his chest and kisses into the crown of your head as you return the embrace. something he hadn’t done since you appeared back at Jackson’s gates with blood covering you head to toe and the corpse of your friend draped over the back of your horse. “You deserve to feel comfortable, to feel safe. No matter what.”

The next morning, after a night spent tossing and turning, you shuffled down the hallway and into the kitchen without turning on a light. It was still dark out, using what little of the streetlight so close to the front of your house filtered in through the sheer curtains. When you sat at the kitchen table, you tried to set your mug down but there was a clatter as the bottom of it collided with something already resting there. And the space next to it, it seemed the whole table was covered in stuff, leaving no room for you to set it. Mumbling about people being in your house and rearranging your stuff, you shuffled over to the lamp atop the storage hutch’s middle shelf.

But you’re shocked when you flick the light on and turn back around to the table. It’s…covered. Every inch of the surface taken up by small stacks of what looks like intricately carved plates, serving trays, spoons, spatulas, and small figures that look like birds moving in a downward swoop. The coffee still in your hand splashes a little to the tile beneath your bare feet, starting you as it bounces up to kiss the skin of your ankles. But you pay it no mind as you absently set it on the hutch beside the light and move to the table with watering eyes.

It had to have been him. Joel.

The plates are beautiful, vaguely floral shaped and stained such a deep mahogany. They’re not too heavy, though they are very sturdy in your inspecting hands. Turning each one from the three separate stacks of them, each a different size from dessert to salad to serving plates, reveal a small J.M branded into the wood. Each of the leaf shaped serving trays reveal the same, though they are heavier and a bit harder for you to turn over in your weakened state. Large smoothed edged bowls are nestled in each other, the topmost one holding matching large serving spoons made your heart lurch and your stomach swoop.

The carving had been lovingly attended to because each rivet and swirl, each boarder and flat surface, it was all so seamlessly smooth. On evert single piece littering your table.

Tears are trailing down your cheeks to rest atop his intricate creations. The sight of two sets of spoons and two sets of spatulas held together with twine making you have to clap a hand over your mouth as a sob wracks through your body. The memory of hurling the ones you had requested from him flashing too bright and loud. You had taken something crafted by him and thrown in across this very kitchen, disrespecting the time and attention he had devoted to the request you had made.

Collapsing into the chair, you let the emotions of the last week take over you. Your coffee is lukewarm when you rise to retrieve it, but you twirl a carved bird in your hand as you sip from it, tears waned for the moment. That’s when you spot the large, flattened pieces on the other side of the table.

Cutting boards, three of them. Each one with a branding on the thick sides to label them individually for herbs, vegetables, and meat. The entire surface of each it sealed with a coating, but beneath it on the corners are floral patterns that you squint your eyes to take a closer look at. Gasping, you realize he had depicted the blooms often found on olive trees. His voice suddenly rings in your head as your mind recalls something you weren’t even conscious for but had filed away.

‘I made you one…I made them all for you. All of them, every single one….C’mon, sweetheart. You gotta let me save you so you’ll have one. I’ll give you anything, I’ll give you everything. Olive, please.’

‘I’m here. It’s okay, you’re okay. ‘m not going anywhere, you hear me? I’m right here, Olive.’

The tears flow, with no end in sight as you reach a shaking hand for the note you see laying atop the largest one.

‘Olive, I know I’m shit with words, I know I’ve sent such mixed signals with everything. But I want you to know, need you to know that seeing you is the best part of my day, of every day. Even if it’s just across the mess hall, across the street, as I walk home from patrol and see you in the window of your kitchen with a soft smile. The talks we have, the questions we share, every single word we’ve exchanged as made me feel worthy of the things you think of me, for the first time in a long while.

You are such an extraordinary, kind, thoughtful person and I am so lucky to have made it here to Jackson to cross paths with you. I can’t change what happened, but each hitch of your breath, each tug of the brim of your hat over your eyes, each moment spent with you makes me want to wrap you up in my arms and keep you close. I don’t want the first time you hear the words from me to be in writing, but, Olive. I fear I’ve fallen for you, and it’s made me such a fool. Please take these gifts for what they are, a representation of how I think of you every second of every day. Of how you inspire me to be a better person. Of how much love I have for you. J.M.’

Your coffee goes completely cold as you sit at the table, reading the note over and over again.

The gentle knock on your door kickstarted your heart, fluttering hard in your chest as you knew who was on the other side of the repaired wood. You turned the burner off on the stove top, shifting it to rest atop one of the cooler ones. You called for the man who held your heart to ‘wait a second, please’ before you turned to the table and reached for one of the serving bowls, spooning out the steamed contents of the pan into it and placed it back among the others already atop the table. The table was full, dishes coloring the spread laid out across the table. The rest of his gifts had been carefully places in the hutch along the back wall, some of them displayed behind the glass of the topmost part.

Toasted sandwiches cut into triangles rested atop one of the leaf serving trays, the one you had just filled up with three different types of steamed and roasted vegetables. A glass pitcher of fresh juice you pressed earlier a deep red and shining in the flames from candles interspersed between the trays and plates. You nervously ran your hands down the front of your apron, a worn but loved patterned thing that wrapped around the back of your neck and at the back of your waist.

The brownies looked a little thick, now that you took a second to consider them. A rich buttercream piped into a swirling tower amid them stacked up on one of the larger flower plates. The midsize ones set in front of two chairs with empty glasses and clean utensils beside them. All set up, all waiting.

For him, for Joel.

Moving to the door, you paused and took a deep breath to calm yourself, the titter of shyness you weren’t sure you would ever overcome when it came to the man on the other side. Reaching for the lock, you clicked it out of its setting and twisted the handle to open the door.

Joel was stood there, silhouetted against the bright winter sun, the broadness of his shoulders and the volume of his curls on display so close for you. His head had been hanging, one hand on the wall beside the door. And when he looked up to catch your eyes, your breath hitched and you felt your fingers twitch at the urge to pull him close. To let him make his written words a reality and cradle you in his arms.

“I-I got your no-note. And the – the things you left f-for me.”

“Did you,” He cleared his throat, hand moving from where it was supporting him to fall to his side, clenching and unclenching in that own nervous habit he had. His eyes roved up and down your body, taking the image you were making in your doorway. You felt like you looked okay, but your hair was a little frizzed out from the heat of cooking. And you were so, incredibly self-conscious. He was such a handsome man, and you were…just you. His voice was shaky, something you couldn’t ever recall hearing from someone normally so controlled. “Did you…like everythin’ alright?”

“It’s all so perfect. Th-thank you.” You smoothed your hands down the front of the apron again, nervous and unsure of how to approach him even as your body hummed in anticipation from the thought of it. He loved you. And you loved him back.

“And the- the note?”

“Y-yeah.” You couldn’t bring your eyes up to meet his, too self-conscious with how all uncharted everything seemed to be.

“I’m so fucking sorry. I-“ He surged forward through the open door, but his boots scuffed as he cut the movement short. You had unconsciously stepped back, nerves alight from the last time you had been approached. Muscles twitching, your arms tingled with the way you tried to relax from the sudden tension that had flooded your entire body. Fight or flight activated. You could see the way his throat bobbed with the nervous swallow he took before sighing out a deep breath. “Olive, I swear to you, I- you’re so good. The sweetest, prettiest thing I’ve had the pleasure of knowing in my time and if you’ll let me, I’ll be a good man for you. I’ll be a good man with you.”

“Joel, I-“ Your words choked off into a sob, tears trialing hot down your cheeks as your emotions spiked and cascaded over you. Hands trembling as you did reach out for him, fingers wrapping around the unzipped edges of his thick jacket. He moved into you, his own hands coming up to cradle your cheeks as he pressed his forehead to yours.

“Shh, it’s okay. I’m right here, I’m with you. Not goin’ anywhere unless you want me to, okay?” He holds you, letting you bury your tear-stained face into his neck. The flow of them still falling from your eyes dampening the fabric of his flannel.

“D-do you want some lunch?” A shy smile pulled at your lips, heat blooming in your chest even as the tears continue to fall.

He seems to release all of the tension in his shoulders as he sighs out something relieved. You can tell he’s a little confused by the question, but he wasn’t going to turn it down. The opportunity to spend time with you, to talk to you. He had come here, after all, not even knowing where you two stood after everything. Fresh from a patrol, you could smell the lingering scent of hay from the stables on him. The leather from his gloves sliding along and holding the reigns of his horse. Nodding, you finally manage to meet his eyes and your breath hitches even as a pang of worry echoes in your chest.

“H-how was patrol?” You wait for him to take a seat before you go to pick up the pitcher and pour him some of the juice you had made. His hands are a soft hush over yours as he takes it from you and pours himself a glass before reaching for your own empty one with a lopsided smile.

“It was good, took Ellie out for her first one. She’s been buggin’ me about it since the start of winter.”

“Is she going to be my replacement? I don’t want her to feel like she has to if she’s not ready.” His eyes move over your face as you spoon steaming vegetables onto his plate and then yours.

“Maria agreed with me that Millie should be trained up, she’s starting with me next week. It’s part of her punishment for instigating the fight.”

“Oh.” Another thing for the woman and her mother to hold against you. You worried for a second of how much damage you had done to her in your near fugue state but then realized if she was okay enough to start patrol then she was far better off than you happened to be.

“We don’t have to talk about that or we- we can, if you want to. Just…just want to talk with you. About anything.” About anythin’, about nothin’.”

The conversation isn’t much from then on, but it’s enough to hold his attention. You’re tired, so incredibly tired and lethargic from the emotional morning you had, from putting all the food spread over the table together, not much of it left after Joel devours a lot of it. Starvin’ he had said through a bite, pink tinging his ears as you offered to make another sandwich for him. He had assured you everything you had made was enough and now a half pot of coffee sits in mugs in front of you each, brownies bitten into after dipping it in the frosting you had made.

As soon as his two were swallowed, he turned beseeching, wide eyes to you and you found moving to stand between his legs. His arms were so warm around you, the food and his company weighing you down in the best way as you wrap your own around his neck. His face is buried in your chest while you press a kiss to his steel curls, something that worries you for a split second before he sighs out a small ‘you’re so soft, sweetheart’.

“I-I want to talk more, but,” Your weight sagged against him, his arms tightening around you to help keep you on your feet. “I’m so tired, Joel. I think I need to lay down.”

“It’s alright, sweetheart. I understand, lemme just- I’ll clean up lunch and get out of your hair, go on and rest.” But you didn’t move, your breath hitching as you leaned back enough to peer up at him. Your eyes surely gave away how drained you were, but you weren’t quite yet ready to let him go. Even if things were a little stilted and there was so much to discuss. Right now you just wanted to lay down, to get off your feet and relieve some of the tension on your stitches.

“W-will you stay?”

“Of course.”

He follows silently behind you, boots thudding on the hardwood flooring of the hallway. Each step matching the beating of your heart. Through the door and into your room, you realize he must’ve already been in here, it was so tidy and the laundry that had piled up was neatly folded atop your dresser.

If he’s just as nervous as you are, he doesn’t show it. Seemingly taking things as they come, letting you shrug him from the flannel you had unbuttoned. When you move your hands to the buckle of his belt, one of his large hands covers both of yours. Looking up, you reassure him nothing has to happen and that you aren’t ready for anything to happen but you don’t want the denim on your clean sheets. He nods, letting you continue to disrobe him. A shaky laugh falls from his plush lips as you notice the line of him through his boxer briefs, it twitches under your quick glance, and you feel a swoop in your own stomach in response.

He asks if you need to change to, offering to turn around. But you grip his wrists and bring his hands to the ties at the side. It’s a loose thing, to help you manage to move around better, the prospect of pants and a belt too daunting despite the season. He carefully lifts the fabric from your body, his eyes on your face the entire time, even as the clothing falls to pile on top of his. With a nervous giggle, you lead him to the bed and you both get comfortable underneath the covers. It’s early, not even the sun has set, but neither of you seem to mind the time.

He's settled against the pillows when you reach out a hand on your normal side of the bed, fingers tangling with his as you lay slightly on your side toward him. The bandages around your middle are obvious underneath the camisole you wear with your underwear. He’s facing you too, his other hand moving to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

“I…I want to.” Your words are barely above a whisper, as you take in the image he creates beside you, filling the empty part of your bed with his broad frame. His steel curls flattened on the pillow, his warmth only a few inches away, his eyes soft and watching you as you collect the words from your mind to fill your tongue. It had been something you yearned for since that first brush of his hand against yours, that first smile you managed to pull from him with an offhand comment, from the first moment he asked you a question in return to one of your own. Even if someone else had shown you the same kindness, his would be the one you sought after. “Be with you.”

“I want that too, sweetheart, more’n anything, but…I hurt you. I know that, I was careless in my attempts to be careful, to not push you. To…surprise you with what I wanted to be the first thing I gifted you.”

“Tommy told me. You know I thought some kids stole that piece of the trunk?” Your eyes glitter with a hint of mirth, teasing tone light and reminiscent of times past. It’s fleeting, the bone deep exhaustion settled in your body not only physical but mental. “I…Joel, I worry about…everything. All the time. You deserve to the chance to thrive here, for Ellie to thrive here and…being with me would-“

“I’d choose you over the town any day, you’ve gotta know that. Me and Ellie, we’ve been through a lot but we’re tough, you don’t gotta worry about us. I know…that people see her lack of manners and anxious tendencies as something that needs to be fixed. Maybe, yeah, the little troublemaker could stand to hold her tongue sometimes but she’s so young, she’s got a lot to unlearn from being raised the way she was. She’s a good kid, she’s good but you are too. We’ll take it slow, because I haven’t done this dance in while, hell, ever really. And I want to do it right, I want to be what you want because I definitely know you don’t need me.”

“I haven’t needed for anything in a long time, but Joel Miller believe me when I saw my days are better when they’re spent with you. Even…even the bad ones to an extent.”

“I’ll apologize a thousand times.” He tightens his grip, tired eyes trained on them. There’s a sadness to them, the depths of which he had let you glimpse once before. Loss, pain, devastation in the wake of when the world has broken and then turned into. You share in that sadness, having lost the person you had devoted your life to protecting, having lost the life you had just begun to flourish in before it was ripped from your hands, having lost a child that you could still hear crying in your sleep some nights…

The words are on the tip of your tongue, the need for comfort from the one person you wanted it from, needed it from. It was true that you had been complacent before him, not concerned with the things people felt the need to pursue in the lives they felt safe enough to pursue here in the town. That he stroked yearning in the very core of who you were, something you hadn’t ever experienced even back when the world was thriving and bustling as it once had been.

“Can we j-just kiss a-and start to move for-forward?”

“Sweetheart, I don’t think I exactly deserve that right now…” Your face falls. The small, shy smile dipping and the sides of your mouth dropping into a frown as you feel the burn of tears prickle again behind your cheeks. The rejection hurts, even if you understand why he feels that way and agree with him to an extent that this situation isn’t going to magically fix itself.

“But I do.”

He doesn’t even think to argue, not with the way that he’s leaning close to touch his soft lips to yours as soon as the words leave them.

“I’ve gotta get goin’, sweetheart.” Joel’s whisper roused you, so close you reached for him. Long fingers curling around his wrist, nails lightly scratching the soft skin there. He felt the cumulation of inching out of bed slowly and quietly to not wake you as the vain attempt it was. He should’ve known his efforts would be fruitless, his resolve chipping away to nothing when you breathed his name out on a sleepy sigh. “I got training patrol. Be back early this afternoon, bring you something from the mess hall, alright sweetheart?”

You only hummed in response, lips pressed against his wrist now, sending tingling trickles of sensation all over his body at the easy way in which you displayed your affection for him now. It had been a couple of weeks. Two weeks of you making dinner one night, then walking him through another the next day. Of coffee in the mornings when he wasn’t busy, the never-ending list housed on the spiral notepad in his back pocket present in only the worn fabric over his pockets, the actual thing mysteriously gone. A break for the season, he has said when you asked him, palming the fabric of his back pockets one day.

As you lay in bed, dozing back off in the wake of his departure, Joel is outside the gates with a nervous Millie astride a horse beside him. They stop on as Joel figures an open field a few miles away would be the best bet for practice. Far enough for the sound of gunfire to not echo back and alarm people but close enough to rush back should something go awry.

“Know anythin’ about guns?” He looks over to the younger woman, her eyes wide and her head on a swivel as she constantly takes in her surrounds. He feels a little bad that she’s so on edge, but the only way to make her more comfortable is to get her out more and more. Allow her to see that it doesn’t have to be all bad. But he does understand her reaction, she’s never been outside the walls, had never been outside the town that it was before the walls went up. She had been younger than you when the world shattered, had people to look after her and care for her.

“My daddy taught me how to shoot them when the world fell apart. But that was…a long time ago now.”

“Okay, well, we’re gonna see what suits you better. On patrol we use shotguns, but a handgun will do in a pinch. The key is range, keeping any threat as far away as possible.”

“Yes, Mr. Miller.” She watches him closely as he removes the shotgun slung around his back. He checks that the safety is secured and he holds it out to her as she moves to stand beside him at the beckoning of his hand. He walks her through the general mechanics of the gun, firm in her not placing her finger on the trigger until she was ready to shoot.

“Are you right or left handed?”

“Um…I favor my left.” He hands off the gun to her, telling her to practice her grip on the large gun while he rummages in one of the packs attached to his saddle. He’s got a cloth bag that he fills with snow and ice that coats the ground, propping it up a good distance away on top of a long dead tree stump.

Time passes and her aim gets a little better, though she’s taking too long to line up her shots. Joel reminds her to just take a breath in and shoot as she exhales. But the words cut off as he sees movement on the horizon of their spot on in the field. He’s off a ways from her, by the target he had set up for the woman to practice on. He’s turned to hold a halting hand up to her before he takes his own gun out from the holster and puts one of them down.

Another sprints from the cover of the forest nearby, but he’s focused on taking down the other two far too close for comfort. Just as he turns to take out the one closing in on him, it lunges and he’s struggling not to fall with the sudden weight slamming into him. His gun goes flying and he curses out as he tries to fend it off with his arms, the snapping of its mangled teeth loud and far too close to his face.

He wishes he had spent a few more minutes with you in bed, pressing his lips to your forehead to your cheek, to your plush lips, to any part of your body he could as the bullet ripped through him and pain sparked hot across his entire chest. Through it, he manages throw the stunned thing to the ground, another shot flying from across the field to land directly in the back its head. Joel is looking up as he bends down to retrieve his gun, his other hand pressing hard to the burning in his shoulder. Millie is too focused on him to see the blur running toward her, too late in her shifting attention as it grips her shoulder tights. Taking a deep breath, Joel tries to focus as best he can to line up his aim and take out the single Infected that remained.

He shoots and it goes down.

His shoulder throbs and his vision darkens at the edges.

“Joel!” You shout, simmering panic making you forget common manners as you burst through the door leading into the main exam room of the infirmary. There are three beds lined up on the opposite wall, other rooms set up for more serious cases that required overnight stays. Millie and Joel are settled into two of them, the younger trembling and holding her right shoulder while Joel is pressing a kerchief to his front, blood soaking it through.

Marsha is already plastered to the side of her daughter’s bed. Making no noise whatsoever, which was just as uncomforting as you realized how pale she they both were. Blood splattered over Joel while Millie looked relatively unharmed.

Millie launches into a jumble of words as she gets up from the bed, but you stop her in your tracks with a chilling look over your shoulder as you go immediately to Joel’s side.

“You need to back the fuck up, Millie. I told you I’m not engaging with you anymore, now go back to your own bed and mind your business.”

Turning from them, your eyes land on Joel and he’s barely able to keep his eyes open as he lays across the bed. Your heart stutters, as does your voice the closer you get to him.

“You two are just perfect for each other with your penchant for harsh words.” Jealousy was ugly on the older woman, making her act out towards you but more concerningly towards Joel. He hadn’t done anything wrong, even in the moments he had let his anger flare around her and he scolded her for her manipulation and childish behavior. He had told you all about it, about every interaction between them to tide your hurt feelings and assumptions about them. He hadn’t needed to do it, but he had wanted to be completely transparent. To share with you the things he experienced.

“And you would be just perfect for recognizing harsh words, wouldn’t you?” You fire back, not even bothering to look over your shoulder at the woman who had caused so much grief and anxiety. Your words seem to stun her, as she doesn’t rebuff you in anyway, but you feel guilt flash at the kneejerk reaction, still so worried about upsetting anyone or instigating anything remotely unfriendly. But Joel was bleeding and it you were far more worried about him at the moment.

“What ha-hap-happened? That’s so mu-much blood!”.” You ask him quietly, concerned with how his unseen injuries could be affecting him. His fingers twitch, letting you know he was trying to reach out for you. You sidle up beside him, hands reaching for his left as your wide eyes take in the expanse of his naked chest. The nurse has on pink stained white. One of the nurses bursts through the open door, ignoring the tension in the room, quickly getting to work with the tray of equipment she brought in. Her pristine gloves immediately take on a pink stain, blood gushing over his front as she digs a pair of long tweezers into a large bullet hole. She exposes in his right shoulder once she peels back the collar of his jacket and cuts away the tattered collar of his undershirt. “J-Joel, did you g-get ambushed by In-Infected? Or was it peop-people?”

“Was an accident.” He grunts out, hand tightening over yours as the nurse works to stall the bleeding.

“Millie sh-shot you?” You feel ire bubble up ugly and thick, heart beating hard at the thought of Joel out there with no protection other than the person in question, the person who had no idea how to begin to fend for herself or an injured person beyond the walls. She had been so young when the world broke, a few years younger than Aiden had been when you took him as your responsibility, his parents being the first to turn in the restaurant.

“Oh, would you shut up with that god-awful stuttering? Grown woman can’t even speak properly in a moment of crisis.”

“Mother!”

“Making a bad situation worse by simply being here, why don’t you let the nurse take care of him and just leave?”

“Mother, enough! That is no way to talk to Olive, she puts her life on the line every time she goes out beyond the walls. She and Mr. Miller have helped to make this a safe place, you should show her respect and leave her be!”

“Millie Antoinette, that is no way to speak to me.”

“You’re going to lecture me on language with the way you’ve been slinging backhanded insults about Olive all these years? Blaming her for something completely out of her control, berating her for her stutter when you know she can’t help it because the whole town makes her feel like she’s walking on eggshells.”

“This conversation is not over, we will continue this at home.”

Finally turning to look over your shoulder at the way she began to take out her frustrations on Millie, your eyes were set hard and your displeasure was obvious as you took in the way Millie’s good arm was being held far too tightly by the woman.

“Why do-don’t you just keep my na-name out of any future conversations you may have. You’ve caused enough damage, your own daughter paying for your actions and getting injured because of it. Joel getting injured because of it. No one is to blame but you and the influence you’ve lorded over her all these years. Twisting and tainting the memory of the man she loved, the man I devoted my life to protecting and ensuring he got to live a somewhat normal one after the world fell apart. He wouldn’t have wanted her to harbor such ill feelings toward me, toward what happened. But you turned it into something to use against me and you hurt her worst of all, teaching her it was okay to behave like such a child!” Your

You’re breathing heavy by the end of your outburst, finding your voice after stuttering through the first words. Unconsciously reaching for and tightening the hold on Joel’s hand through the entire exchange. He squeezes it in reassurance, through the nurse’s ministrations.

“You tell ‘er.” Joel slurs as the nurse secured a large patch of gauze over his would, betadine staining the edges of the material. The action of pressing down the tape around the corners making him hiss out a pained breath and your attention focuses on him once again.

“Don’t you dare talk to me like that, you ungrateful little-“ You could feel her approach you from behind and you let go of Joel’s hand, not wanting to jostle him should she push or shove you. She was about your height so when you swung your hand out, your palm landed right on her cheek with enough force to turn her head as the sharp slap echoed around the room.

Red blossomed bright on her skin. Her fingers twitched and you landed another hit without thinking before she could make a more intentional move.

“I know you were not about to touch me,” The feeling of your lip lifting up in a slight snarl was unpleasant, but you couldn’t help the visceral reaction to the woman after everything she had done.

Even in the wake of trying to be polite and cordial with her when you thought her and Joel were a thing, she had shown you thinly veiled niceness in return. Her eyes always watching, much like a hawk stalking its prey. But you wouldn’t be her prey any longer, unwilling to play the part she had bestowed upon you for no good reason. You weren’t a malicious person, you weren’t a violent person. Not anymore. You were kind and thoughtful and did everything you could to be nice and help out where you were needed or wanted, and you would not put up with the woman any longer.

She raised her hand up once the shock of your quick movement wore off and you used the back of your forearm to knock it down, your hand sliding down her arm to capture her wrist in your grip. Her widened eyes found yours and you hoped, fleetingly, that she was unnerved. She cried out when her wrist began to smart underneath the force of your grip, trying to pull it from you but you didn’t budge. She was a fool to think using her free hand to pry at the fingers you had wrapped around her to no avail. You saw the thought for her to raise it at you flash across her face before you felt Joel’s hand gently pull at the back of your sweater.

“That’s enough, Marsha.” Maria’s voice was harsh, cutting into the scene suddenly. “Seeing as your daughter is in good hands, let’s have a little chat.”

The woman’s harsh expression, the twist of her mouth about to shape around a degrading insult, the furrow of her brow as she focused on you, it all fell away the second she realized she had an audience.

The nurse tending to Joel moved silently from Joel’s bedside to Millie’s as you released Marsha from your hold to follow behind Maria.

“Olive, I am so sorry. For everything. You’re right, Aiden wouldn’t have wanted any of this. I-I feel so…badly for how I’ve ignored you all these years when I should’ve been there to comfort you. You lost him too.” Millie cries as the nurse tends to her bruised and swollen shoulder, there now that Joel is taken care of. There was a large bruise marring her skin that was around angry looking welts, scratches that looked like they hadn’t broken the skin, no doubt from whatever occurred outside the walls. You tried focus on her, but it was hard with the adrenaline of confronting Marha thumping harshly through your entire body, Joel could surely feel the trembles where he held onto you.

“We were practicing shootin’ and a group of five or six of ‘em came outta the trees.”

As soon as the words were out of your mouth, you began to peel back his opened flannel and shoved up the shirt he had on underneath. Hands frantic as you felt all around his body for signs of a bite. When you brushed against his groin to move down to his legs to check underneath the denim, you noticed he had fallen quiet. Looking up at him from where you were inspecting his shins, you clocked the way he rested the inside of his wrist over his zipper and belt buckle. His face was tinged a little pink at his cheeks and the tops of his ears.

“You could’ve led with that!”

“I’m okay, sweetheart. Millie shot the one that almost got me, but the first shot missed and then she took it down. She didn’t see the one comin’ up behind her cause she was so focused on helpin’ me.”

“Just lay back,” You croon sweetly, gently pushing the bulk of him to sit atop the bed.

“Yes, ma’am.” Joel groans, adjusting his hips as he scoots up to lean against the plush headboard.

It’s soft everywhere in your room, from the fabric of the headboard to your sheets and covers, to the dried flowers and sheer curtains hanging over the windows. He feels swaddled in the best way, completely wrapped up in the little world you’ve created in your space. The mix of him seen interspersed between your many books lining new shelves he crafted for you to replace the old, creaking ones worn down over time. A carved serving plate he had made for you, atop your bedside table and housing a tube of hand lotion, a note left from him the other day when he had to leave in the early hours. One of his flannels hanging up from a set of floral hooks he had made to go on the back of your door.

He was just a present influence in your home as you were in his. From the multiple bottles of oil scattered about his stove top, to the leftovers clearly labeled and stored in his fridge, to the pair of underwear that had ended up nestled with his in the top drawer of his dresser. The very ones you wore underneath his shirts when you slept over in his bed, making the sheets smell a heady combination of you both that had him seeing you in his dreams even more.

It had been a slow dance of homemade dinners, of nights spent in each other’s bed, of searing kisses and soft words shared between you both over the last two months. Both healed from the events that had allowed for the confusing and heartbreaking one to shift to this one, where it was obvious you both wanted each other, both had so much adoration for each other. But you were still so shy around Joel, never letting things go further than wandering hands sneaking beneath clothing.

But tonight, you were feeling so encompassed by the need to see him, to touch him, to be seen and touched by him in return. Tommy had let slip it was your birthday tomorrow when he asked if you were still coming around his and Maria’s for dinner. Joel had been confused why you hadn’t shared that with him, you knew when his birthday was after all. And everything that came tangled with the date.

“Joel,” You whispered against his lips, having moved to hover over his lap with your arms atop his shoulders. His hair had grown long, the thick locks brushed back by his large hands to swoop into gorgeous curls behind his ears and over the back of his neck. Nearly brushing the tops of his broad shoulders, he groaned out as you toyed with the ends of the long locks now. Nervous energy made it hard to keep your hands still and you confessed quietly as you ran your fingers through the curls. “I…I need to tell you something before we- before we, um, do this.”

“What is it, sweetheart?” His eyes blink open, concern and worry glinting in them as he takes in the way you’re worrying your bottom lip between your teeth. “We don’t have to do nothin’ if you don’t want to or aren’t ready. Just wanna be with you, no matter what.”

You start and stutter a few times, the words trailing off as your emotions spike and memories find their way to the surface. But it was the right thing to do, to share this part of your past with him. The potential for the mood to be ruined all to glaring as you realized it would be one of the heavier things you shared with the man who had become you partner in every definition of the word.

“Joel, I…I don’t have, um, I don’t have all my…parts.” Waving a hand over your lower stomach, right where you rested over his own. His confusion was obvious as he focused on the part of your body in question, his plush lips parting as he contemplated how to better ask for clarification. But you leaned back a little, your thighs tightened around his hips as you did so to pick up the hem of your camisole and unbutton the jeans you were still dressed in. A faded but thick scar ran from the bottom of your belly button, swooping below it in an imitation of a smile and then down in a straight line from the middle to disappear beneath the band of your underwear. It was completely healed, but still pink in discoloration.

“The doctors at the QZ we briefly stayed at in the beginning of everything…they did a hysterectomy after I had my…son.”

“Olive…” His hands raise from where they were around your hips, shaking slightly as he pauses in his reach to caress the marred skin. His eyes flash up to meet yours in a silent question for consent and at a small nod, he brushes the knuckle of his index finger over it. Shuddering at the soft touch, you watch the way emotions flit across his weathered face.

“They weren’t nice about it, I still…I still have pretty vivid nightmares about it because there was very little anesthesia, something about rationing the drugs and it…it was one of the most painful things I’ve had to endure. But…I thought you-you should know because I know you have some years on me, and you said you don’t think…an accident would happen and you seemed genuinely concerned because of my age. But it wo-won’t because of this.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Joel presses the palm of his right hand over the scar, the warmth of his skin soothing just as much as the kiss he placed on your cheek. “You’re…you’re okay though?”

“As okay as I can be about it,” You consoled his worry, breath hitching as he gently caressed the skin beneath his hand. “I waited until I was healed a year, when the threat of infection was long gone, then I took Aiden and…and Ezra and I got us the hell out of there.”

He didn’t ask how you lost Ezra, he didn’t berate you for your choice to leave the QZ, he didn’t ask how you had even ended up in that situation in the first place. He didn’t do anything but slowly move to where your back was on the bed, and he was hovering over you. Soft kisses and the brush of his mustache trailing over every inch of skin he could see. His fingers slid beneath the thin straps of your top in a silent question, and you sat up enough to allow him to life the garment from your body. Willing to show yourself to him, to take the offer of his soothing comfort. His breath puffed out at the sight of your naked chest, his fingers skimming up to brush against the supple skin and hardened peaks now on full display.

He clocks the way your fingers move to the buttons of his flannel and fumble, prompting him to take over for you to push it off his own shoulders, his undershirt disappearing along with it to the floorboards. But before you can move onto his belt, he’s gently pressing you back to the bed and pressing the plush softness of his lips to your body, trailing lower and lower until he brushes them so lightly over your scar.

Your breath hitches and you can feel the small smile as he takes his time to worship your body. To sooth the emotions he must know it took to confess something so big, to engage with him in this way even if you wanted to. Mind’s always tickin’ he would tease, no heat behind his words, but adoration.

Fingers skimming over soft skin, the callouses of time and skill a heady sensation over it ahead of his lips, he slowly shimmies the undone fabric of your jeans down your legs. He takes the time to undo and step out of his own pair before he’s back on the bed, attention focused on your legs as he begins to move up, up, up. Only giving you the barest of chances to take in the thick line of his hard cock as it twitches beneath dark fabric.

His fingers slide underneath the waistband of your underwear from where his palms rest wide on your upper thighs, his mouth suckling the plush skin before him. His lips feel like heaven, like finally stepping through your front door after a long shift, like a hot bath after a long day, like a breath of fresh air after being in a stuffy room. It feels like home. Startling slightly at the sudden press of his nose to your clothed core, you feel more than hear the rumble of his chuckle.

“This okay, not too much?”

“Not too much,” you assure, lifting your hips to allow him to drag the fabric down. Heat blooms in your chest, worry for not being as pretty as someone else or as groomed as you used to be. But all of your anxieties and insecurities fade away as you look down and see the way his eyes are trained on your glistening cunt. He groans out as he drags the beck of a knuckle over your puffy outer lips, reveling in the jerk of your hips at the light contact.

“’s pretty, sweetheart. So perfect.” Is all the warning he gives you before he’s spreading you open with both of his hands and burying his face between your thighs. A long, warm wet lick with the flat of his tongue from one end of you to the other has your head thudding against the pillows and your hands searching for purchase in his hair. Pleasure sparkles all over your body, glitters behind your eyes as he tastes you, suckles that little bundle of nerves, as he gently glides two of his thick, warm fingers right inside and curves them up.

His name is a strangled sound puffed into the air, your breath hitching in the way he admitted to loving so much as he begins to pet your inside walls with his fingertips, his lips latched around your clit. His patchy scruff and mustache adding to the feel of him against your skin, against the most intimate part of you he’s taking his time in pleasuring. It takes everything you have to lift your head enough to peer through bleary eyes to find him already staring up at you. His pupils blown so wide there’s no hint of the deep brown they’re made up of. His brow is furrowed in concentration, the tops of his cheeks barely visible a deep hue of pink as he worships you.

While still holding your gaze, he purses his lips and sucks, turning the sparkles of pleasure into hot waves as they overtake you. Your body isn’t your own any longer as it tenses, back arching clean off bed, your thighs clenching around his ears. Your lost in the force of the pleasure he pulled from you as easily as breathing, taken every moan and sigh as signals to what you liked best, listening to your body like he was meant to. It’s no longer yours but his.

“They’re we go, so good, sweetheart. You taste so good,” He murmurs as he helps your through the crest before pulling again to palm at himself through his underwear with one hand, the other holding your bucking hips down to clean every last bit of your release from where his fingers are pulled from you.

Reaching for him, you tug at him, urging him up to his knees so you had run your palm over the trail of dark hair that disappears below his waistband. He moves his hand from where he’s holding himself through the fabric as your fingers sneak below and touch him for the first time. His hips cant, pressing firmly into your willing hand.

“Take these off, please.” You whisper as you wrap your hand around him, barely able to touch the tips of your fingers with the girth of him fully hard. He’s hot against your skin, velvet soft over the rigidness of his cock. Finally seeing all of him as he pulls the fabric down and pushes it past his thighs. You let him go for him to toss them over the side of the bed, eyes taking in the stretch of his body through the action.

He’s peppered with freckles over his tan skin, chest covered in thick hair that’s the same steel grey of his curls, thick thighs tensed with the way he sits before you on his knees. He’s littered with scars, some thin and crisscrossing over each other, some raised thick to disrupt the smoothness of his skin, though none hold the same untold story of the one at his temple. The one he lets you brush softly before sleep. But they don’t take away from his beauty, they enhance it and let you know without a doubt he’s a fighter.

His cock is thick and long, ruddy at the tip and bobbing despite the heft to kiss his stomach as you eye him up and down. Every inch of him is beautiful and you tell him with a sigh, body singing for him to come back to you. Locking eyes with him, you see his own insecurities wash away at the wonder and admiration you gaze at him with.

As soon as you move to reach for him, he’s doing the same. Mouths connecting and laying his body over yours to feel every bit of your skin against his that he can manage, your legs parting to wrap around his waist. You gasp at the bump of his tip to your folds, the breathy sound turning into a moan when he grinds down against you, his hands tangling in your hair as he swallows it straight from your lips.

He keeps his eyes locked on yours as he reaches down to grip himself, guiding the ruddy tip to your entrance and holding his breath for the barest of seconds. You nod, unable to form words so wrapped around him, so covered by him, to consumed by him and what he means to you. Twin moans decorate the air as he pushes in, the girth of him stretching you and causing heat to lick at every single nerve.

It’s soft and slow, sensual the way he moves against you. Taking in the moment for all that it is, showing you in the most intimate way what you mean to him as you feel how deep he gets with every thrust. But when you moan out for him to go harder, to go faster – he willingly obliges. The slow roll of his hips shifting into quick snaps against yours, a hand gripping your thigh over his shoulder as he presses down in such a delicious way. You can tell you startle him when you cry out, the head of his cock catching that perfect spot, as your hands scrabble at his shoulders and your nails dig into the freckles skin of his broad back.

Sighing, you take a moment to stretch out your shoulders once you remove the apron from around your neck. It’s well into February and you’ve take back control of the morning shift at the mess hall.

Marsha had done a…well, she hadn’t done the best, but Maria had stepped in the week before you had been due back. To ensure everything was exactly the way you preferred it. It had been a lot of long early morning shifts on top of staying through the lunch service. You had tried to stifle your amusement at Maria complaining about how fast the woman had tried to get through cleaning tasks to get home before the sun set. None of it had been good enough for Maria, knowing that you dedicated yourself to making sure things were not only clean but ‘Olive clean’ as she termed it. Turning the whole dining room and setting up the kitchen for a smooth open the next morning since dinner was normally left to the individual households or the Tipsy Bison.

Part of her punishment was formally apologizing to you and thanking you for your service to the town, but it hadn’t happened. You weren’t holding your breath for it to happen, either. It wouldn’t undo all the anxiety and hesitancy you still had even now interacting with anyone outside of your very small circle.

“Miss Olive?” The sudden voice of someone peeking their head through the swinging door that led into the kitchen caught you off guard. “Oh shoot, I am so sorry! I didn’t meant startle you.”

“Oh, it’s okay, just lost in my own head. How can I help you?”

They step inside, an older couple that comes at the same time everyday, enjoying the quiet before the rest of the residents make their way into the dining room.

“Just wanted to say it was a good meal this morning. We really appreciate all the work you put in providing for the town. Glad to have you back in the swing of things.”

“Oh! Well, th-thank you very much. I’m glad you enjoyed today, had a couple friends urge me to include the pastries.” They nod at you, waving before turning away and disappearing back through the door. A smile graces your lips as you shrug on your coat and wrap a scarf around your neck. The kind words help you to trudge your way through the built up snow from the night before, none of it having melted once the sun rose. The winds are still sharp, piercing in their added chill to the air.

Your home is nice and toasty when you enter, intending to shower the splash of porridge that had gotten you, sinking into your skin even after you had wiped off. But you pause when you catch the scent of fresh coffee and hear a distant grunting coming from your back room. Instincts taking over, you reach for the bat leaning up against the corner behind the front door.

“Hello?” You call out, unsure of who would be in house since Joel was supposed to be on patrol with Ellie. Maria and Tommy wrapped up in council meetings with Macon dropped off at the school to be watched over.

“Jus’ me! Shit-“ A loud thud cuts off Joel’s words and you’re rushing down the hall to find him crouching on the floor, hands busy holding the framework of a shelving unit where it had tilted over. “Hey, sweetheart, wanted to have this done by the time you got back.”

You had torn out the old shelves of the back room, the wall smoothed and painted over a few days ago when you had tried to reorganize everything and one of them came crashing down. Ellie had been over a week or so ago, indulging in your vinyl collection as she did homework while she stayed the night, Joel on an overnight patrol. Apparently, she had shared with him the scary moment that prompted the change to the wall.

“Are you okay?” The words rush out as you move around him to help push the large structure back onto it’s base. He sighs as he stands, knees cracking from the added weight of the wood against him as he tensed and braced against it. When he did, your eyes rove over him to ensure he really was okay. Then the bump on his forehead catches your attention as he looks over to you. It’s red and slightly swollen.

You see the small scrape on his cheek, blood beading up along the thin lines.

“Damn thing just shifted as I was adjusting the line up. ‘m okay, promise.”

But you close in on him, hands cupping his face as you pull it down to you, brushing your lips lightly against the bump as his hands wrap around your waist. Shifting down, you kiss just below the thin scrapes, not wanting to pull at them or irritate them further before reaching for a kerchief from your back pocket and dabbing lightly at the blood. Pulling back to peer into his eyes, you see the almost shy way he’s looking from you to the shelving unit.

“There,” You press your lips to his next, his eyes fluttering shut at the swipe of your tongue against his plush bottom one. He swallows the sound that bursts from your chest as he pulls you close. He tastes like the coffee you had smelled when you first walked through the front door. Humming out an, “All better.”

His grin is bright, the dimple in his right cheek fluttering your stomach as you catch sight of it hidden in his scruff.

“All better.” He parrots before shifting you both so your back is to the wall he had been working on installing the shelving unit against. “But you ain’t supposed to be home yet. Your present isn’t ready.”

“Present? I didn’t ask for anything, Joel Miller.” You crane your head around to try and look at what he was doing, too concerned with him to see what he had been trying to do exactly. But he brought a hand up from your waist to grip at your chin and he halted the movement. “And aren’t you supposed to be on patrol with Ellie?”

“Traded off with Tommy, told ‘im I had something important to do today.”

“Joel…”

“Nu-uh. You’ll have to wait to see it, birthday girl. Macon is due for pick up in an hour,” You huff a laugh as he bends his knees to lift your weight and toss it over his wide shoulder. Hair falling loose around your face, it’s impossible to see anything as he struts out of the room and across the hall to the bathroom. He sets you down atop the vanity counter with a light of his own at how disheveled your hair got.

“So pretty,” He muses quietly as he brushes it from your face and tucks it behind an ear. Heat creeps up your face, still not used to such open compliments from the handsome man. Stepping away for a moment, he fiddles with the shower knobs to get the water going, ensuring it’s the perfect temperature that you prefer. He helps you to disrobe, trailing his lips over every inch of your upper body as it becomes exposed before ushering you into the stall with a parting kiss. We’ll head over to Tommy’s for an early dinner once I’m finished up here, yeah?”

“Yes, of course.”

Dinner was a small affair, Ellie using one of the recipe cards you had made for Joel to attempt her hand at a casserole and a cake. The noodles were far too mushy and the cheese was a little too crusted, but you wouldn’t trade her bright smile as she set it down with a flourish for anything in the world. The cake was a touch better, the frosting smooth in most places and the perfect amount of sweetness to counteract the rich chocolate she had been adventurous in trying out. Two candles were lit atop it after meal, her smile infectious as you thanked her and reached to squeeze her smaller frame to yours.

“Alright, alright. Now make a wish and blow them out!” She was excited, Macon imitating her as he bounced in your lap.

“Macon, want to help me?” He gurgled his agreement, barely able to hold his head up and only for short bursts of time. But he pursed his lips as you leaned closer to the cake and blew. He made a sputtering sound, bubbles forming at the corners of his lips and everyone laughed as he seemed shocked at the smoke lifting from the now spent candles. You looked over to Joel, catching the soft smile he was sporting as he watched on.

But you were both in your home now, having left at the assurance of dinner being cleaned up and the kitchen tidied. You were standing in the back room, taking in the sight of what he had been working on all day. Floor to ceiling shelves had been installed on the wall that was shared with the kitchen on the other side. The supplies you kept for the harvest from the olive trees aesthetically placed in the cubbies.

“Joel, it’s beautiful. Thank you so much.” You felt the heat of him as he walked up behind you and wrapped his arms around your middle. His deep voice was so close as he hooked his chin over your shoulder. He guided you out of the room and across the hall to your bedroom, waddling his frame around yours as he refused to let go.

“What’d you wish for, sweetheart?” He whispered, as if it was a secret he was hoping to be privy to, your breath hitched as you turned in his arms and snaked your hands around his neck.

“Nothin’, just…for everything to keep on the way it has been. I’ve got everything I need.” You leaned up and kissed him, his hands tightened around your waist, and you giggled as he dipped you a little with his enthusiasm. You could feel his own smile as his lips moved against yours and you breathed out one last laugh before pivoting your bodies toward the bed. He let you, so willing underneath your touch.

The next morning you both rise early before the sun, helping each other dress and then walk hand in hand toward the stables, boots crunching over the thin ice that had formed overnight. Just as you lead Lowry through the gates, Joel astride is own horse, he turns to you with a lopsided grin.

Your eyes trail over him, landing on the worn fabric of his back pocket, the spiral top of his notepad tucked securely inside. It turns out the faded patch was your business after all and you smile at him in return as he speaks.

“So what’s your favorite movie?”

You answer him honestly, earning a huff of slight exasperation for your answer. Turning the question on him as the sound of steady hoofbeats and soft conversation flows over the open plains of your morning route.

previous chapter || end

taglist:

@joelsgreys @morning-star-joy @sawymredfox @pascalpvnk @littlemisspascal

@merz-8 @orcasoul @sabmat @dreamingofleon @keylimebeag

@picassopedro @tuquoquebrute @alejaa-a @jessthebaker @joeloverture

@joelscruff @swiftispunk @tightjeansjavi @undercoverpena @corazondebeskar

@honeyedmiller @novas-dreamworld @slugz-writes-shit @hiroikegawa @dugiioh

@persephone-girl @furiousmushroom @copperhalfcent @lizlil @hiddenbabynyc

@part2joelmiller @formulafun @noisynightmarepoetry @sofiparallel

@blueberrylemon7 @maryrhodalouandted @joelsdagger @fluff-lover

@communism-bitches @slugz-writes-shit @mosssbawls @vie-is-punk

@ohhellotherebumblebee @koshkaj-blog @amyispxnk @wand-erer5

dividers by the lovely: @/cafekitsune and /saradika-graphics

438 notes · View notes

thebadboyfanclub · 1 year ago

Text

I Don’t Think I Can Do This (Daemon x Reader)

Hey y’all so I know I was supposed to write another request but my job has cause my imagination to ran dry and this was certainly easier cause i wanted to write something that shows the burden that women carry and also that Daemon is a very grey character, I hope you guys like it

The story of (y/n) Eaglemore and Daemon Targaryen did not start as a love story, one would suppose that seems to be a common trait amongst the concept of arranged marriages, especially to a young maiden of an independent kingdom to the rogue prince Targaryen, their marriage was the establishment of Eaglemore joining their forces with the Targaryens, (y/n) was dressed in her traditional attire with her hair in an intricate style, she was breath of fresh air in the house of the dragons, a proud Eagle that was brave enough to fly with the dragons as the flag with the colors of red and black flew next to the black and red she assumed the similarities were bound as an omen for success.

That was quickly ripped out of her mind at the bedding ceremony that she endured, the prince was not brutal, yet she had hoped that he would forbid it, he was cold and only placed a kiss at the top of her head after it was done before he left her laying while the ones that observed it cleared the room, tears streamed down from embarrassment while the handmaidens helped her get up to assist her with her bath.

“Husband!”

She exclaimed excitedly before she skipped over to Daemon who was preoccupied with having a conversation with Viserys was much more important than turning his head to face her, alas the newlywed stood by his side and reached for his hand to get his attention, innocently she squeezed it only to be met with an annoyed expression as he gazed intensely at her.

“What?! (Y/n)! Did they not teach basic manners in your homeland?”

“I-I just, I wanted to give you this, I sewed it for you, it’s the dragon symbol with the eagle”

“Great, give it to the handmaidens, is that all?”

Suddenly she became hyper-aware of the pie of eyes around her, mostly men that had taken interest in the scene that unfolded in the gardens, she felt like a little girl scolded by her father, she bit her lower lip as her shoulders sunk in defeat, the glimpse in her eyes slowly disappearing like a light snuffed out.

“My apologies, I did not wish to interrupt you and the king, I hope you can forgive me, y-your grace”

“It is quite alright, my dear, for what it’s worth I found your creation a wonderful gift, do not pay attention to daemon he has never been good with gifts”

“If that means I have never been good with gifts that have no use then yes, I agree”

“I shall go, excuse me, your grace, husband”

She curtsied before she ran off, her chocolate-colored hair swinging left and right in her ponytail as her eyes looked down to hide the tears that she desperately held back, Daemon watched her and could sense the damage he had caused, sometimes he would catch himself staring at her with purity and interest, he had even smiled once when she struggled to find the right word in his language.

He should have stopped, he should have held his tongue when the evident quiver of her chin started to show when her eyes bounced in different directions as she wanted to gather her composure, but he didn’t, now Daemon stood as still as a grain of salt whilst she once again ran away from him covered in shame.

“She is your lady wife Daemon, must you be so hard on her?”

“A wife that was bestowed to me”

“She is also someone that was bestowed a spouse, yet she took it with grace and is grasping desperately to create the best out of the worst, as a man that prides himself on his intelligence your lady wife has surpassed you, at least in principle and empathy”

Daemon was stunned, as Viserys spoke in such kind words his words slashed through Daemon like the sharpest of knives, this was Daemon's second marriage, and it had become second nature to be rude and unattainable to his lady wife since the bronze bitch shared the same hatred as he did for her, now the cheerful lady with the deer like eyes and red puffy cheeks had been nothing but kind, a foreign pain in his chest started to make Daemon uneasy as she ran further and out of his line of sight.

“If I were you I would be very ashamed”

(Y/n) sat in front of the mirror as one of her handmaidens lit her candles and the other brushed (y/n)s hair to prepare her for bed, (y/n) stood as still as she could though her fingers intertwined with one another and twisted in odd ways.

“Could you leave me with Chiara, please? Thank you”

(Y/n) requested softly, the young handmaiden only curtsied before she walked out of (y/n)s chamber, whilst Chiara continued to brush her hair, they had grown into a bond that (y/n) felt comfort in, Chiara was sweet and honest, somewhat older, and had just given birth to her first child, she was the first handmaiden that she met when she got to the red keep.

“Do you love your lord husband?”

“I do, now”

“What do you mean?”

“I married him per my father's request, and he gave the biggest dowry, at first it was difficult, we had to figure out a way to communicate and after a while, I like to think that he grew to love me as much as I love him, though first, we respected one another, then love came gradually”

(Y/n) grew silent, her head hanging low before she bit her lip in defeat, she respected her lord husband? Did her lord husband respect her? After the incident on the morrow, it certainly didn’t feel like it.

(Y/n) had not noticed that Chiara had scrounged in front of her and placed her hands over (y/n)s, she only saw the tears that splashed over the handmaidens' skin.

“You won’t always feel like the outsider”

“I don’t think I can do this”

“You can, it is alright my dear”

One sob came after the other as (y/n)s body shook and Chiara lovingly wrapped her arms around the lady’s frame in such delicacy, it resembled a girl hugging her porcelain doll while she tried to not crack it, in its macabre nature you could identify a certain beauty, someone that had the strength to comfort a disheveled young lady as she navigated through womanhood and all its trials.

What had (y/n) nor Chiara had taken into account was that Prince Daemon had made his way to the half-cracked door, freezing in his sport once the whimpers of agony hit his ears, he peaked through the shadows only to be met with his lady wife letting tears stain her dress and hiccups shaking her hunching back as the handmaiden rubbed circles on her back.

“Prince Daemon is a fool for not acknowledging the precious stone that is you, may the gods bless him and open his eyes before he is taken from us”

Daemon had no reason to intervene, the poor lady was right, he was a fool, here she was, a beautiful and intelligent young royalty crying over his acts, he had always longed for home, for family, and now he kicked and toyed with it.

He should be the one comforting his lady wife, to gaze upon (y/n)s puffy and red face and do his best to calm her nerves, not to be the face of her pain, shamefully he scurried away without a word, mad at his reflection that stared back at him in such high horse, he had become everything he hated, a man that did not care about anyone but himself, stopping at nothing to prove he was right.

“Good morrow”

(Y/n) did not respond, she only raised her head and nodded at Daemon that had just entered the dining area, exhausted from crying the lady felt like a family of horses had run over her, getting barely a wink of sleep, evidently so by the veins under her eyes.

(Y/n)s silence was deafening to Daemon, however, he cleared his throat and took a sit next to his lady wife, waiting for a servant to pour him some wine.

“Orange juice? I believe we do not grow these over here”

“A gift from my mother, she said orange juice in the morning is a secret to a woman’s beauty”

“She must be the most astonishing lady back in your line”

“You met her, on our wedding feast, I believe you were too busy to pay attention, like always”

The last comment was barely above a whisper still sharp as a knife right on Daemon's abdomen, Daemon only turned his gaze at her, confused by her demeanor, it wasn’t uncalled for yet it took him by surprise, she always seemed to have the ability to hide her agony at least in public.

“Mayhaps we could go to her, I’m sure she will be more than happy if her daughter visited her”

“Not if my belly is flat, as much as she wanted me to be thin for most of my life she is now sending raven after raven to just check in with my monthly bleeds”

She informed him in a mumbling tone while her hand was rubbing circles on her temples, visibly annoyed over her mother's disregard for her well-being and hyper-focused on her womb.

Daemon was taken back by her comfortability to speak over her monthly visits, brushing it off easily though since they were husband and wife after all, those matters should concern him as well, the idea of a sweet little child running to (y/n)s arms brought him joy.

“It must be uneasy, being put in this position”

“Indeed and if I am being honest, my lord husband has not been making it any easier, with my empty womb nor his attitude”

“I understand you are cross with me”

“Can you blame me? You humiliated me”

Her tone switched from my king to a hiss, her eyes spewing fire as she stared back at him, it was the first time that she dared to show her true emotions, albeit Daemon could detect that it wasn’t just an act of anger but a sense of fear was laying behind those hues of hers.

He was correct, (y/n) feared for her future, the whispers of Daemon's visits to the street of silk, the adoration for his niece, his continuing ignorance over their wedlock, it all came crashing on her chest making it unable to breathe sometimes.

“I came to break my fast with you as a sign of goodwill, I want us to work on our relation-“

“Us? There is no us, you made sure of that my prince, you have crashed all my efforts and now you dare to speak of us”

“I cannot correct my past mistakes, I can only hope that you will allow me to work on our future, you did not deserve my coldness and for that, I sincerely apologize, I only wish for your good graces and for you to allow me to show you how I truly feel for you and our wedlock”

Silence, her eyes focused on his to scatter for one ounce of a lie, alas she was left with nothing, a sigh left her lips as she sunk to her chair defeated, why did the gods curse her with such a difficult match?

“I do not know if I can love you, I tried to desperately earn your affection for so long, I have grown tired of this”

“I know you have and I do not blame you, I beg you, my sweet (y/n), let me try”

His hand had found hers to hold, the warm flesh against hers grew goosebumps, a small beam of light found its way into her soul and a ghost of a smile appeared as (y/n) glimpsed upon their hands locked together, she gave him a subtle squeeze to see if this was a dream or reality.

“I suppose trying couldn’t hurt”

“Thank you, now you must eat, your mother might be right you have lost some weight”

“My efforts of getting accustomed to your foods have not been working”

“You do not have to, we can bring a cook from your homeland, my lady wife shall eat whatever her heart contents”

“There are some delicacies that I believe you would enjoy”

“I am not very picky with food so I will try anything you put in front of me”

Chatter was something (y/n) could easily do, however, even though Daemons spirits were high, (y/n) would steal glances of caution at him, was this another scheme? Or was he genuinely craving her presence and good graces?

“I was hoping you could come to meet Caraxes later”

“I do not know if that is the best idea”

“Nonsense, Caraxes is a part of me, therefore a part of you by law, soon our children will have their eggs on their cradle, if you are surrounded by dragons you need to get used to their presence”

Requests are open!

3K notes · View notes

ticktokrobotsnot · 2 years ago

Text

Cooking Up Speculations

Pairing: Carmen Berzatto x fem!reader

Summary: With y/n rushing around to doll herself up for an event, it's only a matter of time before things get out of hand.

Word Count: 6.7k

Notes: I have never written something like this before, and I thought I would give it a shot. I haven't checked the grammar, but if Google Docs missed anything, that's none of my business.

warning: alcohol and mentions of throwing up out of nervousness but no one actually does, or even comes close.

The prep work was close to done and for once in The Bear’s short existence it was not a screaming disastrous mess. Everyone was on track and prepared, the sauces were sitting in the fridge, the cakes were waiting to be sliced, the rolls were warm and ready to be cut open and it was all thanks to (y/n) coming in extra early this morning. She had started the prep work for most of the chefs that had yet to arrive in the effort of softening the blow. She would be abandoning them for the dinner rush on what was predicted to be a very busy day.

What sport was being played? Who is playing? And who won were all unknown to y/n but all she knew was that the restaurant was going to be filled with rowdy and obnoxiously drunk men who were going to make everyone’s life miserable and she was going to get a “get out of jail free card”. She felt a small pang of guilt for basically leaving them for dead but sacrifices had to be made and if she could cover anyone’s shift with little to no notice she was allowed one day to herself.

The restaurant was expecting the dinner rush to crawl in at about 6:30 pm which left y/n about an hour and a half to get ready. Y/n was finishing up cutting up some garnishes so that everything would be perfect. The sounds of a spoon slapping skin was approaching and y/n knew that she needed to state her case convincingly so she could leave early. Fighting the urge to not bring anything up, work through her shift and miss her event was deviously tempting but with a deep inhale she put the knife down and turned on the balls of her feet.

Her (e/c) eyes meet his and before she could choke out a lame excuse as to why she was blocking him she spit out, “I was wondering if I could have a word with you.”

Carmen looked expectantly, he thought she was going to ask him to taste test the braised beef she had just finished prepping, or ask an obscure question about the food science between ingredients. Y/n had once asked if he found it annoying during one of their late night clean up sessions and he said it was a nice change of pace and he really didn’t mind. How could he when you were so eager to learn?

Y/n didn’t want to do this out here, people are working and if she was going to beg, which is how she expected the next 5 minutes to go, she didn’t want any witnesses. The damage that would do to her pride would force her to change her name, move to Vegas and make money by selling timeshares to idiot tourists.

She cleared her throat, “Privately, chef”

Although his face didn’t betray anything, y/n knew that she had caught him off guard. After a while of spending most of their time together cleaning the kitchen after hours and talking about every minute detail in their lives, y/n knew that she had raised a few alarm bells in Carmen’s head. If she paid attention she could hear the sounds of a car alarm blaring in the back of his head signifying that he thought something was wrong. He always assumed the worst possible would happen, like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

He wordlessly guided y/n to his office. The door was closed and it felt like they were transported to a different dimension where there was nothing outside but the vacuum of space, it was just the two of them in this room and if one of them were to leave the outside pressure would make their body implode and smash into the size of a ping pong ball. She really didn’t want any of them to leave.

With a silent inhale, “I have to leave early today.”

Carmen softened the crease in between his eyebrows, “ Yeah sure, take the day off.” The imaginary crisis was averted and the car alarm stopped blaring in Carmen’s head.

Y/n was surprised that he was being so easy today. Y/n had yet to ask for a day off but she had spent last night imagining the worst possible scenarios possible, she would get yelled at, rejected, or worst he would guilt her for leaving them to deal with the upcoming shit storm.

“Honestly, I was expecting a bit more of a fight.” Y/n joked, “I even made this whole pitch to convince you.”

“ I can hear the pitch so that it doesn’t go to waste,” Carmen said with a glint of humour in his eyes.

Carmen was giving her an inch and so she might as well take the whole mile. Knowing she was about to push her luck and Carmen’s patience a bit more she continued.

“I came in at 4am and started everyone’s prep and helped Tina with the sandwiches during lunch, and did all of Syd’s prep because she had that doctor’s appointment. And I think it's cruel and unusual that you wouldn’t give me a day off when all I did today was prove how much of an angel I am. The least I can get is a measly day off…What you're not gonna give me a day off you selfish prick? You see this is what always happens, little guys always get pushed aside by the Big man. Carmen you're supposed to be better than those billionaire pricks who probably hunt their interns for sport. And I think it's so unfair that I grace you and this business with my presence and I don't even get a single day off- ” Carmen let out an exhale from his nose and covered his mouth with his hand to hide his smirk. The move had almost made y/n fall to her knees, the way his hair was tousled, the way he looked up at her with his sharp blue eyes, the tattoo flexing on his hands that were a calloused and dry from years of washing them nearly a hundred times a day, the veins trailing up from his hands to under his white shirt.

“Okay, I get gist.”

Y/n knew he didn’t ask for an explanation but she wanted to keep him here for just a bit longer.

“I have this thing I have to go to and I live too far away to go home and change so I need your office to get ready. I would get changed and stuff in the bathroom but the lighting is really bad, the outlets don't work, it’s smelly-”

After a quick glance at his watch he realised that he had a few vendors coming by and he needed to get back to the kitchen. “I know, that bathroom is a real shit show. I told Fak to fix it but nothing he fixes lasts for very long. The office is yours.” Carmen rushed out.

“I'm going to be here till 12 so if there is anything you need me to do before I leave just give me a holler.”

Carmen gave a nod of appreciation before his eyes lingered on her face for a second before grabbing a few papers and a clipboard and then opening the door to leave. It was stupid and childish but y/n held her breath wondering if he would be crushed to the size of a ping pong ball as soon as he left but when she heard him yelling at Richie she knew that the “alone in space” fantasy had died.

Y/n slipped out and went to her locker where she pulled out a dress, makeup and a straightening iron. She had an hour and a chance to make herself look like she just came out of a Mattel box and it was a daunting task for someone who didn’t have much experience dressing up.

Makeup was a bit of a disaster at first because she didn’t want to ruin any of Carmy’s papers but after she accidentally dabbed a bit of concealer on a light bill she just stopped giving a fuck and finished up. The hair was tricky, the outlet was near the ground and she had to crouch to straighten her hair.

The last and most daunting task was the dress because y/n was about to strip in her bosses office and although she had dreams about something this amazing, the reality was much less sexy. In a small burst of paranoia she rolled the chair over to the door so no one would walk in by accident and quickly changed. In the back of her mind all she was thinking about was the small glimmer of hope that Carmy would be the one to walk in. In reality, it would be Rich or Fak because boundaries were a foreign concept to the both of them.

And with 10 minutes to spare, y/n was done. She sprayed some perfume and hyped herself up to leave. She knew she would get teased so she wanted a smooth exit, an Irish goodbye would be perfect, fingers crossed hoping that Richie was out back so she would get out before he made these stupid jokes.

After a few deep breaths, y/n picked up her things and opened the door. The coast was clear and she made a beeline to the lockers to grab her purse, change her shoes and go. She would leave most of her stuff, because if you want to survive you have to be light, like those firefighters that ditch their equipment so that they don't get burned alive. Everyone looked busy and with a quick once over, y/n tried to walk through the kitchen. And although women and heels have had centuries of history, the heels still managed to betray her at the very end. The long sound of heel on tile brought Syd’s head up. Y/n eyes widened as she shook her head as to signal to Syd to drop it but Syd let out a playful gasp and Y/n knew that the jig was up.

“You look amazing.”

And a sea of eyes were looking at y/n.

“You get all dressed up for me?” Syd joked and for a split second y/n wondered if she could make a run for it before she realised that she would fall and crack her head open.

“Who else?” Y/n joked back hoping to get out before she was held captive by their questions.

“You look so nice, where are you headed?” Tina said as she came closer and dragged you closer to everyone.

“Umm- I was actually going to-”

“You know who you look like?” One of those women who seduces James Bond at a casino.” Sweeps commented unhelpfully. A hum of agreement was shared among the crew. Y/n’s face grew warm.

“So where are you going?”

“A date, women don't dress like that if it's not for a date” Ebra chimed in.

Another gasp, “ IS it a date, is he handsome?” Sydney probed.

“Actually, I'm not- '' Y/n tried to finish before she was interrupted.

“What type of car does he drive?”

“We'll see when he picks her up. When is he picking you up?”

“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU CLOWN JABBERING ABOUT '' Richie burst through the door to see what all the commotion was about and he looked like he was in utter disbelief.

“I didn’t know that it was possible for you could look like that”

Y/n was slightly offended.

“You normally look like death.” Richie laughed. Scratch that y/n was very offended.

“I could look like this everyday if I wasn’t in front of a stove, you clown.”

Ignoring her, Richie asked the room,“ Where is she headed?”

“A date”, Sweeps added.

“I'm going to my friends-” y/n tried to interject.

“A date huh, our little y/n is all grown up now. Soon we’ll be sending her off to college.” Wiping a fake tear and leaning on Tina for mock support, “They leave the nest so soon, it was like it was just yesterday when I saw her struggling to walk.”

“It WAS yesterday and I was only struggling because I hit my knee on the shelfs in the walk-in.”

“Who’s the guy?” Richie asked

“ Your dad.” Y/n knew it was childish and unoriginal but she was too flustered to be a bit more creative.

Richie ignores her and continues, “You know what you look like? You look like one of those girls who kills Johns”

“Are you saying I look like a prostitute?”

“A classy one for like the president and shit.”

“or an ambassador,” Ebra added.

“or a CEO,” Richie continued.

Y/n knew it was going to be tough but she wanted to get out before she was stuck forever.

“I have to go now, I’ll see you guys bright and early tomorrow. Richie you suck major ass. And just so you know, i'm not going on a-”

Carmen walked in with a clipboard and a pen not even sparing a glance up.

“Ok, I just got the beef delivered so we should have enough for Ebra till the end of the week.”

“Heard, chef”

“And Marcus”, who watched the whole thing and didn’t offer any help to y/n except the occasional chuckle.

“I have your eggs”

“Heard, chef”

Although no one said it, everyone was waiting for the moment that Carmen looked up and saw y/n. The dishwashers who never really left their stations shut off the water and were subtly watching this mess unfold.

It was the longest that y/n had seen Richie quiet. He just stared at Carmen, while hiding his mocking smile under the guise of rubbing his stubble.

“I know we are low on onions but the guy is coming in a bit so sit tight”

“Heard”

Maybe, y/n thought, she would be able to walk past Carmen unnoticed if she walked on the balls of her feet so that the heels made less noise. Y/n took a step forward to hightail it out of here so she could make it in time and even though the heel was a lot quieter then last time, the unusual silence in the kitchen made it impossible to disguise the sound.

The sound of heels on tiles brought Carmen back to reality.

He looked up and y/n didn’t know if she imagined it but she thought she saw him raise his eyebrows. And if she was really going to feed into her delusions, she would say that his eyes widened and his pupils dilated too.

All that came crashing down thought, because after a beat of silence barring the sounds of sizzling and bubbling. Carmen questioned, “I thought you would have left by now chef.”

“I got held back but I really do need to leave now. I'm going to miss you guys and I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow.” And with a quick wave y/n brushed shoulders with Carmen as she left. The smell of her perfume lingered and Carmen felt a bit dizzy.

Carmen wanted to ask where y/n was going but he didn’t want to overstep any boundaries, not when the two of you have already gotten so close. Richie had different plans, “Hey cousin guess where y/n going?”

“I don’t know cousin, that isn’t really any of our buis-”

“She is going on a date”

“A hot one” Syd chirped

“With a nice car” Ebra added

Richie’s comment felt like a ton falling on his head. Now he felt a different type of dizziness. He quickly composed himself

“Chefs, we have a dinner rush coming, now is not the time.” Carmen said with a bit of an edge.

Richie led Carmen to the front under the guise of asking a question about the tablet. The crew looked around and shared a knowing snicker.

“I can't believe that you let her go like that?” Richie added. “Right now she is in some guy's car about to get wined and dined to high heaven while you wait here with your cock in your hand like some cuck.”

“ Cuck?” Carmen said with venom, it's like he was giving Richie a chance to take it back before he killed him.

“I would be fucken pissed. I wouldn’t let someone take my girl out like that, all dressed up for someone who isn't me”

For a second Carmen imagined you sitting across from your rich new date with the nice car and the handsome face and felt like throwing up. He was angry, he was angry with this “date”, he was angry at Richie for saying all that stupid shit to get a reaction, and embarrassingly enough he was angry at y/n. He had no right to be but he just couldn’t help it.

“Richie if you don’t knock it off, I’m going to send you flying out the fucking window”

“Yes, chef.” Richie mockingly replied.

And with a swift turn Carmen returned to the kitchen with a different temperament then he had 10 minutes ago.

The dinner rush was a nightmare, but the kitchen was hell. There wasn’t a single thing that didn’t set Carmen off. He wasn’t screaming like he was with the to-go orders but he was on edge. They could feel it when they had to remake dishes because he didn’t like them, or when they had to listen to him criticise innocuous things after housekeeping. When that dinner rush ended, the crew looked like they wanted to be anywhere else but there. The second the restaurant closed, chefs cleaned as fast as they could to get the hell out of there. It was the fastest they had cleaned since the morning rush with the pre-orders.

With a quick goodbye, everyone but Carmen left the restaurant hoping that he would be in a better mood tomorrow.

Carmen did what he did every night, got on his knees and scrubbed the floor with a towel. Carmen knew it was unfair and he knew he had no right to dictate what you did. You weren’t his and he waited too long. A part of him understood where y/n was coming from, during one of their late night conversations he had mentioned that he had never had a girlfriend and he didn’t really have the time. This conversation took place some time after the two had gotten close but before he realised that he might have liked her for quite some time. Things were different now and Carmen wanted more.

He tried his best to be understanding but the thought of y/n clinging onto someone else’s arm and laughing at their stupid unfunny joke, made him livid. What if they kiss? Or what if they sleep together?” That thought made him stop scrubbing and sit on the balls of his feet and throw the wet towel with an unnecessary amount of force to another corner of the kitchen. He couldn’t do this today, he couldn’t be here. He got up and cleaned up the towel and bucket of dirty soap water and walked home.

He ended his night with a nightcap hoping that he would fall asleep easily but it didn’t work. He spent a good amount of time staring at y/n contact hovering over the call button before flaking out because it was 2 in the morning and he had to get to work at 6:30. Maybe Richie was right and he was a coward but before he could think too long, sleep had overcome him.

The restaurant was a bit of a walk away from Carmen’s house but he never minded it before, it felt like a good buffer between “Home Carmen” and “Work Carmen”. Today was different, he couldn't not think about y/n and that annoying date of her’s so for the first time in his time in Chicago he listened to music on his way to work. The music was so loud that it was just obnoxious noise and allowed him to stop worrying for a few moments. Carmen couldn’t think about y/n without feeling a bit… he didn’t know how he felt he just knew it was not a great feeling.

Being the first one in the restaurant was not new to him but it felt strange that after 30 minutes he was still the only one there, normally y/n would be there by now asking Carmen about a baking show they both happened to catch the night before, or ask what he ate for dinner last night and breakfast this morning. Carmen would always fight the urge to lie and say that he cooked something magnificent when in reality he probably ate a bag of chips and drank some flat soda. One of the things that these AA meetings emphasised was honesty, to both himself and others, and even if it was embarrassing he told you the truth. You never really judged him because you did the same thing.

After sorting through fuck ton of bills, a few of which had brown power on them and one of them had a (s/c) smudge on the corner he heard a buzz in his pocket. He looked at it hoping it was you saying that you'll be there any second.

(Y/N): I'm so sorry to do this to you but I'm going to be a bit late today, not super late but like an hour. I have to grab my extra apron from my place and I'm a bit far from there. I'll be there by 8 the latest. Again, super sorry :(

Carmen read the text a few times to check if he read that right, you were going to be late because you weren't home and slept somewhere else and needed a change of clothes. Which translated to, you were with someone else, which means you might have done something with someone else. He just stared at the text for a few more seconds before he heard the sound of the front door opening, Carmen didn’t have to look to know it was Sydney. He snapped out of it and sent back an “ok”, lowercase just to be a bit petty. Was it immature? Yes. Did he regret it? Not really.

Y/n spent the rest of her food budget for the week yesterday in a drunken haze with an uber from one side of Chicago to the other. The bachelorette party was a success and y/n was glad that her friend had a good time at the fancy restaurant that she picked out. Y/n was trying to be responsible and limit herself to a few drinks but it's hard to say no to the bride to be and before she knew it she had to leave her car at the restaurant because they took her keys and y/n and her friends crammed into an uber headed towards one of the bridesmaids houses.

Y/n woke up in a hurry, she grabbed a random shirt and joggers from her friends closet because all she had was that dress, which now had wine spilled on it. She quickly gathered her things and texted the group chat that she had to leave early so she could get to work. They would read it when they woke up. Not repeating yesterday’s mistakes she took the train to the restaurant, got her keys back and drove at illegal speeds to get to her place where she took a shower, changed back into her friends clothes because she was way behind on laundry. She took one last look in the mirror before grabbing the apron and sprinting out the door to drive to work. She got there at 7:30am and she felt like death. The hangover was finally catching up to her, and she poured herself some water from the dispenser out front. She knew everyone was in the kitchen by now. She gave herself a few more seconds of quiet before she opened the door to the kitchen and gave a quick hello and rushed towards the lockers to put her stuff in and change into her non-slip shoes and apron.

Richie raised his eyebrows. This was too good, it was too easy, all he needed was for Carmy to get out of that depressing office of his to bear witness to this.

Richie was the first to ask, “New shirt? Never seen it before? ”

“Good Morning to you Richie, if you need to know I borrowed it from my friend.”

Carmen wanted to rush out as soon as he heard your voice but he refrained. He promised himself that he would give you a bit of space to respect you and your date/boyfriend. That didn’t stop him from listening through the door.

“Some friend you got there, real close.” Richie jokes

y/n didn’t know what he was talking about, “Friends tend to be close, Richie. You would know that if you had any.” Y/n barked back.

“How was it?” Syd asked as she sliced what looked like gallons of onions.

Y/n knew that last night was probably a good night but she was so drunk then and so hungover now that it all made her a bit nauseous to think about.

“Honestly, I don't remember much but I do know it was fun.”

“Hungover?” Tina asked.

“Very, my whole body feels like i was run over by a semi”

Marcus handed y/n a gatorade before going back to work with the cakes.

“You come back to us in new clothes, showered, late, hungover, and sore. You must have one hell of a night!” Richie said louder than necessary just so that Carmen would hear, he had a feeling that Carmy was eavesdropping.

“Im telling you guys i didn’t actually go on a-”

Carmen didn’t want to hear anything after Richie spoke because he felt like he was going to hear something he didn’t want to know. He picked up a clip board, slammed the door open and began walking around.

“Chef.” Carmen said mechanically

“Chef.” Y/n replied back fully expecting this, she left early, came late and was now distracting everyone.

Y/n quickly busied herself with peeling garlic and the rest day fell back to its usual rhythm. The prep finished right before the restaurant opened and they worked on filling to-go orders along with the regular lunch and dinner orders. One thing was noticeably different to y/n, Carmen hadn’t looked or approached her once. Normally he would walk by all the chefs and ask how they were doing, checking the quality, etc but the second he got to y/n who was at the far end of the kitchen he circled back. He made comments to everyone’s dish and he had yet to even get within a 3 feet radius on y/n.

Y/n could feel that something was off and to test it, after the dinner rush she finished making one of the test items that Sydney and Carmen had wanted to try out and after a small taste she knew she killed it.

Y/n walked up to Carmen with the dish and set it down. “Can you taste it and tell me what you think?” Carmen didn’t look up, he just grabbed a fork, took a bite and said a quick “It's fine, chef”.

Y/n then looked the dish over to sydney and asked her to try it.

“It added a bit of chocolate because I read somewhere that Japanese people put chocolate in their curry”

“Chocolate huh?” Sydney grabbed a small notebook and made a note.

“It’s okay?” y/n asked.

“It's fire, chef. Great work”

In y/n mind that confirmed that something was wrong with Carmen. Y/n waited till the restaurant closed and everyone left to bring it up. It was just Carmen and y/n alone in the restaurant and y/n could feel there was something in the air.

“You don't have to stay late, you should leave early” Carmon proposed while not looking at her.

That was strange because Carmen never asked her to leave early. She walked up to Carmen who was sweeping the floor and ripped off the bandaid.

“Thanks for the offer but I want to stay with you for a bit longer.” Carmen’s grip on the broom toughened till his knuckles turned white. It was a risky thing to say and after a beat of silence y/n took the coward’s way out by diverting and changing subjects.

“I'm sorry I was so late today Carmen, are we good?”

“We're good.”

Another awkward silence.

“ I don’t think we're good, you seem, I don't know, pissed?”

“I'm good, you're good, we’re good” Carmen said by turning his attention to a very interesting onion skin on the floor.

“You didn’t say anything about the dish I made, or that I was late. Someone told me that you seemed off yesterday.”

“Was this someone named Sydney?”

“Cannot confirm or deny, Carmy”

Carmy finished sweeping and took a few steps back.

“There it is again! You keep walking away from me and not looking me in the eye.”

Carmen didn’t know that he was being obvious, he thought he was subtle because Richie would have brought it up if he wasn’t. Carmen forced himself to look up at y/n and felt like the wind was knocked right off his lungs, he really hadn’t seen her at all today and he missed her.

“You can tell me what's happening so that I can help or at the very least listen to what's wrong.” y/n offered

Carmen bent down, and started to scrub in silence. He looked like he was piecing something together and y/n didn’t want to intrude so she continued to scrub assuming the conversation was over and that they were going to spend the rest of their lives in this uncomfortable silence. A few minutes pass and then a long sigh is heard from the other end of the kitchen. Carmen looked up.

“I’ve been a bit..” Carmen started. Y/n wanted him to finish his thought before she called him a dick.

“It's been a weird day.. I know it shouldn’t but I can't help but ask..”

A pregnant pause passed.

“How was..” y/n leaned in so she could hear.

“How was your “thing” yesterday?” He spit out.

Y/n looked a bit confused, “Umm it was fine, I mean we were at a restaurant so it wasn’t anything to crazy”

“Why were you so late today?”

The other shoe dropped, “ I knew you were pissed that I was late.” With an exhale she continued “We went to dinner and then got shit faced drunk and ubered over to a friends house. I had to go by that restaurant in the morning to pick up my keys and drive to my place so I could take a shower and not smell like a walking liquor store.”

“How was he?” Carmen choked out after a few more beats of silence.

“How was who?”

“Your umm…”

“Mmm” Carmen continued.

Y/n waited but it felt like he was testing her patience,

“Your date?” Carmen finally conceded while swinging his head down.

“What date? I went to a bachelorette party with a few of my girlfriends.”

Carmen’s head shot up, “ I thought-”

“The people in here are so nosy, I kept telling them that it wasn't a date and they wouldn’t bother to listen.”

Carmen’s shoulders relaxed and he felt like he could finally look at you without feeling guilty that he was looking at another guy’s girl.

“What’s been on your mind, Carm?” Y/n probed and Carmen's shoulders tensed up again.

Y/n could feel the atmosphere change and she wanted to capitalise on it while she still could, she could trick herself into thinking that Carmy was jealous of some imaginary guy that he thought she went on a date on, when he probably was just diverting attention to avoid talking about his own problems.

More silence.

More scrubbing.

Carmen looked up with a look of determination, y/n assumed that he had finally hyped himself to tell her what has been bugging him. Although the tension was killing her she did want this moment to last for a bit longer. In this moment she could convince herself that Carmen was troubled because of her and not because work was drowning him or that he is a mess because his brother left him this shithole and left.

She wanted him to have a problem with an easy solution. If he liked her, the easy solution was that she would kiss him and tell him how much she longed for him. He would then confess how much he yearned for her and she would give all of herself to him and he would finally have a win in his life, something that wasn’t tainted by his love/hate relationship with cooking, his family, his brother. Something that he would have all to himself, her love.

Just for a few moments she repeated, that's how long she had till the dream died. This wasn’t the first time something similar had happened. They would stay late and in the comfortable beats of silence Carmen would look up with such a look of determination and y/n heart would flutter hoping for those three special words but she would get something completely different but still equally important, information about a very private part of his life whether it be the AA meetings, or the guilt he felt for resenting his brother. And everytime y/n’s heart would break a bit and then mend itself knowing that even if she couldn't have him like she wanted to, she would still be important to him.

That type of relationship, friendship, used to be enough, but not anymore. With his plans to change The Bear he was getting further and further away from her. It used to feel like it was the two of them but y/n was starting to wonder if she was going to be left behind. If she would stay friends for a while until the longing grew too strong and y/n would leave The Bear. Even if Carmen misses her for a while, y/n knew he would bounce back like he always did and she would slowly be replaced by Sydney or whoever. The thought that in a few years he will have learned to cope with his grief and trauma and move on from the past, move on from y/n, and maybe settle down with someone else made y/n feel like throwing up.

This time y/n didn’t fall for Carmen's “look”, she had a neutral face and was ready to hear what Carmen's issues were. She wouldn’t assume that she was going to get a confession. This time she will help him with his problems and move on from this one-sided crush. Maybe she WILL go on a few dates to forget about him.

“Carmen, do you want to talk about it?We don’t have to do anything you don't want to.”

Determination morphed into apprehension.

“I am feeling something, it is n-n-not…” He exhaled through his nose.

”It's selfish y/n. I'm being selfish. You have every right to do whatever you want but I..”

Y/n tried to look as comforting as possible trying her best to hide any confusion, if Carmen was any other person she would ask if he was sober right now because he was a total mess.

“I’ve never done this before, and I-” and he ran his palm through his hair.

Y/n refrained from thinking about how amazing he looked under the fluorescent lights with his tousled hair and apprehensive gaze. He could bring up his nightmares or sleepwalking, and she would feel so guilty for perving over his eyes.

“You looked very nice in that dress yesterday.” Y/n felt like a lump was forming in her throat. He was going to say something like this and think it's an off handed comment but she would go to the bathroom and cry because she knew nothing would come from it. Y/n thought it was a bit cruel.

“You looked so beautiful yesterday it was hard for me to look at you without making a fucking idiot out of myself. I wanted to run over to you and tell you that as soon as you left but Richie told me you're going on a date and it was…”

Carmen continued, “You are special and you deserve someone who isn’t…me. And you're free to do whatever and if this is completely …wrong…bad…i don't know, just stop me and we will never talk about this ever again…”

He searched y/n’s eyes looking for a sliver of doubt or disgust but he was met with glassy eyes and a look that longed for him to continue.

“When I thought you were going on that date I knew that I couldn’t not have you and that made me feel….” A sigh reverberated through the kitchen.

“ I like you…romantically.” Carmen uttered.

Y/n didn’t say or do anything for a moment, she spent a few moments wondering if she was hallucinating or dreaming. And in a moment of pure adrenaline, she scooted over to Carmen who was still on the floor before cupping his face in her hands and whispered, “Can I kiss you?”

The kiss wasn't electrifying; it felt like a wave of warmth seeped into every corner of their beings. It felt like dipping your hand in warm water after shovelling the show, the type of warmth that sends shivers down your spine. Y/n fingers get lost in his wavy hair and his hands hesitate, not knowing where they should go before landing one on her hip and the other on the back of her neck to pull her closer. Y/n heart was beating so hard she wondered stupidly if he could hear it, Carmen was wondering something similar. They slowly pulled away for air before getting a good look at each other, both their lips were swollen and red and their eyes were dazed.

Y/n knew he was a flighty person, one wrong move and he would go running for the hills so she refrained from asking if they were dating now, this could have just been a one time thing and she didn’t want to ruin it. Thankfully Carmen held her hand and stroked it with her thumb before swinging his head down and looking up at her.

“I want to be with you y/n”

“I like you too, Carmen, for a very long time.” And their lips meet once again.

Y/n resisted the urge to say that she only bought the dress in the hopes that he would take it off of her, that was a story for another time.

“Let's get you home” Carmen mumbled into her lips, the vibrations and the friction making her lips burn in sensitivity.

Carmen helped y/n get up before they both packed up their stuff and headed out the door. Both hiding the smile of triumph from each other, not really knowing how much the other loves them yet, and only time would remedy that.

2K notes · View notes

moonchildxoxx · 10 months ago

Text

Zeykoyu tu yawnyewla

A/N: You are responsible for your own media consumption. MDNI 18+ MDNI 18+ I usually don't post on Tuesday but since it's my birthday figured why not hop you all enjoy it . the reader and So'lek were hooking up prier to this and the tittle meant to say healer of broken heart in na'vi Pairing: So'lek x Sarentu! Reader Word count: 1.8K Synopsis: so'lek comes to realize that he really cares about the reader and even loves her after hooking up for a while. [ Request are open] Master List Rules

So’lek had returned from a scouting mission gone and was pretty banged up.( Y/N) had offered to clean him up she thought it would be quick but she was wrong he was squirming around as she applied the paste to his wounds. She sat on his lap cleaning the cuts on his chest as he held her by the plush of her hips. Everyone was out of the Na’vi quarters so they had some time for themselves ." Oh ... ouch!! Ouch!! Stop pulling so hard." He hissed out as his tail wagged and his ears pinned back obviously upset.

"You are acting like a big baby ." She cooed softly but teasing was evident in her tone.

He did not look happy .” He was covered head to toe in bruises, cuts and scars. The damage he'd sustained during fights and missions was clear .

"Ah..." He sighed as she checked him over, he was still annoyed that she babied him around after missions but didn't say anything. He was slightly annoyed and was tempted to just stand up with her still sitting on his lap and see what she'd do .She flicked his ear. He jerked his head to the side, frowning. "Did you seriously just do that?" The ear flick hadn't hurt but it had annoyed him. "Complain again and I make you go see the healer's instead"

"Shut up" he hissed through gritted teeth, his tail wrapped tightly around her leg but this time it was out of frustration rather than him being sweet and protective. She hissed back at him "You've been bossing me around since you joined the resistance." He scowled, one eyebrow lifted. "And I let you . But not when I'm injured."

“Stop being a big baby and just sit still "He glared but said nothing, his jaw tightening as he kept himself still and let her see to his wounds. He stayed quiet the whole time because for some unexplained reason, her telling him what to do had him feeling all sorts of ways. Was he beginning to... like it?

“See you need stitches on the one on your back, it's deep enough” she spoke . He sighed quietly and just allowed her to continue fixing him up.

Eventually when she finished his injuries he looked up at her, his expression a mix of

embarrassment and annoyance. "You know the worst part about this, " he grumbled. “ you're a jackass,” she bit back . That just made him snigger, his breath warm as he leaned in even closer until her lips were almost grazing. "I might be an ass but in your eyes I'm the most perfect one." She smiled and kissed him. He chuckled but kissed back softly, enjoying it despite himself.She finished cleaning his wounds. He groaned quietly and looked down at her.

"I can't believe a warrior of your stature is cleaning my cuts." He tried getting a raise from her. “ And I can't believe a man of your age is whining again" That made him snap out of it, looking down at her with a mocking smirk. "You are lucky I like that mouth of yours." He teased as he leaned back against the wall of the hut, letting one arm rest behind his head while the other was still wrapped around her waist. "You're lucky I like grumpy old men" she teased "Old?!" He barked, his tail whipping around furiously. '... I AM NOT OLD." She giggled a bit kissing the side of his face where a scare ran from the top of his cheek down to his chin "Shut up." He hissed as he rubbed his scarred cheek, his tail wrapping around your leg again before tightening to make sure she wouldn't go anywhere.

She kissed him , His anger faded away as he kissed back softly. His pride wasn't going to let him admit that she took care of him and him liking it, but deep down he did love it when she did things for him like braiding his hair or healing him after a fight it made him feel appreciated.

He'd never admit it though. She nuzzled him

all of his anger melted away in that moment, he wrapped his arms around her pulling hee closer, he wanted her in his orbit, always. He didn't want to let her out of his sight or his arms, this is how he'd felt for months now, he only cared for her .

He felt protective over her like she was his and only his. She tucked her head underneath his chin. He hissed again but couldn't help but to smile softly as one of his hands came to rest on the back of her neck the other on her head.

He didn't want to let her go, he just wanted her to be close to him and comfortable. She trailed kisses along his throat. He growled again but this time it wasn't an angry one, it was a low moan. One hand moved down to her back, the other wrapping around her upper body pulling her closer. “ Maybe we should take this somewhere more private?" She suggested "Hm...and what do I get out of it?" He asked teasingly. “Mmm what do you want?” She countered

"Hm...to make you mine permanently." He smirked as he ran his thumb over her lips, waiting for her answer . She looked at him shocked "I want you to want only me ...l want your love ... I want your trust... your body.... I want it all." He told her, and he did. He loved her and he didn't want to share her with anyone else but him.

He was more possessive of her then she probably realized, and saw him as a grumpy old man but he was much more than that in her eyes he was Na'vi who truly cared about her . He'd never admit it but she was his biggest soft spot and he didn't know how to handle his emotions around her .

"I....." she tried finding the right words But he wasn't letting her off that easy "Well??" He smirked as he leaned down slightly, putting his face right in front of hers. She nodded yes. That was all he needed to hear, his lips pressed against hers hard and deeply as he brought her closer, wrapping his arms around her and resting her on his lap where he held her like she was the most important thing in the entire world, which she was to him.

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

267 notes · View notes

theycalledhimastar · 8 months ago

Note

I demand your take on ABO 141 with a male reader PLEASE, there's never any good male stuff

Bestie do NOT give me this kind of brainrot, but also I accept the gift graciously-

Also, I had no idea what you wanted the male reader to be so there's a bit of everything so everyone's happy :) They come off a little oc-ish to me, the way I did the reader but oh well, I like it.

Forgive me for anything I got wrong, I'm not an A/B/O master guys. This was way longer than I initially planned, lol. Enjoy!

Omegaverse!141 x Male reader!!!

I'm not the most bright brained alright, I agree with literally everyone else and I think Price and Ghost would both be Alphas with Gaz and Soap being betas, it just makes sense in my mind. The two Alphas need the cool-headed inbetweens to keep them from toppling everything and/or butting heads from too much hormones going around.

They're all fairly skeptical about yet another person joining them for any given reason, four people is plenty and having yet another person in the fray, while it might be helpful sometimes, is a bit of a balancing act to fit into their already perfect schedule. Changing things to accommodate you, while not the worst thing, isn't the most easy feat for everyone. Especially depending on what you are...

☄. *.

You were an Alpha, purebred, built like a brick wall and about as stubborn as one too. Although you weren't loud about it, you weren't going to let people forget tat you were not to be messed with. Raised with a bit of an ego as most purebred Alphas were, you knew you were destined for greatness from the moment you presented. Started physical and mental training as soon as you were old enough, the goal had always been the military for you, no doubts about it. But you had never imagined, in all your wildest dreams, that you would be a part of the task force.

Most people, upon first glance, would likely assume you fit right in, but shoehorning you in with two other alphas was way harder than anticipated, seeing as you immediately began trying to prove yourself before you had gotten settled in. Which, would have been adorable if you weren't so damn stubborn about it.

Ghost is working out? You join him without a second thought, attempting to lift twice as much as what he's doing. Of course, his numbers were already nothing to scoff at, so all you truly succeeded in, was nearly dropping the weight on your foot and damaging your precious alpha pride. "You alright there tough guy?" Ghost seemed amused by your ambitious failure.

"Shut up." Was all you growled in retaliation, storming off to go sulk elsewhere.

Soap is practicing at the range with Gaz? You grab a pistol and try to show off just how capable you are with it, easy right? Not really. You fumble in a way you weren't even sure you understood, and to put it simply, you missed the target significantly and blew an entire round trying to make amends. By the time you had finished it, the sergeants were trying not to lose their composure and die laughing at your cockiness despite it all. Damnit, you could normally do this all so easy, what the hell was wrong!? You set down the weapon with a nearly frightening calmness despite the seething rage in your chest that demanded respect as an alpha. Your self-righteous upbringing had done you no good now as you stormed off to go beat the shit out of the next inanimate object that pissed you off.

"How exactly did he make it here?" "Eh, cap says he's good. Let 'im cool off, I'm sure he knows what he's doin."

There was no cooling off, of course, as you ended up nearly punching a hole in the wall as you had graciously slammed into the doorway in your blind rage, smacking yourself square in the nose and nearly toppling over in pain. That was, quite honestly, the last straw for your dignity as you snarled something ferocious. Not caring that it had been rather close to the Captain's office until you were unceremoniously yanked back by your scruff, held face-to-face with the unamused John Price. Although you were an alpha, even you couldn't quite deny the effect his scent had on you now. Not one of anger, but certainly not a playful one either. He was projecting his authority, silently telling you to quiet down a little and stop being such a loudmouth showoff. Shame and something akin to an excited fear sparked briefly in the pit of your stomach before you cleared your throat and swallowed hard.

"Captain." You nodded shortly, not missing the way his hand tightened around the back of your neck.

"Heard you've been causing a bit of a ruckus for the others, been busy?" He raised a thick brow, making you swallow back your nerves. You attempted to shoot back some of your own alpha scent, but it felt puny and overpowered entirely by his.

"Not intentionally, sir."

"Let's settle down a little, you've barely been here a week, quit causing trouble or I'll have to take care of your behavior myself. Got it?" He leans close, you could swear he was breathing on the back of your neck now and you know for a fact your heart is racing for reasons you don't think are fear.

Not wanting to find out what he means by that just yet, you give a quick nod that seems to satisfy him enough to let you go. Allowing you to scamper back to your room, the adrenaline cushioning what was going to be a very hurt ego when it settled in that you had been grabbed by the collar and scolded like a child. Damnit, you would prove yourself one way or another...

☄. *.

You were a Beta, always being told you were unremarkable, nearly always forgotten in the squabble between Alphas and Omegas. So, in an effort to at least be something impressive to yourself, you took to bulking up. Genetics and luck both seemed to favor you as you certainly bulked up. To the point where you were constantly mistaken for an Alpha by anyone that didn't truly know you. If they did, they would know that you were far more of the beta disposition in reality. Laid back, cheerful, extroverted enough to make friends, but not gratingly so. The perfect addition to the task force at first glance...

Minus the fact that you were both clumsy, and a little bit ditsy from time to time.

Sure, you weren't incapable, you could definitely hold your own in battle. But it seemed that when the adrenaline wasn't pumping through your veins, you were a tangle of long limbs and jumbled thoughts. It was obvious that you weren't trying to be a mess, but the others seemed to assume you were up to something. Surely, a mountain of a man like you, such a capable Beta on the battlefield, can't be such a... dolt in real life, right?

The same man they had witnessed absolutely nail a small squadron all by his lonesome, had momentarily forgotten how to lace his boots after unlacing them entirely to replace them. And had practically tied his feet together.

"You think he knows he's doin' it wrong?" "Oh he has to by now... right?" "Guys, did I get it? I'm so confused, why is this so weird!?"

Not to say you were entirely unaware of yourself, you knew you were scatterbrained at times. But you didn't know that they had assumed you were taking them for a fool sometimes. The sergeants decided to confront you about it, with Soap cornering you after a particularly amusing incident.

"Mate, ye know we've seen ye on the field right?" He sighed, running his fingers through his overgrown curls. "uhh, yeah?" You kind of stared between the two of them, completely confused as to where the conversation was going. Gaz snuck behind you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder in a friendly manner. "Right, so you don't have to act like a total numpty off the field, you aren't foolin' anyone anymore." He chuckled, nudging your head with his playfully. It would have been a comforting thing, except for the fact that you had no clue what they were on about. "What do you mean?" "Stop acting like such a hare-brained dingus. Just be yourself, mate." He shook your shoulders gently, the two staring at you so earnestly, just trying to convince you to just be yourself around them. "Oh... About that..."

Of course after that, they both felt really bad and you had to explain for over an hour that no, it wasn't on purpose, yes, you were that messy sometimes, and no, you weren't mad for their assumption. Although Ghost certainly seemed to find it hilarious that you were such a gentle giant, and a total hot mess express. Not that he told you that, truth be told, he didn't feel the need to talk to you much off of the field. Not because he didn't like you, he simply felt you fit in so well with the betas and he didn't want to throw off things. Although he did want to know how you had gotten so huge naturally.

Price thinks you're downright precious with the stark contrast between on and off duty with you. It's like you become a completely different person and he can't help but smell the scent of a content beta every time he tells you that you've done him good. He was certain that everyone could tell just how excited you were when he referred to you as "his good lad". It was a simple nickname, rolled off his tongue before he could stop it, but you nearly lit up in elation. So now not only him, but everyone else makes an attempt to give you subtle little praises like that just to see you get all giddy, and to this date you have yet to notice, or at least say anything about it.

☄. *.

You were an omega, not what any of them expected when they were told that someone would be joining them, as omega were notoriously... well... Violence avoidant to put it simply. But you were not the type that wanted to feed into stereotypes. You wanted any excuse to not become some boring old stay-at-home omega that took care of children and housework. The parts of the world you had grown up in were very traditional and expected just that of you. "Settle down with a nice Alpha, have babies, live the peaceful life." Yeah right, it was like they didn't even know what you wanted.

So, in an effort to escape that life, you decided to enlist, and it turned out that you were... actually kinda good at it despite it all. Your fight or flight chose to flee more often than not, but that meant you were quick on your feet despite the stomach churning levels of anxiety that pulsed through your veins at any given moment. Your adrenaline raced and kept you moving before you could chicken out, and that made you a damn good soldier.

Off field was a different story but that didn't really matter seeing as you liked minding your own business and having your own space more often than not.

When you first met all of them, the aura of two alphas was quite a lot, especially as it seemed at least Ghost was projecting a little bit more than he needed to, getting across the point that there was an order to the way things were and you needed to not ruin that. (He's just nervous having an omega around as he isn't used to it and he isn't sure exactly how to act around you.)

Gaz is rather quick to step in and soothe you with his beta scent, like warm coffee and vanilla and something distinct that you hadn't ever smelled before. But it soothed your racing nerves and made you feel a little less alienated. Although with a nudge from John, Ghost realized he was only successfully scaring you, and he cut it out just as quickly.

Johnny is excited to have an omega around, although he doesn't really treat you any different than Gaz. It's the equivalent of short people acting different when they're around someone shorter than them, yknow? Like he doesn't see you as beneath him, he just knows you're different than anything he's been around and he's nosey about absolutely everything.

"Do all Alphas scare you?" "No... why would they?" "I dunno, it seemed like every omega I met before was either addicted to Alphas or terrified of em." "Uh, no, I think you just knew weird people before."

Another thing, is that Price seems to view you as a sort of stray cat. Skittish if anyone approached you a little too loudly or excitedly, but plenty sweet if they got to know you. At least, that was how it was in his head. In reality, you were just an introverted guy who wanted to at least get along with his teammates and they thought you were the cutest thing ever. Sometimes, John would call you into his office just to tell you that he noticed your hard work and he was proud of you. He loved the way your cheeks flushed whenever he got close or projected his scent a little extra, filling the room with the scent of expensive cigars and warm, woody cologne. It made you a little fuzzy int eh head and he could tell, so he avoided using it. But the face you made when you got all spacey and distracted during meetings because you were sandwiched between him and Ghost, it was just too good to resist.

"You alright there sergeant?" "Yes sir, all-all good." "You look a little flushed, you sure you're not coming down with something?" He pressed the back of his hand to your forehead, trying not to smile wider when your eyes widened just slightly. "Positive, Captain..." You squeaked.

#cod x reader #cod mw2 #call of duty #gaz cod #john price #captain john price #captain price #kyle gaz garrick #johnny soap mctavish x reader #johnny soap mactavish #Omegaverse #cod omegaverse #omega reader #alpha reader #beta reader #fanfic writing

292 notes · View notes

holylulusworld · 1 year ago

Text

Big girls don't cry (2)

Summary: You are no stranger to heartbreak.

Pairing: CEO!Steve Rogers x Plussized!Reader

Warnings: angst, strong reader, mentions of former heartbreak, arguments, heartbreak, almost violence

Big girls don’t cry masterlist

<< Part 1

Steve’s whole world just exploded. His life lies in shambles because of one stupid mistake.

After he lied to his friends to make them shut up, he lost you. And now, the chairman of his company is yelling at him. But Steve doesn’t care.

He can only think of you, the only woman he ever truly loved. You didn’t answer his calls and sent the roses he ordered for you right back.

“I told you that I don’t want to use my girlfriend to get closer to Harlan Thrombey,” Steve yells back. “You pressured me into meeting her grandmother to charm her. Now my girlfriend hates me, and Harlan Thrombey will never agree to sell his company to you.”

“Mr. Rogers, must I remind you that your position and fate are in my hands?” Alexander Pierce sneers at Steve. He cannot employ someone weak who puts feelings first. “Do still want your job, or is some pussy more important to you? Did that chubby bitch cloud your mind—”

Alexander Pierce doesn’t know what hit him when he ends up on the ground. His nose was broken, and more so his pride.

“Fuck this job,” Steve looks down at Alexander, the man he used to admire. “I can’t do this job anymore. And I won’t. I hate my job, and I hate what you made me do. So many jobs…no not only jobs but lives ruined because of your greed. I’m out of this!”

Steve storms out of the office, cursing himself for ever wanting to follow in Pierce’s footsteps. He’s not the same man he was six months ago. No. You’ve changed his whole life for the better.

“I need to get her back,” he decides there and then to not give up until you are back in his arms.

“Babydoll, I know you are in there!” Steve rams his fist into your door. “Please, I fucked up big time. But I love you, Y/N. Please…I need you.”

“Eat shit,” you yell from inside your penthouse. He can rot in hell for what he did to you. “Get away from my door or I swear you will taste my baseball bat today.”

“I won’t go. If I must, I’ll camp outside your home. It’s cozy out here,” Steve tries to sound confident. “I got food, and sweets, and a soft blanket.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” you open the door size Steve up. He looks like he hasn’t slept for days. His hair is a mess, and the suit he’s wearing has seen better days. “Get away from me and my home. There is nothing left to say.”

“I didn’t go out with you to get in your grandma’s good graces. I swear, until my boss brought it up, I didn’t know she was friends with Harlan Thrombey. I refused to use my relationship to get the deal.”

“You know, out of all the shitty guys I met in my life, you are the worst. At least the others had the guts to tell me that they only used me. They never spoke about love,” you huff when Steve dares to take one step toward you.

“I love you, please,” he tries but you shove him away. “Y/N, it was stupid of me to say those things to get Bucky to leave. I swear on my mom’s grave, it’s not true. You mean the world to me.”

“If you don’t want me to break your dick with my baseball bat, you get out of my sight Rogers,” you point at his crotch. “It’s a nice dick, and it’d be a shame if he gets damaged because of the asshole carrying him between his legs.”

Steve would laugh about the way you talk about his cock. Sadly, you are dead serious about hurting him. “Please give me five minutes, baby doll.”

“The fuck no,” you shake your head. “I’ve got no time to waste on a man using me to make even more money. Where everyone has a heart, you’ve got a cold and rotten lump in your chest.”

“I quit my job.” Steve reaches out for you. “I never wanted to hurt you or use you. I swear this is all a misunderstanding. Bucky was nagging, and I wanted him to stop making fun of me for being in love.”

“You mean for being in love with the fat girl,” you snap at Steve. “I heard all of this before. You’re nice, and your face is pretty for a fat girl. If only you’d lose some weight we could be more than friends.”

“Whoa, baby! Where is this coming from?” Steve raises his hands in surrender. “Bucky is not that kind of guy, neither am I. I love you for yourself. Your size never mattered to me…or it does because damn, do you know how I love burying my face between your tits? You are perfect the way you are.”

How you wish Steve’s words were true. You know better than trusting a man with your heart. “No, I’m not. Not to you and the likes of you.” You shrug. “It’s fine. Not everyone can handle a woman like me. The difference is, you pretend to like, no love me, for a deal.”

“No-“ he sniffs. “Can we not talk, doll? Did you even listen? I quit my job and hit my boss for you.”

“Sure,” you sneer. “I want you to leave and never come back. If I see your face around here ever again, you will regret your birth.”

You slam the door in his face, locking it. No man breaks your heart and gets away with it. If he won’t leave you alone, you’ll make sure that he regrets messing with you…

>> Part 3

Tags in reblog.

#Big girls don't cry (2)#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #ceo!steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x y/n #angst

409 notes · View notes

mrzombielover · 10 months ago

Text

- slow ride ch1

feat. sinner!adam x fem!hotel worker!reader

series masterlist | next chapter

warnings: NSFW, enemies to fuckbuddies, adam and reader both suck, unhealthy relationships, size kink oooops, light degradation

a/n: oh my god this is so self indulgent. something is fr wrong with me bc all my favorite men are irrevocably fucked up and toxic and emotionally damaged and would treat me like shit teehee

wc: 2.2k

“You took my shame and you took my pride / And now you gonna take me for a slowride”

When even Charlie is trepidatious about checking someone in to the hotel, you know they’ve fucked up bad.

Adam had shown up, tail between his legs, admitting something about how he’s “desperate enough to try anything,” even this “stupid delusional humiliating hotel.”

Charlie, who’s more like an angel than Adam ever was, had ultimately decided that he could stay. After a lengthy and heated discussion, she’d reminded the group that the hotel’s policy states that everyone deserves a chance at redemption, regardless of the sins they’ve committed. Considering he killed your friend, you thought that was bullshit, but it’s Charlie’s hotel at the end of the day, and you’re just along for the ride.

You like Charlie, which is why you put up with having Adam around. She’s a good person- genuinely, deep down. There’s no hidden motives in her actions. You’ve not met many good people in your life, so she’s won your respect, even if you have your doubts about the hotel’s premise.

But for as much as you love her, you briefly questioned her sanity when she asked you to keep a special eye on Adam.

“…and how exactly is that the job of treasury secretary?” You deadpan.

“Wellll…” Charlie trails off, looking away for a moment. “It isn’t really. Buuut what if I was asking as a favor, for your friend?” She clasps her hands together, giving you a smile. You have to avert your eyes from the hopeful look on her face before your resolve cracks.

“No way in hell,” You say quickly.

“Please!”

“No,”

“Pleaseee!”

You bite your lip as you think. He’s obnoxious, yes, but what’s really the worst that could happen? You close your eyes and sigh.

“…you owe me one,”

You regret accepting every day. Nobody got along with Adam. Well, nobody except for Nifty, who seemed thrilled to have a real bad boy staying in the hotel. You, however, got along with him the least of all.

For someone who’d come to the hotel in his time of need- who was in no position to ask for anything other than forgiveness- Adam sure has a smartass mouth. It seems Charlie just wants to give you a brain aneurysm, that’s why she gave you this job. Even if that wasn’t her goal, that’s certainly the stage you’re approaching, because fighting with Adam everyday is 100% going to make you pop a blood vessel.

You can’t help it. Something about him- the way he acts, the forced proximity, just gets under your skin, makes your eye twitch. He should be groveling, begging for forgiveness, putting his heart and soul into bettering himself, yet all he does is bitch and moan. Constantly complaining would be one thing, hell’s full of whiners, but he also feels the need to voice every thought he’s ever had, which often includes insults and snide remarks about those around him. You’ve never been one to take that shit- though, nobody at the hotel really does. It seems to be much worse with you two, specifically, though.

The problem comes in because, as much as you hate to admit it, you might sometimes occasionally have some things in common with him. No, you’re not quite as loud or crude or obnoxious, you don’t generally insult people for fun, but if someone deserves it?

You’ve tore into people for way less than murdering your friend, showing up on your doorstep and being a pain in your ass 24/7, especially if you’re in a particularly shitty mood. Reduced people to tears for mildly inconveniencing you, having an annoying voice, wasting food, etc etc… all of which Adam does.

Generally, you’re apathetic to what goes on around you, especially at the hotel. You’re fed, don’t have to pay rent, and can pretty much do whatever you want, so dealing with the annoying, traumatized, dramatic residents and staff is a fair trade off in your eyes. Adam should, in theory, be no different than the rest of them to you. So you cannot, for the life of you, figure out what about him makes him so much worse than the rest.

You just try not to think about him as much as possible. But when you ignore him, he just seems to get worse.

“Jesus, you don’t think it’s a bit early to start drinking?”

You mentally groan as you hear his voice, avoiding eye contact as you crack open the bottle.

“I mean, Isn’t this shithole supposed to be for rehabilitation?” You can practically hear the smirk in his voice as he opens the fridge.

“Why don’t you focus on your own rehab first, dick? Been weeks now and you’re still an asshole,” You snap, before taking a swig of your beer. He shrugs, grabbing the orange juice from the fridge and placing it on the counter. He walks past where you’re leaning on the counter to get a glass.

“I mean, damn, you didn’t even try today, huh?”He laughs.

“Why are you pickin’ a fight with me right now?” You raise your voice a little, exasperated and too hungover to deal with this.

“oh, uh, i dunno… i’m bored?” He shrugs again, looking over to you with a self satisfied smile. You groan in frustration, then sigh, forcing yourself to keep it together.

“…and you wonder why your wives left you,” you mumble with a roll your eyes, turning to quickly leave the kitchen. you don’t see his face, but judging from the sound of a crash and footsteps quickly following you into the hallway, you hit a nerve. oh, god, here we go…

“you fucking junkie bitch!” he yells after you as you stomp up the stairs.

“you’re proving my point right now!” you say over your shoulder.

“Like you have room to talk? Let’s bring up your love life, huh?!”

“oh my god shut up!” Angel yells through the door as you pass his room. “Every fuckin’ morning with you two!”

Adam ignores him, continuing to rant as he follows closely behind you, every degrading name he can think of spilling from his lips.

“…fucking whore cunt- whose not even fucking listening to me!” he says as you turn into your room. you turn, attempting to slam the door, but he sticks his foot in the gap and grabs the door, shoving it back open.

“what in the fuck is your problem today?!” you yell.

“it’s you, bitch!”

“oh my god- how do you care about anything this much? Seriously, it’s not that deep!”

you jump a little as he suddenly slaps the beer bottle out of your hands, the glass shattering loudly and the leftover beer soaking your socks. your jaw drops, outraged, and you can’t help the reflex to reach up and smack the side of his head.

“ow!” he yelps, and you raise your fists to hit him again, when-

“you- fucking bitch-!” he shouts. you cry out in surprise as he grabs your wrists and yanks you with surprising ease, shoving you roughly into the wall behind you.

theres a struggle, both grunting with the strain of pushing against each other as Adam wrestles to keep the upper hand. You go to knee him, but he moves quicker, slotting one of his legs between your own and pressing his body against yours to pin you completely against the wall.

then, something changes. he pauses, the close proximity seems to have finally registered in his brain. his eyes widen and you pause too, both panting, faces inches apart. his grip loosens, and a flicker of confusion crosses his features.

“wait, what’s-“

“shut up,” you snap suddenly. before you even realize what you’re doing, your hands are on his chest, and you’re shoving him towards your bed.

“take off your shirt,” you command as the back of his knees hit the mattress and he’s falling backwards. he quickly does as you say, looking up at you with wide eyes as you straddle him and rip your own shirt off as well. he mumbles a nice when he sees you’re not wearing a bra. you reach to tug off the sweatpants you had on, and as soon as you can kick them away Adam’s hands are on your waist and flipping you over. He hurriedly rips off the rest of his clothes before he’s back on you, leaning down to eagerly press kisses down your neck. you have to tilt your head to make room for the horns now permanently attached to his head, and you think of the irony of this situation.

the sound of fabric ripping followed immediately by two of his fingers finding your clit makes you gasp. you bite back a whimper as he begins to rub rough and sloppy circles on your clit. the pleasure doesn’t last long before he’s pulling his hand back, only to shove a finger inside your cunt quickly, and you gasp again. being so unprepared, the stretch burns a bit. fuck, has he always had such big hands? he’s gentle at first, as he works the single finger in and out of you, and once the pain subsides, he quickly adds a second one.

“Oh, fuck,” you can’t help the curse that slips past your lips, and before long you’re rocking your hips against his hand. his movements are rushed and sloppy, impatient as he stretches you out. he chuckles dryly, and you shoot him a glare.

once again, before long, he’s pulling away, and grabbing you by the shoulders to make you sit up with him. you whine involuntarily at the loss of contact, and the cocky bastard laughs again.

“So impatient, babe,” He grins.

“Shut up,” You say again, pushing him so that he’s sitting up against the bed frame. You crawl over to him, and straddle his lap. His hands find your ass, groping it roughly while you grab the base of his cock and align the tip with your entrance.

You both gasp in unison when you swiftly lower yourself to take his full length. A strangled moan escapes from your lips and you let your head fall forward to rest on his shoulder. Eyes squeezed shut, you wait so you can adjust to his size. Seriously, how had you never noticed how big he was before now? Prematurely, Adam angles his hips and suddenly thrusts up into you, making you cry out in pain and pleasure.

“Oh you like that, bitch? Huh?” He says teasingly, running his hands up and down your back before moving his hips again.

“You have seriously got to learn to be quiet,” You retort through gritted teeth, reaching up to pull his hair from the roots. He lets out a groan, followed by a more pathetic whine as you begin to move on his length.

It must be all the pent up emotion, because you’re very quickly unable to speak beyond a few curses and wanton moans. Adam however, can’t seem to stop talking. Mumbling about how good you feel- for a whore, how he didn’t think you’d be so tight, how you’re so fucking sexy he wishes he’d done this sooner.

“Ugh, Adam- shut up!” You groan as you move desperately. He whines as you pull his hair again for emphasis, biting his lip as you feel his hips snap up into yours.

“Oh, god-“ You’re squealing, back arching as you can feel your whole body tense. You’re on top, but as you grow more limp, he’s holding you upright as he roughly fucks into you. “I’m close!” You warn, and it comes out a strangled sob.

You’re so, so close. Euphoria clouds your brain, and collapse onto him as he continues to hold you up to thrust into you.

You fall backwards, and Adam follows, caging you underneath him as he chases his own release now.

“oh- fuck- don’t stop!” You’re practically screaming as your orgasm crashes over you, and you wrap your arms around and claw at Adam desperately, fingernails leaving marks on his fleshy back. You only faintly register the breathless laugh he lets out at your state as he now pounds into you.

He slams into you with an intensity that forces the air out of your lungs, and even Adam can’t form thoughts or speak anymore.

“Oh, fu-uuck, fuck, fuck, oh my god,” He can’t believe the noises that are coming from him, but he also can’t find it in himself to care when you feel this good. You’re so sensitive, and still tight from your previous climax, and he can feel your pulse in the walls of your cunt as you clench around him.

Pleasure quickly turns to overstimulation, and you moan his name again, reaching up to pull at his hair, horns, wings, anything, as tears begin to prick at your eyes. Hearing you moan his name, seeing the look on your face, knowing he’s the one doing this to you is what he needed to send him over the edge.

“o-oh my god-“ he groans, hips stuttering as he presses his body as close to yours as possible, spilling his cum deeply inside of you with an actual moan.

He stays still for a moment, both of your breathing labored, sweat making your hair stick to your foreheads and necks, but you stay holding eachother. While both your brains are still fuzzy, thoughts muddled from the aftershocks, he takes a hand up and wipes your hair away from your face, and the tears from your eyes.

Eventually, he sits up and pulls out of you, rolling over to lay next to you on the bed. Neither of you say anything, too fucked out to think of the repercussions from your actions.

#!my stuff #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #adam x reader #ok how do i tag this…#first man adam #first man adam x reader #idfk idc #!not sfw #female reader #this is like so cringe LMFAO #it’s ok tho idc😜

264 notes · View notes

pookalicious-hq · 3 months ago

Text

blue velvet... jinx x reader

next | masterlist

synopsis: two girls trapped within a world full of hate would do anything for eachother. too bad they're both crazy. tags/tws: mentions of mental health illnesses, mention of suicide, blood and gore, mc has split personalities word count: 2.5k a/n: this is a start to my jinx x reader series that i'm planning on making, lmk if you like it loves mwah.

You laid flat on the rooftop, the rain pouring down in heavy sheets, each drop landing with a soft patter before joining the steady flow that ran across the stone. The water soaked through your clothes, turning your skin cold, but you barely noticed. The downpour was like a thick, weighty blanket, wrapping you in a cocoon of sound that muffled the world beyond. The constant rhythm of the rain against the roof matched your heartbeat, slow and steady, while the distant rumble of thunder vibrated through the air, a low and soothing hum.

Above you, the sky was a swirling mass of dark, ragged clouds, woven tightly together and swallowing any hint of light from the city below. The scent of wet stone and earth filled the air, sharp and fresh, mingling with the metallic tang that came with every crackle of lightning.

Water pooled around your body, gathering in shallow dips on the rooftop, but you didn’t shift or move to avoid it. Huge wings lay limp at your sides, the once-soft feathers plastered to the surface, weighed down by the relentless rain. They felt heavy, but not in a way that burdened you—more like the sensation grounded you to the earth beneath.

You closed your eyes, the cold wetness of your soaked clothes and skin fading away. In its place, warmth blossomed in your chest with each roll of thunder, spreading through your limbs like a quiet fire. The storm was a comfort, a reminder of who you used to be. Here, exposed and uncaged, with the sky as your only ceiling, you felt a sense of peace she rarely found in Zaun’s suffocating depths.

A poor bird with no room to fly had found solace within your element. The rain could not trap you; the storm could not harm you—it was part of yourself, the only place where you felt free.

If not for the nagging bruise forming on the side of her torso, you might as well have fallen asleep. With a tired sigh, you tugged your shirt up slightly, just enough to inspect today’s damage. The faint glow of distant lightning illuminated the angry purple blossom spread across your ribs, each raindrop that hit the tender skin sending a dull ache through your body. It wasn’t the worst injury you've had, but the soreness lingered, a reminder of the fight.

Nothing had been broken—just your pride, really. The job was supposed to be simple: in and out. No one should have touched you. Yet somehow, they’d managed to land a hit. You winced, not so much from the pain but from the fact that you let it happen.

The rain pattered against your exposed skin, a cold contrast to the heat radiating from the bruise. You laid your hand over it, as if willing to take the pain away. But the storm, for all its comfort, couldn’t heal what was beneath your skin. It could only distract you from it.

You closed your eyes again, letting the sound of the rain drown out the frustration still swirling inside you. The job wasn’t a failure, but it hadn’t gone smoothly. And now, lying on the rooftop, you were trying to forget the adrenaline, the chaos, the way your powers surged uncontrollably for a moment when things went wrong.

In the distance, the thunder grumbled like a low growl, echoing the storm within your mind. You sighed deeply, letting your body relax further into the cold stone beneath you as if you could become part of the rooftop itself and disappear into the sky.

The storm continued its relentless downpour, the city below a blurred mess of shadows and rain. You barely registered the sound of footsteps splashing through puddles behind you. You were too lost in the corners of your mind, too focused on the rhythmic thrum of rain against skin.

But the familiar voice, always loud enough to cut through anything, broke through the storm’s lull.

"Birdie!" Jinx’s voice rang out, playful and teasing. You opened your eyes, blinking through the raindrops as Jinx approached, her figure a blur of wet blue hair and mismatched clothing. "You really pick the weirdest places to hide, you know that?"

You didn’t move, letting your head rest against the cold stone as she watched Jinx saunter closer, completely unfazed by the rain. "Not hiding," you muttered, though your voice lacked its usual edge. "Just… being."

Jinx dropped down beside you with a huff, legs crossed beneath her, her bright eyes narrowing in curiosity. "Being what? Wet? Miserable? Extremely lonely since I’m not with you?"

You chuckled softly, chest rising and falling with the effort. "Something like that."

Jinx tilted her head, and for a moment, the playful sparkle in her eyes dimmed as she noticed the way your hand hovered near your ribs, just below the edge of your shirt. Without asking, Jinx leaned forward, brushing your hand aside with a featherlight touch, her eyes sharp as she inspected the bruise. By now, there were no lines that hadn’t been crossed between the two girls.

"Well, shit," Jinx muttered, her voice dropping an octave. "Looks like they got a good one in, huh."

You sighed, letting your hand drop into the pool of water beside you. "It was dumb. They got lucky."

"Lucky?" Jinx’s brows shot up, her grin returning as she sat back on her heels. "Birdie, they didn’t get lucky. They got stupid. Anyone who lays a hand on you is just asking for it. And by it, I mean getting zapped into a pile of dust, super duper dead."

You gave her a half-hearted smile in return, your eyes drifting back to the sky. "Maybe next time."

Jinx shifted closer, lying down flat beside you, her shoulder brushing against your arm. For a few moments, you both laid there in silence, the rain continuing to pelt down, soaking you both. Jinx let out a small sigh, her voice softer now. "You know… I could’ve helped, right?"

You turned your head slightly, meeting Jinx’s eyes. "I know."

"You should’ve told me," Jinx’s voice had a hint of something uncharted in it, something she didn’t often let show. "You don’t have to do everything alone, you know?"

Your gazes met—a soft union between your own foggy grey eyes and Jinx’s cobalt blue, tinged with navy highlights from the stormy sky above. The rain slid down your faces, unnoticed, as if the world beyond the rooftop didn’t exist for that brief moment. There was a weight in Jinx’s eyes that you hadn’t seen in a long time—something deeper than the usual spark of chaos.

You hesitated, lips parting but no words coming. You were supposed to be the strong one, the one who could handle whatever Silco threw your way. The one who didn’t need help. But here, under the clouds, lying beside Jinx, that strength felt more like a burden.

"I…" your voice faltered, the confession stuck somewhere in your throat. Your mind raced for a way to explain it, but all that came out was, "I didn’t want to bother you."

Jinx blinked, the corners of her mouth twitching into a lopsided smile, though there was still that trace of vulnerability in her expression. "Bother me? You? Birdie, come on…" She nudged her gently with her elbow, trying to pull out the usual banter, but her heart wasn’t fully in it this time. "You're never a bother. Not to me."

You could feel your chest tighten, the words sinking in. For so long, you'd been on your own, dealing with the pain, the chaos, and the aftermath of everything done to yourself. You had always tried to find an escape. But now... now you weren't sure if you wanted to escape anymore. Not when Jinx was here.

"I didn’t think you'd care." The words came out quieter than you intended, almost lost in the rain.

Jinx’s smile faded, her eyes widening just a little as if the admission had surprised her. She stayed quiet for a moment, studying your face like she was piecing together a puzzle. Then, with a soft sigh, Jinx shifted closer, her arm brushing against her side as she rested her chin on her hands, lying on her stomach now.

"Of course I care, you dummy," Jinx murmured, her tone unusually soft. "I care way more than you probably realize."

Her words hung in the air between the two, heavy with meaning that you weren't entirely sure how to respond to. The familiar warmth that the storm usually gave you was now radiating from Jinx, the closeness between them bringing a different kind of comfort.

“You know I love you more than anything in the whole world, right?” Jinx said as she propped her head on top of your chest, voice light but with a warmth that you always found comforting.

You chuckled softly, fingers absently running through Jinx’s soaked blue hair. “Yeah, I love you too.”

The words felt easy between you—familiar. To yourself, it was just how they you: two best friends who stuck together through everything. You didn’t notice the way Jinx’s smile faltered for just a split second before she buried her face in your chest, hiding the small sigh that followed.

Jinx had given up on trying to explain how she felt. She’d tried before, more times than she cared to admit. But you were so... broken it was like trying to explain the stars to someone who’d never looked up. Where did all your love go? Yet, lying there, wrapped in the storm, something shifted in the air between them.

“Good,” Jinx mumbled, her words muffled by your shirt. “Just making sure.”

You smiled, closing your eyes again as the rain drummed softly against your skin. You didn’t realize how much weight those little words carried for Jinx. You just knew that, with Jinx beside you, the thunder felt less chaotic. Less like something you had to run from.

For Jinx, that was enough. It had to be.

She looked at you beneath herself, watching you relax into the rain, face peaceful. If this was all she’d ever get—a friend who didn’t mind when she crashed on top of her, who laughed at her jokes and let her stay close—then that was more than most people ever got in Zaun. She could live with that.

As long as you were happy, Jinx would be too.

The sound of the rain became a gentle backdrop, creating a world where they were just two girls finding solace in each other’s presence. You could feel Jinx’s breath against your shirt, warm and steady. It made your heart swell in a way you couldn’t fully grasp. The tension you carried in your chest began to ease, slowly replaced by the warmth of Jinx’s affection—a connection that was undeniable, yet uncharted.

“Do you ever wonder what it’d be like?” Jinx’s voice was muffled, her chin resting against your chest. “If we just… left all this behind?”

“Zaun?” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. “Sometimes. But where would we even go?”

“Anywhere!” Jinx exclaimed, her enthusiasm peeking through the softness of her tone. “We could go to the surface, see the sky for real. Or just find a place where nobody knows our names, where we can be whoever we want.”

You considered it, the idea stirring something inside. “It sounds nice,” You said slowly, “but it’s not that simple. You know that.”

“Why not?” Jinx’s voice was firm, a contrast to the rain’s gentle cadence. “You don’t owe Silco anything, Birdie. And you sure as hell don’t owe anyone else anything. You’re stronger than literally anyone. We can do this together, you know.”

You let your fingers tangle deeper in Jinx’s hair, the soft strands slipping through your fingers like the rain. “I don’t want to put you in danger. Not again.”

Jinx lifted her head, their eyes locking in a moment that felt both fragile and electrifying. “You think I care about danger?” she scoffed, though her voice held a playful edge. “I’m literally a ticking time bomb. And as long as I’m with you, I’m not afraid of anything.”

“But I am,” you admitted, your voice a quiet confession. “I’m afraid of losing control. Of becoming someone I can’t recognize. Someone who always hurts people.”

“You’re not that person,” Jinx said, her tone unwavering. “You’re not Silco. You’ve got a good heart. Just look at how you took care of me when I was—” She paused, her voice trailing off as a shadow of memory crossed her face. “You’ve always taken care of me.”

“And you’ve always been there for me, too,” you replied, your heart swelling at the realization. “I don’t want to lose that.”

“Then we won’t,” Jinx said, a determined fire sparking in her eyes. “You’re my Birdie. I’ll fight for you. We’ll get out of all this together. I promise.”

The sincerity in Jinx’s gaze struck you with an intensity that made your breath catch. It felt like a lifeline, like a bridge spanning the chasm of fear that threatened to swallow you whole. In that moment, you saw not just Jinx, but a future—one where they were free, one where they could carve out their own lives.

“I just—” you hesitated, the weight of your emotions threatening to spill over. “I’m too weak.”

Jinx leaned in, her forehead resting against yours. “We’ll figure it out together. And if you ever feel lost, just look for me.”

You closed your eyes, the warmth radiating from Jinx wrapping around you like a shield. You felt the storm inside you start to settle, the chaos slowly fading. For the first time in a long while, you felt like you could breathe.

With a small smile, you whispered, “Okay. Together.”

Jinx’s grin broke wide, her eyes sparkling with mischief and joy. “That’s the spirit! Now, if we’re gonna run away from all this, we need to come up with a plan. And maybe a cool name for our adventure.”

“Adventure?” you chuckled, spirits lifting. “Like a real one? I’ve never had an adventure.”

Jinx sat up, her eyes gleaming with excitement as she launched into a grand idea. “We’ll be the legendary duo! The Storm and the Joker! Together, we’ll conquer the world! We’ll make people remember us!”

You laughed again, the sound bright against the backdrop of rain. “The Storm and the Joker? Might hafta re-evaluate your naming skills.”

“Shush! It’s perfect!” Jinx cackled. “Come on, don’t you feel it? The energy? The potential for power!”

You felt the warmth spread through you, the playful spirit in Jinx infectious. “Alright, alright. I believe you,” you agreed, a soft laugh escaping your lips.

Jinx’s grin widened as she bounced to her feet, pulling you up beside her. “We’re not going to be just any duo—we’re going to be the best duo! And the world won’t know what hit it!”

You couldn’t help but grin, the rain still pouring around them but feeling lighter now, as if the storm had shifted into something else entirely—something exciting. Maybe it was the promise of freedom or the bond they shared. Whatever it was, it felt right.

“Okay,” You said, a newfound determination blossoming within. “As long as you're with me.”

a/n: hi loves, i hope you like this little intro to the mc and her relationship with jinx. sorta gives some backstory cues but you don't need to focus too hard on that.

thanks for reading pookies, lmk if you wanna be added to the taglist <3

#jinx x reader #jinx arcane #vi x reader #vi x caitlyn #arcane x reader #vi arcane #powder arcane #arcane season 2 #arcane

138 notes · View notes

muiitoloko · 4 months ago

Note

Hii! I just saw that your asks are open, and that you write for Kingsman. Yesterday I discovered the two Kingsman movies and I watched them both, and now I'm obsessed with both Harry and Merlin.

I wanted to ask you for a Merlin or Harry fic (whichever you want) of angst and the grovelling trope. Like, maybe he has a terrible day and the reader tries to confort him, but he ends up snapping at her and telling her some real hurtful things and so he has to grovel *a lot* to earn her forgiveness or something like that :)

If you don't want to write it or you're too busy I completely understand :)

Also, if you do write it, please tag me, I don't want to miss it for the world <3

Title: The Price of Pride

Summary: Harry's pride and stubbornness drive a wedge between him and Gawain, leading to a heated sparring match that becomes a battleground for their unresolved feelings.

Pairing: Harry Hart × Fem! Reader

Warnings: Angst, Jealousy.

Author's Notes: Hii! @leylovestaytay and @shamelesstrekkie13 😊 First of all, welcome to the Kingsman obsession club—Harry and Merlin are just too irresistible, aren’t they? Your request has me grinning because, oh boy, who doesn’t love a good groveling trope? I can totally imagine Harry or Merlin having to do some serious damage control after snapping at the reader. I’m definitely up for writing this. Thanks for the awesome idea, and stay tuned! 💖

First and Second part here.

Also read on Ao3

Harry’s hands trembled with barely contained rage as he stormed into the dimly lit safehouse, his usually impeccable composure shattered by the events of the day. The mission had been a disaster from start to finish, and the humiliation of failing a mission—a task that had always come so naturally to him—was like a knife to the heart. But the worst part, the part that made his blood boil, was Chester, the current Arthur, who had the audacity to make fun of him, to belittle him in front of the others.

And to add insult to injury, the one person who had saved his ass on that mission, who had pulled him back from the brink of failure, was the same person now standing in front of him, trying to offer him comfort—Agent Gawain. You.

You watched Harry from across the room, your heart aching as you saw the torment etched across his usually stoic face. You knew how much pride he took in his work, how much it meant to him to be the best, to maintain the perfect image of a Kingsman. And today, that image had been shattered. You wanted to help him, to console him, but you could see the storm brewing behind his eyes, the way his jaw clenched and his fists curled at his sides.

"Harry," you said softly, taking a tentative step toward him, your voice filled with concern. "It wasn’t your fault. The mission… it was unpredictable. You did everything you could—"

"Don’t," Harry snapped, his voice cutting through the air like a blade. His brown eyes were dark, filled with a fury you had never seen before, and it made you stop in your tracks, your heart skipping a beat. "Don’t try to console me, Gawain. You have no idea what it’s like to fail like this. To be humiliated in front of the entire organization, to be mocked by Chester of all people."

You flinched at the venom in his words, the way he spat out Chester’s name like it was poison. "Harry, I’m just trying to help—"

"Help?" Harry let out a bitter laugh, the sound harsh and grating. He took a step toward you, his presence overwhelming as he loomed over you, his height and intensity making you feel small, insignificant. "You want to help me, do you? Is that why you saved my sorry ass on the mission? To play the hero, to swoop in and save Galahad like some knight in shining armor?"

You shook your head, your chest tightening with the weight of his anger, his words cutting deeper than you could have ever anticipated. "No, Harry, that’s not it at all. I just… I didn’t want you to get hurt."

"Didn’t want me to get hurt?" Harry repeated, his voice dripping with mockery. "Is that really what this is about, Gawain? Or is it because of that little crush you’ve been nursing for me? Did you think saving me would make me finally notice you, that it would make me see you as something more than just another agent?"

You felt your heart drop at his words, the sting of his mockery hitting you like a physical blow. You had never been able to hide your feelings for Harry, your admiration for him that had grown into something much deeper, much more complicated. But hearing him throw it back in your face, using it as a weapon against you, was something you hadn’t been prepared for.

"Harry, please," you whispered, your voice trembling as you tried to keep your composure, even as your vision blurred with unshed tears. "That’s not what this is about. I care about you, yes, but I would have done the same for any of my fellow agents. You know that."

Harry’s eyes narrowed, his lips curling into a sneer as he took another step closer, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous whisper. "Care about me? Is that what you call it? Do you know what I think, Gawain? I think you’re just a pathetic little schoolgirl, clinging to some fantasy of what we could be, when the reality is that you’re nothing more than a distraction."

His words hit you like a punch to the gut, knocking the breath out of you. You had always known that your feelings for Harry were one-sided, that he would never see you in the same way, but hearing him say it out loud, in such a cruel, dismissive way, was almost too much to bear.

"You think that by saving me, by trying to console me now, you can somehow make yourself more than what you are?" Harry continued, his voice cold and cutting as he advanced on you, his presence overwhelming. "You’re delusional, Gawain. I don’t need your pity, your concern, or your so-called care. What I need is for you to stay the hell out of my way."

You could feel the tears welling up in your eyes, but you refused to let them fall, refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing you break. "I’m not trying to get in your way, Harry," you whispered, your voice trembling with the effort it took to keep it steady. "I just want to help you. I want to be there for you."

"Be there for me?" Harry’s laugh was harsh, almost cruel, as he looked down at you, his brown eyes filled with disdain. "You’re not there for me, Gawain. You’re nothing more than a distraction, a hindrance. Your feelings for me, your pathetic little crush, are nothing but a burden that I’ve had to carry. And you know what? I’m tired of it. I’m tired of you."

The finality of his words hit you like a slap to the face, the coldness in his voice making it clear that he meant every word. You felt your heart shatter into a million pieces, the weight of his rejection, his anger, almost too much to bear.

Harry’s gaze bore into you, his eyes dark and unforgiving as he took one last step toward you, his voice dropping to a low, menacing whisper. "You think I don’t know what you want, Gawain? You think I haven’t seen the way you look at me, the way your eyes linger on me, the way you practically beg for my attention? You’re nothing but a desperate little girl, clinging to a fantasy that will never, ever come true."

You could feel the tears streaming down your face now, hot and unchecked, as you looked up at him, your heart breaking with every word he spoke. You had never felt so small, so insignificant, so utterly worthless.

"And you know what the worst part is?" Harry continued, his voice low and filled with contempt as he leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear. "You actually thought you had a chance. You thought that saving me, that being there for me, would make me see you differently. But let me make one thing perfectly clear, Gawain—I will never, ever feel the same way about you. You’re just another agent, nothing more."

You felt your knees buckle under the weight of his words, your body trembling as you tried to hold yourself together, to keep from falling apart completely. But it was no use. The pain was too much, the anguish too overwhelming.

Harry stepped back, his expression cold and impassive as he looked down at you, his voice devoid of any warmth, any compassion. "Now get out of my sight, Gawain. And don’t ever try to console me again."

With that, he turned on his heel and walked away, leaving you standing there, shattered and broken, the pieces of your heart scattered at your feet. You watched him go, your vision blurred with tears, your body trembling with the effort it took to keep from collapsing.

You had always known that Harry was a man of control, a man who prided himself on his stoicism, his ability to remain calm and composed in any situation. But today, that control had slipped, and you had seen a side of him that you had never seen before—a side that was cruel, cutting, and utterly devastating.

And as you stood there, alone and broken, you couldn’t help but wonder if you would ever be able to pick up the pieces of your shattered heart, or if you would be forever haunted by the memory of Harry’s words, the coldness in his eyes, the finality of his rejection.

The days following Harry’s cruel words were some of the hardest you had ever endured. You did as he asked, staying out of his way, not even greeting him when the two of you passed side by side in the corridors. You didn’t look at him during the weekly meetings, where all the agents gathered to deal with Arthur. You interacted with everyone except Harry, and when you had to address him, you treated him as Galahad, with a cold, distant professionalism that cut deeper than any insult.

Harry noticed the change immediately. It was as if a light had been extinguished. Your jokes, your infectious laughter, your kind words—you still shared them with everyone else, but never with him. To you, he was no longer Harry, your mentor, your friend, the man you had admired and cared for. He was just Galahad, a title and nothing more.

At first, Harry tried to tell himself that this was what he wanted. That it was better this way, that you were just a distraction he could do without. But as the days passed, he found himself missing the sound of your voice, the way you used to tease him, the way you would light up any room you entered. The absence of your warmth, your light, left a void that he couldn’t ignore, no matter how much he tried.

It didn’t help that Merlin had begun to notice the tension between you and Harry. Merlin was nothing if not observant, and it didn’t take long for him to piece together that something was wrong. He saw the way you avoided Harry’s gaze, the way you stiffened whenever he entered a room, the way you now treated him with a cold formality that was so unlike you.

One afternoon, after a particularly tense meeting where you had barely acknowledged Harry’s presence, Merlin decided it was time to confront him. He found Harry in the training room, where he was taking out his frustrations on a punching bag, his movements sharp and aggressive, each punch landing with a force that betrayed the turmoil inside him.

“Harry,” Merlin called out, his voice steady but laced with concern as he approached. Harry didn’t stop, didn’t even look up, his focus entirely on the bag in front of him. But Merlin wasn’t one to be ignored.

“Harry!” Merlin’s voice was firmer this time, and finally, Harry stopped, his chest heaving with exertion as he turned to face his old friend.

“What is it, Merlin?” Harry’s tone was clipped, his expression hard as he grabbed a towel to wipe the sweat from his brow.

Merlin crossed his arms over his chest, his gaze unwavering as he studied Harry. “Something’s going on between you and Gawain. What the hell happened?”

Harry’s jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing at the mention of your name. “Nothing that concerns you, Merlin.”

“Bollocks,” Merlin shot back, not missing a beat. “It concerns all of us when two of our best agents can’t even look at each other, let alone work together. I’ve known you for too long, Harry. You don’t just snap at people like that for no reason. What did you do?"

Harry turned away, his shoulders tense as he tried to brush off the conversation. “It’s nothing. Just leave it alone.”

But Merlin wasn’t having it. He stepped closer, his voice lowering as he pressed on. “Did you hurt her, Harry? Did you push her away?”

Harry’s frustration flared as Merlin’s words struck a nerve. The accusation, the implication that he had done something wrong, only added to the boiling anger that had been simmering within him since that disastrous mission. He clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white as he stared at Merlin, his mind racing with the injustice of it all.

“Why do you assume it’s my fault?” Harry snapped, his voice laced with bitterness. “Why not Gawain? Why am I the one to blame here?”

Merlin raised an eyebrow, his expression unyielding as he met Harry’s gaze. “Because we both know that Gawain would never willingly hurt you, Harry. The girl worships the ground you walk on. She hangs on your every word, looks at you like you hung the stars. Hell, some of the other agents have even gotten a bit jealous of the way she treats you, the attention you receive. And you—”

“I didn’t ask for any of that,” Harry interrupted, his tone defensive as he turned away, trying to escape the weight of Merlin’s words. But the truth of them clung to him, gnawing at the edges of his conscience. He knew how you looked at him, the admiration in your eyes, the way you would brighten whenever he entered a room. It had been both flattering and overwhelming, but he had always tried to maintain a professional distance, to keep things strictly business between the two of you.

But now, as Merlin’s words sank in, he realized just how much he had come to rely on that admiration, on the warmth and light you brought into his life. And now that it was gone, the absence of it left him feeling hollow, like something vital had been stripped away.

Merlin stepped closer, his voice dropping to a gentler tone as he pressed on. “Harry, what did you say to her? Whatever it was, it broke her. She’s not the same. She barely looks at you, barely acknowledges you. You’ve hurt her deeply, and I can see it’s eating away at you too. So, what did you do?”

Harry’s jaw clenched, the memories of that night in the safehouse flooding back—the anger, the frustration, the venom he had unleashed on you in a moment of weakness. He had said things he didn’t mean, used your feelings against you in the cruelest way possible, all because he couldn’t handle his own emotions, his own failure.

But now, you were paying the price for his mistakes, and it tore him apart.

“I… I was angry,” Harry admitted, his voice thick with regret as he finally turned to face Merlin again, the anguish evident in his eyes. “I said things I shouldn’t have, things I didn’t mean. I pushed her away, Merlin. I broke her.”

Merlin’s expression softened, a flicker of sympathy crossing his features as he placed a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Then you need to fix it, Harry. You need to make this right.”

“How?” Harry’s voice cracked with the weight of his guilt, his brown eyes filled with a desperation that Merlin hadn’t seen in him before. “She won’t even look at me now, won’t acknowledge that I exist. She’s gone cold, Merlin. And I deserve it. But I don’t know how to reach her, how to make her see that I—”

“That you what?” Merlin prompted gently, his gaze steady as he watched his old friend struggle with the words.

Harry swallowed hard, the realization hitting him like a punch to the gut. “That I care about her. That I miss her. Damn it, Merlin, I miss her so much it hurts.”

Merlin nodded slowly, his eyes filled with understanding. “Then you need to tell her that, Harry. You need to show her that you’re willing to crawl back, to earn her forgiveness. Because right now, she doesn’t think you care. And if you don’t do something soon, she might not give you the chance to prove otherwise.”

Harry’s heart sank at the truth of Merlin’s words. He had pushed you away, shattered the trust and admiration you had held for him, and now he was faced with the impossible task of mending what he had broken. The thought of you, the way you used to joke and laugh, your infectious smile that had always brightened his day, now replaced with cold indifference—it was unbearable.

And yet, you had every right to treat him that way. After all, he had been the one to throw your feelings back in your face, to reduce you to nothing more than a distraction. The weight of his actions pressed down on him, suffocating him with guilt and regret.

For days, he tried to find the courage to approach you, to apologize, to beg for your forgiveness. But every time he saw you—sitting quietly in the briefing room, your eyes avoiding his, your smile reserved for everyone but him—the words would die in his throat. He had hurt you too deeply, and now, it seemed, you had built a wall between you, one that he didn’t know how to break through.

And so, he began to retreat, letting the shame and guilt consume him, until one day, when he found himself standing outside your door, his heart pounding in his chest. He had rehearsed what he wanted to say a thousand times, but as he stood there, the words seemed inadequate, insufficient to convey the depth of his regret, his longing to make things right.

Taking a deep breath, he knocked softly, his heart in his throat as he waited for you to answer. When the door finally opened, and you stood there, looking up at him with that same cold, distant expression that had haunted him for weeks, his resolve nearly crumbled.

But he couldn’t back down now. He had to try.

“Gawain,” Harry began, his voice rough with emotion as he looked into your eyes, hoping—praying—that he could find a way to reach you. “I need to talk to you. Please… can we talk?”

You looked at Harry for a moment, your expression unreadable as you stood in the doorway, your hand resting on the handle of your suitcase. The sight of him standing there, his posture slightly slumped, his eyes filled with a mixture of regret and desperation, stirred something deep within you, but you quickly squashed it down, refusing to let him see how much his presence affected you.

"Make it quick, Galahad," you said, your voice cool, almost detached, as you turned back into the room, leaving the door open behind you. You didn’t wait for him to follow you, moving to the small desk in the corner of the office and beginning to gather the last of your things. The room was a fraction of the size of Harry’s own office in the Kingsman mansion, but it had been yours—a space where you could work, think, and be alone when you needed to.

Harry entered the room, closing the door behind him with a soft click. He stood awkwardly near the doorway, his eyes scanning the space as if seeing it for the first time. It wasn’t the first time he had been in your office, but it was the first time he had really paid attention to the place—the small, tidy desk, the bookshelf lined with mission files and personal mementos, the single chair tucked neatly into the corner. It was all so much like you—efficient, organized, but with a touch of warmth that had always drawn him in, even if he hadn’t realized it before.

You continued to sort through the papers on your desk, your movements precise and deliberate, as if you were trying to keep yourself busy, to avoid looking at him. "What do you want, Galahad?" you asked, your tone flat, as if you were asking about the weather.

Harry hesitated, the words he had rehearsed in his mind suddenly feeling inadequate, but he knew he couldn’t back down now. He had to make this right, even if you wouldn’t let him.

"I wanted to apologize," Harry said finally, his voice soft, almost tentative, as he took a step closer. He tried to keep his tone measured, his words carefully chosen, but the anguish in his heart made it hard to maintain the stoic façade he usually wore so effortlessly. "For what I said… that day. I was angry—furious, really—and I took it out on you. I shouldn’t have done that. You didn’t deserve it, Gawain. None of it."

You didn’t look up, your hands continuing to move through the papers, straightening them, placing them in neat piles, as if you hadn’t heard him at all. Your silence, your indifference, was like a knife twisting in his chest, but he pressed on, desperate to make you understand.

"I know I hurt you," Harry continued, his voice trembling slightly as he forced himself to keep going. "And I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Gawain. I never should have said those things, and I—"

"It’s fine, Galahad," you interrupted, your tone clipped, as you set down the papers and finally turned to face him. There was no warmth in your eyes, no trace of the affection that had once been there, and it made Harry’s heart ache. "It’s in the past. Let’s just… leave it there."

Harry felt his chest tighten at your words, at the cold, distant way you dismissed him, as if everything he had just said meant nothing. He had expected anger, or maybe even tears, but not this—this cold indifference that made him feel like he was talking to a stranger.

"But it’s not fine," Harry said, his voice growing more urgent, more desperate, as he took another step toward you. "It’s not in the past, Gawain. I see the way you look at me now—the way you don’t look at me. You’ve shut me out, and I can’t… I can’t bear it. I miss you. I miss your jokes, your smile, the way you light up every room you enter. I miss the way you used to look at me, with that admiration in your eyes. I miss you, Gawain. And I’m sorry—"

"Enough," you cut him off again, your voice firm as you held up a hand to stop him. You didn’t want to hear this, didn’t want to let him back in, didn’t want to let yourself feel the pain that his words were stirring up inside you. You had spent weeks building up these walls, weeks trying to protect yourself from the hurt he had caused, and you weren’t going to let him tear them down now.

"It’s done, Harry," you said, your voice steady but devoid of emotion as you looked him in the eye. "You said what you needed to say, and I’ve heard it. But I’m not going to pretend that things can just go back to the way they were. You made it very clear that I’m nothing more than a distraction to you, and I’ve accepted that. So let’s just move on."

Harry looked at the ground, his mind swirling with emotions he couldn't quite name. He had come here to make amends, to try and salvage what he could of your relationship, but now, faced with your cold indifference, he found himself at a loss. The warmth, the light that had once radiated from you, was gone, replaced by a wall of icy detachment that he didn't know how to penetrate. It was as if the person who had always been by his side, supporting him with your jokes and infectious laughter, had disappeared, leaving only a hollow shell in their place.

For a moment, Harry considered pressing further, considered trying one last time to break through the barrier you had put up between you. But the words caught in his throat, the weight of your rejection pressing down on him like a physical force. He couldn't bear the thought of humiliating himself further, of begging for forgiveness that you seemed unwilling to give.

So, he did what he always did when faced with emotions too complex to handle—he suppressed them. With a deep breath, Harry forced his features into a mask of indifference, schooling his expression into the stoic, unflappable demeanor that had become his trademark. He had tried to make things right, and if you couldn't accept his apology, then that was your problem, not his.

"Very well," Harry said, his voice cool, detached, as he looked up at you with an expression that betrayed none of the turmoil he felt inside. "I hope this... unfortunate conflict won't affect our ability to work together in the future."

You snorted at his words, a sound that was equal parts derision and disbelief. The sound grated on Harry's nerves, but he kept his composure, refusing to let you see how much it affected him. If this was how you wanted to play it, then so be it.

Without another word, Harry turned on his heel and walked toward the door, his steps measured and controlled. But as he reached the doorway, something inside him snapped, a flicker of the anger and frustration that had been simmering beneath the surface. He pushed the door closed behind him with more force than he intended, the sharp click of the latch echoing through the room.

Fine, he thought bitterly as he stalked down the hallway, his footsteps echoing in the silence. If you wanted to shut him out, then he would let you. He wouldn't humiliate himself further by groveling at your feet, by begging for something that clearly wasn't there anymore. He had his pride, after all, and he wasn't about to let it be trampled on by someone who had decided he was nothing more than a distraction.

He had tried to apologize, had swallowed his pride and admitted his faults. If you couldn't see past your own hurt to forgive him, then perhaps you weren't as mature as he had once thought. Perhaps you were still nothing more than a child, clinging to a fantasy that would never come true.

Harry's thoughts grew darker as he made his way through the corridors of the mansion, his mind racing with a mix of frustration and regret. He couldn't shake the image of your cold, distant eyes, the way you had dismissed him as if he meant nothing. It stung, more than he cared to admit, but he refused to let it show. He was Harry Hart, after all—Agent Galahad. He had faced down enemies far more dangerous than this, had endured pain far worse than the sting of a broken heart. He would survive this, just as he had survived everything else.

The next morning, Harry arrived at the training facility, his usual impeccable composure firmly in place. The early hours were always reserved for physical training, and today was no different. The large, open space was already buzzing with activity as agents honed their skills under Merlin’s watchful eye.

Harry forced himself to focus on the task at hand, determined to push the previous day’s events out of his mind. He needed to regain control, to reassert his dominance as one of the top agents in Kingsman. But as soon as he walked into the training area, his eyes found you, and all his resolve crumbled.

You were sparring with James, the current Lancelot, and to Harry’s irritation, the two of you seemed to be enjoying yourselves far too much. James was a notorious flirt, a man who had always tried his luck with the female agents, but until now, you had never reciprocated. Yet here you were, laughing at something he said, your eyes bright with amusement as you effortlessly blocked one of his punches.

Harry’s jaw tightened as he watched the scene unfold, his chest tightening with an emotion he didn’t want to acknowledge. He had no right to feel this way—not after what he had said to you, not after pushing you away so cruelly. But the sight of James flirting with you, and worse, the way you seemed to be responding to it, sent a wave of jealousy crashing through him.

He tried to focus on his own training, to throw himself into the exercises with the same intensity he usually did, but his eyes kept drifting back to you and James. Every time he saw you smile at him, every time he heard you laugh at one of his stupid jokes, Harry felt his blood pressure rise.

James was relentless, his flirting becoming more blatant with each passing minute. At one point, he leaned in close, his hand brushing against your arm as he whispered something in your ear that made you laugh. The sound, once so sweet to Harry’s ears, now grated on his nerves like nails on a chalkboard.

Harry’s fists clenched as he watched James step back, a cocky grin on his face as he squared off against you again. The two of you moved in a graceful, almost choreographed dance, your bodies in perfect sync as you sparred. But it wasn’t the skillful movements or the precision of your strikes that caught Harry’s attention—it was the way you were looking at James, the way your eyes sparkled with something more than just amusement.

The irritation that had been simmering beneath the surface all morning finally bubbled over. Harry’s punches became more aggressive, his movements sharp and jerky as he tried to burn off the anger coursing through him. He didn’t want to admit it, didn’t want to acknowledge the jealousy that was eating away at him, but he couldn’t deny the truth.

He was angry. Angry at James for flirting with you, angry at you for reciprocating, but most of all, angry at himself for pushing you away in the first place. This was his fault—he had driven you to this, driven you into the arms of another man. And now, he was paying the price.

Harry knew he had no right to feel this way, knew that he had forfeited any claim to you the moment he had spoken those cruel words. But that didn’t stop the jealousy from gnawing at him, from making his blood boil every time he saw you smile at James.

"Nice form, Galahad," Merlin’s voice cut through Harry’s thoughts, jolting him back to reality. The older man was standing a few feet away, his arms crossed over his chest as he observed the training session. His sharp eyes took in every detail, missing nothing.

Harry nodded curtly, forcing himself to focus. "Thank you, Merlin," he replied, his voice clipped as he delivered another precise punch to the training dummy. But his mind wasn’t on his training—it was on you, and the way you were still laughing with James.

Merlin’s gaze followed Harry’s line of sight, and he raised an eyebrow as he noticed the interaction between you and Lancelot. A knowing look passed over his face, and he let out a quiet sigh. "You’ve got work to do, Harry," he said quietly, his voice laced with sympathy. "She’s not going to forgive you easily. You’ll have to crawl a lot to earn her trust back."

Harry attacked the training dummy with renewed aggression, his fists slamming into the padded target with a force that was almost reckless. He barely heard Merlin’s sigh of exasperation as he muttered to himself, his words laced with bitterness. “I’m done, Merlin. I apologized last night. I did what I could. If she wants to ignore me, so be it. I’m not chasing after her anymore.”

Merlin shook his head, clearly irritated by Harry’s stubbornness. “You’re acting like a damn teenager, Harry,” he muttered, crossing his arms as he watched his old friend take out his frustration on the inanimate target. “You care about her, and she cares about you. But you’ve got to stop being so bloody proud and actually talk to her, not just throw apologies at her feet and expect her to come running.”

Harry didn’t respond, his focus on the training dummy, his knuckles turning white as he continued to land blow after blow. The truth in Merlin’s words stung, but he was too angry, too frustrated to admit it. He had tried—he had swallowed his pride, bared his soul, and all he got in return was cold indifference. What more was he supposed to do?

Suddenly, a sound drew their attention, and both men turned to see you and James in the midst of what appeared to be a playful tussle. James was lying flat on the mat, a wide grin on his face, while you straddled him, your hands pinning his wrists to the ground. The sight made Harry’s stomach twist with an emotion he didn’t want to acknowledge—jealousy, burning and raw.

James, never one to miss an opportunity, chuckled up at you, his voice low and teasing. “I’ve always loved a woman who knows how to take control,” he said, a playful gleam in his eye. His words earned a laugh from you, the sound light and genuine, and you rolled your eyes, shaking your head as you released his wrists and helped him to his feet.

“Is that so, Lancelot?” you quipped, a teasing smile on your lips. “You might want to be careful with that kind of talk. You never know when someone might take you seriously.”

James flashed you a grin, clearly enjoying the banter. “With you, Gawain, I’d gladly take my chances.”

Harry scoffed under his breath, turning his back on the scene, his eyes narrowing as he resumed his assault on the training dummy. “Isn’t James a little too old for you?” he muttered to himself, his voice dripping with sarcasm. He landed a particularly vicious punch, the force of it making the dummy sway. “For the love of God…”

Merlin, still standing nearby, couldn’t hide the frustration in his voice as he observed Harry’s childish behavior. “You’re really going to stand there and sulk while she’s right there, laughing and having a good time? Maybe if you stopped being so bloody stubborn, you’d realize that she’s still the same woman you’ve always admired—she’s just hurting.”

Harry’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t respond, focusing instead on the rhythmic pounding of his fists against the dummy. He couldn’t let go of the anger, the bitterness that clung to him like a second skin. He had tried to make amends, and you had brushed him off. What was he supposed to do—grovel?

Across the room, James glanced over at Harry, his expression thoughtful as he caught the tension in his old friend’s posture. He knew Harry well enough to recognize when he was struggling with something, and he also knew that this tension between Harry and you wasn’t doing anyone any favors.

James leaned in closer to you, his voice low and conspiratorial. “You know, if you really want to get under Harry’s skin, you should keep doing exactly what you’re doing.”

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh? And what exactly am I doing, Lancelot?”

James smirked, glancing over at Harry’s back, which was still turned to the both of you. “You’re driving him absolutely mad. I think he’s seconds away from ripping that dummy to shreds.”

You chuckled, though there was a hint of sadness in your eyes. “I’m not trying to drive him mad, James. I’m just… I’m tired of feeling like I’m chasing after something that’s never going to happen.”

James softened at your words, his teasing demeanor shifting to something more serious. “Gawain, Harry’s a stubborn bastard, we both know that. But he cares about you. He just doesn’t know how to show it, especially when he’s hurt you the way he has.”

You sighed, glancing over at Harry’s back, your expression conflicted. “I don’t know, James. It’s just… it’s been hard, you know? I thought we had something, and then he just—” You cut yourself off, shaking your head as you tried to push the painful memories aside.

James placed a hand on your shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Give him time. He’s not the best at dealing with his emotions, but I’ve seen the way he looks at you when he thinks no one’s watching. He cares, Gawain. He just needs to pull his head out of his arse long enough to admit it.”

You gave him a small, grateful smile, but the sadness in your eyes remained. “Thanks, James. But I’m not holding my breath.”

As you turned back to your training, Merlin approached Harry, who was still pounding away at the dummy with unrelenting force. “You know,” Merlin said, his tone mild but pointed, “if you keep pretending you don’t care, you’re going to lose her. And judging by the way you’re acting, I’d say that’s the last thing you want.”

Harry paused, his fists hovering in mid-air as Merlin’s words sank in. He glanced over his shoulder, catching sight of you and James, still chatting and laughing together, and a wave of frustration and helplessness washed over him. Merlin was right, of course. He was acting like a fool, letting his pride and anger cloud his judgment. But admitting that—admitting that he had been wrong, that he needed you—wasn’t something Harry was used to. He had built his life on control, on maintaining a calm, collected façade, and now that it was slipping, he didn’t know how to handle it.

“Maybe she’s better off without me,” Harry muttered, more to himself than to Merlin. “I’ve already caused her enough pain.”

Merlin let out a long, exasperated sigh. “You’ve both caused each other pain, Harry. But that doesn’t mean it’s over. You just need to stop being so damn stubborn and talk to her. Really talk to her.”

Harry didn’t respond, his gaze drifting back to the training dummy, but his mind was elsewhere—on you, on the way you had smiled at James, on the way his words had made you laugh. The thought of you moving on, of finding happiness with someone else, sent a fresh stab of jealousy through him, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe you deserved better. Better than a man who had pushed you away, better than someone who had let his pride get in the way of something real.

But as he watched you from across the room, a part of him couldn’t help but wonder if it was too late—if he had already lost you to the easy charm of someone like James, someone who could make you laugh without the baggage that Harry carried.

And as he turned back to the training dummy, his fists clenched at his sides, Harry couldn’t help but curse himself for being so blind.

After James finished his workout, he gave you a warm smile, wiping the sweat from his brow with a towel. "Good work today, Gawain," he said, his tone light but sincere. "If you ever get tired of Galahad’s grumpiness, you know where to find me." He winked, his flirtatious nature coming through even in his goodbyes.

You chuckled, giving him a playful nudge. "I’ll keep that in mind, Lancelot. See you around." With that, James headed toward the showers, leaving you alone in the training room, your mind still spinning from the morning’s events.

You turned back to your equipment, trying to focus on packing up, but you felt a presence behind you. You didn’t need to look to know who it was; the air seemed to shift when Harry was near, and the tension between you was almost palpable. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for whatever was coming.

Harry wasted no time in approaching you, trying to appear casual and nonchalant, but the set of his shoulders and the intensity in his eyes betrayed him. He was nervous, though he would never admit it. "Gawain," he began, his voice smooth but with an undercurrent of something deeper. "Mind if we train together for a bit? I could use the workout, and it’s been a while since we’ve sparred."

You hesitated, your first instinct was to refuse. After everything that had happened, you weren’t sure you were ready to spend time alone with him, not when the wounds were still so fresh. But another part of you, the part that knew you couldn’t ignore Harry forever, reminded you that this was bound to happen eventually. The two of you were partners, after all, and sooner or later, you’d have to learn how to work together again.

With a slight nod, you agreed. "Sure, Galahad. Let’s do it." Your voice was calm, but you couldn’t hide the slight tremor in it, nor the way your heart raced at the prospect of being so close to him again.

Harry’s eyes flickered with something you couldn’t quite place—relief, perhaps, or maybe just a hint of the old warmth that used to be there before everything had gone so wrong. "Great," he said, trying to keep his tone light. "Let’s start with some hand-to-hand."

You both moved to the center of the mat, assuming your stances. There was a moment of hesitation, a brief pause where neither of you moved, as if you were both waiting for the other to make the first move, not just in the sparring match but in the fragile reconciliation that lay just beneath the surface.

Then, as if by mutual agreement, you both lunged at the same time. The first few exchanges were cautious, testing the waters, feeling out each other’s rhythm. But as the sparring session continued, the tension began to melt away, replaced by the familiar push and pull of two well-matched partners.

It was almost easy to fall back into the rhythm, to let muscle memory take over, and for a while, it felt like old times. Harry’s movements were precise, controlled, but there was a fire in his eyes that you hadn’t seen in weeks. He was pushing you, challenging you, and you met him move for move, refusing to back down.

But there was something different, too—a simmering undercurrent of tension that hadn’t been there before. Every brush of his hand against yours, every time he managed to pin you, every time you escaped his grasp, it all felt charged, electric, like there was something more beneath the surface that neither of you was quite ready to acknowledge.

At one point, Harry managed to get you into a hold, his arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you close against his chest. You could feel the heat of his breath on your neck, the hard lines of his body pressing into yours, and for a moment, time seemed to stop. His grip on you was firm, but not painful, and the closeness, the intimacy of the moment, made your breath catch in your throat.

"Not bad," Harry murmured in your ear, his voice low and rough, sending a shiver down your spine. "But you’ll have to do better than that if you want to take me down."

You couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped your lips, the sound breathless and a little shaky. "I’m just getting started," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady, but the way your heart was pounding made it difficult.

With a sudden burst of energy, you twisted in his grip, using his own momentum against him to break free. Harry grunted in surprise, but he recovered quickly, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he adjusted his stance. "Impressive," he said, his tone both teasing and admiring. "You’ve definitely gotten stronger."

You shrugged, trying to play it off, but the compliment sent a warmth through you that you hadn’t felt in a long time. "I’ve had a good teacher," you replied, the words slipping out before you could stop them. The moment they left your mouth, you felt a pang of regret, worried that you had said too much, revealed too much.

Harry’s eyes darkened, the playful glint replaced by something more serious, more intense. "I’m glad to hear that," he said quietly, his gaze locking onto yours, and for a moment, the rest of the world seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in that small space, connected by something neither of you fully understood.

The sparring match continued, but the mood had shifted. The movements were more fluid now, more synchronized, as if the two of you had fallen into a rhythm that was all your own. There was still the push and pull, the challenge of trying to outmaneuver each other, but there was also something else—a closeness, an intimacy that neither of you had been willing to acknowledge before.

At one point, you managed to get the upper hand, pinning Harry to the mat, your knees on either side of his hips as you held him down. His eyes locked onto yours, dark and intense, and for a moment, neither of you moved, caught in the tension that hung heavy in the air.

"You’ve got me," Harry murmured, his voice low and rough, the words sending a shiver down your spine. "But the question is, what are you going to do with me?"

The double meaning in his words wasn’t lost on you, and you felt a flush rise to your cheeks, your heart racing as you tried to figure out how to respond. But before you could say anything, Harry shifted beneath you, using his strength to flip you onto your back, reversing the position so that he was the one pinning you.

His body was pressed against yours, his hands on either side of your head, his face inches from yours. You could feel the heat radiating off him, could see the way his chest heaved with each breath, and the closeness, the intimacy of the moment, was almost overwhelming.

"I’ve got you now," Harry said, his voice a low, dangerous whisper, his brown eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that made your breath hitch. "What are you going to do about it, Gawain?"

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest as you looked up at him, your mind racing with a thousand different thoughts, none of which made any sense. There was a part of you that wanted to push him away, to put distance between you, to protect yourself from the confusion, the hurt that still lingered from everything that had happened.

But there was another part of you, a part that you had been trying to ignore for weeks, that wanted nothing more than to close the gap between you, to give in to the tension that had been building between you for so long. You could see it in his eyes, the way he was looking at you, like he was waiting for something, like he wanted to see what you would do next.

Your breathing quickened, your pulse racing as you considered your options. You could push him away, keep things professional, pretend that nothing had changed. Or you could do something reckless, something that could change everything between you.

As you lay there, pinned beneath Harry, the heat of his body pressing into yours, the weight of his gaze holding you in place, a surge of emotions flooded through you—desire, confusion, and something else, something darker. The closeness between you was almost suffocating, the intensity of the moment making it hard to think clearly. For a brief second, you considered giving in, letting yourself get lost in the moment, in the way Harry was looking at you, like you were the only person in the world.

But then, as if a switch had been flipped, the memory of his cruel words, the way he had mocked your feelings, throwing them back in your face like they meant nothing, came rushing back. The pain, the humiliation, the anger—it all hit you like a tidal wave, dousing the spark of desire that had ignited within you.

Suddenly, the weight of Harry’s body wasn’t comforting—it was suffocating. The intensity of his gaze wasn’t exciting—it was oppressive. The closeness between you wasn’t something to savor—it was something to escape.

With a sharp push, you shoved Harry back, forcing him off of you. The movement was so sudden, so unexpected, that Harry nearly lost his balance, his eyes widening in surprise as he scrambled to regain his footing. The look in his eyes was one of shock, confusion, and maybe even a touch of hurt, but you didn’t care. The anger, the resentment that had been simmering beneath the surface since that day in the safehouse had finally boiled over, and you couldn’t hold it back any longer.

"You win, Galahad," you said, your voice cold, distant, as you pushed yourself up off the mat. The words were sharp, cutting, meant to put distance between you, to remind him that this was just a training exercise, that whatever had happened between you before meant nothing now. "Thank you for the training."

The formal tone in your voice, the way you addressed him by his title rather than his name, made it clear that you were done—done with whatever this was, done with him. You weren’t going to let him hurt you again, weren’t going to let him use your feelings against you.

Harry watched you in silence, his expression unreadable, but you could see the tension in his posture, the way his fists clenched at his sides, as if he was holding back something—words, emotions, you weren’t sure. But you didn’t care. You couldn’t let yourself care.

Without another word, you turned and walked over to where your bottle of water sat on a nearby bench. You grabbed it, taking a long drink, letting the cool liquid soothe the fire in your chest, the anger that still burned hotly within you. You didn’t look back at Harry, didn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing the hurt, the frustration that still lingered in your eyes.

When you finally turned around, bottle in hand, Harry was still standing there, his brown eyes locked onto you with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. But you forced yourself to keep your expression neutral, detached, as if he were just another agent, just another colleague.

"Goodbye, Galahad," you said, your voice cool and professional as you nodded at him, the formal tone making it clear that this was the end of the conversation. Then, without waiting for a response, you turned on your heel and walked out of the training room, your steps measured and controlled, your heart pounding in your chest.

Harry stood there, watching you go, the tension in his body palpable, the regret and frustration clear in his eyes. He knew he had messed up—knew that he had hurt you, driven you away, and now, he was paying the price. He had tried to make things right, tried to bridge the gap between you, but it was clear that he had a long way to go before you would even consider forgiving him.

As the door closed behind you, Harry let out a low, frustrated growl, his fists clenching at his sides. He had underestimated just how deeply he had hurt you, how much damage his words had done. And now, he was left standing there, alone, the weight of his actions pressing down on him like a physical burden.

He knew he had a long road ahead of him if he ever wanted to earn your forgiveness, if he ever wanted to see that light, that warmth, in your eyes again. And as he stood there, his heart heavy with regret, he realized that he would have to work harder than he ever had before.

Because losing you—truly losing you—was something he couldn’t bear.

#harry hart #colin firth x reader #kingsman fanfiction #harry x merlin #harry hart x reader

92 notes · View notes

godisshook · 1 year ago

Text

Casual

Cody is the ultimate fuckboy. He prides himself on never getting attached and only using others for sex. A path of broken people and torn relationships is left wherever he steps foot, and he just doesn't seem to care. He was a horrible boyfriend, but he was my friend regardless. In my defense, we had known each other since grade school, and I can confidently say that this is a recent development. The worst part of it all is nobody else seemed to care (aside from those he hurt of course) about his dating behavior.

I tried to be a balancing force in his life, as much as I could, hoping that I could be a good influence on him, or at least prevent him from doing as much damage as possible. I tried to steer him on the right path, using our friendship to hopefully help him understand, but all my pleas fell on deaf ears. Usually, I was the first to know if Cody had entered a new relationship, but I stopped receiving those all-too-common relationship updates from him for months. Knowing his habit of being a serial dater, it seemed far too suspicious that something hadn't happened in all of this time.

In addition to ensuring Cody doesn't implode by ruining every relationship he had, it was also my plan to make this summer the best of my life, and that meant changing everything. I have only dated one guy, and that resulted in an incredibly underwhelming breakup and an even more underwhelming friendship afterward.

Our gym days had been a sort of ritual between the two of us forever, I always did cardio, while he did weights. We used this time to catch up on each other's days and make plans, all intermixed with some exercise. As one of our many rambling conversations soon circled to the topic of relationships, I used the moment to bring up my grievance with him, in the sternest way I could. Balancing seriousness with a friendly air, I said, "It is wild how you manage to be so bad at keeping a relationship." He replied, "Remind me, you've been with how many people?" With an immediate, "Oh, one!" Keeping up with the banter, I quipped, "But, I mean, at least my one relationship still likes me after." Even as the words left my lips, I knew I had crossed an invisible line. Cody's look at me only proved my thinking, as I glanced over to a blank stare.

The moment suddenly felt intense. I thought I had hit too deep, even gone too far. I steeled myself and prepared a response, but as I did, I noticed a smile appear on his face, soon replaced by a full-faced chuckle. As the sudden shift in emotion gave me whiplash, I could only manage a light laugh, but I felt his strong hand pat my back, as he said "I mean, if they hate me so much, they should take it up with me, but they all knew what they were getting into." The seriousness of his response was dulled by his kind demeanor, but his words hit hard.

He always had that effect on people, where his words never seemed to match his face. I always thought it was a quirk of his, but at this moment, I became aware of just how effective it could be. His disarming smile made it impossible to hate him for long, and his way with words always got him out of whatever jam he found himself in. As if nothing had happened, he said, "You wanna go on the treadmill?" Whether it was a strategic olive branch, or him just genuinely not caring, I did not care to know, I grabbed my water bottle and followed behind him.

As our workout drew to a close, I sat to cool down, and scrolled through my socials as Cody still migrated around the gym. He would soon place himself right between me, and a mirror on the wall. Looking up from my seat, I said, "Why arent you sitting down?" As if he took offense to the statement, he responded, "I have to admire my hard work first." Knowing that this was the least ridiculous thing he could have said, I replied, "Y'know what, knock yourself out." Before I could even properly go back to scrolling through social media, it became obvious why he chose this position, as he lifted his shirt to admire himself in the mirror, and chose to close the distance between us.

Cody had always made it obvious he had feelings for me. But due to my general aversion to dating and knowing his dating habits, there was never a chance for anything to happen. Despite all of this, he flirted as if we had never seen each other, which always yielded interesting situations. This felt like a nice shift from things, and I soon reassured myself, thinking that maybe I did actually get through to him, and all of these months were him reflecting on things. While I most definitely was going to exaggerate my role in this process, despite the true cause, it was fun to think about.

There were many days like that afterward, with quips and banter, and our friendship remained strong. He invited me to the park, an event that seemed very date-like, but one that was incredibly pleasant nonetheless. Weeks filled with the usual late-night texts, sudden house walks, and constant snack trips, things felt so familiar, so, safe. I reveled in this moment, as with our return to college, life would get busy, and we would inevitably fall out of touch, meeting in hurried coffee rushes, or quick workout sessions.

For now, there was peace, and I appreciated it whenever I could. After lounging my day about, I received a sudden text from Cody.

"Come to the gym," He texted.

"What do you mean, it's literally closed," I responded.

There was a second of hesitation, but a speech bubble quickly followed with an,

"I know."

It was weird, but he's had stranger ideas, and so I followed along, wanting to see what situation he had conjured up today. I arrived at the gym only ten minutes later, as it was a quick walk from my place. As I approached the door, I noticed it was already ajar, and in the parking lot, a single black car was parked at the far end. "Cody," I thought to myself. I entered, and the few lights that were on illuminated a path to the far back. With a tinge of paranoia overtaking me, I looked around to see if the cameras were on, but to my surprise, they had all been blacked out. When I finally reached the back, Cody was standing there, expectantly.

In a cool tone, he said, "I've been thinking about what you said a while ago, I do need to get my act together, I wanna do better." A look of surprise came over my face as I replied, "How so, and why does it involve us being here so late?" My question was met with hesitation, a moment of silence, but even that felt like an eternity. Breaking the lull, he responded, "Let me show you." He was serious, there wasn't even a smile to join his words, he wanted me to know he meant what he said.

Things felt different this time, as Cody closed the distance between us, I felt an indescribable heat and urgency emanate from Cody, as if everything in this moment was his world, and was waiting for my word to let loose. I had been able to resist his charms for years, but this moment felt, different. It was as if everything had aligned for this to happen, but it was just right. "I know you can't stand my dating habits, but I did it all to try to replace my desire for you.

My body gave away my feelings in a way words could not, and I leaned onto Cody and laid a kiss on his cheek. I whispered, "I should've done that from the start." The kiss elevated the heat of the moment, and a sharp intensity came over Cody, desire and joy mixing, as he assessed just how he was going to have his way with me.

Suddenly, I felt my knees hit the ground as his warm hands moved expertly around my chin, bringing my gaze up straight to him. "There's a reason I haven't been seeing anyone because it's always been you." His words lit a dangerous spark, and I could not resist anymore. But just as the moment was set to hit a fever pitch, a noise outside brought us back to reality. As the sounds of footsteps drew close, we rushed out the back door, and ran to the forest behind the gym, an escape route we were used to navigating for years. It was exhilarating, it felt like, in this small rush, we were back to being kids again. As we approached the other side, we watched our breaths for a moment, and after looking around to ensure we hadn't been followed, we walked up onto the sidewalk.

The walk was calm and serene, with few words spoken, but many thoughts still communicated. I felt my cheeks redden, a blush overcoming me. Cody took notice of it, but only his eyes gave away his knowledge of things, as he continued conversating as usual. In a second, as if he finally had his chance, he asked,

"You wanna go back to my place?"

It was obvious what his offer entailed, but there was a curiosity nagging at me, and I just had to resolve it. "What are we?" I asked. It was a brave question, I could have gravely misjudged the moment and ruined the friendship right here, but I felt bold, and it was a time for big steps. The usually calm and hesitant Cody became fiery for the moment, responding, "We're whatever you want us to be." It was clear what he intended with this, but it was my turn to hesitate. With uncertainty meandering throughout me, I replied, "Let's keep things casual for now, then." "Fine by me," he shrugged.

His arms went over my shoulder, bringing me close to his chest, where I could feel the intensity of his heartbeat. The rest of the walk back was silent. Where once there was small talk and expectant words, it was now a walk of resolution, one of completion. Finally arriving at his, I splayed myself on his bed, and turned on a movie, as he went to the bathroom to take a shower and change. Even though I snuck a peek (of course) things were relatively PG, likely due to me being too exhausted to actually capitalize off of him being in the shower.

I looked around his room, a place I had been to many times, and once I had seen change countless times over the years, as new aesthetics came in, and old looks went out. It was fun to see all of this change, and made me admire just how long our friendship had lasted. Just as I thought that the situation that I now found myself in could put the whole friendship in jeopardy. I had just told him I wanted to "keep things casual." Which I immediately regretted, not knowing what response he even wanted. With my overthinking taking up every moment, I couldn't truly enjoy the fact that my hot friend wanted to date me.

Taking in how I even got to this moment, things seemed so complex. The guy who I had been lecturing for ages on how to be a better boyfriend, somehow wanted to be with me? It seemed like one of those perfect coincidences like the stars aligned in my favor just this once. I was going to take it in stride but still was mired over what he wanted out of all of this. With my thoughts all over the place, it seemed fortuitous that the person to take me out of that lull would be none other than Cody.

His return from the bathroom resulted in him only in his boxers and a sweater, his bulge already noticeable as he walked out. As he sat down, I resisted the urge to drool on the spot. He sat right next to me and started watching TV. I could not resist the urge, and immediately laid my head on his waist, feeling his bulge just inches from my head. Both of us were making moves, but in a way that allowed us deniability, it seemed that we were each taking my words to heart.

We continued watching, only getting ten more minutes before Cody decided to lift off his sweater, revealing his muscled chest. He knew exactly what he was doing at the moment, and as I had to shift my head to accommodate him taking his sweater off, I was now face to face with his toned body. I had to admit, he knew exactly what times he was hottest, and this was definitely one of them. I was mesmerized by him, and he knew he had me enamored.

I decided to still resist, wanting to beat him at his own game. I sat close to him, resting my head on his shoulders, and laid my hand on his bulge, while watching the movie innocently. It was my bravest moment, but I felt his cock pulse under my hand in response, meaning I had clearly succeeded. Cody kept his cool for now, but his face was going flush, it was clear that his body was going to betray his mind when it came to how he felt, and that was most apparent when it came to his dick.

His bulge was getting more noticeable, and it was clear that this movie was no longer the focus of the night. I looked over and met with bedroom eyes from Cody. As his bulge grew, I knew what I was being beckoned to do, but I, always the tease, wanted to extend the heat. I laid a kiss on his cheeks, "You seem so excited to watch a movie with me," I quipped. A strained look came over his face as if he was simply waiting for the go-ahead.

I only gave him kisses, but he returned them with a special intensity. Small pecks became deep kisses, and we began feeling each other up and down. The moment could have gone further, the feeling was there, and the moment had aligned. To my surprise, however, Cody would be the one to stop it in its tracks. Separating from the kiss, he said,

"Please, just stay the night."

I was awoken by the smell of eggs and bacon cooking downstairs, and my nose guided my path to Cody cooking in the kitchen. It was obvious I made the right decision in staying, as Cody was set to dote on me every second he could. Hypnotized by the delicious-smelling food, I could only sit and grab a plate, as Cody said, "Take as much as you want, I made plenty," I confessed, "You are truly my favorite person." "I know," he replied.

I lounged about, enjoying my day by doing absolutely nothing. Even on Cody's bed, I felt a comfort that I hadn't experienced in a long while. Things just felt, right. As Cody ran errands, I watched TV, changing between reality shows and trying to beat commercial breaks. He would return occasionally, and always lay a kiss on my head or, if I had gone into one of my many naps of the day, simply leave a snack for me as he left.

As the lazy day drew to a calm evening, I stood up to go home. I had walked to his with none of my things and had to steal even the clothes I was wearing from his closet. Deciding that I had to go get my things, I stepped out, leaving a note for Cody on his return. Instead of the note greeting him, it would be me, as when I opened the door, none other than Cody was standing right there, having returned. He noticed me holding my stuff and putting things together in a second. Instead of letting his feeling be known through words, he simply dropped everything, and grabbed my waist, laying a deep kiss on my lips. As he drew away from the kiss, he said, "You don't have to go."

His disarming smile once again clouded everything, as it felt as if I couldn't say no. I said, "But none of my things are here." He immediately replied, "We can get it and you can come back." As I finally put the pieces together, I understood what he was truly asking. He had long wanted us to live together, and this was the moment.

I had lived by myself for years, and there would be worse people to live with, so I finally responded, "Y'know what, I can just use your stuff." Cody broke into a full smile from this, and he closed the door behind him and began kissing me continuously. The only moments we stopped were to come up for air, as we took off each other's clothes then and there, leaving on only the more base layers. I felt his bulge press against his shorts and decided to play with him a bit.

Maintaining the kiss, I brought the distance between us closer, pressing straight into his bulge. As I did, a jolt seemed to go through Cody, as he bucked against it, temporarily breaking the kiss. Grabbing me tighter he said, "You do these crazy things, and don't expect me to respond?" Before I could respond, he had lifted me up on his shoulder and was carrying me to the room. Seeing the kitchen and hallway move around me, without my legs being able to do a thing felt, different, but sexy nonetheless.

Finally reaching our destination, he took care as he entered the doorway, and finally getting inside, rushed to throw me on the bed, to which I exclaimed "Hey!" He quickly replied, "Your whole trip here wasn't allowed to be amazing." I giggled at this, and got up on my knees, beckoning the still-standing Cody over to the bed with a finger. He walked over in a sultry manner, and as the distance between us closed once more, I felt up his body, admiring every bit of muscle as I made my way down.

I took him by the waistband, and pulled him onto the bed, resting my body right beside him, able to feel every breath hit me, as his heartbeat pounded against his chest. It was a singular second of peace, we both knew where things would go from here, but in this moment, we were just laying by each other, without a care in the world.

The feeling was nice, but I decided it was finally time to take this to the next level. I moved our bodies closer to each other, and took his face into my hands, laying a light kiss on his lips. He took this for exactly what it was and returned the favor. With that, things heated up faster and faster.

After I initiated things, Cody truly let loose, our hands taking off what little clothes remained on the other's body. His dick, as if it was waiting to be released, bounced up from his underwear, and as I noticed, I could only laugh. "You really wanted this, didn't you?" I asked. "More than you could even imagine," he responded. Instead of taking off his underwear immediately, I teased his prominent bulge, guiding my hands up and down, and was met with a deep sigh in response. Taking a hand to his chest, I moved my hands down, taking deliberate slow care to every point on his chest, to which Cody took my arm to guide me further down once more.

Now noticing the position he had me in, Cody quickly took control, shifting my body under his, and taking my wrists in his hands, a steely stare meeting my eyes. Once again, there was hesitation, as he assessed what to do. Taking advantage of this, I asked with a chuckle, "What? You didn't think you'd get this far?" Instead of a response, however, my words were met with a sudden kiss, his lips pressing into mine, hard. The intensity of the kiss sent a flash throughout me, and his bulge now pressed against my thigh, as if it was waiting for permission to be let out. As a flurry of emotion came over me, I could only muster a single response.

"I'm all yours."

He moved like a man possessed, laying hot kisses throughout my neck, and moved my thigh up, in a moment, he moved down and began eating me out. His tongue worked expertly, and I could only moan in response, pleasure surging throughout me. A fire came over his eyes, as he knew he had me exactly where he wanted me. With a flourish, he took off his underwear, and his cock was finally freed. I gawked at his size, unaware that someone's dick could be that big.

I took the initiative, taking it in my hands and jerking him off. It was now his turn to respond with a low grunt, his deep voice bucking against the pleasure he felt. Taking things into his hands once more, he grabbed the lube from his dresser, and wet his cock. As his tip entered me, I felt a wave of heat overcome me, as my body responded to him entering me.

Soon, he was fully thrusting into me, his cock filling me up entirely. Shocks of pleasure strike through me as he continued fucking me, with me only being able to make small moans, each thrust silencing me again. We fucked for what seemed like hours, trying each and every position. Each time I thought we were done, he would cum again, setting the cycle anew once more. Load after load filled me up, and soon I became numb, after being fucked to my limit. Cody, still full of energy, kept going. I found myself wanting to keep going, for him, and didn't want this moment to end.

I felt as if the world around me was blacking out, with my only focus being Cody's warm face, laying kisses all over me as he continued pounding me. In one final thrust, I was sent to true climax, and everything became hazy. Cody's voice would be the thing to break the fog. I focused on his words with his voice being a familiar sound to my ears.

"I'm addicted to you, did you know that?" He asked.

On the verge of blacking out, I replied,

"I always did."

#addicted #jock #muscle #smut #college jock #college guys #alpha men

413 notes · View notes